Chapter 189 (1/2)

“Ciel…” Claptrap’s former co worker frowned, thinking very deeply. “Well, she hasn’t been here recently. But that’s because she’s preparing for the Regional Tournament, isn’ it? She can’t take time to shop when she’s got the hopes of the sect riding on her. She didn’t really come back much after you left anyway.”

Claptrap’s stomach did flips as he cleanly disengaged himself from the conversation with a clerk at the former location Claptrap managed and hurried outside. Instead of all of the rather pressing matters Claptrap could have handled, he had proceeded directly here, to ask about the woman who had changed his life. It seemed she was well.

She didn’t really come back much after you left anyway.

Probably just a coincidence, Claptrap thought, all the while sporting a shit eating grin. Since it seemed that Ciel was still doing well, he could investigate some other leads. So Claptrap hurried away, checking his old merchant contacts, talking business, the price of materials, the new methods of leather refinement, etc.

And then, to the contacts he trusted the most, Claptrap let slip that he might have access to a non-Engraving Guild made piece of armor, and distributed a few examples. Most were shocked at first, or fearful, but as they examined the armor more closely, greed rose up and washed away all of their misgivings. There certainly was something reliable about merchants that wasn’t true about anyone else; their motivations were rather clear.

But what made Claptrap sick was that one of the informants made a satisfied sound when he made this pitch, and said, “Ah, I’d heard about this. So you are the one who has the hook-up.”

It was one of his earlier visitations, and it was impossible that news from the other informants had already traveled all the way to this location. There was only one explanation: that someone in the city was already leaking the news.

The Engraving Guild wouldn’t be so sloppy to spread the news of it if it was planning to act, so the news must have come from a relatively ‘friendly’ party. It had to be the Style that had a deal with the Crashing Wave Style. It was extremely likely that this Style was a local powerhouse, with a high amount of influence.

So, strangely, after all of Claptrap’s social calls had been made, he found himself standing opposite the local branch of the Engraving Guild. Although Deardun was the capital of the Northern Region, it was the most sparsely populated, if largest, regions, and therefore the Engraving Guild had a relatively smaller presence. But it still was an ornately decorated building, stinking of money.

It was hard to keep his breathing steady as he looked at it. This was the enemy he was making, by selling the equipment Engraved by the Ghousthound for profit. It was an old and powerful enemy, with deep connections to the most powerful Styles of the Central Region. And yet… And yet he didn’t regret it. Because although Claptrap was timid, and relatively reasonable, there was an edge of madness to his actions. For Ciel…

He would do anything to capture the attention of that woman. No matter what enemies he had to make, or what devils he was forced to befriend-

“Claptrap!” The voice was high and melodic, the tone gay. Absolutely frozen stiff, Claptrap spun on his heel, turning to find a woman standing there. A woman in form fitting leather armor, and a soft pink skirt to add some feminine flair to the otherwise utilitarian outfit. She had large azure eyes, and her brown hair cascaded down past her shoulders, interspersed with thinly spun threads of gold. “I had heard you left the city! I’m so glad you came back. I missed my favorite merchant.”

With a wildly beating heart, Claptrap had to admit to himself that he had just come face to face with Ciel, and he was nowhere near prepared for it. Maybe if he had time to jot down a few lines for their reunion-

But Ciel already moved forward, and spread her arms, pulling him close into a hug, and she was warm and smelled-

“Come with me, we need to talk business.” Her whisper was soft, and urgent, and still kind, but it was a different sort of whisper, with none of the hollow warmth of her previously greeting. Something deep within Claptrap’s heart trembled.

As she pulled back, her face was still smiling warmly, but now Claptrap could see the edges of it; it was a hollow thing. And his chest slowly emptied of emotion. What was going on…?

As she talked lightly about various topics around Deardun, Ciel invited him for a drink to catch up and led him away, leading him deeper into the area of Deardun monopolized by the larger Styles. Then they entered into an inn and walked past the silent drinkers to a back room, with extravagant chairs.

It was strange. This was what he always wanted, to talk casually with Ciel like this. To feel as though she was interested in him. To feel connected to her. And yet…

After the door was safely closed behind them, she stopped speaking and yawned, draping herself across a chair. She gave him an apologetic smile.

“Ah, Claptrap, I apologize about that- oh, you probably don’t even remember me, do you? My name is Ciel, a disciple of the Steel Feather Style. I used to frequent a store you clerked at. To be honest, I didn’t remember you at all for a while either, but after a lot of thinking, I did remember a certain clerk with an extraordinarily reassuring face; thats you. I understand that you have done very well for yourself out in Qtal.”