Stini was strolling the sightseeing quarter when she suddenly turned, gaze fixed like a hawk catching a glint. Confusion prickled in Raven’s chest before her lips even moved.

“What are you looking at?”

“I think I just saw…”

“Saw what?”

“Andor.”

“You’re joking. He should still be locked up by the Heretic Inquisition.”

“Mhm…” Stini propped her chin, a clouded look shadowing her face. “He should be. But that couple who just walked by looked a lot like Andor. And the wingedfolk with them was weird. I thought wingedfolk were all stiff-as-boards types.”

“Not even close. I noticed too. It’s been ages since I’ve seen a couple that syrupy. If you want to flaunt love, go home to flaunt it.”

Raven clicked her tongue, hugged her arms, and shivered like a cat catching a draft.

“Whatever, let’s keep moving.”

Stini lingered a moment, watching until the couple got swallowed by a tide of people. Then she turned back and quickened her pace to catch Raven.

Worry came first, heavy as a stone in the gut. Her voice followed. “We made it to Atland, sure. But, Raven… do you think we can really save Andor?”

“I hope so. Abigail speaks for the Beatrice royal house, Elina for the Helena royal house. They’ve seen Andor fight; they’ll back him. The rest… not sure. Wait, Stini, you’re the Hero here. Don’t you need to go say hello at the Council of Sages with the big shots?”

“Me? Nah.”

Stini laced her fingers behind her head and eyed the shops, weighing every trinket like scales tipping under gold.

“The big names came for the Peace Conference. And Andor’s trial is four days before it. So they’ll swing by the trial on the way. But me… the Hero’s status is odd. I’ll state my views at the trial and the conference, but I don’t decide anything.”

“Why’s that?”

“Most people think a Hero’s thinking runs biased.”

Stini sighed, bought a paper bag of Baro cakes from a street stall, and split them with Raven. Steam curled up like warm breath.

“The demon-slayer ends up the demon…”

“What’s that mean? I don’t get it. Why would killing Demonfolk make you one of them?”

“Beats me. Andor said it. Now it feels weirdly right.”

“The demon-slayer becomes the demon, huh…”

Raven rolled the words on her tongue like bitter tea. They felt solid.

“Hey, you two over there—hold up! Will you look at this flyer?”

A pink maid stepped into the street and spread her arms like a ribbon across the road.

She was really pink—hair and dress both—and among the Primordial Nine Races there’s no pink-haired race, so she must’ve dyed it. She pressed flyers into their hands and pointed at a promo corner. A row of maids handed out sheets beneath a banner that read, “Great Hero Andor Is Innocent!”

Maid cafés were the recent craze like neon at dusk, but nobody had said maids were rallying for Andor.

“This is… a flyer supporting Andor’s innocence!”

“Right! I’ve always admired Great Hero Andor! Now the Heretic Inquisition is blasting everywhere that Mr. Andor attacked Princess Golia. But that’s a plot, a Demonfolk plot! They’re trying to ruin our hero! So we have to speak up. Heroes guarded our world; we must guard a hero’s name!”

The maid planted a heel on the rail, clenched her fist, and stared at a heroic forty-five-degree sky like a knight on a book cover.

Must’ve read way too many chivalry novels, Raven thought, dry as parchment.

But Stini looked honestly intrigued by these flyer-handing maids.

“I really don’t think this has much to do with the Demonfolk,” she muttered under her breath. “But on Andor’s innocence—I agree. He didn’t do anything wrong this time.”

“See, see? I told you! Mr. Andor’s so gentlemanly—how could he be a heretic?”

“He did it for Gloria, he—uh, never mind. Let me see how the Heretic Inquisition is spinning it…”

Consensus struck like flint to tinder. It happened so fast Raven’s mind lagged behind.

“Then, Miss Hero, will you help us pass out flyers? With you helping, everyone will trust Mr. Andor more!”

“Great idea! Also, this flyer—you should change this here, here, and here. Let people see what really happened! And this part’s off. Just saying he was framed won’t win hearts.”

“I’ll fix it right away!”

She waved to the other maids. Service workers moved like a drilled unit; in a flash, they’d printed stacks of the revised flyers.

The new version spotlighted Andor’s feats in the Hero Squad, and that he was trying to lift Gloria’s curse when the Heretic Inquisition seized him. Stini stood by adding grains of detail like salt that brings out flavor.

A bullseye by accident, Raven thought, a little startled.

The maids didn’t know the truth, so they guessed. But this way of telling it was the best outcome.

They couldn’t drag Gloria out to prove she was cursed. The Colonna Empire would never parade a secret weapon in public.

