The Simulacrum

~Chapter 151~ Part 2

Twenty minutes later, inside the same Constable Inc. minivan Duncan used all the time.

"So it wasn't you."

Roland wasn't looking at me (which was for the better, because he was driving), but I could practically feel his deadpan critical stare on my skin all the same. We've already made the rounds and delivered my sisters and girlfriends home, and now we were on the way to the School.

Since I didn't respond to him, he let out a soft sigh.

"That means we have someone out there acting like Bel of the Abyss while possessing your abilities and knowledge, but we don't know where he is, we don't know his agenda, and we can't do anything about him."

Needless to say, I didn't explain the whole timey-wimey retcon business to Roland, but I shared all the other essential details, and he had a good grasp on the situation.

"More or less, though as far as his agenda is concerned, I think we're safe."

Without warning, Roland stepped on the brake pedal to slow down the car and his head snapped to the side to face me. Luckily there was nobody else on the road, or we might've caused a commotion. More importantly though, he was practically glaring at me.

"He just helped the people who tried to assassinate Joshua and Angeline out of Magi custody," he stated emphatically, and I couldn't help but awkwardly rub my forehead.

"Yes, I know that looks bad, but there's probably a good reason for why he did that." Or, at the very least, I was sure that if I ever decided to do something like that, I wouldn't do it without a good reason. Roland still looked eminently skeptical of my claim, so I added, "Trust me on this."

He didn't relent, and after staring me down for a few seconds, he finally turned back to the road and accelerated, accompanied by the words, "The more you say that, the harder people will find it to trust you."

I wanted to argue, but I really couldn't. With how many secrets within secrets I have been keeping all this time, it was a small miracle that those chickens hadn't come home to roost yet, but hearing this from Roland of all people hit especially hard.

"Listen, I'm not saying I know exactly what's going on either, or why this Bel is doing the things he does, but I can swear that he's probably not an enemy."

"Probably?" he echoed me with a brow raised, and I hastily amended myself.

"Certainly. He's certainly not an enemy, just… method-acting the role. Let's go with that."

"Fine. Let's say I accept that. What are we going to do about him?"

"I don't know yet. Our first meeting was short, and we mostly talked about difficult metaphysical things. Hopefully, I can give you a clearer answer after the next time we meet."

Roland let out an ambivalent grunt that could be interpreted either as a sign of disapproval or agreement, and for the time being, that was the end of the conversation. Which was then followed by an awkward silence. Oh joy, that's my favourite kind!

Seriously though, trying to insist more than that would've felt a touch too desperate, so I decided to wisely shut up and focus my attention elsewhere. That meant Far Sight, but first I had to overcome a dilemma. We were only a few minutes away from the school, so I had to pick my target carefully. I've already checked on the 'escaped' assassin wannabes, and while I was a little bit curious about how things were developing between Mountain Girl and Naoren now that we weren't around, I decided to give them some privacy.

By process of elimination, I settled on Duncan, and after a quick shift of my perspective, the scenery around me changed into that of a fairly unremarkable British-style pub. Not too shady, exuding some class with the hardwood barstools and fancy ceiling lamps, yet also a bit rowdy, with a large TV screen showing the replay of some football match over the bar counter.

"Argh! He's such an ass!" Lady Yseult grumbled while absent-mindedly stirring the ice in the huge, layered cocktail in front of her. I was pretty sure that was usually meant for multiple people to drink together, potentially involving a couple of those fancy twisty plastic straws, but I was no drinker, so I could be wrong.

"Tae be fair, ye didne agree tae marry each other, did ye?" Duncan commented by her side, his nose already turning red even though his beer mug was only half-empty.

"Oh, shut up!" she barked back and took a swig from her drink. By the way, she was still wearing her fancy dress from the banquet, with one long lacy elbow glove missing, so she stuck out of the environment like a sore thumb.

Nobody seemed to pay her any attention though, and there were two possible explanations that came to mind: either the placeholders here were still underdeveloped, or they were familiar faces and people were used to their antics. At this point, I couldn't tell.

Meanwhile, she finished downing half her drink and put the cocktail glass down with an audible clank before pointing a finger at the guy sitting on the barstool next to hers.

