Sweet, truly sweet scent permeated the air. It was difficult to discern exactly what the scent was made of. Was it flowers? Honey? Or perhaps wild berries?
But its composition didn't matter much, because, even if created from the feces of the most hideous animal, this scent was impossible to ignore or not appreciate. It was the kind of scent that rudely enters your nostrils, attacking your brain.
Usually, this led any living being to be drawn to it, beginning a long and desperate search for the source of that smell.
Andrew Locke would be part of these living beings every moment of the day, but unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, he already knew the origin of the scent. And that origin aroused in him a feeling of disgust, as great as the number of times the boy began to appreciate not only the smell but also the beauty of the Witch before him.
Which were many, unfortunately.
Precisely for this reason, Andrew decided not to focus on the woman in front of him, but rather to observe what little he could see from the carriage window. And beyond that, to listen to the rhythmic sound of the wheels rolling over the stone and the faint "footsteps" of the horses echoing ahead.
Hearing no words from the woman, Andrew hesitated whether to be grateful or not. He would have preferred not to give away accidental information, and he would have preferred not to hear her voice.
On the other hand, remaining silent the whole time was creating a tense atmosphere that he didn't like at all. In the event of a confrontation, considering his situation, he wouldn't have been able to do much.
So Andrew continued to gaze out the small window, which was veiled by a thin layer of curtain.
This was a private carriage, which, while more expensive, afforded certain comforts extremely useful for a Demoness.
Even though they'd never opened this conversation, Andrew was well aware, after observing their behavior, that their beauty was both their strongest asset and their greatest annoyance.
Aside from the complicated psychological implications for a former man, the way people behaved once captivated by their beauty was problematic, to say the least.
Love letters, confessions, and even stalking at times. Precisely for this reason, even Demones of Pleasure like Jeanne Rolland were forced to hide. Using private carriages, closing all the windows with curtains, and walking around with their faces covered.
Having all these encounters would help the Witch digest her potion, but besides being annoying, for the reasons already mentioned, it was also dangerous. You never know; the officials might become too suspicious of the uproar caused by a single woman.
Finally, the woman seemed to decide to offer a few words.
"I found this in the mail."
Revealing an envelope in one swift movement, Andrew took it with some trepidation.
There was a certain response he'd been waiting for...
The first thing he'd noticed was that the letter's wrapping had been opened, which wasn't a good thing.
Once he pulled out the paper, his fears were confirmed.
"Dear Mr. Sword,
I received your letter, and don't worry, I'll help you as best I can to obtain the ingredient you seek.
Of course, it won't be free, but there's no rush. You can repay the debt slowly, one step at a time.
Let's meet at the Midnight Cat on October 2nd to clarify the details.
Sincerely,
Mr. Hawk."
Reading the final signature, Andrew felt relieved, grateful both to his past self and to Mr. Star for avoiding using the codename "Star."
At the same time, using only Sword had prevented the Demoness from thinking about the Tarot Club.
In that case, the witch could have put two and two together, but fortunately, she lacks information... At this point, she can only come up with a simplified answer.
And she certainly can't divine Mr. Star; he should be a Sequence too heigh for her
Putting on a brave front, Andrew placed the letter on the seat with a certain annoyance.
"Don't open letters meant for me. Besides, weren't you supposed to be leaving? You said you were only staying one night."
"I said I'd stay one night," a wicked smile grew on his face, "but I never specified that I meant: "I'd stay one night within the city.""
"It was implied. I asked you how long you'd be staying in Backlund."
"So it was a miscommunication. No problem."
Resisting the urge to strike the woman, Andrew was forced to accept his mistake.
Ugh, she sure has many lovers. SO many houses to play dead-weight in, this bastard…
Closing her eyes, Jeanne placed her hand on her forehead, as if to calm an approaching headache.
"I have no problem with many of the things you do, like going in wild Beyonders meetings and such. However, it seems like you're looking for the ingredients to advance...For this I need to be warned. I could-"
"I don't want your help," Andrew replied immediately.
"You're lucky I'm taking your money, so don't push it."
Moving her hand to her lap, the woman showed an annoyed expression.
"Again with this? I'm here on behalf of your mother, nothing else. I'm not happy to be here either."
"Then you should have helped her, Jean."
