Conspiracies Part 2

"Is this place it?"

I stared up towards the spires of a cathedral. Gothic auras managed to reach me as I stood outside the enormous, wooden doors overflowing with Adventurers. Knights wearing armor and wizards in robes brushed past me, all heading in one direction.

"Yeah! Yeah!" Trixie seated on my shoulder said. "This place is the town's Guild House! I've been here before with Tsukino and Morikawa!"

More like a castle than a house. "I'm guessing city hall shares the same building then?"

"I think? Every big town has a Guild House. But we heard that city hall relocated here recently."

"Let's head in then."

We merged with crowds heading deep inside. The cathedral's towering ceiling glimmered; blue crystals above were illuminating an atrium where Adventurers gathered. Tables as long as buses hosted hearty meals with friends clanging drinks together. I could hear people brag about finding treasure or mastering new spells—dialogue I'd been hidden from.

Due to my line of work, I hadn't interacted much with true Adventurers, who roamed Sin Nombre as guilds seeking out fame. They were all reborn from Earth with battle-ready classes: Knight, Assassin, Mage, Berserker, or Boxer, while others stayed stuck an NPC. But after being in this world for almost a month, I couldn't say it wasn't all bad.

Trixie and I shimmied through tight crowds. There were lines of people waiting for service from guild receptionists at the counters. Coins exchanged hands before people marched away with new quests rolled up under their arms.

But we were traveling deeper into the cathedral, where crowds had thinned. It was almost quiet now. Peaceful.

A fenced-off area came into sight. Knights were roaming the outer perimeter, guarding troves of bookcases just beyond.

"Is this where Tsukino said those records would be?" Trixie on my shoulder said.

"Yeah, should be. If we can even investigate is another question."

A woman hidden under a white hood guarded the gate into the library. I couldn't see her face, only her slender hands as she raised her palm to halt me.

"Stop," she ordered. "State your business."

I flashed my press badge. "I'm Aizawa of Borsalino. I'd like to research Dos Noche's archives for an upcoming article."

"Article? What purpose?"

"Historical, to promote this city's rich history."

The woman stayed silent, contemplating my excuse. Then she nodded.

"Acceptable. You may enter." She moved aside as the gate's complex lock clicked and rotated with magic, chains unraveling, until fully swinging open. "Finished. Twenty minutes. Exit before that time. Do not forget."

"Thank you." I gave her a thumbs up while I strolled through the gate.

Rows of old bookshelves greeted us. Dusty tomes that looked worn from centuries of use all caught my eye. But I was searching for specific topics.

"Want my help finding something?" Trixie said.

"No. I'll be quick. Just be on the lookout in case anyone is watching us."

"Roger."

I started pulling books from the shelves, hunting for anything related to Amila or her orphanages. Though I didn't yet suspect her, circumstantial evidence from yesterday did make me curious.

Huh. Looks like this is a binder full of blueprints. I flipped through pages. Interesting. Apparently this cathedral was built brand new recently to combine the Guild House and city hall. And the old Guild House was a smaller cathedral that ended up converting into Amila's first orphanage.

. . . And there's two orphanages in this town?

Trixie was peering down from my shoulder, watching everything I was reading.

"Did you find anything fun?" she said.

"No. Nothing very relevant yet. But we should keep looking."

I moved to another aisle. Further down were more blueprints, these pertaining to infrastructure. There were schematics of the rudimentary electrical grid, and interestingly, blueprints of the sewers. Each underground tunnel branched off one long, main artery that stretched for almost a kilometer. But there were no detailed designs, like there were some pages missing.

"Alright, we're done here. Let's go find the newspaper aisle."

Soon, I was flipping through pages of a binder stuffed with preserved newspapers and tabloids. Oh. This is a Borsalino paper. Kinda tempted to see if I can find anything on Morikawa, but no time for that.

Another black binder seemed focused on Amila. It was a gossip tabloid, detailing how the Dos Noches-born Hero had recently bought several vacation homes throughout the country. Normally I wouldn't raise a brow—she had Hero money after all. But I'd heard she was cash strapped because of opening so many orphanages. How did she still have money leftover to buy extra mansions?

"Pssst. Aizawa," Trixie whispered in my ear.

"What's up?"

"That girl from earlier is skulking around. I think she's watching you."

I cautiously glanced aside. Sure enough, the white-robed woman just walked by our aisle. Who knew how many times she'd done the same.

"Should we leave?" Trixie said.

"Alright. One sec." I tried committing to memory all those articles, along with everything else I'd read. Risking jotting notes wasn't an option.

But as we emerged from between the aisles and traveled away, the white-robed woman was already blocking our exit gate.

"You're twenty minutes have not expired yet," she said.

Tsk. "Yeah, we're fine though. Thanks for letting us research."

"May I ask, why your research seemed so focused on Amila the Hero?"

"Just curiosity." How did this woman figure that out? "We'll be leaving now . . ."

She didn't move aside. Instead, the girl crept straight towards me until she was close enough to rest her hand on my shoulder. And whispered gently.

"I hope you remember—Borsalino's credentials are dependent on not publishing articles the church may deem problematic."

"N-No problem," I said. When she let me shoulder go, I didn't hesitate to power walk out from the library before blending back in with Adventurers.

"That girl was scary!" Trixie flying above said.

"Shhh! We'll talk when we're outta here."

Soon the cathedral was behind us as we escaped far, far away. I was panting, exhausted. Trixie was buzzing above me and petting my head.

"There, there," she said. "You did good, Aizawa."

"Ch-Church goons are scary! We could seriously die for this plan!"

"Plan?"

"Erm, I meant our hunt for stories. We almost have enough for an article now."

