Chapter 177: First Meeting (Patreon)

"You two..."

It was a day later when Kal'tsit saw Saito and the Administrator again. Looking at the pair standing before her, practically unscathed, she found herself at a loss for words.

She'd meant to turn back and help once the convoy reached safe ground, but Laqeramaline had stopped her, saying the fighting there was already over.

"Don't worry. We made it back safe."

Saito gave a thumbs-up with his right hand, though his expression didn't look particularly pleased.

It would be more accurate to say the Sanguinarch had scared himself off than that they'd driven him away. If it had come down to a fight to the finish, no one could say for certain who would've won — but both sides would surely have been left in ruins.

The ruler of the Royal Court's true strength was far more terrifying than he'd imagined. If the Administrator hadn't stayed to hold the line, Saito himself might have ended up the one fleeing.

Still, Saito wasn't too discouraged. The man was a legendary figure who'd lived for who knew how many years — it would've been strange if he'd been that easy to beat.

All told, Saito had only spent a handful of years on Terra so far. Just give it a couple more, and see — if he didn't fold the Sanguinarch up like a curled-up kitten by then, that alone would already count as going easy on him!

"Coming back safe is what matters." Kal'tsit gave the two of them a long look, then turned her gaze toward the direction they were heading. "We're only two days from Babel now. Get some rest."

To evade Duq'arael's pursuit, the convoy had picked up its pace considerably — a five-day journey compressed into far less time — but the cost was that the cargo's integrity had suffered somewhat.

That problem, though, was no longer something that troubled them, not since they'd struck an agreement with Endfield.

"Mm."

Saito nodded. The Administrator leaned half against his shoulder, clearly still worn out. Kal'tsit watched the exchange between them, seeming to want to say something, but in the end she walked away from their car without a word, her face unreadable.

...

Two days later.

"Lady Theresa, Dr. Kal'tsit and the others are back."

The convoy hadn't even entered the bounds of Babel's encampment yet when the messenger brought word.

The King of Sarkaz, her face lined with exhaustion, broke into an unmistakably relaxed smile. She could feel the messenger's genuine joy radiating from him — it seemed Kal'tsit and the supplies had both come through without incident.

"I understand. Go on, get back to your work."

"Yes, Lady Theresa."

The messenger slipped back into the shadows, leaving no trace of ever having been in the room.

Theresa rose slowly from her chair and left her office, heading toward the gates of Babel's encampment. Facing the threat of the Sanguinarch, the kinsmen who'd escorted the supplies must have endured no small ordeal.

As their leader, she owed them a visit to offer some words of comfort.

Besides, it had been a long time since she'd seen Laqeramaline. Back when she was still in Kazdel, the ruler of the Banshees had been one of her few friends.

"Oh, right — Aefanyl probably doesn't even know his mother's here."

It wasn't until Theresa reached the gates of the encampment that it occurred to her: the Operator Logos had spent this whole stretch of time on the front lines holding back the War Council's forces, and clearly hadn't had any chance to hear the news.

"Ah well. Might as well let it be a little surprise."

Just picturing the scene of that mother and son reuniting, even Theresa couldn't help a touch of mischievous amusement — not that the relationship between the two of them was bad, exactly.

It was just that the way Laqeramaline had raised Aefanyl tended to make people... well, stifle a laugh.

The tremor of the earth gradually spread beneath Theresa's feet, and the roar of engines reached her ears. Watching the transport convoy raise a great cloud of dust in the distance, a warm, genuine smile bloomed across her face.

"Kal'tsit. Welcome back."

"Your Majesty."

Kal'tsit bowed her head slightly in respect. Whenever there were many people around, she always made a habit of reining in her usual informality and placing herself in the role of a subordinate.

A trace of helplessness crossed Theresa's expression, but she didn't press the matter — even if she said something, Kal'tsit would go right on doing things her own way. No point wasting her breath.

"Laqeramaline, it's been a while. How have you been?"

"Oh, wonderful. Couldn't be better."

Laqeramaline's tone carried a note of helplessness. With Endfield having settled into the valley, how could things not be good? In just a few short days, she'd almost stopped recognizing her own territory. According to a few of her subordinates, with Endfield's help, they could coast through the rest of the year doing nothing at all.

Not to mention all those absurdly convenient goods and facilities — if the prices had been steep, that would've been one thing, but Saito and the others had practically given everything away. Laqeramaline could hardly bring herself to say no.

The Banshees, for their part, were positively overjoyed about it. At this rate, the valley was going to end up shaped entirely like Endfield.

Laqeramaline's reaction struck Theresa as a little odd, but she let it go for now, turning her attention instead to the three people who'd come alongside Kal'tsit and Laqeramaline.

"And these three are...?"

Theresa had never seen these faces in Babel before; their bearing didn't match that of Kazdel locals, either — though the silver-haired girl staring wide-eyed at her did carry a hint of Kazdel features.

"We're from Endfield. We've come to ask you about some matters, and also to discuss forming a partnership with Babel."

"Endfield..."

Theresa repeated the name softly, confusion written across her eyes. She seemed never to have heard of this organization before — but judging by how Kal'tsit and Laqeramaline were behaving, perhaps she really did need to have a talk with this Endfield.

"Let's head inside first."

Standing around blocking the encampment gate clearly wasn't going to work, and the supplies had already been handed off to someone else to manage. Theresa gave the group a warm smile, without a trace of the airs or authority one might expect from the King of Sarkaz.

Only now did Saito start to believe in the exceedingly gentle King of Sarkaz the Administrator had described.

Following Theresa's lead, the group made their way into Babel's encampment.

And Saito's first impression of the legendary Babel was — poor!

Yes, truly poor — poor in a way that hardly resembled the provisional seat of government of an entire nation.

Decay was visible everywhere. Most of the buildings were converted mud or wooden huts left behind by the local natives, and most of the tools and equipment looked worn with age. Saito could even spot the influence of various nations in the soldiers' weapons.

Traces of Ursus, in particular, were everywhere.

But beyond the poverty, Saito found something else here too — something different.

People from different nations and different races had all gathered here together; though hardship weighed on them, their faces still carried a hint of a smile.

It was the first time Saito had witnessed such a sight anywhere on this land.

"Seems like I really did come to the right place."