Heroist
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The travelers were escorted to the inn, where they were given the chance to warm up, freshen up, and enjoy a hearty meal. Their escort was right — it was merely a port with little to do, and presumably, the citizens of Aiskir traveled here from the north.
Thiros left the pair (or rather, Kiven, since he didn't even consider Yulisiya a person) alone and went to inquire about ticket prices.
—I... I'm fired, right?..
Kiven was busy searching for his favorite lighter in the pockets of his cloak, so he didn't answer immediately.
—It's that simple to get away with it. First, you'll work off twenty years in the RSV archives.
—Oh no, not this! I.. I really didn't want this! That Jinn, she assured me that pulling something like this off would be a breeze!
—...
—Well yeah, I'm an idiot! —sobbed the disgruntled trainee. —I won't do anything else without your direct orders from now on!
Kiven finally manages to find a surviving cigar, but the lighter is ruined.
—Glad you realize that. But don't dwell on your guilt too hard. I don't need broken people.
—H-how so?..
—You'll understand when you become an agent and start training your own trainees. I've been appointed as the operation's director. I'm the one who answers to superior command. I'm responsible for the lost suitcase and the expenditure of a precious lamp. For the deaths of the clients. Or for writing official death-in-the-line-of-duty letters to your parents. I failed to account for the fact that a Jinn could seize the mind of an artifact's owner. There's nothing for you to worry about other than drawing conclusions and becoming better in the future.
—But it was me who...
—A superior who dumps blame on their subordinates no matter what is about as useful as trash. —Kiven concluded the conversation and moved on to the next topic:
—Check the logbook for Target "B". Perhaps the Gray Intel was more accurate than we assumed.
Yulisiya disappears for a few minutes under a pile of soaking-wet papers.
—Maybe you're right... But what should we do next?
—For now, nothing. Without the suitcase and the familiar, not to mention the weapon, there's little we can do. Your current objective, Yu, is to record all necessary information in the logbook — including the target's name and appearance — and deliver the document to Margel's central intelligence division.
—What about you?
—We'll see how things go. And what news Sir Thiros brings.
Having barely processed the information she heard, the ex-captain fell to her knees and burst into tears.
Watching the sufferings of the exhausted woman, the Black Knight felt no particular emotions. Neither shame nor remorse troubled his mind. At one point, he wondered if he should end her mortal trials with a single sweep of his greatsword? Yes, common mortals are deeply miserable in their frail, flesh-bound states.
How wonderful it would be to stand among kinsmen of the curse in the Realm of the Dead right now! To the world of the living, he had now become an enemy, but perhaps there he might find kindred spirits again. In truth, aside from his attachment to the princess, nothing else held him to the Imperial borders. And even Naria's mission was a failure, meaning there was no point in continuing to pursue it. And yet... unknown shackles continued to keep him tethered.
They'd have to rely on luck if any passing parrot could sense their presence so a message could be passed on to His Highness. If the captainess didn't pull through, they'd have no chances either to the west or to the east. Dashing into the deep woods to seek out nature lovers in his condition would be an even stupider decision.
—Will you be able to walk? —after an indefinite amount of time, the knight rises to his feet. —We may face a long trek to civilization. Here, you will die of starvation or freeze to death.
Whatever