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tendertenebrosity · 4 years

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I guess we’re doing this. For at least a little longer. Sequel to here.

“Have them?” the man on the dais said. “What for?”

Helis wasn’t looking at him; their gaze was fixed, like a rabbit looking at a snake, on the black-clad figure standing over them. His feet were apart, planted firmly – a man where he belonged, confident of his upper hand. He’s here. Of course he’s here, but why is he HERE?

“Whatever I want,” Illiam said, with a casual easy shrug of his shoulders. “You were going to kill them anyway, weren’t you?”

“I was,” the enthroned man said. “It’s a bit too dangerous to throw in with the rest of our beastfolk, so I don’t see any value in keeping it. Why do you have a sudden desire for the creature, though? Working on an experiment?”

Illiam stooped down over Helis, tugging a fold of the net aside to get at what he wanted. They flinched, their breath catching in their throat, and tried to squirm away as his cold impersonal hand slid inside their downy vest in search of something.

“Don’t – please,” Helis whimpered.

Illiam ignored them, standing up straight again and holding up the object he’d retrieved so that it was visible. A disc of shining copper, flashing in the light.

“Academy medallion,” he said, raising his voice over the murmuring of the crowd. “I heard you say it had magic, so I thought I’d check, and I was right.”

“Illiam,” Helis said, a sob in their voice, “Illiam, it’s me, please…”

“Shut up, Helis, I can see it’s you,” Illiam said, his voice like the crack of a whip. “Do you think I want every random beast that gets dragged in here?”

There was a hushed pause – then the man on the dais laughed, that hoarse bark of a laugh. “Oh! I see! A little friend from your Academy days, Illiam?”

“A classmate,” Illiam corrected, his lip curling. “You must admit it’s an amusing coincidence. I want them. To keep.”

Helis dragged in a breath, their heart fluttering in their ribcage. They tried in vain to work their arms into an easier position, but the overlapping silver-threaded layers of the net were too constricting. He wants to… keep me? Why? Their stomach churned with something like hope, or dread, or both. The man on the dais – who, they were realising, had to be Illiam’s father, the Duke – had planned to kill them, with as little concern as swatting a bug or throwing a piece of rubbish into the fire. But Illiam stopped him.

He doesn’t want me to die, so maybe… maybe this is a good thing? Maybe Illiam will help me?

Illiam had not… parted on good terms with the rest of the group. But he and Helis had never actually… argued. As such. After the scene at Helis’ birthday party, the two of them had been civil, spoken to each other occasionally in class, and avoided the topic of wildborn rights for the last few months until graduation. How much grudge could he bear them?

“I suppose it is, at that,” the duke said. “I know you’ve got feelings to work out, Illiam, but is it really going to take you weeks or months? Come now. This is not a half-drowned mongrel puppy you’re proposing on keeping.” When Helis rolled their head to the side to see him, he was sitting back in the throne, looking amused and thoughtful. “The south likes their little trick monsters, but don’t forget how dangerous it could be. And it appears to have wings, to boot.”

“Well,” Illiam said, head tipped up arrogantly. “It’s a good thing I’ve got the best magical education to be found from both sides of the continent, isn’t it?” He spun Helis’ academy medallion between his fingers, casually.

The duke snorted. “Oh, very well, I’ll indulge you,” he said. “You’ll keep it in silver at all times and deal with the wings the usual way. And if it gets away from you, or causes you to be distracted, or is an inconvenience in any fashion, it’s coming out of your hide, metaphorical and otherwise. Am I clear?”

Helis saw, from their position directly below, the bunch of muscles as Illiam’s jaw tightened. He gave no other indication of his displeasure, though, giving another smooth practiced bow. “Of course, your grace. I expected nothing less. Thank you.”

“Take it and get out, I’ve got more important things to be doing.”

Helis sagged against the floor, relief beating a frantic note against the inside of their chest and their head. He agreed. I’m not going to die. They’re not going to kill me.

At a sharp gesture from Illiam, the guards from before hauled Helis upright, without a care for what they were yanking on. “Take them out to the back of the keep,” Illiam ordered. “I’ll meet you there in a few minutes.”

Helis wished they had the composure to speak again, to thank him, to ask him what he wanted. But they didn’t. Within a moment, they were being dragged away.

Coldness slid through their belly. What for? Whatever I want.

The guards talked as they unrolled Helis from the netting, over their head, clipped voices completely free of pity or warmth.

“Why do you think the duke’s son wants this thing? It’s not even pretty.”

