Arknights story · When Elegies Are Ashes
EA-3 Suspicion and Impulse
Driven to madness by avarice, the Dublinners are led into the Dark Woods by the greedy red dragon. From the grain shop owner, Loughshinny and Brigid learn the truth about Theo's disappearance and the whereabouts of the smuggled food carts.
2 scenes, 307 lines
1. Before Operation
152 linesA beetle flies through the dark alley.
It flaps its wings furiously, but only manages to find its way into an abandoned block that few souls tread anymore.
Its golden body is too heavy, weighed down even further by the gems on its wings. It can only fly a short distance before coming to a rest in a gap between the stone tiles—
Found you!
I got it! I got it!
You've got your bug, now help me get these crystals before they fall into the ditch!
Coming—
Hold on, I am going to get my cut if I help you, right?
Sure, sure! Just hurry! You don't want to see these crystals end up in the ditch, do you?
Sweet cloudbeast, you're mine!
Good... all the gems on the sword are there...
Where are The Brigadier and the others?
Who cares?
The Bureaucrat tucks away the parasite, while The Officer eagerly watches the crystal tears drop again and again.
The Ombudsman brusquely manhandles the cloudbeast, while The Torturer raises the sword as though it conferred power over life and death.
What a lively scene.
All of this treasure is yours, my servants.
I am not so miserly as to withhold them after seeing how much you love them.
But what more do you intend to take from me, once I have given you these?
Let me guess...
A path appears at the dead end of the alley, and even more shiny baubles rush towards it.
There is no time to bother with what is already in their hands.
They scramble for the treasure on the ground, stuffing it into their pockets, carrying it on their backs, and rushing towards the next shiny piece before even standing back up from the last one.
None of them care where the path leads.
...going to Dossoles tomorrow... It's high time I treated myself to something nice...
...squeeze these country bumpkins in Na Saoirsí a little more...
...don't forget my share...
...can't wait for the townsfolk to send me some 'Victorian spies'...
My, my. After far more than just wealth, aren't we?
A life of luxury. A high status. Power over life and death. You want it all.
I have nothing against being true to your desires. And what you desire are things that I will not miss.
Unfortunately, you happen to be my servants, yet you seem far greedier than I.
So goodbye. Go to where you belong.
The treasures pave a shiny path where none existed, sending the madmen out of the Lair and out onto the land...
Towards whence the darkness came, the gaping mouth of the Dark Woods.
...This part is very different from the rest of your work.
I told you, I've abandoned many drafts in the process of observing, thinking, and writing. Any and all of them ready to be thrown in at a moment's notice.
Do you really think I'd be sitting here, drinking this swill, if I could tell this story as a consistent, unified narrative?
You're the one insisting it gets a proper ending, not me.
True.
But if I must regard this passage as your own personal embellishment, should I also consider the rejection of Brigid by the mist to be a creative liberty as well?
...No more than the Exiled King you forced into the story.
Then what about the rest of the story you are about to tell? Should it be seen as an observation, or as a creation?
That's up to you to decide. Do you want me to tell it or not?
Of course, of course. Go on...
So what was wrong with Emma?
Just a cold, on top of mild malnutrition.
She didn't look so bad on the outskirts of the Dark Woods.
...A sickness of the spirit, most likely.
Iron for the statue needed to be collected from door to door. People won't even turn on their lamps to save fuel, never mind food...
What could she possibly be shipping out?
She runs a grain store. Maybe...
But only a grain store. She couldn't have done this on her own. There must be somebody behind her.
We also still need to ask about Theo. There's no time to wait for her to come to on her own.
Ugh—agh!
Can you hear me, Emma?
Ni—Niels!
Take me with you... take me with you!
No, she's still dreaming.
Niels... is that somebody's name?
I've seen it written on letters she's gotten. A loved one, if I had to guess.
And where might we find them?
No idea. It's been a while since the last letter.
Niels...
Scold me, beat me if you must... but don't abandon me...
The Bureaucrat told me to smuggle food, so I did... What meaning is there in a life without you? What point is there in being kind to others?
The Bureaucrat... Dublinn.
There's so much food in the city. A single cart won't make a difference...
There's no food in the city. A single cart won't make a difference...
Won't make a difference...
Should we keep trying to wake her up?
Wait.
...Why wasn't it you who lived?
Those accursed Victorians... Why did their child live?
