Chương 64: CHAPTER 63 – Fumes of Industry

Dawn flashed across the dark metal of the vehicles, reflecting the figures along their flanks. The group of masked attendants each climbed into a different car, immediately opening the doors.

"I am fairly certain not even Lance wants to spend the whole trip in a car with you." The man in the peculiar outfit smiled. A cap, a tank top, and a fur coat covered his body on that glacial winter day.

"And what makes you think that, if I may ask?" Monica seized him by the wrist, trying to pull him off the seat, with little success.

"Come now… keep Jeanne company." Lautre answered, pointing to Jeanne, seated in the car with the suitcases stacked on her lap, one atop the other. The moment Monica sized her up, the girl immediately smiled and lowered her head.

"Or perhaps you and I could stay together?" She suggested, drawing ever closer to Lautre, her eyes glistening and tender.

"Who in the maiden would be mad enough to spend three hours travelling with you?! I would sooner grant that honour to Maliard or Maverick." He pushed Monica away with force, trying by every means to peel her off him.

"I am going with Maverick. I would rather not deal with that exhibitionist." Maliard answered, loading the suitcases into the back seat and vanishing into the car. Monica stared open-mouthed at the car door, only shifting her attention when the click of the iron latch sounded through the air.

"Could we let the boy and Jeanne pair up, and I travel alone?" An arm shot out from the car, seizing Lautre at once.

"I had something to discuss with you. This seems like the perfect compromise for it." Lance's head appeared through the window, greeting Monica with a smile and pulling Lautre toward him. The three of them stared at one another for a moment, but the butler's call and the engines revving convinced her to give up. Once everyone had taken their seats, the convoy of black vehicles sped along the road at the edge of the forest. A cloud of dust and snow rose, marking their departure.

"You saved me this time…" Lautre smiled, immediately lowering the window to hear the flocks of birds over Bayork's docks in the distance. Lance did the same, relaxing at the sight of the oaks covered in snow and nearly stripped bare.

"To tell you the truth, I did not want to be with Monica either." Both laughed, striking their seats with force. Lautre leaned out, counting the cars ahead as they took the curve, until he stopped at the one just before them." So he is not that blind, huh?"

"I am flattered that my disciple prefers my company to that of his roommate." Lautre pronounced it in a tone so pompous it left Lance both confused and vaguely disgusted"Never speak like that again… it is unsettling." The man laughed even harder, striking Lance on the shoulder with enough force to tilt him sideways.

"In any case, why did you not go with Jeanne? It would have been more fun." Lance stared at his face for a few seconds before slowly turning toward the window and whistling.

"Really? Still embarrassed? You need to learn to let go a little." Lautre, disheartened, let out a sigh as he tried to reclaim his attention.

"You are not thinking of taking me back to Arden Ring again, are you?!" Lautre immediately looked away, whistling out the window.

"Though it might be an excellent solution…" His tone lowered as Lance's aura grew steadily denser and more unsettling. With a sigh, Lance let himself go slack against the backrest.

"Hate to admit it, but you are right. Sometimes I truly do not know how to relax." Lautre regained his colour, leaning against him.

"Think of this as a few days' holiday. You will be able to make friends with new people, and perhaps see that scientist again." The memory of his time with Grayson made Lance smile, until another figure took hold of his mind.

"In any case, what happened with Lexa?" His entire mind was invaded by those few minutes that had marked their encounter, making him rest his head against his own chest.

"I do not want to talk about it…" He murmured in a thread of voice, his cheeks flushed, his hands over his ears. Lautre nodded and smiled, raising two fingers.

"Let me guess… Either she kissed you, or she did something terribly strange." Judging by Lance's faint gestures, he lowered only the first finger, snickering.

"Happened to me a couple of times too. She is not a bad person, but she has the terrible habit of being far too 'free.'" Lance covered his ears even harder as he told the story. A glacial gust of wind swept through the car's interior, briefly stunning Lance despite the heavy brown coat over his shoulders.

"Lautre…" The boy's voice grew sharper, and his body began to stiffen as well. Lautre studied him for a few seconds through the reflection of the mirror, waiting for his words.

"Have you ever thought you were not enough for something? That thought where everything you do is nothing but a hindrance?" Lautre turned to look at him, nodding his head.

"I understand why you ask. I know how difficult it is to live in this environment, and believe me, it does not improve all that much. People come and go, problems arrive and vanish, sometimes entirely, other times leaving ugly scars behind." He tapped his knee lightly with his finger, almost as though searching for a rhythm.

