Storm Wolf: Tranquil waters - 33. Chapter 8 - Council 8.1

Council: Pulling the strings from the shadows of the world.

I woke up when my brother's teammates came in, but I decided to keep pretending to be asleep to avoid any awkwardness.

See? I can read the room too sometimes.

I closed my eyes and listened to the lively chatter, feeling as though there was an insurmountable chasm between us, one that I could only silently observe from the other side.

My brother apologized for not being able to attend the final match, and the others were quick to understand and comfort Piqsirpoq. I suspected that Sotura, who was originally a substitute, didn't mind the outcome too much--but that could just be the Gray part of me talking. Who knows?

Snow's team ended up in third place, behind Nyx and Wood--not that I actually understood what that meant.

I really didn't want to ruin this warm moment, but I had needed to use the bathroom for the past half hour. I didn't expect them to chat for so long.

When I finally decided to give up on pretending to be asleep, I heard the sliding door open and the sound of my brother's teammates with their tails between their legs. I sneakily opened my right eye to peek.

"Visiting hours are over," Qana said. Before he even finished speaking, my brother's teammates had already fled the room.

"Uh..." Piqsirpoq sounded a bit awkward. "Master."

"Congratulations." Qana threw something at my face, which I caught and saw was a set of clothes. "You're being discharged."

"What about me?" Piqsirpoq asked, a hint of urgency in his voice.

My brother had mentioned earlier that he suspected he was on the verge of getting bedsores, or possibly some kind of long-term confinement syndrome--whichever came first.

"You too," Qana said, though he pulled a chair over, straddled it, and rested his elbows on the backrest, his wrists supporting his chin. "But only after we have a private talk."

Piqsirpoq's once-joyful expression faltered slightly, clearly sensing something off in the sword master's tone.

"I've already told you everything I remember..." he said hesitantly, glancing at me quickly. "...Master."

"We need to discuss something else," Qana said slowly. If I didn't know the sword master so well, I'd have thought the way he bared his teeth when he spoke was meant as a threat. "In private." Under Qana's intense gaze, I wisely began to get dressed and gave them some space.

Is this what applying pressure looks like? It seems Qana is really good at it.

And I'm sure the sword master wouldn't appreciate any fool stupid enough to try eavesdropping, so after getting dressed, I left the room.

The atmosphere in the dining hall was lively, everyone still buzzing from the aftermath of the Selection process, even though Snow's performance this year wasn't as expected. Some were discussing Piqsirpoq's incident, while fewer speculated wildly about the mysterious attacker's background.

No one seemed particularly interested in me.

From the gossip I overheard, the incident had been twisted into a story about how Piqsirpoq heroically saved me--or rather, some identity fabricated wolf. At least, that's the main narrative; some of the wilder ones aren't even worth mentioning.

Qana probably covered for me and my brother by using the similarity in our wave patterns or applied some skilled "pressure." Whatever the method, it was effective, as none of the stories included me.

After hearing enough of these embellished, fanciful tales, I decided to focus on more practical matters, like how to explain my long absence to Aether. Also, I needed to get a new terminal and replace the winter gear that was lost or damaged. The thought of having to engage in a battle of wits with the storage manager was already exhausting.

But for now, staying silent might be the most reasonable choice, as I had a feeling the sword master had something to discuss with me as well.

"Jupiter's Flight," I said hesitantly to the food synthesizer, feeling slightly more at ease after confirming that the food it gave me at least looked normal.

As I ate the tasteless porridge, I tried to piece together the entire event.

After Qana confirmed that Piqsirpoq and I had recovered sufficiently, he asked us to recount what had happened. When I described how I resonated, releasing a slash that cleaved the armored vehicle in half, he frowned but didn't interrupt. Piqsirpoq then added his perspective, detailing how he got back up and killed the bloodhound from behind.

But he didn't tell us what had happened inside the armored vehicle before that, and Qana didn't ask. This led me to believe that Qana knew what had happened and why Piqsirpoq didn't want to talk about it.

Ugh, I hate this.

Qana briefly informed us about the confirmed identities of the kidnappers--various notorious bounty hunters and mercenaries, though none were particularly well-known, likely just there to fill out the consciousness union's numbers. The gray dog was a wolfhound, a Delta-level psychic, not a Red-Eye. Within the Empire, there were bounties on him in many places, but due to his cautious and discreet nature, little was known about him. However, the few cases directly linked to him were notorious and involved extremely cruel methods.

As for the one who got away, they had already disappeared without leaving any clues that might reveal their identity. They clearly had a very thorough escape plan, or they were exceptionally skilled in covert operations. Of course, it could also be both.

So, the plan behind this attack was primarily to conceal the mastermind's identity; even with the information about these criminals and mercenaries, there wasn't enough direct evidence to link them to any entity.

I recalled the sticky blood on the bottom of my shoes in the armored vehicle, along with the scattered remains and viscera, and found that it didn't affect my appetite at all. I wasn't sure if it was because I had no appetite to begin with, or if those things simply didn't bother me.

Shrugging, I continued to eat my tasteless porridge.

The wolfhound being split in two by Qana didn't elicit any special feelings from me, except for admiration of the sword master's skill. I had no idea from how high up he had started aiming or how he ensured his trajectory...

Suddenly, a thought flashed through my mind, making me freeze, the spoon still in my mouth.

Qana had perfectly bisected the wolfhound--not just in terms of technique; the key point was that the sword master had clearly seen him. So, Qana knew we weren't in immediate danger but still killed the wolfhound.

Why?