"I'm telling you, we had a deal! I thought that once Dunning wrapped the Dracis girl around his finger, he would finally stop pining after her just so that he could enact his whole 'Grand Unification Plan', or whatever he called it, but nooo! Just when I thought we were getting along fine enough to remind him about our promise and get our respective families off our backs, he goes ahead and gets into another goddamn arranged marriage!"

"'Onestly, Ah dornt gie whit yoo're seein' in 'at bloke. Ah pure techt, he's only handsome, rich, an' influential. Naethin' special."

"Stop joking, you damn muttonhead. I'm not in the mood," Yseult griped and began chewing on some peanuts. They were just… there. In a bowl on the counter, apparently for public consumption. I didn't get it; maybe it was a pub culture thing? In any case, after a few seconds, she let out a groan and muttered, "I swear, Dunning must be behind this all. It's the only reasonable explanation."

"Nah, lassie. Yoo're overthinkin' thes. Leonard isnae th' schemin' type," Duncan spoke flippantly, once and for all cementing himself in my mind as a terrible judge of character. "Hink abit it; when he wanted tae ref'rm th' Brotherhuid, he jist sat us doon an' did it. Sam hin' wi' th' Draconic Federation tay. He's jist tay frenk an' forceful fur thes political marriage guff."

"Maybe, but… What's the alternative, huh? That Naoren just happened to fall in love with Dunning's right-hand woman out of sheer coincidence."

"Th' workin' ay th' heart ur mysterioos indeed."

"Oh, shut up, you muppet!" She groaned and downed the rest of her drink in one go. "If you're such an expert about romance, then why are you single, huh?"

"Aam workin' oan it, okay?" he answered off-handedly and took a sip from his beer.

"Oh, really? You want to tell me there's a woman out there who would give you the time of day? Like I'd fall for that."

"Nae, it's true. There's thes a burd aam gettin' alang wi' bonnie weel. She's funay, an' ye coods grate cheese oan 'er abs."

The draconic noble lady eyed the knight in tipsy armour and blurted out, "My foot, you are! I'm not listening to any of this bullcrap, you big phoney!"

"Aam nae haverin'. Ah swear, aam hittin' it aff wi' 'er."

"Suuure. And next time you're telling me you have a brand-new bridge to sell me." She rolled her eyes and got onto her feet. She needed to grab onto the bar to steady herself, and after taking a few deep breaths, (and a handful of peanuts), he flashed a lop-sided grin at the guy still sitting and used her head to gesture towards the nearby snooker table. "Hey, Duncan? Do you want to bet? One game; if you win, I'll believe you, but if you lose, you'll have to introduce me to this 'bird' of yours. Deal?"

The big guy unsubtly rolled his eyes, then downed the rest of his beer and wiped his lips with the back of his hand.

"Ye an' yer one-sided deals ur th' reason yoo're gettin' screwed ower aw th' time. Ye ken 'at, reit?"

"Is that a no? Is the big, bad Knight too chicken to take on me?"

"Ne'er said aam nae gam." Duncan flashed a wolfish grin and added, "Winner pays fur th' next roon."

"Oooh? Someone's confident."

With that, the two of them headed over to the snooker table, and the timing couldn't have been better, as I was shaken out of my Far Sight by my body jerking forward as the car came to a sudden stop. Opening my eyes, I could see the main building of Blue Cherry High on our right. Roland was still silent, and I was also lost in my thoughts for the moment, so we wordlessly walked around the outer fence of the campus, towards the back gate.

Based on what I saw just now, there certainly was some chemistry between Duncan and Yseult, but it lacked something. Was it sexual tension? Probably. Their interaction really did feel more like a pair of drinking buddies shooting the shit, rather than some kind of 'we're totally not on a date on the town' development. Could it be that I was witnessing the mythical platonic male/female friendship, without any strings attached? And more importantly, was their relationship a natural one, or another one of those 'blank spots' the Simulacrum filled in due to my Narrativistic subconscious reality-warpery?

I needed a second opinion, and since we had some time until we reached the basement entrance with the elevator leading into the School complex, I figured I might as well just quickly get it. As such, much to Roland's surprise, I fished out my phone from my back pocket and dialled a number even as we walked.

"Yes, Chief? Is there a new emergency?" Judy picked it up in a second as if she was expecting something like this, and she sounded pretty deadpan. That would've been normal, but she was always a bit more animated when we talked on the phone, which told me she was probably still mad at me for postponing our discussion about future-me and the implications of his presence.