“I don’t know, revenge I guess? If it was really allowed into that flash magic school? Bet it was galling to have to sit in the same classes and share meals and whatnot with it and get told they were equals.”

“Equals? Pfft, yeah, bet that went over well.”

“You weren’t here back then, were you? He hated that damn place. Always came back from the South in the most godawful childish sulk…”

“Shh, he’ll hear you.”

Helis whimpered, thrown from side to side like an object, just a bundle of clothes and feathers. A few soft white and grey feathers fluttered to the ground around them.

“Wait,” they hiccupped. “Wait. Don’t. Ow!”

The final layer was unrolled, and the guard shoved Helis to their hands and knees on the ground, a rough hand on their head pushing them down. They shivered pitifully, unfolding their wings to mantle them around their shoulders and try to keep some of the warmth in.

They were outside, a courtyard exposed to the vicious wind. If Helis turned their head, they could see the outbuildings and a square of miserable grey sky, ice frozen into dripping layers from the eaves like candle wax.

The sky. Helis tried to stop their wings shuddering. They needed space and time to take off, which they didn’t have. They were not a martial mage, never had been, but could they do something to buy themselves some time now that the net was off?

They reached for power, feeling the warmth of it in the palms of their hands, if they could only –

“Idiots. What are you doing? You should have waited for me to arrive before you took the silver off!”

Helis cringed, looked up.

Illiam was striding across the courtyard like a raven swooping out of a grey sky, cloak billowing behind him, boots crunching in the slush. His face was a contemptuous mask.

His eyes met Helis’, and they could tell that he knew what they had been thinking. They narrowed.

He lifted one hand, sparks gathering between his fingers. “Try it,” he invited, his voice very quiet. “Who do you think is faster, Helis?”

Him, always him, he had always been faster than anybody else except for Ki and Helis knew their own abilities had not changed. Helis let the magic fizzle out, sat back on their knees, shoved their hands into their armpits for warmth. “Sorry,” they babbled. “Illiam, I – ”

The guards saluted, their voices suddenly a deferential chorus of “Of course, my lord” and “Sorry, my lord”.

He cut them off with a raised hand. “Incompetents. Do I have to think of everything around here? Now.” He looked down at Helis, and his frown deepened, eyes narrowing again in disgust. “Do we have silver cuffs small enough? Stop by the armoury and fetch them.”

“Yes, my lord.” Crunch, crunch, crunch, boots in the ice.

“Illiam,” Helis said, trying to speak calmly. Their wings trembled. Be quiet, be reasonable, be calm, all people really want is to be listened to and reasoned with. “You, um. You saved me. Thank you.”

Illiam cocked his head, as if he hadn’t expected them to speak again, or at least hadn’t expect them to say that. His mouth twitched in a cut-off movement, and was silent for a long moment before he spoke. “I suppose you’re welcome,” he said eventually, his voice flat and dull. “You really shouldn’t have come. You can’t say I didn’t warn you what you’d find on this side of the border, Helis.”

“W-well, you see, I wasn’t spying, I was –”

“Not interested. Shut up.”

Silence fell. Helis shivered, knees numb, the edges of their wingtips and their fingers burning and prickling with cold. The wind shook little droplets of half-melted ice down over them intermittently.

The remaining guard cleared his throat. “My lord. Are you, uh. Staying to watch?”

Another moment of silence. Helis looked up, their stomach twisting in dread. “Watch what?”

“Yes,” Illiam said firmly, so decisively that Helis thought they must have imagined that moment of hesitation, imagined that maybe he wasn’t sure. He shifted, looked around. The wind tossed the lock of hair over his brow, black against pale, blue eyes squinting underneath it. “Damn it, is that man forging those cuffs himself? I don’t have all day.”

“Watch what?” Helis repeated, fear making their voice pinch off into a squeak. “Illiam, please, what’s going to happen?” They dragged in a deep breath into a chest suddenly tight with panic. “Illiam – please – we’re friends, aren’t w-we? Weren’t we? You won’t hurt me, you don’t have to hurt me, I’m not any danger or anything, you ought to knn-now that…”

He looked down at them. His mouth was flat, thin-lipped, hard as the stones under Helis’ knees. His ice-cold eyes, paler out here in the greyness, moved over Helis from head to toe, and there was no friendship there, not even pity, not even an acknowledgement from one human being to another.

He seemed to come to a decision. He stepped forwards, and his right hand was glowing with power again.

“That’s quite enough. Hold it steady,” he ordered the guard.

