- Pendrick's Room -
Pendrick scanned the room where everyone had seemingly made themselves comfortable in no time. His eye twitched in slight annoyance at the sight of Astelle and Evora haphazardly lying in his bed.
Turning towards the two who had been his companions of the day, he found Bach sat in the lone chair inside the room while Frid had plopped himself onto the floor by his bathroom door. The blond's hand clasped his forehead, quickly realising he had no proper place to sit in his own room. He watched as Frid patted the ground next to him, the message annoyingly clear: "Be like me and settle on down, friend."
The last Dorn could've sworn the man was smiling under that helmet, too.
Begrudgingly, he fell onto the ground next to the room's entrance and immediately regretted how hard he had. Ignoring the pain, he thought about what he wanted to discuss first. Remembering everything that had happened and what he'd heard afterwards, he turned to address Frid, shooting him what could only be described as a struggling attempt at a look of compassion.
"Hey, you good?"
The pink-eyed man blinked a little in surprise at the question and then at who had asked it. He then let loose an awkward chuckle, rolling his neck around to seemingly alleviate some discomfort from the helmet's chin strap and weight.
"I'm fine," he said, trying his best to appear calm and collected. "It was nothing some light exercise couldn't fix."
Pendrick nodded. 'He's lying. And badly at that.'
He shot him an additional sideways glance before quietly deciding to keep an eye on him throughout the duration of their forced cooperation.
"The head of the Golden Eye Guild reached back out to me," Evora said, hanging her head upside down from the side of the bed. "His message detailed how he'd found a way to smuggle you guys to a warp gate, but that he has two main concerns."
The other three all gave plain looks to Pendrick, who remained stoic, having by now realised the calibre of people he was dealing with.
"She's talking about Gavis Balroc," he explained simply, watching realisation dawn on two of the three while Astelle still didn't seem to get it, which was understandable since she didn't even know who the man was. "He's the very influential man I reached out to for help. You don't have to worry, he hates slavery, so he'll help us without fail."
Astelle nodded in appreciation for the added explanation.
Pendrick faced the redhead, looking her in her eyes, fully prepared to start the long-winded discussion of the finer details. "What was he concerned about?"
Evora sat up, beginning to recall everything she'd read in the letter before burning it.
"One: Which warp gate are you even going to use?" She said, raising fingers in counting as she went. "And two: Do you think the manpower you currently have is enough?"
The blond put a hand on his chin, appearing to enter a state of deep contemplation. After about three minutes or so, he looked back up, seemingly having made a decision.
"We'll head for the warp in Triots," he said, looking around for any objections.
Everyone remained silent, the only noise in the room being the hum of the Hazestone that Pendrick had "borrowed" from Menagerie.
"You thought about the three available options... and picked the military base?" Evora questioned incredulously. Bach nodded profusely in the background, agreeing with her sentiment.
"No," Frid chimed, his voice more steady than earlier. "He's right. Triots is our best option."
"You're serious?" Evora looked at her helmeted friend, completely perplexed.
Pendrick leaned forward. "Dannos, Lukaria City, and Triots."
"Each possesses a single warp gate," he continued calmly. "Dannos is a no-go because the nobility there all have elite personal guards, and the standards of the city guards are also much higher there than here."
"As for the gate here, you would think it would be the best option since it's the closest, but..." Frid picked up from where Pendrick left off. "There's a troublesome guy tasked with protecting Lukaria City's warp gate. We wouldn't get past him even if all the combat slaves banded together."
Bach and Evora were taken aback at that.
"I've never heard of anything like that," Bach said, incredibly doubtful of what was being said.
"Of course you haven't," Pendrick jumped back into the conversation. "It's not an official guard position or anything. They work for that guy."
The blood in the two's veins ran cold. An uncomfortable expression formed on Evora's face that didn't fly past the blond's attention. Understanding the situation, simple nods were all they were able to muster.
"Who are you talking about?" Astelle asked.
Pendrick just then remembered the purple-haired woman's presence. He was certain that anyone else would be annoyed at being so left out of an important discussion, but the girl had always been oddly laid back since they met her.
He suddenly remembered her violently thrashing around and rushing at Patrick and his goons, and then later at the arena.
'Except for those times...'
"Drexler Pallen," Frid said, his voice colder than they had ever heard it. "It would be best if you never even thought about the man, let alone met him."
"...Why?" Astelle asked hesitantly, curiosity getting the better of her.
They all stared into the pitch black of the helmet's openings; the usually somewhat visible pink eyes were nowhere to be seen.
The tall, pale man laughed in the young boy's face.
"You're him!" he said jovially, almost in a sing-song fashion. "The kid from the memories!"
Frid rushed at him, fist cocked back. His eyes bloodshot in pure, unadulterated rage.
The man effortlessly caught the fist, sweeping the boy's legs and sending him tumbling to the ground.
"Calm down," he said, that frustrating, gentle smile still on his face. "I can't kill you. There's a guy who wants to meet you."
Ignoring whatever the man was saying, Frid ran at him once again.
The man sighed, driving a brutal punch into the boy's gut. He then looked down at the child as he heaved and emptied the contents of his stomach. Grabbing him by the back of his shirt, he carelessly carried him like luggage.
"Let's go."