Raven pitched in too, trimming away things not fit for daylight—Andor’s earlier clashes with the Heretic Inquisition, and their messy run-ins with Maki.

They couldn’t blast the Inquisition’s credit among common folk head-on. That would just make the human world spin worse. Even if they were enemies on Andor’s case for now, a scorched-earth move wasn’t an option.

“Two blades of light shouldn’t turn on each other. Book of Genesis, chapter six, verse two—the tale of two saints, who, under the Creator’s mediation, halted their near-brawl and kept their own counsel.”

The pink maid said that when she saw the final flyer.

Her tone fell like cool rain—no praise, no scorn, no side chosen. Just a judge’s distance, a bystander’s comment.

Too lofty for a fangirl’s fever.

But that proved nothing. Early autumn wind should be gentle, but in SkywardCity’s high air it had the force to pluck at long skirts. Shrieks popped like soap bubbles, and flashes of panties made everyone forget the faint, needling omen in the breeze.

Stini wore pants. She let out a wolf-whistle at the maid’s black lace and Raven’s purple thong. She wiped a nosebleed and flashed both of them a thumbs-up.

“So mature.”

What followed was the usual tale of Raven siccing a swarm of Constructs on someone—only this time, the someone was Stini.

“Nice curves too. Especially you, Raven—saving up for materials and slimming down. That side hollow on your hip has a lean, sculpted beauty—don’t hit me! Ow!”

“Tell me this—when Andor took down the Truth Seekers Assembly, did he really say it that cool?”

Raven called it pointless and sniffed at flyering like it was beneath her, like Stini had dragged her here. But her hands worked faster and cleaner than anyone’s, like wind stripping chaff.

“Raven’s such a tsundere.”

“Stini, hush! Just talk!”

They helped from morning till afternoon. Raven rubbed her sore shoulders, and one jab from Stini turned her tired slump back into puffed cheeks and bristling energy.

Raven had suggested using Constructs to hand out flyers to save everyone effort, but the idea got shot down.

Constructs weren’t as cute as maids, so the effect would crater. Fine, then—Raven decided to remodel a few “cute” Constructs tonight.

Childhood friends since knee-high, they roughhoused down a quiet street, laughter skipping like stones.

“Whew—haven’t had this much fun in forever.” Raven plopped down for a breather.

“Because a bad boy named Andor stole your heart.” Stini lowered her voice, imitating a Divine Healer like incense smoke and bells.

“Ugh! Seriously, Stini, you’re always like this.”

The girls met each other’s eyes and burst out laughing, soaking in the lazy afternoon light.

The pink-haired maid stacked the last few dozens of flyers, ready to box them. Seeing Stini and Raven so giddy, she ducked behind the counter and came back with two ice creams.

“Thanks for helping. We’re all volunteers, no budget—so ice cream as thanks!”

They took them without fuss and dug in, the cold sweet as snow.

“It’s nothing—we’re Andor’s companions. If anything, we should be thanking you.”

“Hey, want to join our Andor Support Club? Mr. Andor’s a handsome young man, you know. The club’s huge.”

“Joining a friend’s fan club… let’s just say it’d make future adventures super awkward. Ha ha. Ha… ha.”

As dusk bled in, tourists thinned. Handing out flyers in the dark didn’t work, so the maids started to leave. Before they went, Stini asked the pink-haired maid:

“This might sound weird, but… have we met?”

At some point she’d attached rabbit ears. When she tilted her head, they bobbed like soft springs.

“Nope. I’ve always lived in Atland. Well, the whole café took a group trip to the Endless Sea last year. I don’t remember meeting you, Miss Hero.”

“Oh… yeah?” Stini circled her twice, eyes scanning for anything off. “Still, I can’t shake it… The head maid’s a no-smile iron mask. Not sure… You don’t have a relative named Vega, do you?”

“Nope, I’m an only child. But Vega—she’s a really excellent upperclassman.”

“You know the head maid?”

“Sure! We met at Combat Maid Academy. She’s amazing, super popular with juniors! Straight A’s, gentle manners, elegant poise, perfect at every martial art—like the ideal maid given form—”

The pink maid suddenly bent over and dry-heaved.

“There’s a lot to pick on here, but I should be polite first: are you okay?”

“N-not… okay… I just learned something today… Praise… is nauseating… urgh…”

“Lying isn’t good, you know. I don’t think Vega’s an excellent maid either. Work ability, full marks. Attitude—the most important part—like a ghost. Zero.”

“When you get home, Miss Hero, the head maid will have you dust the sills, wash the laundry, mop the floors, trim the garden, polish the windows, and clean the roof. Every day.”

