Chapter Fifty-Nine: A Knife In The Night

    With the occasional hiss of steam, the plateau lift continued trundling its way up the cliff face towards Asamaywa. Peering over the railing and looking down, Noburu could see the slums fade away until they merged into one great smear of gloom and grey. As the distance grew, he felt a growing sense of liberation. Living in the slums was a sordid experience; he always felt a little dirty, no matter how much he washed. He somehow felt cleaner by riding the lift and rising above it all.

    He glanced at the woman next to him. Seonmi stood tall, wearing the uniform Yoshiro provided them both. There was no way the lift guards would’ve allowed them through with how they usually looked, even with a bribe, so they’d been forced to get into character immediately and use their forged travel permits. The guards barely gave them a second look before letting them through.

    The truth was that as long as you look and act the part, people will naturally assume you are who you say you are. A grimy slum-dweller wearing patchy clothes trying to charm his way through the gates would never succeed. However, Noburu and Seonmi, with their good posture, clean uniforms, documents, and well-spoken accents, didn’t face such scrutiny. No one suspected they were destitute and scraping by on the bottom rung of society.

    Seonmi was looking out at the vast expanse of the lowlands with a neutral expression. Noburu had known the woman for nearly five years now. She’d been the one to introduce him to Yoshiro. She possessed an interesting mix of Manwese and Ainese features: sharp eyes with thick-based horns that ended in the stereotypical Ainese twist. Those very same sharp eyes now glanced his way. They weren’t as crimson as his own. Instead, they were a memorable blood-orange.

    He suspected she might have been highborn. Something about how she carried herself, even in the slums, reminded her of himself. He’d once heard a rumour of a sister called Haneul, and suspected Seonmi might be estranged in some manner, but he’d never investigated it further. If you start poking about in other people''s business, then they’ll do the same to you, and when people poke others in the shadow of Asamaywa, it’s often done by the pointy bit of a knife.

    “Yes?” she asked, her voice soft.

    “You’re being quiet,” he murmured before pointing to her white-knuckled hands gripping the lift’s railings. “Not fond of heights?”

    “I’m just... looking at the ships,” Seonmi replied. She nodded skywards.

    Noburu followed her direction to see a light frigate escorting a transport into the docks above. A year ago, transports rarely needed a convoy guard but now it was far more frequent a sight. He’d heard guards whispering about increased piracy in the south. Perhaps that’s where that ship had sailed from?

    “Do you know how expensive it is to keep those things in the air?” Seonmi. “How much money it costs to buy the crystal fuel? Think about how much food you could buy. And the military expenditure...” She shook her head. “Every manufactured shell could be a sack of rice. It just feels so... wrong.”

    “...I know,” Noburu replied. After you’ve been poor and hungry for long enough, your worldview develops in one of two ways: Either you become indifferent to your struggle, seeing your place in society as a natural inevitability, or, as Noburu had, you become angry at the wealthy spending so much on frivolous items. Why spend so much gold on some paint on canvas or that porcelain vase from Hokanai when you could feed a hundred orphans for a year instead?

    It''s why he never felt bad for stealing from them.

    Noburu disagreed on one point. The ship wasn’t a waste. Sure, the shells inside them were wasteful, but the ship itself? A ship was freedom. A ship meant untold prospects and opportunities. If he could save up and buy even a small fishing ship, then he just needed to make one catch of sardis, and he’d be set for decades. He could take Kiku and the kids away from their life of poverty and into the clean air of upper-sky!

    Even if he couldn’t do that, he could get everyone on a train to a new life. Far below him, the lowlands were etched with the steel of the Eastern Railway. Tracks stretched from the base of Asamaywa out into the lowlands before breaking off into the north, east, and south. The northbound tracks snaked through industrial areas and farming towns before curving back towards Asamoto. To the east, they stretched into the horizon, where on a day with better weather, he would have been able to make out the mountain tops of Nachon more than two hundred kilometres away. The last few tracks turned south, either linking up to Asamino or going to the Far Eastern cities of Fengra and Hokanai.

    His true home that he didn’t remember.

    The lift shuddered and hissed as it came to a stop. Noburu gave himself a quick mental slap to put him in character. A glance and nod from Seonmi told him she’d done the same. They queued up where a bored-looking customs officer was filtering through documents. When it came to Noburu and Seonmi, he raised an eyebrow, his gaze flittering from the travel documents to them.

    “Says here you came trainbound from Fengra to Asamaywa, but you got off early in the lowlands. Why’d you stop, eh...” He flicked back to their identification documents. “Miss Yoo-jung? What business did you have down below?”

    “We got an aethergram before we left,” Seonmi answered immediately. “Farmers thought they might have found something ploughing the fields. We stopped by to consult. Turned out to be nothing.”

