A Journey Unwanted

[Realm: Álfheimr]

[Location: Heart Kingdom]

[Pulchritudo]

In the darkness, the city of Pulchritudo seemed even more extravagant than it had beneath the light of day. From such a high vantage point atop one of the city’s buildings, the scale of it became easier to appreciate. Streets stretched outward in every direction, threaded together by countless points of light. Lamps and illuminated signs outlined the larger structures, while countless windows glowed against the night. Some buildings rose so high that they seemed almost to pierce the clouds, their upper levels disappearing into the darkness above, while others remained comparatively modest, clustered together between the grander structures.

Goiim stood near the edge of the rooftop, looking down upon it all.

Her pale eyes moved across the city without any particular emotion. Her arms remained folded loosely across her chest, her posture relaxed despite the height.

There was no awe in her expression or appreciation for the sheer grandeur surrounding her.

Pulchritudo was impressive, certainly, but that alone did not make it interesting to her.

What mattered was the quiet.

Up here, away from the crowded streets, she could finally exist without constantly feeling other people’s eyes finding her. Her beauty had always been an inconvenience in that regard. Wherever she went, attention seemed to follow. People stared too long, lingered too close, or tried to find reasons to approach her when she had no desire to speak with them.

Silence was therefore something she valued, though not because she particularly enjoyed being alone, but because the silence asked nothing from her.

Yet even in silence, her thoughts remained.

("Seems the Mother of Monsters finally lost her patience and attacked that spirit.") Her expression remained unchanged. ("I suppose she’s much too desperate for freedom to simply sit still and wait. Still, she remains useful for now. Getting rid of an Angel was never going to be an easy task, and having something as troublesome as her available makes the situation considerably more manageable.")

Her eyes continued to rest upon the distant city.

She had expected Echidna’s patience to eventually run out.

Perhaps it had happened sooner than expected.

It hardly mattered.

Goiim’s thoughts were interrupted by a voice.

"So you waste your time standing on tall buildings, huh?"

The voice was soothing, almost pleasant enough to make the interruption feel less intrusive than it should have.

Goiim’s eyes shifted slightly.

("Speak of the devil.")

She turned only a fraction, not bothering to fully face whoever had arrived.

Mikoto stood there; the difference between his appearance and his presence remained strangely difficult to reconcile.

His black plate armor was heavy and imposing, covering most of his small frame and extending into thick gauntlets and heavy sabatons. Muted pinkish-red accents broke up the darkness of the armor, while portions of his pauldrons and arm pieces carried the same coloration. Beneath it, the light greyish-purple tails of his coat were visible.

And yet none of that could entirely conceal how delicate he looked.

His snow-white hair was gathered into its distinctive starburst bun, framing a face that could easily have belonged to a beautiful young woman. His large red eyes, small features, delicate nose, and naturally rosy lips gave him a dainty appearance that seemed completely at odds with the armor surrounding him.

There was something almost unfair about his beauty.

It made the danger in him easier to overlook until one remembered who he was. He had not announced himself, Goiim hadn’t heard his footsteps, and she hadn’t sensed him approaching.

One moment she had been alone, and the next he was simply there.

She knew better than to assume he had somehow been standing there from the beginning.

Mikoto had simply arrived without making his presence known.

"The banquet is still underway," Goiim said, turning her attention back towards the city. There was no surprise in her voice despite his sudden appearance. "You finished your task earlier than I expected."

"Not much of a task when your instructions were barely instructions at all," Mikoto replied.

He moved forward, the heavy armor covering his petite frame somehow producing remarkably little sound against the rooftop. Even the weight of his sabatons seemed subdued.

He eventually stopped a few paces besides her.

His red eyes settled upon the sprawling city.

"But I suppose that’s because you just suck at giving instructions."

"Perhaps."

Goiim did not argue; she merely glanced towards him from the corner of her eye.

It was still strange seeing him standing besides her.

He was smaller than her, and even beneath all that black plate armor he somehow retained an almost fragile quality. His delicate features made that particularly striking. Those large red eyes, the small shape of his nose, the softness of his lips, the pale hair arranged neatly above his face—it all suggested someone gentle.

Nothing about him was gentle.

Goiim knew that better than most, his beauty was not evidence of weakness.

"But what was the vault like?" Goiim asked.