"No, there's nothing of the sort. I just had a free minute, and I wanted to ask you something."

"I'm all ears."

"You're still part of that shady underground shipping circle, right?"

"You mean the Potential Romance Appreciation Association," she corrected me right away.

"Potahto, potayto. The point is, are you still up to date with that?"

"Yes." She sounded unusually guarded. Maybe she thought it was a trick question. "Why?"

"I'm just curious if you have heard of any prior hints about some kind of development between Duncan and Lady Yseult."

"What?" Roland blurted out next to me, but I raised a finger to forestall him while I waited for Judy's response.

"Those two? Yes, there have been rumors about the two of them having a good relationship, but Sir Duncan's main ships involve the Danzo Squad, and a potentially scandalous love triangle with—"

"The what squad?" I blurted out, but then my brain finally caught up with my mouth and I hastily added, "Oh, wait. Do you mean the four ninja girls directly working under Mountain Girl?"

"Yes. Also, there's the love triangle involving Mister Androcles and—"

"Stop. I don't need to hear about that," I cut her off before she could plant more seeds of potential relationships into my head. I promised myself (literally) that I would keep a tight rein on my conjectures about this subject, lest I would start accidentally triggering even more clichéd shoujo manga developments, and Judy telling me about in-universe shipping wasn't helping with that. "Can you tell me when those rumours have started?"

"Not long after the first official meeting of the Draconic Council," she responded blandly, as if she had the answer sheet in front of her all along. "If you want a more specific date, I can contact our secretary and ask her to search the database."

"You have a database…? Now, wait. You have a secretary?" She didn't respond. "You really are running a secret society at this point, aren't you?"

"Hush, Chief. Every girl needs a hobby."

I wanted to retort, but I couldn't come up with anything witty on short notice, and we were almost in front of the elevator at this point, so I decided this wasn't a hill worth dying for.

"Fair enough. I have to put it down now; I'll call you once I'm back home and we can go through today's events before you go to bed."

"Okay. Try not to cause too much havoc."

"… Is it just me, or you're having unusually little faith in me today?"

Instead of answering the question, my dear assistant uttered a cutesy (and clearly fake) "Luv yuu!" and cut the line. Yep, she was definitely holding a grudge.

"What was that about Duncan and Lady Albion?" Roland levelled the question at me the moment I put my phone away, and after some hesitation, I shrugged.

"Nothing major. I was just curious if Judy heard anything going on between those two."

"Why would anything be going on between them?"

"Well, I didn't know anything was going on between Yseult and Naoren, and look how that turned out," I deflected, and Roland accepted that at face value. Then the arrival of the elevator cut the topic short, and we both stepped inside.

By the way, for the longest time, I've been wondering why there were no guards, and anyone could just enter the School complex all willy-nilly, but apparently the elevator itself was a security measure, and it only opened to people who were allowed to go down. This meant that we were both already given the green light in the past, and it didn't even need any silly magical laser scanners or whatnot. Very convenient. Maybe I should copy it for the entrance of our own base, I mused.

It took until I finished that line of thought for us to arrive at our destination, and when the sliding doors opened, we were welcomed by an impatient class rep, along with a considerably more indifferent armband guy.

"Evening," I greeted the two of them, and Pascal returned the gesture with a nod, while Ammy immediately walked up to my and grabbed my arm.

"Come, quick. Grandfather is already waiting for you!"

I let myself be led through the facility to a different elevator, which led to the lower layers, home of the Nexus Room, the holding cells, and way too many utility closets. On a side note though, I knew that we've gotten pretty close recently, thanks to the regular meta-discussions, but the unbridled way by which the class rep grabbed hold of me was still a bit surprising.

Come to think of it, we were fairly intimate, helping each other as much as getting on each other's nerves, and yet we had no UST. Could it be that the mythical platonic male/female friendship was right next to me all along?

While I was pondering such deep and significant matters, Pascal was giving a situation report to us (or maybe just Roland). To sum it up, right after the incident at the Lotan estate, the School went on high alert, and all of the arch-mages were summoned to Lord Grandpa's house for an emergency meeting. Then, just as they got started, they received a report that the prisoners had gone missing, so they all rushed back here, only to find…

"Oh, bonsoir, messieurs."