    “Right,” the customs officer yawned. “And you, Mr Kim, what’s your business in Asamaywa?”

    “Restoration work at the Asamaywa Officer Academy,” Noburu answered. “Twenty-day contract. It’s all there in the yellow sheet." He gestured to the document in the officer''s hands. The demon skimmed it before returning everything to them and jerking his thumb.

    “Go through,” he intoned.

    Thanking the officer, the pair passed and entered Asamaywa proper. Noburu had only had cause to enter the city a few times, but every time he did, it surprised him how much louder it was. Hundreds of demons moved this way and that, with yells and bells filling the air. It was a stark contrast to the threatening silence that permeated the slums.

    The two walked through the city, stopping only a few times to get their bearings. Soon, they found their pre-booked accommodation and signed in. It was a small, slightly run-down hotel sectioned off from the main streets. The owner showed them to their rooms before leaving them to themselves.

    Noburu pressed an ear to the closed door, only giving Seonmi a nod when the owner''s footsteps had disappeared.

    “Once we’re in the academy, hells, when we’re even near it, we need to make sure we only communicate with signals,” Seonmi said, yawning and stretching out on the cheap mattress.

    “Right,” Noburu replied. Everyone knew that warriors and mages had ways to increase their perception. They had a hawk''s eyes, a wolfhound''s ears, and the reaction speed of a sardis. They would be quite literally surrounded by them in the academy, which meant they couldn’t afford to even whisper to each other about their true intentions. They could only communicate with hand signals when they were sure they weren’t in sight of anyone else.

    “What now? Tools?” He asked. He’d spent the last several days absorbing as much knowledge he could about artefacts and restoration. He’d spent long hours in Yoshiro’s den practising using the equipment he was supposed to have mastered - everything to sell the illusion that they knew what they were doing.

    Instead of bringing the aged and half-broken tools they’d practised on, Yoshiro gave Seonmi enough money for them to buy everything they needed. They would look for good quality second-hand sets or purchase new ones and then quickly weather the tools. Then, they planned to spend the little time they had left practising further before the arranged meeting inside the academy.

    All they needed was to get inside and locate the target artefacts they were tasked with stealing. Then, all Seonmi needed to do was make an excuse to leave, leaving Noburu alone with the items he could steal and then escape using his blessing.

    He tapped his horns reassuringly.

    What could go wrong?

    Amelia felt rather proud of herself. She’d decided on the bright idea of simultaneously fulfilling both Hinako’s request for tutoring and Mel’s request for sparring. She’d taken advantage of her academy privileges and booked out a training room, arranging to meet the two women there at the allotted time. Serena had invited herself along, claiming that her expertise would help evaluate Mel’s swordsmanship. However, Amelia suspected Serena really wanted to make sure Amelia wouldn’t do something too amazing and cause more problems.

    She was a little surprised when she stepped through the door to find Mel, Hinako, and Serena with no less than three additional students! All six demons turned simultaneously and set their gazes upon Amelia. Serena’s eyes carried the most familiarity, followed by Mel, then Hinako, and finally, the three students, whose faces possessed a mixture of excitement, wonder, and apprehension.

    The first unfamiliar demon was a male whose features reminded Amelia of Katalin. He had reddish-brown hair and purple eyes - a Northerner. The man clearly took pride in honing his body. He was well built, although not quite at Tomes of Dagon''s level.

    Notably, the remaining two unfamiliar students, one male and one female, possessed only a single horn curving out from the center of their forehead. It was a variation of demon horns that Amelia had learned was more common in the ethnic Aindo part of the demon race centred around the Far Eastern cities of Nachon, Fengra, and Hokanai. Their eyes were a fascinating burnt orange, starkly contrasting the typical crimson hues she’d got used to around the ethnic Samino like Serena.

    They both possessed extremely similar features. Perhaps they were brother and sister?

    “Morning!” Amelia exclaimed cheerfully, walking up to the group.

    “Assistant Instructor Thornheart!” the group of students intoned. Mel and Hinako bowed while the three students Serena brought along snapped to attention with a salute. The northern demon stood with his right hand in a closed fist on the left side of his chest in what Amelia had learned from Katalin as the traditional northern salute. Meanwhile, the two Aindo students performed the standard Imperial salute of raising their hands to their temple.

    So cool! Only...

    She sat up, rubbing her aching shoulders. Instructor Halen had put her and her fellow students through one of the most intense training sessions she’d ever had. Still, if that was what it took to break into orange and defeat Amelia’s red aura, then so be it!

    The nighttime chill made her shiver, so Mel manifested her red aura, relying on its supernatural properties to protect her from the cold. She reached for a cup of water by her bedside, suddenly freezing.