"It is like one of those songs where you love the chorus, but the rest wears on your nerves. That is why you must always remember that the verse will always come back around. The one listening is you, and with a little patience, you will learn to appreciate the ugly parts too." He stopped searching for the rhythm, smiling at the boy as he raised his dark glasses. The pupils of his eyes were a dull red: intriguing, and yet at the same time indecipherable.

"You blame yourself over Changeant, since they hunt you down at every opportunity." Lance nodded, lacing his fingers together.

"Lance, the problems already existed long before you and Jeanne were recruited, so there is no point in making a drama of it. Many of us still cause trouble, and many of us carry problems that go back even further than when the whole thing was founded by that madman." Lautre pretended to gather up his hair and leer at the boy, who immediately clenched his fingers into a fist.

"NEVER DO THAT AGAIN!!" He laughed heartily, striking his own backrest again and again.

"You should have seen your face! You looked as though you had seen a ghost!" He wiped away a tear from beneath his eye, catching his breath and pointing at the poor boy.

"Though it is not so far off, considering that man." His tone dropped suddenly, growing slightly darker and more severe.

"You know Malcolm too?" Lance asked, relaxing his hands and studying Lautre's face intently.

"Just like Maverick, I met him, though only briefly. He was an approachable man and an excellent soldier, but every word of his was wrapped in a sense of almost demonic malice. Even a simple greeting was enough to make something shiver down my spine." Lautre gripped his own trousers, sliding his fingers along them before grabbing hold of the fabric again.

"When I met Maverick again, he did nothing but murmur that man's name. It may not seem like much, but the hatred Maverick feels for him is something not even a century has managed to extinguish." In Lance's memory resurfaced the pale halo across that calm, awkward engineer's face, followed by the frantic scratching of his nails against the edge of the table.

"I do not know what happened, but I am convinced Maverick is only still here in the hope that Malcolm will appear again. Life just gave him another chance at his revenge." Lance fell silent, fixing his gaze on the wooded remains along the road as they grew steadily sparser. Suddenly, all the cars turned onto another road, overtaking the few vehicles present. Poor Lance had to endure numerous turns and bumps before he could refocus on the scenery.

The nausea did nothing to lessen the excitement of the view, punctuated by countless colours and columns of smoke.

"This is Verja Prima, one of the many border cities into Sector III. If you count these as well, this is the second-largest sector in the entire archipelago." Lautre, noticing the boy's interest, pointed out the great blue gates with dozens of cars and vehicles.

"Steelhaven is over there. Perhaps once we reach the hill, you will be able to see it." The car took another bump, sending Lautre's head knocking against the roof. By the time all the snowdrifts flattened out, Lance managed to make out the thin columns of reddish smoke rising into the sky. Ringed by great, colourful walls, an enormous city occupied his entire field of view. A river crossed through its centre, followed by numerous vessels of varying size and shape.

Amid parks and districts, from a distance it looked like a painting composed to represent geometry in all its glory, were it not for a single detail.

"What is that tower?" Lautre rubbed his own head, turning to fix the enormous dark column emerging from one of the districts. The hexagonal structure was decorated with numerous stained-glass windows and reddish patterns across its surface.

"That's Machinamentum's operational centre." His view was cut off by a row of white dunes and the oaks left as survivors of the cold.

"Was there not one in Bayork too?" The boy asked, recalling the tower that occupied the capital at night alongside the enormous cathedral.

"Certainly, but that one is administrative. This is where all the experiments and the under-the-table deals take place." He rubbed his head again, searching his skin for any trace of a bump. Lance nodded, amusing himself by watching the dense clouds of vapour escape his own mouth. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.

"In any case…" Lautre drew close to him, nearly plastering himself against his shoulder. The boy immediately felt an air of mischief invade the car.

"What type of girl do you like? You still have not told me." Lance let out a groan as the man drew ever closer.

"Come on, stop being so tense all the time! My ideal woman is kind, has a lovely voice, and a backside worth noting!" As he spoke, he wrung his hands in the air, terrifying Lance even further. He fixed him for a second, beginning to mime distinct sounds and gestures.

"I WILL ANSWER, I WILL ANSWER! STOP THAT NOW!" Satisfied, Lautre composed himself once more, while Lance searched for the courage to speak.

