Free Web NovelChapter 487: Arc 6, Chapter 103: Up the Garden Path of Puppeteered Thorns
Fumeko exited Palais Front-de-Mer, with only a couple of GAS agents surveying her departure out the doors. She glanced past the wrought iron fences, towards the general public.
’...’ She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Opening them back up again, she focused on the location—past the fence. Her figure slanted a bit ahead and then wobbled back.
...
...
Fumeko groaned and massaged the bridge of her nose. ’How am I supposed to work with others if I can’t even work with myself...’
"Bb-blast."
The GAS agents shuffled under ceilings. An afternoon shower drizzled down onto her head. She opened up her eyes slightly to glare at the sheer insult committed by the world.
"Excuse me miss; I’d like to leave soon?" the carriage driver who was parked by the side called out.
Fumeko side-eyed.
_
"Drop me off here thanks."
Although thick clouds loomed overhead, the rain had come to a lull. A simple Thursday afternoon; even then, Orchid Plaza bustled with all the sounds and sights of life, with a slight scent of vanishing petrichor.
Damp streets were trodden over by a thousand footsteps and another pair joined the lot. As the carriage took off, Fumeko stood dead-still.
The solitary girl let the mist fill her lungs. Her head tilted back, looking up to the tallest buildings she could. She frowned, staring at the very top.
Despite the swiftness of the people around her, a single tune sailed through the air to brush past her ears. Slow, methodical, charming—her eyes darted to a pianist by the park’s side.
Their wooden instrument on wheels was supported by two small triangular legs; a wet grey bucket was by their side while they played.
’You never took me here. Mrs Aetherton did... What did you really show me of the world dad. And now you’re just, gone. I didn’t say goodbye. I didn’t hear your last words. I didn’t even get to say... I love you.’
Two gold pieces jingled into the bottom of the bucket as the one who tossed it passed by. "Thank you," the pianist said as she played, but her eyes could not find the donor; the short figure was already lost in the sea of people, with but the glint of a purple headband. fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com
"The end’s coming! Soon enough it won’t matter what your job is! No protectors left! Death’s coming for us all-! AH! Gh!" a doomsayer wearing a sign that wrote out ’Burnetrout Will Burn Again’ was tackled by police officers and arrested on the spot.
Fumeko walked along with the flow. She stopped at a small crowd of people gathered in front of a man on a soapbox. He shouted into his megaphone, "The Deuctus Cult’s gonna be our only salvation folks.
Burnetrout’s entering a new age, an age we can see coming and prepare for. Know which side you’re on before it’s too late! We’ve seen what happens when we keep resisting.
What’s so bad about em’ anyway? What’s the parliament done for us huh? If it weren’t for the Thundering Blade’s meddling, the war could’ve been over for us! Yet here we are, more terror on the streets! Being pulled every which way!"
While a minority in the crowd joined in to cry out the same sentiment, many muttered among themselves and shuffled their feet around the protestor. Barely batting an eye, Fumeko continued on her way.
Schoolgirls in uniform chit-chatted and twittered, meeting up with friends before entering the Fentamose Mall or hitting up the cafes nearby.
A group of schoolboys kicked a football down the road, playing the game as they went before hollering when it rolled between someone’s legs.
"Grrbrr..."
Fumeko held her own stomach. The scent of baked goods and fresh lunch items being served out to tables finally got to her. ’What’s the last thing I ate...? ... ...’
She chose the closest restaurant and sat down under an umbrella outside, before she was brought out a menu to choose from. Passing by her was a paperboy with a couple of sheets left for the day. freeωebnovēl.c૦m
Fumeko waved a silver piece out of her pocket which the boy ran to and handed her a newspaper from a publication of her choosing. "Thank you miss," the paperboy went on his way.
After ordering a meal, she unfolded the Phoenix Newspaper- She winced her eyes shut immediately and pulled the paper far, far away from her face.
Right there, front and centre, was a picture of Mandragora Clocktower on the day of the tragic event. A small dark patch of ink marked a figure attached to the face of the clock.
Stuck in her pose for a few more seconds, she paced her breaths and drew the paper back for her to read. Her eyes skipped over the image entirely and read through the article—nothing groundbreakingly new of course.
It spoke of loss, tragedy and an uncertain future. It detailed the cult’s involvement and the Thundering Blade’s disappearance. It did not however mention Kineko anywhere.
And for that matter, there was no mention of herself beyond the brief reference of the Sirens of Kria. She relaxed—not being seen felt like a boon to her.
At least nothing disrespectful or fearmongering was written. She scanned the page from top to bottom for a name... yet it never came up.
She flipped through the pages of various bits of news with every name of the journalist at the bottom. Her brows furrowed. ’Would you look at that. She does have a heart.’
As she took sips of her fresh cup of coffee, she read a brief article on the back that warned people from doing anything that might anger the cult, lest they suffer the same fate as-
The scrunching of papers followed. She tossed the balled-up newspaper onto the table and sat back in her seat. The waiter at the same time served her a plate of fish and chips.
