Interlude: The First Secret Meeting of the Captains

Interlude:
The First Secret Meeting of the Captains

 

THAT NIGHT, three knights gathered for a secret meeting in the captain and vice-captain’s recreation room.

The elegance of the room made it clear that it was for the elites of the organization. The flooring was black walnut wood, dark-indigo material that made a satisfying sound when shoes clacked against it. Towards the back of the room were chessboards and billiard tables, with tables and chairs placed a distance away. All these items were of the finest quality.

Cyril, captain of the First Knight Brigade, sat in a luxurious velvet chair. He turned to the man next to him. “So? How was my new recruit?”

Desmond, captain of the Second Knight Brigade, swirled the contents of a glass in one hand. “Difficult to read.”

Unsatisfied, Cyril pressed further. “You’re telling me that you—the head of the military police—couldn’t get a read on her?! You’ve played chess with her three times already; you should have figured her out long before now!”

“Calm down. That cool captain facade of yours is slipping.”

“Calm down? Me? You’re asking the most bloodthirsty man in the organization to calm down? Spare me, Desmond.”

“No need to sound so proud of yourself. As for Fia, she’s a sort I’ve never seen before.” Desmond gulped down the amber contents of his glass before placing it on the counter and ordering another from the server.

Desmond was captain of the Second Knight Brigade and the highest authority in charge of the Royal Castle’s defense. He was also the commandant of the military police, a group with members in every brigade. The military police investigated not just the internal affairs of the knight brigade but also trespassers in the Royal Castle and suspicious people in the general population.

Beneath Desmond’s friendly demeanor beat the heart of a master interrogator, the soul of a torturer who held nothing back when it came time to squeeze confessions from captured spies and suspects.

“Have you ever wondered,” Desmond mused, “why all the best torture devices are given female names like the ‘Duke Jungwald’s Daughter’ or the ‘Iron Maiden’? I have a theory. You see, it’s always women who bring calamity. The tools bring truth. The words of women, on the other hand…worthless.”

“Hold on, Desmond. Are you still sore about your fiancée? She left you and married your little brother. Dreadful business, of course, but isn’t it about time to move on?”

“Oh, shove it! You don’t understand how it feels!” Desmond snatched his drink from the server and downed it all at once. “Back on topic—Fia is a special type. Our chess games are a fine example. When I play a strong game, she loses. That much is normal. When I play a weak game, though, she always ekes out a win.”

“What does that matter?” Cyril asked.

“Typically, one’s own strength doesn’t change. If your opponent is far weaker than you, you should always win by a large margin. But Fia always barely won no matter how weakly I played.”

“Hmph. Interesting.”

“She seemed shocked when I pointed it out, so I can only assume she does it unconsciously. She’s reading her opponent’s strength and adjusting her own to win by the narrowest margin, as if by habit. As for why or how, I can’t figure it out for the life of me.”

“I’m shocked,” said Cyril. “Frankly, this is the first time I’ve seen you unable to read someone.”

“She noticed the captain’s old leg injury, which should’ve been near impossible, and she did it in a moment with almost no information. It’s abnormal. But now I’m monitoring her, and what do I find? The girl’s not perceptive in the slightest. She didn’t even notice Fabian’s haircut. How do you not notice someone you deal with every day cutting their hair by three centimeters?! She’s clearly as thick-headed as it gets…usually.”

“So, from what I understand, she reads her opponent’s strength when fighting and aims for a narrow win. And yet she’s normally unperceptive, except when it comes to injuries. Just what in the world is she?”

“Precisely what I’m asking…” Emptying his third drink, Desmond ordered two more of the same. “How are things on your end, Enoch?”

The man with light-purple hair looked up from his drink and nodded. He was a refined-looking man, and his almond-shaped eyes were alight with intelligence. He seemed like the sort who could comprehend all the phenomena of this world…but that was completely untrue. In fact, his skull was packed with nothing but magic. He was Enoch, captain of the Third Mage Knight Brigade.

“Our analysis of the sword confirms that it has variable enhancement effects, effects thought lost after the Golden Age. The attack and speed enhancements on the sword seem to increase in proportion to the wielder’s own strength.”

“Truly?!” Desmond exclaimed. “Then it’s really as powerful as the national treasures?”

“There are only three known items with variable enhancements in the kingdom,” Enoch continued, “and all of them have been safely passed down through the royal bloodline for the last three hundred years. So why has such a sword appeared now?”

“Dolph said it was from his family’s treasury,” said Desmond, “but not even a hundred years have passed since the Ruuds became a knight family. How could they have obtained a treasure from three hundred years ago?”

“Dolph’s and Fia’s testimonies did line up,” said Cyril said, “didn’t they?”

Desmond frowned. “Yeah, I checked them both myself. They aren’t lying.” He ran his fingers through his hair, a habit of his when it was time to rack his brain. “This all feels wrong. We’re missing something. A piece of the puzzle that answers every question …”

“Perhaps we lack the context to even know what to look for,” said Cyril. “Regardless, you can stop meeting with Fia now. There’s no point in probing further. She’s my brigade’s recruit and therefore my responsibility.”

“Sure. I don’t see any point in asking her more questions either,” said Desmond. “She’s kind of a letdown, don’t you think? She claimed that attacking the captain’s weakness was chivalrous. You’d think that would leave us with a real malicious little monster to expose, but she’s as simple and honest as can be.”

“You don’t need to sound so disappointed,” said Cyril. “And, by the way, no more shadowing Fia either.”

“Hey, I was just doing my job! You make me sound like a stalker or something when you put it like that!”

The two knights bickered all throughout the night while a third calmly enjoyed his drink.