Saying those words in a rush, Andrew brought the carriage down into a silence not unlike the one before.
The Demoness remained silent, a bland expression on her face. Perhaps she expected this answer, or perhaps she had heard this response many times before from the same boy that she had grown accustomed to it.
In any case, she continued, as if nothing had happened.
"Fine, but I demand to know anyway. Even if you don't want my help," Jeanne paused and raised her eyebrows.
"And how did you come into contact with the Nighthawks, anyway?"
...
"What?" Andrew asked, confused.
Huffing, the woman crossed her arms. "If you don't even want to tell me that..." And with that, she continued muttering something.
But meanwhile, Andrew's mind was in a loop.
Nighthawks? Like THOSE Nighthawks? The Beyonders of the Church of the Evernight Goddess? Why would she even think about them?
Once he thought this, Andrew began rereading the contents of the letter. Since it was the only piece of evidence the woman had found, there must have been something he hadn't noticed or taken for granted...
After reading the letter twice, his eyes showed a small tick.
The secret codename for Mr. Star is Hawk... like Nighthawks... also, the bar I was supposed to send the letter to is called Midnight Cat, MIDNIGHT...
Fuck-!
On the surface, the boy showed no emotion; he couldn't in front of the Demoness. But internally, he was having one of the biggest panic attacks since his first encounter with Mr. Fortune.
Why is Mr. Star connected to the Nighthawks?! Don't tell me... the Church of the Fool planted a spy?! But, but, they've never done anything that would expose them as an evil cult!
Oh Gods, my Major Arcana is a spy within one of the largest faiths in the world.
If they find out about Mr. Star, they might find out about me too; I could become a target of the Evernight Goddess herself. And if I try to warn them about the mole, Mr. Fortune will kill me personally...
I'm dead... I'm so dead...
With that, Andrew and Jeanne remained isolated within their own thoughts.
The Demoness was pondering how the boy could have created such bonds.
While the Reader Beyonder pondered when to write his future will.
This silence continued for quite a while, but just before reaching the "edge" of West Borough, the Demoness decided to confront the boy about other matters.
"I found the letter during school hours. From that moment on, I've been tailing you.
You entered a house with an old man, and after leaving devastated, you wandered like a dead man to another house... from which a girl emerged. Do you know how bad that seemed from my point of view?" she concluded with a smirk.
Andrew blinked for a few seconds before answering.
"If you were tailing me, why didn't you help me after the first house?"
"Would you have let me help you?"
...Fair
After thinking for a while, Andrew found an acceptable excuse.
"Like you said, you don't care about my various encounters with Wild Beyonders, do you? Well, they fell into that category."
Jeanne observed him for a moment before retorting, "You seem too tired for a normal encounter."
Shrugging, the student gave a nonchalant look.
"A few fights are normal between Beyonders, don't you think?"
Silence was her response.
Having subsequently found a way to defuse the situation, Andrew allowed himself a moment of smugness.
Unfortunately, the Demoness wouldn't leave him happy for long.
"Hm, you still had me worried. So, you'll have to cook me a steak I bought today."
With a piercing look, the boy complained.
"Why should I? I don't think I'll do it."
"Okay, then I'll kick you out of the house."
"...You want it rare?"
He swore, one day he would wipe that satisfied smile from the Demoness's face.
After cooking a nice steak, he went straight to bed. He still had to recover his Spirituality.
Spending several days with little Spirituality would lead to signs of losing control. And he preferred to avoid that.
****************
As usual, during the night, his mind slowly slipped from reality until it ended up inside the classic black building.
After reporting everything to Mr. Fortune, he decided to wait for His revelation, which fortunately didn't take long to arrive.
"My instinct tells me you're on the right track. The bodies that were used as base for those puppets were already dead to begin with."
"So the Savant works closely with the corpses, or does he steal them from a cemetery?"
The Snake's head nodded.
"Those are possibilities. And about that Hazel... well, you don't have to worry."
Andrew listened with some curiosity. "Always your instincts?"
"Hmm?" Mr. Fortune tilted His serpentine head in confusion. "No, let's just say we know each other."
Taken aback, the Minor Arcana recoiled in surprise. Could she be another of Mr. Fool's followers? But Mr. Fortune had said "let's just say," thus creating an area of detachment...