She shook her head and leaned forward to satiate her overly noisy belly... ’Fuck...’ As she stared at the beautifully beer battered horned pollock, her appetite gradually became subdued. ’Why did I order this of all things.’
Fumeko pecked away at the golden chips and left the restaurant with the fish packed in a paper bag. To Fleur Borough she walked, past the crowds and carriages.
Each footfall was heavier than the last; her stride matched all those walking around her for once. An hour of continuous walking led her to an apartment building that may host some answers.
She stood outside, looking at curtains of floral prints high up. ’If Alicia didn’t put it in the papers, it’s at least in her house.’ The problem was of course, that she needed to be invited in first and Alicia was definitely not home.
However, there was another way... A minor split in the curtains, a small gap of light that can seep through—that was all she needed...
She stared and stared; she even tried lifting a foot, but took a step back knowing doing a hop was not going to trigger her spell out of the blue.
So, she left. On her own two feet she kept on a southern path for the next half an hour or so. These buildings, these streets and alleys felt familiar.
No specific memory came to mind. That was because she zoomed past them from rooftop to rooftop. Now, she was forced to glance at every window, down every street and check every corner.
What a nice garden in front of a lovely home. A small sweetshop sat nestled in between some cafés—easily missed within the blink of an eye. Stray cats meowed up to her in the hopes of food, only to ignore her when she paid them no mind.
Surrounded by police tape and pushed aside rubble, the leftover site of Investigations Co. came into view. People avoided getting anywhere close to wreckage.
Even if they wanted to, Fumeko already spotted a couple of police officers in civilian clothing specifically to prevent that. ’Who do they think they’re fooling?’
The evening hour felt so, quiet. She stood there in silence as well... It actually felt peaceful. The only thing disturbing her peace, was the sight of someone clearly rummaging around the debris.
Seeing that the police were not going to stop the intruding figure, Fumeko walked up to the person. "I’m gonna assume you’re supposed to be here."
"You’d be assuming right," a cold mature voice replied, refined in tone.
The light browns of her long fox-like ears and thick tail, matched the hues of her long hair. Braids made a circlet from her temples to the back to keep the rest of the loose hair back. Many strands were greying, including some on her tail.
She wore a pair of pinstripe trousers of dark grey colouring and a vest to match. The sleeves of her white blouse were all the way down, with ruffles at the cuff.
She was looking around the rubble of Kazuo Namora’s office, occasionally bending down to check something, only to come up empty handed. "This isn’t a place for kids to be running around in; unless of course."
"Fumeko Namora. And you are?"
"Diana Ward," she turned. She gave a polite smile that made the crow’s feet at the corners of her silver-blue eyes wrinkle. Patches of red-tinted scarring covered some portion of the right side of her face, ending below the eye and before it hit the nose.
Her otherwise peach skin glowed exuberantly, as the fox-woman in her late forties just as quickly turned back to her investigation. "My condolences for your loss," she commented offhandedly while sorting through rubble.
’...’ "Aren’t you attending the funeral? It’s on Mason Island."
"It’s either now or the public one. All the same to me, I’ll pay my respects at the latter."
Fumeko narrowed her eyes, "You two weren’t close then?"
"Why? Your father ever mentioned me?"
"Not particularly."
"Listen, job’s the job; I didn’t give a damn when he was alive, I don’t see why I need to give a damn when he’s dead. The more important thing was what he was working on for the past decade over cause it’s gonna be the thing that shapes the entire country.
Your dad and me shared being a general, criminal & conspiracy detective—that’s all. With him gone and Maevis offshore, I’m the only one left qualified to take on his case."
The brunette cocked her head to the side and crossed her arms, "Mrs Aetherton’s worked closer with the case; and right now, she’s the greatest detective in Burnetrout, so I don’t know if that holds up."
Diana scoffed a chuckle, "A homicide detective that couldn’t figure out her own son’s suicide till Namora gave her an assist wouldn’t be my first pick; you got humour, I’ll give you that."
’What? Her son died? ...I thought he was.’ Fumeko took a step back; she faced the rubble absentmindedly.
"And I assume I’m now the third, so before you even say it, Werner’s specialty’s fraud and corporate; as if he’s gonna be checking finances in the position he’s in."
"What about Rose?" the brunette raised a brow.
"What about her?" Diana turned. "Rose is a spy, so the only one worth working with—missing persons, intelligence gathering and narcotics; so Namora, you can join her in being useful and play nice, or you can get out of my way," she put elegantly.
"I haven’t seen you in once in Dolpool while everything’s been going on and now you just walk in and think you can take the case like it’s been tossed aside?"
"Burnetrout’s a lot bigger than Dolpool shortbread."
’...Be tolerant huh.’ "Fine. Here’s a hint though, you’re not gonna find anything in there."
"Smart choice girly. But I’ll be giving it a once over anyway, so you can run along to where you need to be."