Heavy hands dropped onto Helis’ shoulders, pushing them further against the ground.

And something shifted in Helis. Why are you sitting here, don’t just sit here and let them do whatever they want! They were being pinned down, and Illiam was approaching them with his hand fizzing and glowing with magic, and they didn’t know what he was going to do but they were so frightened it filled them up and twisted them to breaking.

They jerked away, colliding with the guard’s legs. “No!”

“Idiot, I said hold it – ”

They rolled onto their side, kicking out with heavy clawed feet, the slush on the ground like a knife in their back but they couldn’t spare it any time because Illiam was coming towards them with that magic in his fingers.

The guard’s weight pinned them to the ground. “No!” they wailed. “Illiam, don’t! What are you doing? Don’t!”

“Hold still, you stupid little creature, or I’ll – ”

“Please!” Helis cried, thrashing. They managed to get their wing up, bashed it into the guard’s face. “Illiam, please!”

Scuffling, cursing, and a second person’s weight joined that of the guard, pinning their legs so they couldn’t kick. They caught a glimpse of rich cloth, a pale wrist in elegant black sleeves, a hand drawing near their face. They leaned away from it.

“This will be – ugh – a whole lot easier,” Illiam snarled. “If you hold still, and let me do this.”

“No!” Helis bucked, tossed their head, but there was nothing more they could do; Illiam’s hands were on either side of their head, a bruising grip, fingers pulling painfully at Helis’ hair.

Suddenly Helis’ body was leaden. They could feel Illiam’s magic, winding into their head, pushing them inexorably downwards into darkness.

“Please,” they moaned, trying to push him away. One of their wrists was caught in long, pale fingers and directed away, but the other hand stayed twined into their hair. They twisted their head against the ground and not even the cold of the ice in their hair could jolt them into wakefulness against Illiam’s magic. Their body slumped. “Illiam, please….”

His voice was fading, everything was fading, but they heard him mutter something. “Trust me, you really don’t want…”

They never heard what it was they shouldn’t want. Darkness took them.

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safestsephiroth · 5 years

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FFXIVWrite #14: Scour - Lulu Lee

Lulu Lee looked out from the highest balcony of her oceanside manor. The echoing, moonlit waves crashing against the Thavnairian cost below drew a smile from her lips. A smile that quickly vanished with the knock at her door.

She didn't turn away from the balcony. "You may enter."

"Esteemed Dreadweaver."

Lulu crossed her arms. It was that Viera again. Whatever her name was. "You have something to report to me, then."

"Yes, Dreadweaver. Foreigners from Ul'dah have caused trouble with our dockside operations."

"I see." Her tone dropped. All trace of warmth gone. "You will tell me /everything/ which is already known."

"They appear to have once been members of an organization called the Alacran. Magically-capable. They intervened in a schedule trade of products for money."

"The somnus shipment."

"Yes, Dreadweaver. The report states they overwhelmed our guards with a mixture of magic and swordplay, and made off with both the money and the somnus."

"And the Lominsans?"

"It would seem they have yet to hear."

"Hmm." She pulled a pocketwatch. Flipped it open. "When was this?"

"Approximately forty-five minutes ago. I came as quickly as I was able."

"All the way from the docks?"

"Yes, Dreadweaver."

"And without an onze of magical prowess. Impressive." Finally, she turned. Boots clacking against the marble floor. She walked to an altar in the corner. "Have any of the guards survived?"

"Three, Dreadweaver."

"Bring them to me."

A hasty salute. "Yes, Dreadweaver!" The Viera bounded away.

Lulu gathered together ingredients for the ritual. Cleared the altar. Drew the necessary sigils. A dash of salt here, a sprinkle of Voidsent blood there, she had done it a thousand times. Trivial, really.

She had finished well before the Viera returned, with two underlings - all but force-marching three guards from the day's transaction.

One, a roegadyn man, had a stump of an arm tied off.

The second, an Elezen woman, was missing both legs, and the left half of her body was covered in horrific burns.

The third, a Raen man from Hingashi, had no visible wounds at all.

"I have done as you commanded, Esteemed Dreadweaver."

"Very good. Now stand and watch."

The Roegadyn spoke: "Dreadweaver-"

"Minus one point."

His eyes widened. "What?"

"We're playing a game, now. A fun game. Scrape your brains for all the details you can remember. Whoever has the highest score when we're done gets to live. You-" She pointed to the Elezen woman. "Start with ten points, and you-" The Hingan. "-May now explain to me why I should not execute you for cowardice."

