"New fire point confirmed in the north; designating it 'North No. 4' from here on. Also, the first arrival unit has completed rescues at North No. 3. The follow-up unit has arrived, but evacuation guidance for local residents is lagging."
"East No. 5 is confirmed extinguished."
"South No. 8 is also extinguished."
"The fires in the north are spreading... Send cleanup and observation teams to the two points we've extinguished. Have the Firefighting Units that headed to East No. 5 and South No. 8 rotate to the north to replace them. For evacuation guidance, put security personnel on any available carriages and send them out. Jill, will two parties be enough?"
"The manpower should suffice, especially with the follow-up units in play. We’ll send the carriages one by one as they become available. My real concern is the capacity of the shelters. What’s the status there?"
"The northern and western refuges are fine; there’s still plenty of space. The eastern and southern ones are still accepting people, but they’re gradually filling up."
"Then direct the northern evacuations further north. Also, arrange for the setup of a Temporary Shelter. The location will be the vacant lot at the Former Slum Site that Ryoma cleared, as we planned."
"The small-scale arsonist spotted in the west is in custody. Handover to the Guard Force is already complete."
Inside the security company’s conference room, a series of quiet reports and instructions were exchanged, a stark contrast to the clamor of the streets outside.
In the center of the room sat a large desk, covered by a detailed map of the city. A crowd had gathered around it, shifting small flags and markers across the surface as reports poured in. Overseeing the chaos were Hughes, the head of the security company, and Jill, his second-in-command. The orders they issued were quickly scribbled onto paper by the staff waiting behind them and hurried to the cages of several small monsters lined along the walls.
The room was quiet, yet it felt heavy with an oppressive tension.
"Excuse me."
Three maids entered, dispatched from the Ducal House like Hughes and Jill. They pushed a small cart, beginning to distribute drinks to the exhausted personnel.
"Lulunese, thanks. Here, Jill, drink up. This is going to be a long night."
"...I suppose so. It wouldn't do to stay wound this tight."
Jill accepted the drink, though his expression remained clouded. Seeing this, Hughes handed the immediate command over to Lulunese and leaned in to whisper.
"Hey, Jill. Why the long face? I know this isn't exactly a party, but we're handling things—better than well, actually."
"...True enough. We have the 'Communication Unit'—the tamers Ryoma suggested who use Sensory Link with their familiars—and the 'Information Transmission Network' we built through them. Add to that the monitoring and contact bases we established throughout the city. Because of those, we can share data instantly, not just with the people on the ground, but with the guilds, the Guard Force, and the Town Office. Our coordination has never been tighter."
"Ryoma... called it a 'Denwa' operator, didn't he? I can't use Taming Magic and I don't really get the name, but I never knew it was possible to do something like this."
"Denwa... Supposedly an ancient means of communication that could instantly connect people in distant lands. Most claim it was a magic tool utilizing space magic, though its existence is dubious at best. Ryoma probably pulled the idea from one of those old legends. The downside is that you need a massive number of tamers capable of using Sensory Link to blanket a whole city—especially when you account for relief shifts—but if you can overcome that, the information flow is near-instantaneous. It lets us see multiple sites simultaneously. Between Ryoma's deep pockets and the fact that the recent snow had idled the postal tamers, we managed it... but the thought of facing tonight without this network is terrifying."
"Yeah, I'd rather not think about that. But look, if you know you've got something that reliable, why are you still scowling? You're too tense."
"Am I? ...Perhaps it's because I felt a bit pathetic."
"Pathetic? Oh, I get it. You're still dwelling on what that mercenary from the Golden Wild Hawks said."
This had happened just after the attack on Serge.
Ryoma and the others had returned to the meeting room where they had been dining, and Hughes’s group had arrived shortly after to discuss their next moves. The meeting itself had been straightforward; since they had already prepared for every conceivable emergency, and because the enemy had resorted to a direct attack, they all agreed on one thing: the culprit had stopped being subtle. They were no longer choosing their means and had likely given up on hiding their involvement.
After the meeting, Serge had left for his store while the Saionji couple moved up their departure to ensure their safety. It was then that Jill had suggested Ryoma wait somewhere secure. He had even asked Yashuma, the Vice Troupe Leader of the mercenaries, to provide temporary personal security—and was flatly rejected.
The conversation had gone like this:
'May I ask why? I don't expect you to do whatever I say just because I offer money, but I am prepared to pay an ample reward. Is there really no room for negotiation?'
