Editing City Series:Volume2 Chapter 1 (section)

===Part 4===

It was extremely rare to see the sunset in London. The city was so constantly covered in fog that it was known as the City of Fog.

However, that meant it would sink gently into the depths of the night. There was no dramatic change in color as it naturally filled with darkness and the countless gas lights almost looked like will-o’-the-wisps.

The Savoy Hotel was located along the Thames which flowed through the center of London. The rooms on the hotel’s top floor gave an excellent view of the city as it filled with life.

Valeath was watching the foggy city from one of those windows.

“…”

The inside of the window perfectly reflected him and the room behind him.

It was a large room. London hotels liked to preserve the ambiance of the city, but this one had bright electric lights installed. This was one of England’s top hotels and it seemed to target even the rarest sort of guests. After all, electric lights produced human-made light.

The window’s reflection showed Moyla standing a short distance away in that light.

Somewhere in the distance, a bell rang and lonely-sounding pipe organ music accompanied it. That was the hourly signal from Westminster Cathedral.

Just as the bell finished its six rings and the music stopped, the large door reflected in the window opened.

Ralf stepped inside.

He still wore his modified minister’s outfit and he spoke cheerfully.

“I’d always heard British food was bad, but that was surprisingly good. The roast beef at this place’s restaurant was especially great.”

At that point, he realized the room’s atmosphere was far from cheerful, so he adjusted his sunglasses.

“Valeath, what did you want to discuss in today’s meeting?”

Valeath kept his arms crossed and spoke quietly.

“We will finish this in three days’ time.”

“Of course,” answered Ralf.

He sighed and Overrode himself. Unlike when he had entered the room, he was giving the same smile as when he had shot Gloss.

“Based on that Hard Wolf from last night, the monsters here won’t be a problem. I suppose three days should be enough to gather the necessary number of voices.”

“But Master Valeath, if we rush this too much, we might make a mistake somewhere.”

That calm comment came from Moyla who pulled her shawl tight as if she were cold. Her face looked somewhat pale in the window’s reflection.

“We were given a month for this, so there is no need to hurry.”

Valeath said nothing to her, so Ralf did instead.

“Don’t worry, Moyla. Valeath and I are more than enough for this. You can focus on resting. After all, London’s fog is not just fog. It’s nasty stuff called smog.”

In the reflection, Moyla looked at Valeath. She clearly wanted to say something as her eyes overlapped with the city of London.

However, Valeath did not respond to that look. He simply turned around slowly.

“In three days, we will set up the Babel Cannon in the place we have prepared. We will gather the voices of 121 Arche races by then. Do you understand, Ralf?”

“I do.” Ralf smiled. “But what are you going to have Moyla do?”

Moyla answered that question without even a moment’s delay.

“I will protect Master Valeath. That is my job.”

She was clearly in a hurry to speak and Ralf looked quite disappointed to hear it.

“Why do you have to say it yourself?”

After a complicated sigh, he turned his back on Valeath and purposefully let his military boots sound on the floor.

“Valeath, let me tell you something interesting. The Hard Wolf you supposedly eliminated last night actually managed to survive for a bit longer.”

There was a hint of testing in his voice and he seemed to be saying this was worth showing some interest in.

That must have caught Valeath’s attention because he glanced toward the other man.

Expecting the glance, Ralf turned around in front of the door with his usual smile.

“Because you didn’t wait until he Ashed, it’s become a bit of an incident in the city. And…that Hard Wolf had adopted a strange young man. He’s a demon, but he has no wings.”

“Is there some problem related to that young man?”

“Who knows. You can check on that for yourself. I figured you would be the best judge of whether he had sworn revenge over the death of his adoptive father. Also…please remember one thing.”

Ralf placed a hand on the door as he spoke.

“It may be Moyla’s job to serve you, but she isn’t your property.”

Valeath said nothing.

Neither did Moyla. She simply hung her head.

Ralf opened his mouth again when he saw that, but he stopped himself. Instead, he opened the door and left.

“…”

Moyla briefly looked out the open door and then turned to Valeath.

“Master Valeath, are you angry?”

“About what?”

“He made it sound like I…”

She trailed off.

On the other hand, Valeath’s words were calm and strong.

“Unlike you or Ralf, I have almost no emotions thanks to the Over Contract.”

The bandaged hand sticking out of his coat’s sleeve had a circular emblem drawn on it.

“When a human uses a demon’s spells, darkness fills their soul.”

That wore away at their emotions and humanity. When someone like that died, there was no escaping hell.

Moyla looked at the back of Valeath’s hand.

“If this mission succeeds, I hope you can meet Lady Melda in heaven.”

“Do not mention that.”

For once, Valeath actually interfered in what someone said.

He gently shook his head.

“She is not for you to think about. We simply need to gather voices and use the Babel Cannon…”

He took a breath and said something absurd.

“To drop heaven down on London.”

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