"My lady, if I may. The reason I am unharmed is because I was a better fighter than our assailants. I took down three before they were able to escape."

"Interesting..." Lulu paced before them. "Your entire body is here, and you seem so very /confident/. And yet, none of my money is here. None of my somnus is here. Why, exactly, is that?"

A deep bow. "My lady, the enemy made use of portals to teleport themselves and the crates out. These portals were immune to my attacks, and only disappeared when the enemy was gone."

"Ten crates. Ten crates of somnus." She looked to the Elezen. "How many were there?"

A raspy, pained voice. Each word accompanied with a wince: "Dreadweaver, ma'am. Please forgive my inability to salute."

"Yes, yes. The enemy count?"

"I saw at least fifteen." A rasping cough. "Maybe twenty. So many staves and swords. I had been watching the Lominsans. We split the duty into segments, with overlapping guards-"

"I am aware of how guarding a shipment is planned." She tapped her boot. All three guards winced. "Continue."

"The enemy came from the southwest, from the path we had come from. There wasn't supposed to be any way in from there."

"Constant vigilance means /constant vigilance./ Do you understand this?"

"Yes, my lady."

"How many did you kill?"

"To my immeasurable shame, I was unable to draw my weapon."

"I see. Two points." She looked to the one-armed Roegadyn. "You're behind on the scoreboard. If I were you, I would think very carefully about my answer to this next question: Why is it, precisely, that you are all so convinced this was the Alacran? For that matter, why are you so certain they were from Ul'dah?"

"Esteemed Dreadweaver." The Roegadyn cleared his throat. Lulu walked to her desk with an unhurried pace. "Among those we were able to cut down, we found weaponry and some jewelry - all of which bore the emblem of the Alacran."

"What makes you think them /former/ members of the Alacran, then?"

"The only equipment they carried with such markings were items which would be vital to them. There were no decorations. All jewelry was used to channel magic more efficiently."

"Perhaps they merely robbed some of the Alacran." Lulu opened a drawer in her desk. Humming a slow melody. Glass /clinked/. "If someone wished to spark a war with the Alacran, this would certainly be a way to do it."

"What," the Hingan said. "Are you afraid of them?"

Lulu smiled. "Interesting."

He looked at her. Face losing its color as he realized what he'd just done. "My lady Dreadweaver-"

"Chosokabe, right?" She pulled a vial of blood, with a neatly-handwritten note attached.

His hand went for his katana. But before it reached, a knife had dug into his lower back. The Viera whispered: "Threatening our lady Dreadweaver is a surer suicide than insulting her, Chosokabe." His legs gave out, and he fell forward. Struggling to lift himself up by his arms.

"Damn you, witch! I did everything perfectly for you and you still-"

Lulu pulled a wand. Aimed it to the phial. A deep, booming voice from her throat - one which did not seem hers at all, speaking a language incomprehensible. A burst of crimson aether into the vial.

The Hingan's eyes went blank. Slowly, his body raised up to its feet, and he walked over to the altar. Staring, blankly, at the wall.

"Now, then. It's down to two. And the short elezen is winning."

The elezen's eyes fell.

"Oh, lighten up. You're winning by quite a lot. You'd have to work really hard to throw your lead away at this point."

"Yes, Dreadweaver."

The Roegadyn wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Dreadweaver, if I may?"

"Oh, by all means, defend yourself."

"Dreadweaver, I have lost an arm for you. I kept fighting until the blood loss rendered me unconscious."

"And you think that makes you more worthy of life than your partner, there?"

He shook his head. "No, Dreadweaver. I believe we have both proven our loyalty to you. I believe that we can still be of service to you, and that allowing us both to live would be for the best."

She stepped forward. Hand to her own cheek, smallest finger plucking at the corner of her mouth. "Interesting. Very interesting."

He stood stock-still. Eyes staring forward.

"Look at me."

He looked down to her eyes.

"How long have you been in my service?"

"Three cycles, Esteemed Dreadweaver."

"Interesting indeed. If I gave you a knife, would you stab her?" She jerked her head towards the Elezen. The Elezen flinched.

"Only if you commanded me to do so, Esteemed Dreadweaver. Please do not do so."

"How strong are you?"

"About half as strong as I was yesterday, Dreadweaver."

She tapped her boot again. "An attempt at humor." She looked to the Elezen. "Can you believe that he's trying to make me laugh? Trying to make me laugh with all that /money/ gone? With this insult to my operation unanswered?"