Everyone gone, except for this clown.

"Leonard," Lord Amadeus, looking slightly haggard, greeted me while being surrounded by the four guest arch-mages. The five of them stood in the middle of the spacious holding area filled with the quiet yet insistent thrumming of the magical force fields separating the individual cells, all of them empty except for one.

Lord Gulliver, the resident magic ward expert (or so I presumed, based on his track record) was down on one knee and busy analysing the cells, while Lord Ambrose was fuming about something. In contrast, Lord Taika looked like she would fall asleep at any moment, while Lord Barnabas stood a bit further back from the rest and was currently interviewing a thoroughly frightened placeholder Magi. The warden, I presumed.

"I came as quickly as I could," I said after giving a quick nod to the Assembly mages present and turned to face the only occupied cell. "So Bel broke everyone out of jail, save for him?"

"That seems to be the case," Lord Grandpa told me sourly, and Ammy behind him gave me a look that said 'See? I told you we should've done something about that guy already!'.

"There aren't any signs of foul play," the lanky arch-mage noted as he stood up and flashed a smile at me. "Ah. Evening, Leonard. We're in quite a pickle here."

"He can see that himself, you fool!" Ambrose snapped at him and then looked over at me. "I assure you, if it was my School, there's no way some masked idiot could've just waltzed in and out with a bunch of vile criminals like it's nothing! Shameful!"

"Lord Ambrose," Barnabas hissed in the back, one finger already on his temple. "Tensions are already high. Could you please not antagonize Lord Endymonion for no reason."

"I'm just telling it as it is," the bearded arch-mage huffed and puffed, but I ignored him in favour of Lord Grandpa.

"I don't think you called me over just to show me the empty cells," I prompted him, and the old man exhaled a heavy breath

"You are indeed correct in your deduction." He gestured at the solitary French mad scientist patiently waiting behind the magical barrier. "According to him, Bel of the Abyss left a message for you."

"Has he?" I blurted out, genuinely surprised.

"Très certainement, my young friend!" Arnaud whatshisface, aka the man who shot Josh with his magitech sniper rifle, flashed a harmless grin at me and opened his palms in a show of non-hostility. "It was quite a surprise, je vous le dis."

"What is it?"

I thought Arnaud would tell me himself, but Lord Grandpa turned to the sleepy woman on our left instead.

"Lord Taika? The message?"

"Hm? Oh, right." She stifled a yawn and retrieved a folded-up piece of paper from her sleeve. "My apologies. I didn't quite get enough sleep."

"No problem. What does it say?"

She handed it over to me, but before I could unfold it, the local arch-mage answered my inquiry with an irritated, "We do not know yet."

That made me raise a brow, but then it all became clear when I took a look at the letter.

"Oh? Ancient Celestial Script."

Lord Taika smiled at me proudly, as if my assessment vindicated her in some way, and after speed-reading the page, my brows descended into a deep frown. Everyone waited patiently for me to finish, and it was Ammy who couldn't hold back her curiosity first and she called out to me with a finger on her glasses.

"What does it say? Is it important?"

"Whatever it may say," the man behind the metaphorical bars raised his voice, still trying to look and sound as harmless as possible. "Considering that I've shown my cooperation by refusing to escape with that vil fléau, could we maybe renégocier my situation? S'il vous plait?"

"No, no we're not doing that," I denied him flatly and sucked in a deep breath. I skimmed the text a second time, and when I was sure I read it right (Celestial Script was notoriously hard to peruse), I exhaled a soft "Damn."

"What is it?" Lord Grandpa echoed his granddaughter's previous question a touch impatiently, and so I folded the page and looked him in the eye.

"We need to check the Grimoire Keys."

The moment my words sunk in, the old man's eyes darkened and he rushed out of the holding facility, closely followed by an equally startled Lord Ambrose. The others followed after a bit of a lag, soon leaving me in the company of just Roland, Ammy, Pascal, and the mad scientist trying to give me his best 'innocent puppy dog in the rain' impression.

Ignoring that last bit, I didn't know how to feel at this moment. Sure, future-me said he would be doing 'Bel things', but I didn't think he would be doing them this hard and this quickly.

"Oh well." I pocked the message, and gestured for the others to follow after me before whispering, "I guess we're speed-running the plot today…"