A child... of Victorians?
Why...
Ugh... uh...
It'll be alright, my dear—I'll make things right—
Wait for me, Niels... Wait for me, my love...
*Sob*...
*Sob*... *sob*...!
I can't see you, my love! I can't see you...
Why? Why?!
The Victorians who killed you have been chased out!
The last Victorian bastard died... before my eyes...
Niels...
Sweat fills Emma's fevered brow. Tormented by nightmares, she instinctively grabs the sheets beneath her, but it does not stop her from trembling.
The other two stand up at the same time.
It's already past curfew. Will we really able to move freely?
Stick with me. If the mist wants to take either of us, let it try.
Wait, someone's coming over from the citadel!
Who is it?
Looks like Dublinn. It's...
The Brigadier!
...
Who's there?!
Loughshinny?
Go back, now, back to...
What happened?
No.
Nothing happened tonight.
...
We have a lead on the food shortage, sir.
The owner of this grain store was instructed by The Bureaucrat to smuggle food out of Na Saoirsí. We may be able to get it back, if we're quick.
The Bureaucrat? I should have known—
But it's too late. Everything's too late.
Why? Do you know where the food went?
Not the food...
Me. Us.
Thank you for informing me, but I...
What is going on? Tell me!
No, nothing happened tonight.
I can't imagine what could have turned you... a warrior with no qualms about killing for the greater good, into... this.
Did you and Dublinn found this nation over the corpses of so many, just to starve your own people to death here?
...
No. Never.
Thank you for informing me. I will... deal with it, personally.
But do not mention the name Dublinn ever again.
You got your promise. Do not set foot on the streets again tonight, and especially do not break curfew with someone insignificant, as you're doing now.
This is for your own good.
Loughshinny opens her mouth to speak, but The Brigadier shows no acknowledgment.
He turns around and walks towards the outskirts of the city with heavy, dragging steps.
Are we gonna do as he says? Hide?
...No, Nemos needs to know about Theo. Do you know where she lives?
It's a wee bit far, practically the other side of Na Saoirsí.
Then that's where we're going.
Nemos's house is just ahead.
That was easy. Seems the mist didn't get into the city tonight.
Nemos? Are you home?
Nemos?
Hey, didn't she say she'd be at the Dublinn victory party? Is she not back yet?
The Brigadier was leaving the citadel. The party should be over.
Miss Loughshinny... Brigid?
Loughshinny is about to speak when her gaze meets Nemos's.
Her eyes are even blanker than the Brigadier's were.
What's going on? Did something happen at the victory party?
No, nothing happened tonight...
...
What are you two doing here?!
Quick, inside! You mustn't be out on the streets tonight!
As Nemos hurries Loughshinny and Brigid inside, The Brigadier passes beyond the boundaries of Na Saoirsí.
He walks into the forest, where there is nothing but darkness, towards the depths of the dark mist.
Then, the food carts that had been smuggled out of Na Saoirsí slowly emerge from it.
They will return to Na Saoirsí's agricultural plate before dawn.
The next day, the city gets the smallest of reprieves from the food shortage. No one notices that The Brigadier never returned from the Dark Woods.
The food mysteriously appear at the agricultural plate before making its way to the grain stores across the city. It falls well short of truly solving the problem.
But it was far more than just The Brigadier who never came back, though the people of the city do not know it yet.
Once again the sun rises, without pity or care.
The dragon and the wayward wakewoman walk the streets, watching with shock at how the now-commonplace brawls descend into even more brutal violence.
The nomad knocks on the blacksmith's door. She brings woeful news.
2. After Operation
155 linesOuch!
The hell's wrong with you, Theo? You have eyes, use them!
S-Sorry, Mr. Rory, I was just hoping to try my luck over at Lagran Street, see if I could get some potatoes—
Get lost!
Sorry...
Look out! The burdenbeast's panicking! Out of the way!
Stupid coachman! You nearly ran me over! Get back here!
That dung-for-brains ran off, just like that?!
Mr. Rory, I...
Hah, look who DID get run over! Serves you right.
You're not going anywhere now! Let's go see the Dublinn folks. Maybe they'll give me potatoes for handing over a traitor—
Better stick to the back streets. Can't have someone else taking my spy...
The man grabs the boy's collar and drags him into a small, empty alley. The boy groans in anguish.
Weird. Did I forget the way?