The Elezen looked at her.

"That wasn't an actual question, don't answer me."

The Elezen nodded. Winced. Her scorched skin audibly /crackled/.

"You. Big man. You have yet to reach for a weapon, or attempt to strike me, even knowing you are all but certain to die. Do you expect I will spare you?"

"Dreadweaver, I recognize there is no chance of survival if I attempt to defeat you."

"Smart." She turned. "Nalia."

The Viera perked up. "Yes, Esteemed Dreadweaver?"

"You will assist me in the summoning ritual. If anything goes wrong, I will be trying again. The rest of you will watch."

The Viera's face lit up. "Yes, Dreadweaver!"

"We are going to find them. We will find where they have gone. Where my money is. Where my somnus is. We will eradicate them to the last. We will scour every realm that exists for them. I will scrape the flesh from their bones. I will strip the soul from their bodies. I will destroy them so utterly that none will so much as speak their names, forevermore." She moved to the altar. Drew an ornate knife. "Come, /boy./" The Hingan's eyes glowed crimson, body lifted as if by a puppeteer's strings. "I have a dear /friend/ I'm going to get to speak to again, thanks to you. You should be happy to finally be of use to me."

#ffxivwrite2019 #hyur #viera #thavnairian #lulu lee-williams

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trinity-blood-translations · 7 years

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Radio Head - Ch. III (Scary Halloween!!!) Trinity Blood RAM 5

Hi everybody! I wish You a Scary Halloween! Here is the next part of Radio Head in english. (Trintiy Blood - RAM 5 by Sunao Yoshida, Illustration by Thores Shibamoto). (For german please ask me). It fits very well to Halloween since there is a ghost and one of the main characters die. Guess who. ;) Duh! Enjoy! Radio Head - Prologue Radio Head - Chapter I Radio Head - Chapter II

* * *

Chapter III

“What a trouble, Louis… to bring out of land military secrets of our army arbitrarily.”

“Lieu…Lieutenant Claude Garneau …!”

Turning toward the man with the scar on his face and catching sight of the armed men who raised the muzzles of each weapon in the background, the face of Dupree became white like paper. He gasped and opened his thin lips.

“As expected, the pursuer was you, bastard, right Claude….?”

“Lord Lieutnant!”

The man with the scar who has was addressed as Claude turned to the big man who was running over. To be exact it was the man who was yelling at the parent and the child on the deck a just a little while ago.

“The installation of the explosives to the engine section is completed!”

“Thank you for your hard work Sergeant! Well then, contact the airship. Put this monster into the cabin. When it’s done we will withdraw.”

“Roger that.”

“Explosive in the engine section, ... ... hmm, to destroy evidences?”

Page 215

The one who sighed briefly while watching the huge man salute and dart off wasn’t the man with the scar. Until then with his both hands obediently raised ‘Magician’ coughed with the facial expression of a scientist lost in thought.

“It’s a truly bold thing to blow off this ship along with 100 crew members and passengers….Is this prototype thing that much important for France’ army?”

“…..What?”

This time it was the man with the scar who sighted briefly. At the same time he signalized to the vivid subordinates in the background to hold back and turned with sharp gaze to the black haired gentleman who shook his head amazed.

“What the hell do you want to say you bastard? What do you know about it?”

“Actually, I don’t really know anything about it. But only by logically inference from given information…you aren’t pirates or something like this. You are from French army, moreover the gentlemen over there are special forces trained for advanced combat, right? I guess the purpose is to get back this combat vehicle prototype and to capture Dr. Dupree.”

"Magician" answered very polite and defies of the stabbing hostility toward him he showed no fear.

“Incidentally, for the question why do you pretend to pirates: ’Bachelor’s Pride’ is Albion’s ship. Moreover, we are here on the territorial waters of Germanicus. Even if you are about to recover your country's military secret, the France authorities have no right to stop this ship for on-the-spot investigation. Accordingly you disguised as pirates ... … Am I right? “That’s right.”

Page 216

As much more in order to show his admiration ---- scarface, Claude snorted. While walking towards the black haired “Magician”, indeed, he kindly smiled.

“What a pity.[1] I wanted to avoid taking the lives of individual citizens, if it’s possible.”

A heavy gunshot overlapped with a splashing and damp sound ---- at the same time, on the forehead with a small gunshot wound the dead body of “Magician” was crashing down to the floor like a puppet suddenly cut off from the string. His brain together with the blood plasma was clinging on the wall; moreover it flowed then slowly to the floor.

