In Search of Silence

“Yo Cap, what’s your name?”

“As I said, she doesn’t have one.”

“Shut up. I wasn’t asking you, d’Fey.”

“As Her Royal Majesty commands.”

“Don’t, Lady Vivian,” I warned. “Do not destroy the earpiece.”

“Seriously? Just call me Viv.”

Our hunt began in the South Quarter, where the witch was last seen roaming an alley. That, or an abandoned building. All we had were rumours. But what does a witch look like? Even the Inquisition has no consensus. What then can a layman give but only what they believe to be one?

A fool’s errand then. I agree, but the higher-ups don’t. If they say there’s a witch, there’s a witch.

And they haven’t been wrong.

So here we are, strolling down some commercial district to debunk yet another ‘sighting’. Except d’Fey. That fellow’s off on a balcony, watching us through his rifle scope. Apart from that...well, we heard him order pizza over comms.

“...Cap, you got a name, right?”

Her voice was muffled by a crepe she was chewing.

“You say that like you’re starting to believe it.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“God, you’re insistent.”

Once in a while, Vivian would strike up a conversation. She now wore a beige pleated skirt and white beret, worlds apart from her royal blue dress (burnt beyond repair) earlier. About that, she was the only one who didn’t emerge unscathed from the battle. While Mr Delinquent (Wannabe) and I attacked from range and maintained basic protection spells, she disregarded all of that and charged into us without any. Lucky for her, vampires heal fast.

“It’s getting late, Ma’am. Must we still continue?” Delinquent asked, dispassionate as ever.

Two hours have passed since we began. d’Fey barely even talks – probably dozed off. Delinquent, he’s brooding by his lonesome. That’s all he really does: brood. And Vivian? She’s busy browsing through all the stores. Fashion, food, she seemed to have taken an interest in the whole street.

It’s no wonder, we reached Emas Avenue. Home to an array of establishments: luxury suites for a bargain, streetside buskers whipping up a swarm, high-end cafés and nameless bars. Businesses flocked to here or to Central Boulevard, the latter especially catering to those pointlessly rich. Even now, the place is a whirlpool of hustle and bustle, despite the announcement of a witch lurking nearby.

Such is Threat C. What was it again? Dangers classified under this category possess little to no destructive power and rarely seek combat. However, they may still cause damage to property and pose an inconvenience to daily life. Basically house pests.

Hell, I would much rather deal with Threat S than C. At least they don’t hide.

“... It hurts. It hurts.”

Whimpers. Muddled by the crying, yet somehow clearer than the crowd.

“Stay away. Stay away!”

It’s getting louder. Where’s it fro–

Hey, stop shaking me! What do you want, Vivian? For some reason, she was frantically gesturing to me with her hands. You have a mouth, please use it. With that, I gave my usual retort.

Except I didn’t. Not a word came out.

What’s this? I pressed my hand against my throat. I still felt the tremors of my voice creeping up.

Amidst my confusion, someone hugged me from behind. Oh, it’s Delinquent. He’s clinging onto me like a stray kitten, eyes watering into a pitiful look. Come on, where did all that emo-ness go? He was clearly blabbing about something, but I couldn’t hear any of it. Maybe that was for the best.

Thus I flicked a finger at his head, hoping that’ll calm him down. It wasn’t just them – the whole plaza collapsed into chaos. People were scratching at their ears and throats, as if being suffocated.

Hmm... In summary, none of us could hear each other, or ourselves speak. Instead the sound of someone sobbing kept reverberating in my ear. Yup, we were in the presence of a witch.

There was a problem though: where were they?

As if answering this, a soundless spark carved into the concrete before us. A bullet... d’Fey.

One more a metre or so away and another near that corner. Spark after spark, like breadcrumbs.

Until we reached an alley. Narrow and a dour grey – ventilation units and rusty pipes sprawled up the metal walls – it was invisible to the crowd passing by. Shrouded in its comforting dark, nobody would notice two young girls hidden here. A child and someone late in her teens, yet the former seemed to be consoling the latter. Between them, a puddle of blood pooled.

I see why d’Fey took notice of them. Their attire was, well, unique. The child was donning a set of dusty but elaborate vestments. And the older girl, she had wrapped herself in a blanket painted with symbols of eyes, her pale arms lashing against the other’s advances.

“...Who are you! Are you here to kill me too?!” the girl in a blanket suddenly screamed.

Then the little priest noticed us too. She hurriedly stood in front of the other girl, her arms fully extended, staring us down with a nervous but steeled gaze. Irritated, I raised a sleeve.

My chains didn’t heed the call. Huh, this witch could restrict mana flow too.

Perhaps sensing my hostility, the little priest tensed up.

Still, there’s no reason to beat up a kid. I took out a notebook and pen from my coat, wrote a few words and slid them to her. She watched the book for a while, but ended up not picking it up. Why are you being so cautious, it’s not like you could do anything if we actually mean you harm.

An impasse. As I fumed in my head about the next move, Vivian simply approached her, a gentle smile on her face. Great, she’s one of those types who cuddles any child she sees. She took my notebook and scribbled something on a new page before squatting down in front of the little priest and showing it to her. The girl watched Vivian with suspicion but chose to return the gesture nonetheless.

Slowly but steadily, the facial expression on the girl relaxed. Seeing this, Delinquent and I joined them around the notebook now placed flat on the floor.

[My name is Vivian, what’s yours?]

[Ezra.]

[Good girl. What about the person behind you?]

[I don’t know. What do you want with her?]

[Don’t worry sweetie, we won’t do anything to her.]

[How can I trust you?]

[A pinkie-promise?]

[Miss! I’m not a child!]

[Sorry. You don’t have to cal–]

[Pardon me. I’m the leader. And he’s Delinquent.]

[Oi, I have a name! It’s Winte–]

[Stop snatching the pen! We’re here to bring the witch to safety.]

[But aren’t you Inquisitors? They’re the ones who hurt her!]

[Ezra, dear. Not everyone from the Inquisition is a baddie.]

[You should stop treating her like a child. She’s getting angry.]

[Both of you, stop. Ezra, you can follow us if you don’t believe me.]

[Okay, Miss. I will trust you.]

Even as she wrote that, her eyes were filled with unease. With that, we dispersed our little huddle and looked towards where the witch was, hoping to resolve this peacefully.

“Where the bloody hell is she?”