A jovial chuckle echoed throughout the structure, no, throughout the entire dream.
"Are you jealous that you're not the only one? It's no problem, really, because you're wrong," He concluded as if He'd read his mind.
"A while ago, there was an accident where she got caught in the middle. One of the Major Arcana then asked me for help."
Major Arcana? But from what I've heard, even the members of the Tarot Club don't have much interactions with Mr. Fool's Angels... but Ms. Justice, now that I recall, informed me that she was among the few members, if not the only one, to have contacted Mr. Fortune before. Could she have been the one handling the incident?
In his thoughts, the boy wondered what kind of trouble the girl named Hazel had gotten herself that required the Tarot Club's help to resolve it.
"Mr. Fortune, what Sequence is Ms. Hazel?"
"Recalling last time, it should be Sequence 7. That is, unless she's advanced, of course."
Nodding, Andrew decided to ask one last question on the matter.
"How cautious should I be with her?"
At which point Mr. Fortune huddled into himself, almost bored.
"Not very much. She's just a child, basically... but maybe you should be aware of the organization behind her."
"Organization?" he asked, confused.
The first part made sense to him; he, too, was nothing more than a child in front of Mr. Fortune. However, the second part surprised him. How did this Angel know that? Was it because of the previous incident mentioned?
Hissing patiently, Mr. Fortune cleared up the boy's doubts.
"Do you remember what you learned from that Swindler? That he receives his ingredients from his master, this Ms. Hazel, because she knows circles he doesn't. Well, you see, the Marauder Pathway is... peculiar.
"It only has two opposing sources from which to receive the formulas and ingredients. So the girl is part of one of them, and I already know which one."
"Really?"
"Yes, that's because one of the sources is composed of a single individual!"
Mr. Fortune's voice rang out through the building with a certain violence, enough to shake it. Andrew himself almost fell to the ground due to the unstable ground, but he didn't pay enough attention.
This was because he was still fixated on His teacher's words.
He called the first source an organization; which is antagonistic to the second, made up of a single individual. This means that a single individual is capable of fighting against an entire organization!
Accustomed to the serpent's teachings, Ace of Swords smiled with ironic resignation.
"You can't tell me more, can you?"
If there was one phrase Andrew Locke had heard repeatedly over the past few days, it was: "I can't say more; this is for your safety." And Mr. Fortune's silence seemed to confirm it.
Sighing, Andrew put his hand on his head.
What's the point of having an Angel as a Teacher if I can't know half the things... bah
Despite this, Andrew knew he was wrong. He had learned a lot under Mr. Fortune, such as the existence of the Beyonder Characteristics. The thought was born from the frustration of not being able to understand everything due to his "weakness."
Mr. Fortune himself seemed to have understood how much the situation weighed on the boy, leading him to extend the lesson a bit to explain one last thing.
"It seems our Mr. Fool really likes you, eh eh eh."
The words brought the Beyonder out of that mindset, a bit too much even. The words spoken simply were actually extremely important to him.
It was important to remember that The Fool was a deity! Precisely for this reason, his mouth gaped comically before snapping shut to avoid appearing rude.
"M-Mr. Fortune, I think you should be careful what you say."
"Oh, but that's true," He replied with His usual serpentine smile. Bringing His face closer to Andrew, He continued.
"He personally interfered with your Ritualistic Magic to help you get an answer... I'd say that counts as being a Blessed."
Blessed?!
Chuckling at the boy's extremely shocked face, the Serpent concluded the lesson with a final warning.
"Be careful. I sense a problem in your near future."
****************
Morning had arrived, but Andrew kept thinking about the words of his, uh, "guardian angel." He had never warned him before, not even when he and the Chancellor had faced that monster yesterday.
So what was the problem? Surely it couldn't be limited to fights... relationship, perhaps? Something that would distance him from Melissa?
Luckily, he didn't have to think about it for long, because even before he entered the school building, someone was waiting for him.
He had a good build and a proud blond mustache. MI9 member Trevor Lionheart looked him over before speaking.
"Come with me."
****************
Thanks for reading this far! I admit that I'm going through a period in which I lost the will to write basically everything, so the next chapters will come slowly and will be much shorter than usual.
Hope you liked this, if there are any suggestions, whether grammar or story-wise, feel free to tell me!