"Oh. If you say so!" Trixie flew onto my shoulder then got comfy. "Where should we go now though?"

"Let's check some more leads before we finish."

"Roger!"

I walked us through town—hours passed interviewing store owners, citizens, and Adventurers. We heard various different accounts that all at least pointed towards Amila's orphanages. Nothing incriminating arose yet, but circumstantial evidence was growing. And now I had a better idea of what to ask people about.

. . .

The sun began setting behind old buildings. We'd entered dark slums again where rats scurried by my shoes towards alleys. Since earlier, we were following a tip involving missing children, though hadn't uncovered much except where they once lived.

Trixie seated on my shoulder yawned. "Are you sure those kids lived around here?"

"Yeah. These slums on the other side of town are where the merchant pointed."

"Maybe it's outdated info?"

"Could be. Let's try asking around again."

We strolled through a foul-smelling alley that emerged onto an enormous plaza. Vagrants had set up tents everywhere or built their cardboard castles. I could smell the rot in their breaths as we paced by, searching for someone that might be amicable.

"Don't worry, Aizawa," Trixie whispered in my ear. "I'll go gorilla on anyone that tries hurting you."

"At this point, I think I'm more scared of the church than the homeless."

After more walking, our eyes fell on someone sleeping on a blanket. He was middle-age, with a big beer belly and a handlebar mustache. Soft snores made me not want to wake him, but he seemed the most harmless of anyone here.

"Excuse me." I knelt down to poke his shoulder. "Hello?"

"H-Huh? What?"

"Sorry for waking you. I'm a journalist working on an article. Would you mind answering some questions?"

He groggily sat up, rubbing his belly. "Sure. What can I help with?"

"It's about a former band of kids that once lived here." My notepad and pencil were readied. "Can you tell me about them? If you've been here a while."

"Hmmm . . . kids?"

"Yeah. Do you know them?"

He pondered with a hand to his chin. "You're probably referring to the anti-adult group of kids that disbanded some time ago."

Disbanded? I wrote his words down. "Why would those children be here to begin with?"

"Most of em' got orphaned by the war. They had nowhere to go except brothels, so most kids ended up settling here instead. They looked out for each other. Stole food and money for a living. And after some time, they all became very anti-adult."

"What for?"

"Well, we'd never done anything towards them. But they saw adults as the reason for all their problems. They weren't wrong, in a way."

"What happened to them?"

There was a pause while he mulled his next words. But I was already excited to hear more; everything he'd said aligned with what the brothel owner from yesterday mentioned. Now I could guess where the story headed next.

"Amila's orphanages," the vagrant said. "When those places opened, the anti-adult kids wanted nothing to do with them. Didn't trust them. But a few of the kids—the girls—asked about giving those orphanages a chance. Some girls had started their periods and didn't feel relaxed living on the streets anymore. So all the kids agreed as a group to trial run the orphanages."

I flipped to another fresh page. "Can you explain what 'trial run' means?"

"As in, the kids all agreed to move into the orphanage, as a favor to those girls. If they didn't like it there, the kids would all leave and come back here."

Here . . . There was nothing here. Even when a quick gust blew, all I smelled was rotting shit. Who'd want to be here, let alone live here? If those kids saw anything better elsewhere, they should've taken it. An orphanage run by a Hero would seem like salvation.

Unless it wasn't.

The man continued. "That was a few years ago now. None of those kids ever came back, even the ones that hated adults. There's almost no kids anywhere out here."

"Isn't that a good thing?"

"Yes. But it's strange. I've always wondered—how the orphanage can take in so many kids, but never discharge any? Where are they all sleeping? It's not overcapacity yet?"

From statements I'd gotten today, the orphanages in other towns also don't release kids often, if at all. "So would you say there's something fishy going on?"

"Who knows. Maybe the orphanage is so good, kids just never wanna leave."

"Could be."

"Mmm. What's that phrase you Adventurers like? Acorn's razor?"

"Occam's Razor."

"Yeah. The simplest answer is usually the correct one."

But at this point, I knew something was off. Too many interviews and statements all pointed towards one common denominator—Amila's orphanages. And after gathering research for days in Dos Noches, I'd built enough of a portfolio to satisfy Nuri.

"Thanks for your time." I handed a coin to the vagrant that he eagerly snatched. But as he waved us goodbye, dark thoughts and questions began consuming me.

We'd wandered into another plaza, this one deserted so we could talk freely.

"Is something wrong?" Trixie on my shoulder asked.

Gently, I reached to invite her into my palm until she sat down. Her bottom was light, her weight was light, almost like she wasn't even there. I could tell she was concerned as she looked up at me.

"Listen," I said. "There's someone I need to go see. Can you fly back and tell Tsukino I'll be late?"

"Huh? Where will you be?"

"Don't worry. I'll be seeing a friend."

Her eyes and ears drooped. Seeing Trixie sad wasn't my intention, but I couldn't bring her along with me. Not yet at least.

"Aizawa," she mumbled. "I'm not—I'm not very smart. I'm basically a kid with bad memory. But I think I can tell, that you've been working on something besides hunting scoops."

"Yeah, sorry for keeping it secret. I'll come clean later tonight though."

"No fair . . ."

With my other hand, I pet her little head. The pixie rubbed herself lovingly against my fingers, snuggling until satisfied.

"If you need help with things," she said, "just ask me. I'd do anything for you."

"Thanks. I'm already making plans."

Purple sparkles flew as Trixie poofed into an owl. Her talons were careful not to cut me when she perched along my arm.

"Screeeech. Okay. I'll get going now, Aizawa. Stay safe."

"You too."

With a flap of wings, Trixie darted out into the night sky above. I watched her soar over run-down buildings until she was out of sight.

Gone.