“Yi…yikes! Clau…Claude, you have…!

“It’s like he said, Louis.”

While the face of Dupree – who was about to faint because of the tragedy happened right before his eyes – was reflected in the gloomy / dull eyes[2], scareface added with a melancholic look.

“If our identity becomes public, our country gets serious problems, so we have to solve the problem before that happens.

“……Tsk. “Magician, pointy-headed as ever.”

From the environment of the corpse laying on the floor a red pool of blood was rapidly spreading out. “Puppeteer” looked down on the dead body in pain[3] - the puddle of blood twitched time to time short[4] - and pouted.

Each time, if the story gets interesting he pushes the troublesome things completely to me. And then he himself is watching it from the distance ……….. a truly pleasant personality, what!

Page 217

“By the way, Lieutenant, what should we do with this little brat here?” The young man grumbling with displeasure written on his face felt a hard object pressed against his back. The man who was asking for instructions aimed the muzzle of a shotgun at the heart of “Puppeteer”.

“He seems to be a computer programmer but it looks like he is not armed. Shall we and interrogate him later?” “We take no prisoners.”

The answer of the man with the scar on his face to the other was short. He looked at the young man and at the open container and shook cold his head.

“Get rid of him, sergeant. Do not leave any witnesses.”

“Oh dear....... I knew it would come to this.” - “Puppeteer” muttered together with a sigh, however there was a secret joy in his eyes. It seemed it has come finally to an interesting development. He instantly moved his thin fingers slightly in order to try to bury his threads into the back of that Dummkopf[5]---- but in this moment...

<<Kill...>>

The hoarse voice was faint and weak, but everybody on the scene turned around like a windstorm. From the shadows of the many wooden boxes emerged a wavering ghostlike figure ----- and it wasn’t a man. But a woman wearing a snow-white dress.

Page 218

<<Please…kill….me….kill…Claude…>>

“That’s ….impossible, Francoise! You! You should be dead!

Except “Puppeteer” everyone had the eyes wide open and stared at the woman who was breathing barely moving her pale lips. However, the most shattered among them were the man with the scar on his face, Claude, who was till then calm holding his machine gun, and Dupre who was still pale because of the death of “Magician”.

“This can not be….Francoise, ….you can not be here!”

“What…what is this Louis?! Francoise died in the car surely…how on earth can she be alive?”

Claude yelled at the middle-aged man who was screaming sharply. Literally, his gasped like someone who saw a living dead.

“That’s true. She was supposed to be dead at that time…. brake failure in a curve…how can she be alive again?!

<<Kill…me….kill…Louis….Claude…..>>

The white women got closer and with a tottering movement closer like a marionette, meanwhile the men raised their voice in fear. The violet lips kept on grumbling with a husky voice like a broken gramophone.

<<Ki, kill….me….Claude, please….>>

Page 219

Page 22

„Sta-, stay away….Don’t come closer”

Claude's eyes widened by fear when he saw the women approaching with opened arms as she wanted to embrace a beloved person. He shouted and threw a lot of spittle from his mouth.

“Do-, don’t come any closer! I, I was wrong….therefore, stay away.”

“Sto-, stop it, Claude!”

At the instant, the two men moved exactly at the same time. Claude pulled out his pistol and pointed the muzzle without hesitating; right before that Dupree jumped out – gunshot.

“My wife….”

His glasses cracked, slipped to the floor and broke. However he seemed not to mind it, the middle aged man turned around / looked over his shoulder. While regurgitation of blood from his ruptured heart spilled over from his mouth, he slowly collapsed.

“Please, my wife...”

“—Come here, Madame!“

Before the eyes of Claude who was still keeping his handgun dumbfounded, „Puppeteer” pulled the hand of the woman and yelled.

“Get here, quickly!”

“N-no, don’t let them escape! Shoot them to death!”

As “Pupeteer” heard from the corner the angry voice of the giant sergeant who finally came to his senses, he gave the command to his “fibers”. The sergeant lifted slightly the muzzle of his gun ----- but as he pulled the trigger, his gun was aimed at the man standing next to the certain soldier. His head was turned into a spurt of blood and it was blown away.

Page 221

„Wha…What?!“

„Puppeteer“ rushed out of the hold meanwhile behind them screams full of panic and wrath raised. At the same time, he held the icy white hand; ran up quickly the stairs to the deck then continued running to the ship's side. After all, from the beginning those guys intend to clean up this ship with all his passengers. Otherwise they unlikely would operate that openly so far. In that case let's get out of here quickly ----

“…uhh?”