"My i-ideal w-woman?" The poor boy murmured, subjected to enough stress that it had stopped his shivers from the cold. Lautre fixed him intently, waiting for an answer.

"Kind and intelligent… Yes, an intelligent woman, with a unique smile." He smiled faintly, while his companion stared at him in confusion, a veil of disappointment across his face.

"Very romantic… But physically? Something that draws you more than anything else?" Lautre asked, pointing at his own chest and shaking it with a leer. Lance surrendered to his embarrassment once more, reluctantly searching for an answer.

"Physically… I would like her to be tall, with lovely legs. I don't prefer b-back or f-front, but tummies are cute in a way. I would not mind if she ate a lot, either. I would have a wonderful excuse to cook." Lautre fixed him again with a look of bewilderment, nodding.

"I was expecting something a bit more erotic, but I was certain I would get a more refined answer from you. A woman's abdomen and legs are an underrated pick." He shrugged, smiling.

"But now I dare to think that Jeanne quite fit the whole description…" Immediately, Lance leapt on him, his cheeks red as flames, trying to cover his mouth with his own coat. Suddenly, something rang out from one of the small consoles in the seats.

"How is it going between you two?" Monica's voice made them abandon their scuffle, leaving them curious about the small system of crystal and metal that had emerged from the backrest.

"Is this the system you had Round and Lucas install?" Lautre asked, wiping the saliva from his lips.

"Yes, correct. Much more convenient and secure than always having an earpiece in your ear or a watch on your wrist. It is also much faster and more precise." Lance tried pressing the crystal, and a faint electric shock ran through him.

"Secure is a rather big word. Anyone can connect to it." Maliard's voice joined Monica's, sighing.

"Is it not better to have lovely group conversations?!" Lance and Lautre had to cover their ears to avoid Monica's shrieks.

"This is Hoku! Noel fainted from car sickness. How is it going with you two?" The joyful voice of the boy leading the convoy of cars joined the two quarrellers.

"Well, Jeanne fell asleep after a bump nearly made her throw up her breakfast! Absolutely hilarious." Monica laughed, followed by a click of Maliard's tongue.

"Could you all lower your voices? Rea is sleeping." Edvard's stern tone was enough to silence everyone, except Lautre, who promptly decided to reignite the quarrel with Lance by any means possible.

"In any case, Lance really does have fine taste in women…" All the cars filled with groans, coughing, and other unsettling sounds.

"COME ON, I WANT TO HEAR!!" Monica shouted, forcing Edvard to shut down the conversation.

"I do not think you want me to say what I saw in your room a few days ago?" Even though he could not see him, Monica already knew her brother had a magnificent smirk plastered across his face.

"Farewell to all communications!" The entire system shut off, leaving Lautre and Lance to their dispute.

"Lance... Do you have any favourite positions?"

"Oh c'mon now, Mr Clerc!" After a few hours, everyone passed through the gates and found themselves in the heart of the iron city. Along the streets, countless crowds celebrated the arrival of the winter break, while others were already searching the shop windows for gifts for their loved ones. Lights and decorations fluttered in the cold breeze, shaking snow down onto the asphalt. In the distance, the columns of smoke from the factories grew steadily thinner, freeing the rare winter sun.

Music and dancing filled the alleyways, alongside street stalls selling food and tools. Everything changed the moment they entered a district with silver borders and golden lights. Inside it, everything was luxurious, and nothing was left out of sight, least of all their destination. The buildings in red and white brick, dressed with elaborate roofs and balconies, could not compare to the building before them.

"This might genuinely be excessive…" Lance murmured, fixing his gaze on the enormous black wooden gate, almost as though it were a gigantic piece of coal. The oval windows eclipsed those of every single house nearby, despite their already peculiar beauty. And then there was the vast garden stretching out behind that sharp, slender structure reaching toward the sky.

"I never thought I would feel this poor in my entire life…" Edvard joked, holding the stunned and enraptured Rea by the hand. Everyone stared through the windows at the massive, gleaming walls.

"But are we sure this is a hotel?" Lautre had to readjust his glasses on his face several times, his jaw left hanging. Lance stopped to watch the golden reflections escaping from the stained-glass windows. Monica pulled him away from that trance, shaking both him and the pale, limp body bearing the same features as Jeanne.

"Monica… What happened to her?" Maverick asked, seizing the luggage and beginning to leave it on the pale, snow-covered pavement. Maliard stared at the building in a daze before turning back inside to grab the rest of the suitcases.