    What was that?

    A subtle creak from next door. A movement of the floorboards.

    Had Amelia returned? Once again, she’d told Mel she wouldn’t return that night. Mel had started to wonder if she really did have a man or if something else was going on. Regardless, it would be problematic if she stuck her horns into someone else’s business. Amelia seemed to have a favourable opinion of Mel and she didn’t want to ruin that.

    Another creak.

    Mel climbed out of bed. She didn’t need to wear her uniform; she would only check if Amelia wanted anything. She was awake anyway, so she might as well fulfil her duties.

    Lightening a lantern, Mel exited her room. She strode the length of the corridor, stopping outside Amelia’s room.

    Quiet.

    She knocked lightly. “Amelia?” Mel called.

    No answer.

    Mel opened the door, stepping into the darkness of Amelia’s quarters. The lantern didn’t do much to pierce the darkness, so she strained her aura a little further, enhancing her eyesight. Nothing seemed amiss in the reception area.

    Mel proceeded into Amelia’s bedroom. Amelia’s bed lay, still tidy from when Mel made it the night before. So Amelia hadn’t returned then. Then what... ah. Mel caught sight of a window slightly ajar.

    Sighing, she closed the window, and as she did, the realisation that she’d closed it earlier formed in her mind. If she closed it, that meant someone opened it. If someone opened it, that meant...

    Mel spun around, pushing her red until it was uncomfortable. The dark room became as clear as daylight to her. She strained her ears. Was she alone? Had someone snuck in and then left? Or were they-

    The sound of someone’s breathing reached her ears. It was slow and methodical. She’d been taught about this in Kenhoro. A type of breathing designed to produce as little sound as possible. An assassin''s breathing technique.

    But Mel heard it.

    Without a doubt, there was someone straddled to the ceiling above her.

    Mel flared her red aura - a painful experience given the training she’d gone through earlier. She threw the lantern above her head and ran using aura-empowered legs towards the door.

    She made it two steps before something pierced her left shoulder. Another two steps before something else pierced her lower back. A final two steps before something cut her leg, causing her to trip and spin around. Mel screamed, grabbing something nearby and throwing it at the dark figure as she crumpled to the floor.

    Her opponent’s figure was wavy. Some kind of cloaking spell from the Kanaxai branch. He was a warrior. His orange aura gave that away. He ducked the thrown object - a book - and leapt towards Mel with a dagger.

    Mel put everything into her aura, feeling herself burn from the inside as she manifested orange for the first time. It was a shaky, weak orange that wasn’t enough to completely stop the assassin''s dagger from piercing her stomach. Mel reflexively grabbed the man’s hand, pulling her legs back and kicking him as hard as she could. He stumbled back.

    Everything suddenly seemed so wet with blood. Her blood. Even as she scrambled back, her feet slipped, failing to find traction against the bloody wooden floor.

    She couldn’t win against this person. Her orange aura was barely up to scratch, and her body felt like it would explode. Mel was already at peak aether exhaustion, and she wouldn’t be able to maintain her aura against another attack.

    If only she could get to the door and out into the hall. If this assassin was here for Amelia it was unlikely he would chase Mel down. All she needed to do was make herself an unattractive target so he would flee back through the window.

    The hazy assassin launched himself at Mel again, and Mel saw her death coming. There was no way she could make it. Should she scream? Wait, she was already screaming. She hadn’t stopped since she started.

    Ah, it was getting hard to think. Was she afflicted with poison?

    A loud snapping sound filled the air, and the assassin''s arm froze, his dagger inches away from Mel. Someone''s hand had appeared, grabbing the assassin by the wrist.

    A floating hand.

    A pungent smell of burnt toast reached Mel’s nose.

    The assassin was yanked, and with a grunt, he was pulled into...

    Nothingness.

    He was there, and now he was gone. Mel was suddenly alone. She forced herself to stop screaming. What in the seven hells just happened? Was she saved?

    She needed to dress her wounds and keep her aura up. If she could keep her aura going, she could delay blood loss and poison spread. She could...

    Ah, her vision was going dark.

    Another snapping sound reached Mel’s ears, and out of nowhere, a figure bent towards her. It was not the assassin, rather a feminine figure with a grimace. She had small horns and yellow eyes. Someone from Centralis?

    Wearing a maid uniform.

    “What the...” Mel mumbled as she felt herself go weak. Whatever poison was inside her, it was acting fast.

    She felt the figure pick her up. During her last moments of consciousness, she heard the woman who appeared from nowhere, dressed as a maid, mutter something that made no sense.

    “The Divine One is definitely going to be giving me a raise after this...”