When he finally reached the long side of the ship, “Puppeteer”’s steps suddenly stopped. Until just a little while ago lifeboats were arranged in a line; now not a single one remained.

“This is strange….where are they gone?”

“….as for the lifeboats: we disposed all of them.”

There was a merciless voice in the background, reminiscent of a hunter pointing the muzzle of his gun on the cornered prey. The noise of approaching military shoes and metallic sound of loading bullets overlapped.

“In an exterminating war it is an established tactic to cut off the retreat of the enemy….well then boy, hand me over that woman.”

Page 222

Claude held his military pistol in his hands and looked back cynically at the young man who grimaced mockingly with his lips. With one hand he still grasped the arm of the woman while he was combing his hairs back which were fallen down on his forehead.

“This is strange! I was sure, that you[6] were chasing us for finish her off…. In any case, she is also the proof of your murder, right? She is just a pitiful victim, who was dragged into your attempt to kill Dr. Dupree pretending a car accident. But even so, you do not intend to kill her here. You, does it mean you like her? I wonder if you have fall in love secretly with the wife of a friend.

“….What?”

The muzzle - which didn’t even make a fine movement till then - was trembling violently by the words of the young man. The facial expression of Claude - which filled out his whole face and till then reminiscent of a sculpture of steel - was now distorted by the strong consternation.

“Are you saying that ... you bastard, what did Louis told to you?”

“Particularly nothing….it was merely a trick questioning. Really? It seems to be the case, that I was right.”

While releasing his threads from his fine shivering fingertips into the air, which were invisible for the eyes, “Puppeteer” made a mischievous smile. At the same time he pointed his chin at the women who was expressionless muttering something continuously.

“Earlier I have heard the discussion between you and the doctor: it sounded a little bit strange, isn't that so? You(?) said: “brake failure in a curve” and that she died at the accident, right? However in the newspaper that I have read was written that the cause of the accident was falling asleep at the wheel. At the end nobody knew about the brake failure. If there were someone who knew it, can be only someone who has manipulated the vehicle..... Lieutenant, you are the one who killed her, am I right?” Page 223

“That’s not true! That was indeed an unfortunate accident!”

Claude roared with a hoarse voice at the young man with a charming smile who was denouncing him. His finger on the trigger trembled violently while he shouted.

“The one I wanted to kill was actually Louis! While he used his position to take Francoise from my hand, and when they got married, he didn’t even pay attention to her….this scum!”

“But unfortunately it wasn’t Dr. Dupree but his wife who was caught up in the accident you arranged.” – as if he would lament the young man shook his head. On the brink of death he didn’t seem to care about his own life, but he licked slightly his lips showing a big interest in the love-and-hatred-drama before his eyes.

“Even though you did not free your lover from an unhappy marriage but you managed accidentally kill her, is it right Lieutenant Garneau?”

“I told you I didn’t kill her! It was just an unfortunate accident... besides isn’t that so that Francoise is here alive?

However his voice was trembling by the strong emotions the muzzle of Claude’s gun captured with reliability the “Puppeteer”. He shook his head with the scar furiously and screamed:

“Come on little brat, give her to me! As long as she is safe I will spare your life!”

“As long as she is safe? Ah, that statement is a bit irrational, isn’t it?”

Page 224

“What? What do you mean by that?”

“As I told you before. Because she is already…dead.” – while “Puppeteer” was speaking he pulled vigorously the sleeve of the woman's coat. Together with a shrill sound her coat was burst open. What underneath the coat Claude was catching sight of made him step back and his scarface distort.

“Wha ... what the hell is this?”

“Indeed, it seems like Dr. Dupree was a genius. ….. He has really been able to resurrect the dead. "

Beneath the dangled coat filled with plenty of coolant, there was a woman's white body prepared with wires, pipes and mechanical parts with unknown purpose sewed on in a complex shape. “Puppeteer” eyed it with a mischievous smile. While he was observing everything accurately, from the sliced left side of her chest, where inside a glass bottle filled with a green liquid her heart was beating, to the back of her neck, where countless electrodes were implanted directly in her broken cervical spine, he spoke with compassion in his voice to the man whom face was looking like he would vomit outright.

“And, Dr. Dupree's love for his wife seems to has been very sincere, no matter what form she has. He wanted at any rate to bring her back to life.... although she seems not to share the opinion of her husband coming back to this world.