Stepping into the well-decorated red and golden halls that were now littered with countless corpses, the man threw the boy onto the ground. Frid's body slid about a metre before coming to a halt at the feet of a shirtless man clad in pure white pants—though they were now completely stained with blood.
Frid sat up, coming face-to-face with the crouched man. He possessed long red hair, marking him as a possible member of the Carmens. Just like the Crimson Witch he'd met about a week prior, his face looked regal, elegant beyond what one could believe to be natural. His dead, violet eyes scanned the boy's face, bringing to mind the first few times he'd met Sephonia.
"Boy," the red-haired man suddenly spoke, his voice alarmingly neutral for the scene they were standing in. "Are you not scared?"
Frid maintained a straight face, refusing to answer the man.
A twisted smile formed on the man's face. He brought a hand to Frid's face, gently running his index finger just below the boy's left eye. Frid felt as his skin tore, but still maintained his composure.
Suddenly, the man erupted with laughter.
"I was right," he said brightly, addressing the pale man standing behind the young child. "Didn't I tell you?"
The other man nodded lazily, almost as if to appease the redhead.
"Yes, yes, you were right."
"Kid, my name is Drexler." He turned back to the boy. "I'm going to rip and tear into this world and see what happens."
Frid had seen plenty of crazy people in his short time alive, but looking at him, he was certain that this was by far the greatest lunatic he'd ever met. Still, he didn't say anything to the redhead.
"You're interesting!" The man exclaimed excitedly. "Come work for me!"
Frid's eyes opened slowly, looking at no one in the room in particular. Exhaling heavily, he shook his head.
"Because he's the devil."
Silence—aside from the quiet hum—once again overtook the room.
Astelle, seeing that everyone seemed content to leave the explanation at just that descriptor, chose to leave the questions about the man there... for now.
"Okay, so this military base is our pick, now what?" the gifted girl asked.
Pendrick nodded. "Well, there's a lot to be discussed even with us deciding that... but I'll settle all those specifics with Balroc."
"Meaning," he continued. "We can move on to the second thing."
"The thing about us not being enough for the plan to succeed?" Bach asked. "I think that's a bit much. We have Frid and Astelle who are really strong, and then there's my Gift and your planning. That's more than enough, no?"
"What he said in the letter isn't wrong," Pendrick answered. "I'd thought about it too, actually."
He then looked at Frid, waiting to see if he would speak up.
Frid, noticing the gaze, chimed in. "It would be easy to rope in the majority of the combat slaves, but as a precaution, it can only be done at the very last minute."
"To prevent details leaking out or other efforts at sabotage," Astelle said, remembering what he had said to her in the arena.
Pendrick and Frid nodded.
"But we would still need more people who have a general idea of what's going on just to smooth things over once the chaos erupts," Pendrick pointed out.
Frid hesitated for a moment, then raised his hand.
"If you can find a way to get a message to some people, I can take care of that..."
The blond's eyes narrowed. "But?"
"I'll have to use the bargaining chip I offered you back then," the helmeted man blurted out, avoiding eye contact.
"With my extra kill, there's now an empty spot in the main tournament," Frid explained. "That means someone will get to skip a fight."
Pendrick nodded. "Okay?"
"I'll make sure you get that spot, so work with me on my plan."
"Your plan to do what?"
"Escape," Frid said casually.
"Are you actually insane?!"
The blond recalled how much work he'd put into having that empty spot maintained in the renewed main tournament. Massaging the bridge of his nose, he sighed.
"Use it."
"For real?" Frid asked, tone drenched in shock.
"Yes, I'm in too deep already anyway," Pendrick explained flatly. "Use the damn thing."
Frid gave a double thumbs up in response, to which the green-eyed man looked unamused.
"With that, we're done for today," Pendrick said, standing up. "I'm sure you understand the reasons we can't go on for longer."
"For those of us with slave marks, let's get some much-needed rest," he continued, ignoring the indignant look Evora threw him. "It must've been pretty rough this whole time, yeah?"
"Yes, but I'll manage," Astelle replied, standing from the bed and stretching her arms and back.
Bach nodded in agreement despite not fully being on board with the "I'll manage" part. He made for the door while fighting back a yawn, thinking about just getting to his bed for now.
Pendrick looked to the last of his fellow slaves, noting how he stayed oddly unresponsive.
"This marks the second time he's been weird about the seal," he muttered under his breath.
"What was that?" Bach asked, standing in front of the door.
Pendrick snapped out of his thoughts. "Nothing."
"All of you, get out."
---
The four walked out toward their respective places of rest, waving each other off.
Frid turned to head to his outhouse when Evora grabbed his wrist. He looked back at her, already aware of what she wanted to say.
"Are you really going to go tomorrow?"
Frid looked at the ground, noting the sand and finding the timing of its presence ironic given the topic at hand.
"Yes, don't worry," he answered, his voice low. "I will. I promise."
Evora smiled brightly, letting him go and rushing off, but turning around to wave at him excitedly.
"Make sure you actually try to look nice!" she yelled. "In fact, maybe I'll come help you prepare!"
"Please don't!" Frid shook his hands fervently to dismiss her idea. "I'll be fine!"
"If you say so!" Evora exclaimed before jogging off happily.
Left alone to his thoughts, Frid looked at the sand once more. Crouching down, he traced his finger across it, drawing the familiar shape he had always watched be unconsciously streaked into the ground in his childhood.