'It’s regrettable, but I won’t change my mind. There are three reasons. First: Troupe Regulations. We are already contracted to guard the Morgan Company and Chairman Serge. Some mercenaries juggle multiple jobs, but we forbid it. Credibility is our lifeblood; we give our all to the contract we signed first. 'Second: the mindset of the target. We don't usually pick and choose our clients, but there are certain people we hate guarding. The worst are those who have no awareness that they are being protected. When those people also happen to be skilled or have mediocre strength, they become a nightmare to manage. I won’t say the boy is like that, but your proposal didn't have his consent, did it? He wants to move, to respond, to handle the problems he sees coming. A target who charges headfirst into the storm is, from our perspective, impossible to protect.'
'...'
'And the final reason: I've judged that he doesn't need protection.'
'He doesn't need it?'
'A moment ago, he was on par with us—and he was faster than us at pinning down the enemy’s position. Considering his actions and judgment during that attack, I believe he is more than capable of looking after his own life. Like I said, mediocre targets are a hassle, but if someone is actually skilled, there’s no point in us being there. Besides... I suspect you have very little experience in group combat, and you're not comfortable with it.'
When Yashuma had looked to Ryoma for confirmation, the boy had merely nodded, impressed that the mercenary had seen through him so quickly.
'There you have it. Rather than us protecting him, our clumsy cooperation would only get in his way. I never thought I’d feel this way about a child who hasn't lived half as long as I have... but if he ever wants to join the Golden Wild Hawks, I’d waive his induction test myself. I simply don't see him as someone who needs a bodyguard. I understand you're worried about him, of course, but he's a different breed.'
When Hughes brought that memory up, Jill let out a heavy sigh.
"It wasn't just that. Yudum called me overprotective as well."
"Oh yeah, he did. What about it?"
"...I wanted Ryoma to live like a normal child. He’s at an age where he should be able to rely on the people around him—on us. He should be allowed to be protected. I still believe that. But in my desire for him to have that, I might have been subconsciously forcing him to play the role of a 'normal child.' Ryoma isn't blind; he knows we're worried about him."
"Right. He turned down the security and the waiting, but he looked pretty guilty about it."
"With Ryoma's magic, he can fight fires with an efficiency none of us can match. Looking at his abilities and the situation rationally, there’s no reason not to use him. Ryoma knows that better than anyone. My worrying is my own business, but I realize now that I shouldn't have made a proposal that ignored his will. I need to reflect on that. Though... now is hardly the time for soul-searching."
"So you were just concentrating so hard that you started scowling, huh?"
"If that’s how it looked, then yes. I can't think of any other reason. I'll watch myself."
"Good. Like I said, it’s a long night. It’ll be a disaster if you burn out halfway through. You can have a real heart-to-heart with Ryoma once this is all over. It’ll be a lot more useful than reading some parenting book—wait, why are you making that face?"
"How do you know?" Jill asked, his voice low. "That I was reading a parenting book?"
"Huh? Wait, Jill, were you really reading one?"
"What?"
A bizarre silence fell between the two men until Lulunese stepped back into the conversation.
"Forgive me for interrupting. Hughes is likely talking about the book I was reading. It’s still quite a ways off, but I was reading up for the sake of our future family. Hughes peeked at it once and said he didn't understand it. Right, dear?"
"Yeah! But from the look of it, you were reading one too? And you did it specifically to figure out how to handle Ryoma?"
Jill’s face turned a violent shade of crimson in an instant.
"Jill... I think 'overprotective' might be an understatement," Hughes teased.
"Pffft!"
Jill’s head whipped around toward the sound. One of the tamers standing by the map was coughing violently, clearly trying to stifle a laugh. Several others had their shoulders shaking in silence.
It was painfully obvious that their entire conversation had been overheard.
The suffocating tension in the room evaporated, replaced by a strangely warm, awkward atmosphere.
"Ahem! Well... excuse me," Jill managed, trying to recover. "While I said being too tense is bad, being too relaxed is equally dangerous. Everyone, please refocus."
At his command, the tamers all leaned back over the map with renewed intensity, as if they were trying to dive into the parchment. But the oppressive weight from before didn't return.
"I suppose it's for the best if the communication staff could relax a little...?"
Jill muttered the question to himself, his face still flushed. No one answered him. Instead, they simply resumed the solemn exchange of information as if nothing had happened at all.