The not-so-spacious room was suddenly filled with five people, all crowding around Arcia's bedside. Shards of broken glass from the windows still littered her blanket.
Inaya didn't waste any time. She knelt beside the bed, gently cradled Arcia's injured hand in both palms, and closed her eyes. A faint golden light soon shimmered from her fingertips.
Everyone—Sennia included—kept their eyes fixed on her, ready for any suspicious move. Edwin even had his hand resting on the hilt of his dagger, poised to strike if needed.
"If she were just a normal human, her heart would've stopped by now... I shouldn't have followed her here..." Inaya muttered softly.
When the treatment was done, she laid Arcia's hand back down. The burn marks on her fingers were gone, and so were the electric traces trailing up her arm to her shoulder. Even the internal injuries—those invisible to the eye—had significantly improved.
"She should be out of danger now. Think of it as my way of making up for things."
Inaya stood up, arms crossed, her tail swaying gently from side to side. There was a faint tone of resignation in her voice.
"Edwin, take her to the storage room," said Otto after confirming Arcia's wounds had indeed healed. He nodded to Nordhausen, who in turn gave a slight nod back.
"Sennia, you're off duty for now. Just focus on taking care of Arcia."
"No problem," Sennia replied without hesitation. The task suited her; she wasn't yet capable of solo operations, and the intel agents had their own work to do. Looking after Arcia was a role only she could fill.
"Remember to check on the storage room every two hours," Otto added before heading out with Nordhausen.
…
Three days later, thirteen kilometers outside Hekar, deep within an uninhabited forest, the remaining three platoons of the 11th Company of the Night Knights dropped in.
Figures emerged among the trees, the platoons gradually converging. Otto, along with four of his squadmates, was already waiting and moved in to meet them.
"This must be a big one, Otto."
The speaker had a rough voice, a muscular frame, short hair, and a neatly trimmed beard. His most distinctive feature was the eyepatch over his right eye.
"Long time no see, Captain Rogm," Otto said with a firm handshake. The reunion of brothers-in-arms who'd survived death together needed no explanation.
"You dragged a whole company out here. What kind of mission did they saddle you with this time?"
Two more officers stepped out behind Rogm. Otto immediately recognized them—Nemilic, captain of the 2nd Platoon, and Trenchap, captain of the 3rd.
"You bastard! Last time I saw your men at base, but you were nowhere to be found," Otto said, playfully punching Trenchap on the shoulder, grinning wide.
"Good to see you again," said Nemilic simply, extending a hand. Otto gripped it tightly. They didn't need flowery words; the bond forged from dozens of operations, both before and after the war, spoke louder than any speech.
"So, what's the plan?" Trenchap asked once the greetings ended.
"Otto's the mission lead—we follow his orders," said Rogm, casually waving his hand.
"You've all been briefed on the mission, I assume?" Otto asked.
"Right. Andre said you're targeting high-ranking officials attending the birthday banquet—assassination?"
"No. Capture," Otto corrected.
"Capture?" All three looked surprised.
"The plan was changed at the last minute. I'm just following orders."
Though Otto trusted these men completely, Sennia's involvement was too sensitive to disclose. After Nordhausen shared his theory, Otto decided the fewer people who knew the better.
"Damn those strategists," Nemilic grumbled. "Us, the Emperor's personal guards, taking orders like errand boys now."
The others nodded in agreement.
"We don't have much choice. His Majesty himself sent us to the frontlines. All we can do is bring him victory."
That silenced everyone.
"Let's head to the safehouse. But have your men camp outside the city—there's no room for everyone inside."
"I'll bring three. One squad leader and two soldiers."
"That works. We can fit twelve if we squeeze."
"Let's move."
…
"Say what you will, but your southern food is way better than what we have up north."
On the second floor of the safehouse, in the hallway, a cat-eared girl wrapped like a mummy in ropes and chains was enjoying an elite-level meal service. Her personal feeder? None other than a very exasperated Sennia.
They'd learned the hard way. The platoon had no protocols for detaining magic users—especially not catgirls. There were no procedures, no cells designed for this kind of prisoner. Two nights ago, Inaya had melted the lock on the storage room, beat up two Night Knights with her bare hands, and nearly escaped—only to end up kneeling before Shatiel and getting dragged back. Otto had since ordered her chained up in the hallway, where passing eyes could keep constant watch, and where industrial-grade iron shackles might actually hold her.
"So what do you northerners usually eat? Is it really that different from ours?"
Sennia, despite her reservations, saw this as a chance to gather intel about the lands under Church control. And feeding a cat—well, that wasn't too far off the mark.
"Normal folks mostly eat beans, potatoes, radishes... boring stuff. But the mid- to high-ranking priests? Totally different story. Sure, the doctrine says no indulgence, but I can tell you—they indulge. There are some who really do stick to the rules, though. Anyway, this meal is a rare treat for someone like me."
Inaya's words painted a bleak picture. The Church's territories hadn't advanced much in agriculture or industry. That meant diverse, rich foods were reserved for the privileged few.
"Wait, wipe my mouth before you go."
Sennia was just about to leave with the empty tray when Inaya made one last demand.
"Fine... Want me to scratch your chin while I'm at it?"
Sighing, Sennia wiped her glossy mouth clean with a handkerchief—then, as payback, gave her chin a teasing little scratch like she would to a real cat.
"You..."
Red with indignation, Inaya lunged to bite Sennia's arm, but Sennia dodged effortlessly.
"Being a cat isn't so bad. Who knows—maybe we'll let you go if you behave."
Sennia smirked in triumph and turned to leave. But just as she reached the stairwell, she found herself face-to-face with a group of people coming up.
"Sennia?"
Otto looked puzzled as he spotted her holding a food tray at the top of the stairs. Sennia saluted quickly and stepped aside.
"Edwin really went all out..." Otto muttered when he saw Inaya trussed up like a carnival exhibit. He'd only ordered her to be secured—clearly Edwin had taken some creative liberties.
"What in the world...?"
The scene stopped the three platoon captains in their tracks. A girl—human in appearance, but with cat ears—bound tightly with rope and chains? It was a bit much to process.
"She's extremely dangerous," Otto said. "I'll explain everything shortly. Let's head to the briefing room."
The three commanders nodded and followed him in.
"We meet again, lovely miss," said a voice from behind.
Sennia turned immediately. "Mr. Charlie. Long time no see."
They exchanged greetings, and Charlie followed the others into the meeting.
"Ohh—I get it now. You're all military."
Now alone in the hallway, Inaya looked like she'd had a sudden realization.
"You really should stop asking questions," Sennia said over her shoulder, then headed down the stairs.
"Hah. Military on a secret mission," Inaya said to herself with a smug grin.