“Why are you cursing me? We’ve got no beef!”

“It’s a prophecy. A black-hearted pre-dic-tion for your future luck, from a cute maid.”

She tapped her forehead, stuck out a pink tongue, then hopped away hugging the box, back into the maid café.

“So vicious! Why do that to me? I clearly helped… What did I help with again?”

“I did everything. You just got in the way.”

Raven poked Stini’s stomach, not amused. They scuffled a bit more, like kids back on the streets of the City of Heroes.

They sat on a bench, licking ice cream, watching the sun sink like a crimson coin.

“It’s been a long time since it was just the two of us, Stini.”

“Because the crew around us got bigger. Leave anyone out and it feels like you’re slighting them. Abigail, Naiche, little Nivi, Elina, and…”

“Andor.”

“Right. My pride and joy—my future husband.”

“‘Yours’? Andor is… should be… he’s…”

Raven charged in with fire, then flushed scarlet and ran out of words.

Stini leaned in, a fox’s grin creeping in.

“Oooh—what is Andor? Whose what is he? Hahaha.”

“You’re teasing me again!”

“Hey, hey—stop, stop! My head’s gonna explode; it hurts—hands off, okay? I’m wrong, I admit it!”

Another burst of cheerful roughhousing, laughter skittering like sparks on stone.

Stini smoothed her rumpled clothes, crumpled the empty ice-cream cup into a paper pebble, and set it aside to carry when they left.

“But I really think the pink one looks a lot like Vega,” she said, the idea shining like a rosy mirror.

“Yeah, yeah—look, all the maids look the same,” Vega muttered, her tone fading like a receding wave as she packed to leave.

“That’s not what I mean. Look—doesn’t the pink one look like Vega? Not just her temper, but lots of deep-down things,” Stini pressed, suspicion curling like smoke. “Do you think maybe, when Vega’s father traveled…”

“Don’t guess about people, Stini. It’s rude,” Vega cut in, her voice a cool splash on hot stone.

“Meh, whatever. Doesn’t matter. Forget it,” Stini sighed, her shrug drifting down like a few loose leaves.

When she hit a knot she couldn’t untie, Stini usually snipped the thread and let it go.

She popped off the bench like a small sparrow, planning to head back to the inn.

Vega drew breath, ready to loft a couple arrows of lecture about proper ladylike manners.

Across on the diagonal bench, the figure in a black cloak sat like a stone in a river, head drooped, steel claws slack on their thighs, unchanged from thirty minutes ago.

On the street, the crowd flowed and eddied, stopping and going like a familiar tide.

Then—

The wind shifted, blade-sudden, turning the compass of the air.

From their angle and the bench across, the breeze swung; they went from upwind to downwind, like banners turned inside out.

Only Stini caught the thin threads of a raw, bloody stench; like a startled beast, she snapped her head and locked her gaze across the way.

“What now? Stini, don’t jump and scare people, okay? Hey—wait for me…” Vega’s voice chased her like a ribbon in the wind.

Yes—that smell she knew too well. As an adventurer, it had been the worst, an iron rain that clung. Only a night at the inn could scrub it off—the smell of blood glued to the skin.

Stini moved toward the far bench, her steps quickening, long strides lengthening, then a sprint like a hawk stooping.

She seized the person’s shoulder and pushed back; the neck yielded bonelessly, bending to an angle no living human could reach, a reed snapped by the stream.

Stini bit her lower lip and lifted the cloak with a shard of hope.

A hollow gaped—left of the heart—like a black crater on a pale moon.

Vega caught up, clapped a hand over her mouth, her cry strangled like a bird caught in reeds.

“Dead. Call the Heretic Inquisitor,” Stini said, her voice tremoring like a wet string.

Five clear dents ringed the hollow, as if a hand had plunged in and wrenched out the heart, fingers like iron spikes driven into clay.

Stini traced the dents downward, her gaze a thin needle following the seam to confirm.

The chainmail was torn from inside out; the ribs were snapped from inside out, a shell split like a cracked seed that failed its owner.

No marks of battle on those steel claws; the face lay calm, a peace-mask as if the dead never knew death had already taken them.

A stolen heart, a discarded body; even a formal Heretic Inquisitor could be snuffed in one blow, like a candle in a sudden gust.

Only one possibility, the answer cold as a drawn blade.

“The Demonfolk…” she breathed.

Stini lifted her eyes and swept the ring of onlookers: ordinary faces pressed close, worry blooming like huddled petals.

No fiend. No enemy. An empty stage after the thunder.

Which made it even more terrifying, like a storm with no clouds.