"And, Dr. Dupree's love for her seems to be very sincere, no matter what she looks like, he just wanted to give her life back ... ... of course, his wife doesn’t seem like her husband Want to return to their own ah ... ... "

<< Kill me… >>

Her lips violet as a result of the preservative flowing in the blood vessels, she was uttering the same words.

Page 225

In the pupils of her wide open eyes which were starring into the void without a blink the face of Claude distorted by fear was reflecting like in a dark mirror.

<<It‘s cold ...... here ... ... cold ... ... please ... kill ... ... somebody ... kill me ...... >>

“Impossible…”

Claude stood for a moment like petrified by the daze in front of the women who was repeating the same wards to the void again and again, so that he forgot the existence of “Puppeteer” and his had with the gun was trembling violently ----

“Cr!..Craaaap!”

The angry roar like of a beast overlapped with the heavy gunshots. Countless bullets skewered the living dead body. At the same time was the head torn off from the body and a sound of humid slapping onto the wall was to hear.

<< to die ... already ... to die finally ... Lou ... >>

“Francoise....”

The sound of the head rolling on the deck became bit by bit quieter. Claude who looked like he became dozens of years older was staring at it. Finally as the sound was no longer to hear he whispered with a face like of a dead:

“No matter what you say, I loved her. I didn’t want to hand over her to anyone..... especially not to such a person like Louis ... .... if I gave her to him... ... then, ....... I've done the right thing.... ...”

“Wow! What an impressive conviction..... well, whatever you think, everyone is selfish, though, don’t you think?”

Giving the weak man a glance of disgust “Puppeteer” coldly turned away.

Page 226

At the very end he got his fun he wanted but even so it wasn’t enough for him. So he accelerated the pace to leave the scene of the tragedy quickly.

“Wait ... ...didn’t I told you? Bastard you won’t escape!”

Behind the back of the young man who just started to walk away came the sound of lifting the hammer of the gun. As he turned around he saw the face of man became like a demon lifting the muzzle.

„… Do you mistake your enemy with your gun? If you want to blow away something lieutenant, then blow away your own head.

“Yeah, I will do that, right after yours.” – replied the soldier very seriously to the young man who was bored shrugging his shoulders. He declared with a confidence as if he were absolutely sure he is doing the right:

“For Francoise got her peace that way before, I have to protect her honor. Moreover, I can’t let anybody who saw XAM alive anyway.”

“Oh dear...what a big trouble, absolutely.”

Deeply astonished about the selfish opinion of the other party “Puppeteer” scratched his head. It is said that people who poke their nose into another's love affairs are fools. It seemed really stupid thing to interfere.

“It can't be helped. Well then, I will play a little bit. Really, of all people why….uhh?!”

“Lieut… Lieutenant!”

Page 227

From the deck thundering footsteps and hoarse voices made “Puppeteer” stop his Hand. He turned around and saw the aforementioned giant sergeant as he came agitated running over. The “fibers” inside his body should have dissolved completely just a little while ago, but his complexion was pale like that of a corpse. He was followed by several bloodstained soldiers but their even more pale faces were distorted with fear.

“Lieutenant! Te…Terrible! Th…th…th…that thing began to move on its own! The troops of Henry and Jean are annihilated….”

“What are you talking about?”

Claude turned around not even trying to hide his grim expression. Perplexed by the fact that soldiers can lose self-control like this he yelled at his gasping and complaining subordinates:

“Whether or not, report more accurately, sergeant! What is it?”

“It…it’s the XAM!”

“What…?”

The officer with astonishment was still about to get a detailed report but suddenly a thunderous sound from underneath interrupted his words ----- however perhaps it wasn’t necessary any more at all because the object which was breaking through the deck was exactly the thing he wanted to get the report about.

“I..i...i..XAM...why?”

(End of Part III)

[1] Referring to that what he is forced to do now.

[2] I don’t know if it means the eyes of Isaak or Dupree.

[3] 悩ましげ - http://tangorin.com/general/%E6%82%A9%E3%81%BE%E3%81%97%E3%81%92

[4]痙攣 – cramp, spasm

[5] = pinhead (written in German in the Japanese Original)

[6]君(きみ) – in this case (young to an older person or to a superior) it is seen as rude – Dietrich uses 君 to Isaak either

#trinity blood #Sunao Yoshida #Thores Shibamoto #kiyo kyujyo #kiyo qjo #manga #anime #light novel #fandom #Isaak Fernand von Kämpfer #Dietrich von Lohengrin #rco #rosencreutz orden

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