"Filled with all kinds of artifacts," Mikoto answered. His attention remained fixed on the city rather than turning towards her. "Jewelry, weapons, armor and paintings. Probably more expensive things than I cared to look at." He paused briefly. "The security was tight, too. Over a thousand wards alone."

Goiim’s eyes narrowed slightly.

"Over a thousand?"

"At least." Mikoto’s tone remained the same. "But they’re easy enough to get through." He shifted his weight slightly, the dark armor giving the smallest metallic sound. "So stop making me wait and spit out what you actually want."

Goiim regarded him for a moment before answering.

"It’s a spear."

Mikoto’s gaze remained forward.

"Simple in design, for the most part. Nothing particularly ornate about its construction. But there are strange runes running along the body of it." She paused for a moment before continuing. "I suppose you could call it a Divine Artifact, though it isn’t known to be wielded by any God."

That finally drew a reaction from him; Mikoto’s pretty features became thoughtful.

"A spear," he repeated quietly.

Mikoto seemed to mull over the description for several moments.

His red eyes remained fixed somewhere beyond the city, though it was clear his attention had shifted entirely inward. The silence stretched just long enough for Goiim to notice the change before he finally let out a humorless snort.

"Right. That."

There was a dismissive quality in the way he said it, as though the memory had confirmed something he already suspected.

"How that pig managed to get his hands on something like that is a miracle," Mikoto murmured. "Of everything in that vault, something with that kind of presence being in the hands of a man like him is insulting."

"That is merely the power of Eor," Goiim responded calmly. "It allows the unremarkable to surround themselves with things far beyond what they are, then convinces them that possession alone makes them worthy of those things."

Mikoto gave a thoughtful, almost pleasant hum at that.

His expression remained composed, but his eyes grew distant.

("That spear... I felt its presence, but I never actually got a proper look at it. Still, there’s something familiar about it.")

His brow furrowed ever so slightly.

It wasn’t recognition, it was closer to the uncomfortable sensation of remembering something without being able to place where the memory belonged.

After a moment, he finally turned his head and gave Goiim a brief glance.

("But does she even know what it really is?") His gaze lingered on her for only a second before returning to the city. ("Out of everything in that vault, that’s what she wants. She must have some idea. Or she’s following someone else’s information.")

Goiim watched him carefully.

"I gather you may be curious as to why I want it," she said, quickly reaching the conclusion his expression had almost revealed.

Mikoto’s face remained impassive.

"I don’t really care." His answer came without hesitation. "As long as you keep your end of the deal and tell me about those dragons, you can want the spear for whatever reason you like. I don’t need an explanation, and I certainly don’t need to understand your motives."

Goiim regarded him quietly.

"I will," she assured him. "I have no reason to deceive you after all."

Her tone remained as the same as before.

"But I must admit, it is rather admirable that you would willingly take on the burden of fighting those dragons. Many people would simply abandon such an ordeal once they understood what it truly involved."

Mikoto’s eyes shifted towards her.

"What’s it to you?" There was no hostility behind the question, but his tone held a clear lack of interest in whatever conclusion she was attempting to reach.

"I am merely curious," Goiim replied. "You don’t particularly strike me as the heroic type."

Mikoto didn’t appear offended.

If anything, the bluntness seemed to amuse him.

("Trying to glean something out of me, huh?")

He understood what she was doing; Goiim wasn’t asking because she needed an answer. She was probing and trying to determine whether there was something beneath his willingness to confront the dragons that she could use to understand him.

Mikoto stared at her for another moment.

Then he turned on his heel.

"I have a hero complex," he said with absolute flatness. "And seeing the masses suffer causes me oh-so-much pain."

He took a few steps away.

"There." He didn’t turn around. "There’s your reason." His voice was dry. "You shouldn’t bother prying."

Goiim blinked.

For the first time since he’d arrived, she seemed genuinely caught off guard by the answer. It was not because she believed him, quite the opposite. She simply hadn’t expected him to dismiss her attempt so directly.

Mikoto continued walking.

His heavy sabatons should have announced every step on the rooftop, yet somehow they made almost no sound.

Then, without warning or any visible indication that he was about to disappear, his figure was simply gone.

One moment he had been walking away; the next, there was only an empty rooftop where he had been.

Goiim stared at the place he had vanished from for several seconds.

Her pale eyes narrowed slightly.

"He’s certainly odd," the young woman thought.

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