"I imagine she is not used to the constant turning." A faint, spent sigh escaped Jeanne's lips, resting limply against Monica's shoulder, her cheeks hollow.

"Could someone give me a hand getting Noel out? I cannot move this dude alone!" Hoku stepped out, with his characteristic hair and his olive-green hoodie. His loose, long trousers made him stand out terribly among the crowd.

"Got it!" Lance left everything in Lautre's hands, letting it all crash to the ground. Before he could run to them, an elderly woman blocked his path with a cane and a smile.

"Are you the guests for this week?" Lance stopped sharply, seizing the car's side mirror to keep from slipping. Suddenly, a large group of individuals dressed in elegant black attire presented themselves.

"A certain Madame has reserved quite several rooms for you, all under the surname Net." Her lively little eyes darted about, along with her powdered, masked wrinkles. Lance immediately straightened himself, lowering his head and letting the team of attendants handle the rest.

"Yes, that is me! Forgive our current state…" He smiled, tossing Jeanne into the car. Her legs twitched faintly now and then, as though shaken by an extremely weak current.

"No trouble at all! The influx of guests has dropped somewhat these past few months, following the disappearances." Everyone turned, shaken by that statement. The elderly proprietress shook her head, letting a faint little laugh escape her.

"Nothing serious. The police have already found the culprit. It is only that, in so quiet an area, it is strange to have such brutal crimes." Everyone let out a sigh of relief, except Lance and Maverick, who for some reason had exchanged a glance.

"What kind of disappearances? Not to be rude about your hospitality, only out of curiosi—" A dark halo appeared on the faces of every member of staff, and all of them lowered their heads, except for the lady before them. Thin drops of sweat began sliding down her forehead.

"Never mind, forgive him." Monica smiled, immediately shooting the two of them a dark look. She moved to approach the elderly woman when suddenly one of the attendants began clearing her throat.

"I understand your curiosity, but even we do not know much. The victims simply vanished, and the witnesses were taken into custody. Many rumours say they still have not recovered. The crime scenes were strange…" She had to glance from side to side as she spoke, unsettling Maverick even further.

"Strange? Please, elaborate." He gripped the strap of his bag with force, twisting it around his fingers. The woman thought it over for a moment, scratching her forehead.

"Perfectly geometric cuts, a strange black dust, and a strange smell of burning." Maverick nodded, fixing his gaze on Lance, left with his eyes narrowed.

"I see… In any case, where are our rooms?" Lautre began, leaving all the suitcases from his car at the lady's feet. The elderly woman smiled, clapping her feet first and then her hands. All the butlers hurried to gather everything and carry it to each of their rooms.

"Here you are! I am Mrs. Mariann." The elderly woman slid a set of gleaming golden keys into Monica's hands, displaying with joy all the wrinkles of her face.

"Allow me to show you to your rooms. Please follow me." Murmured the same woman who had so unsettled the two of them, waiting as both Noel and Jeanne were loaded onto Lance and Maliard's shoulders. Lance straightened his clothes and followed them at a slow pace, until something stopped him. A hand gripped his shoulder with enough force to plant him into the ground.

"Lance… You understood perfectly well what those disappearances were, did you not?" The shadow of the case on Maverick's shoulders cast a dense shadow across his face, leaving only one of his eyes visible.

"The same at the Institute…" He murmured, letting the image of the Institute's secretary fade from before his eyes. Maverick nodded with a sigh, passing him"Monica has understood as well… Malcolm could be here." A shiver ran through Lance, despite the leaves on the concrete lying still and undisturbed. Lance drew a breath and gave Maverick a nod.

"Yeah, but why here? Do they wish to kidnap Grayson now?" Maverick shook his head, sighing.

"That man is unpredictable. In any case, enjoy your holiday. An attack under these conditions would be foolish." He smiled, vanishing inside the Hotel and leaving Lance to his thoughts as a thin ray of light illuminated his left arm. As he dropped Noel on the couch, waiting for his conscience to return, Monica appeared behind the poor boy's back.

"Oi Lancy!" He turned, suddenly getting grabbed by both her cold hands.

"Trust me, this will be a nice holiday! So relax and enjoy your time with us!" Lance smiled, grabbing her shoulders now.

"Thank you, Monica! I hope you are happy to see your best friend after such a long time."

"For the last time... WE ARE NOT THAT CLOSE!"