Though the burly sword master looked rough and tough, always wearing a scowl, he was definitely not the type to lose control out of momentary emotional agitation. He could've just severed the wolfhound's hand or something; his psychic ability was far superior to the wolfhound's. So why did Qana choose to kill him?

Qana wanted to silence the wolfhound because he knew what the wolfhound would say--he knew who the mastermind was.

I tried to steady my hands as I placed the spoon back on the tray.

Why?

I went over the event again, trying to determine if this was just my paranoia or a case of obsession. But this only made me more certain that Qana was determined to kill the Wolfhound to shut him up.

Knowing that the person you trust most might betray you is an incredibly awful feeling--on multiple levels.

First comes self-reproach, wondering how you could be stupid enough to be deceived, how you missed all the obvious signs. Then comes the shame, questioning why you're losing faith--what if it's just a simple misunderstanding? And finally, you have to confront the helplessness that comes with the realization that you might actually be manipulated and losing control of everything.

Damn it!

I pressed my palms over my eyes, taking a few deep breaths.

Faced with what seemed like a complicated and insoluble problem, I chose the simplest path--trust. No matter how strange things seemed, even if Qana knew the true identity of the mastermind and tried to cover it up, there was no evidence that he wasn't acting in my best interest.

Though this still brought me back to the original question--why--it seemed infinitely better and more reasonable than the worst-case scenario.

In any case, I decided to trust Qana, even though he had subtly hinted that I shouldn't.

I could only shrug, doing my best not to dwell on whether trust really an entirely illogical decision was.

I pressed my right index finger against the screen, activating the new terminal.

I hadn't anticipated it, but there were an overwhelming number of unread messages. I should've expected it, though I'm still not quite used to this feature.

Quickly skimming through the various messages Aether had sent, I could sense the worry between the lines. My original decision to respond after speaking with Qana started to waver.

Is this the emotional part influencing the rational part?

I shook my head vigorously, trying to focus, to not be swayed by distractions.

But before I could decide what to do, I had already sent out a call request. Hmm... I need to figure out a way to stop this from happening again.

"Hey," he answered quickly. "I haven't heard from you in a while. Everything okay?" His tone was calm, but after all this time, I was beginning to recognize the subtle emotions hidden beneath his strong logical thinking.

"Oh, nothing's wrong." I suddenly realized how suspicious that sounded. "I just had a little accident during snowfield training." That was basically true, I suppose.

"I thought it might have something to do with that unidentified armed group's incursion." He joked, probably to ease the tension.

"Haha, yeah, right. How could I possibly have missed something like that?" The moment the words left my mouth, I realized how stupid I sounded, trying to cover it up. Aether surely noticed it too, because he fell silent for a long time. I could almost hear the sound of his brain processing and reconstructing the sequence of events.

"For logic's sake, Richter," Aether's concern was clear. "Are you alright?"

"Uh..." I realized I was subconsciously touching a recently healed wound and forced myself to stop. "Nothing the med bay couldn't handle."

"By the Rationalism... The official report told a very standardized story. No wonder the atmosphere at the Library of Alexandria has been a bit off lately..." he muttered. "Listen, this is important..." Aether's tone was unusually anxious, each word laced with hesitation. "Among the attackers, did you recognize any of the breeds?"

"Breeds," Aether used that term. Given that anyone bold enough to target the Senate would certainly be from a high-ranking breed, Aether sounded like he knew something, rather than just guessing.

"Other than a bloodhound and an Irish wolfhound, the others didn't seem to be purebred." I recalled the scene in my mind, along with what Qana had mentioned later. "Oh, I almost forgot, there was one that got away, though I never got a clear look at him." I did remember his resonance feedback, but hadn't given it much thought before. I tried to recall earlier lessons on identifying different resonance signatures. "He might have been brown."

"What kind of brown?" I noticed Aether's urgency; his emotions were starting to affect me. "Was it a dark, almost black brown, or a shiny, reflective brown?"

"The former." I mentally compared the waveform to the spectrum and replied. "Does it matter?" I asked, realizing he had described two very specific shades of brown.

"That could be good news... although in a way, it's worse..." Aether muttered to himself again. I wasn't sure if it took a mind as logical as his to understand what he meant. "Have you told anyone else about this?"

"No." I hadn't mentioned it to Qana or Piqsirpoq. "I only remembered when you asked."

"Richter..." Aether hesitated, sounding deeply conflicted. "Don't tell anyone about this, okay?"

"Oh, alright..." I scratched my ear, suddenly a bit relieved that Qana likely knew the identity of the mastermind. Qana and Aether had made similar decisions--was that a good sign? Or did it mean... they were in league with each other? Damn paranoid thoughts! "But... can you tell me why?" I pushed aside my chaotic thoughts, seeking a clear answer.

The other end of the terminal fell silent again. After a long pause, I finally heard him sigh.

"The line isn't secure; it's too dangerous to discuss this now." Dangerous? "I'll contact you later. I need to verify some things," Aether said. "I'll be quick, I promise."

"Oh, okay." I scratched my ear again, left to accept this confusing situation. Trust is like this, right? "I... miss you," I remembered the original reason I reached out.

"Me too," Aether replied softly.

"Say hi to Momus for me, will you?" I recalled the always energetic little wolf cub.

"Sure," Aether responded. "Take care."

"You too." With that, Aether ended the call.

There was a certain feeling, like being caught in a massive web where one wrong move could entangle me further. Or perhaps... this web had been spun around me from the very beginning.

Either way, I suddenly had a premonition that the real turning point was approaching, and I wasn't sure I would like the next chapter.