Gimme back my potatoes! Go and buy your own! They still have some at the shop!
Give them back!
They still have potatoes?!
The man glances towards the voices, then at the broken body of the boy whose arm he is still grabbing.
He's dying. Would the Dublinners even give me anything for a dying kid? Could they even get anything out of him?
...It's your lucky day, traitor.
The man shakes off the boy's hand, which had been grabbing his sleeve, and walks off briskly towards the voices.
My leg... it hurts...
I can't stand...
Mrs. Emma...
Wh-Who's there? Who's calling my name?
I-I did as you asked! Just leave me alone—
...Emma!
Theo? What happened?
I got hit by a carriage, then left behind here.
I'm not a Victorian spy, Mrs. Emma... Please, help me... take me to Mr. Culann...
A Victorian... spy?
Ah... it's all happening so fast...
It hurts so much...
I know the Victorians did bad things. Nobody likes me, nobody listens to me, nobody wants to get close to me.
But could you at least... find Mr. Culann... it hurts... it's so cold...
When I grow up... I'll find the Victorians and take revenge... for Mr. Niels...
(Takes a deep breath)
Maybe I'd have helped you, Theo, if Niels was the only one who died.
Mrs... Emma?
You know that Niels died in the war, but even more people died without ever seeing the battlefield.
You Victorians blocked off the supply routes. You still are. So many people starved. Including me, including...
Including the child Niels left behind... the child inside me.
He starved to death because of you Victorians.
Find someone else to get Culann for you. They're all good people, unlike me...
...Very good people.
Emma. How could you do that to him, Emma...?
What could have changed you so much?
I'm not defending her, Culann, but she wasn't the only one there that day.
No, she wasn't...
Sorry, shouldn't have said that.
No, you're absolutely right.
You wanted to take Theo with you, didn't you? What did you see?
He was being bullied. And I'm not talkin' squabbles between kids... by adults.
I intervened the first time I saw it. I thought... I thought it wouldn't happen again.
But it did. A lot.
I had a bad feeling that he didn't belong here, that there was no place for him in Na Saoirsí. But I never thought...
...
I understand. You should go.
Culann?
I said I understand.
You...
I SAID I UNDERSTAND! NOW GO! GET OUT! LEAVE ME—
...Leave me be for a while. Please.
...I'm sorry.
The blacksmith stands silent in the room. All is quiet save for the crackling of the fire.
Theo, I...
Too many things have passed him by, too many things he could not understand. He no longer has the strength to find out why, to separate cause from effect.
The only thing he knows is that he never achieved anything.
What kind of hero am I?!
Yeah. What kind of hero are you?
The blacksmith looks around him. There is no one else in the smithy, save the empty eye sockets of the dragon statue, now glaring at him accusingly.
What kind of hero are you?
What... what kind of hero am I?
What kind of hero would leave a child to the mercy of abuse and ill-will?
What kind of hero would allow food to be smuggled out of the city under his very nose, until there is nothing left. All while doing nothing more than handing out a few shriveled potatoes to his neighbors?
What kind of hero would shut himself in his smithy while the city descends into bedlam, all to satisfy his own pathetic vanity by etching his name into a pedestal?
No!
I-It's not out of vanity. All I wanted was to use the title of 'hero' to... to...
'To bring happiness to our countrymen who lost everything in the war,' as you told Nemos?
Like now?
Like... now?
The weak you swore to protect are dead and gone.
The justice you swore to uphold has fallen into darkness.
The people you swore to bring happiness to... Emma and Rory... are they even your people anymore?
Or are they the dead, living in the past?
The dead... living in the past?
Your heart still dreams of the future, vain as it is. But them? They are the walking dead, stuck in the past.
Who is it you are calling your countrymen? The wretch who spends his days brandishing an antique sword he salvaged from the flames?
The smuggler who let an innocent child die because she miscarried her own?
'Townsfolk' who no longer know anything but hate in the face of change?
Go on, go out and find someone, anyone. Ask them what their plan for the future is. What do you think the answer will be?
The blacksmith's hammer falls to the ground with a loud crash.
He glares at the dragon's head.
No, no...
It's you who's trapping them in the past...
I collected the plates and bowls my people used day to day, lit the fuel they relied on for warmth and light, just to feed you... you...
You monster.
I don't know about the food. But the metal and the fuel...
It was me. I fed you those pots and pans, I put the people's livelihoods into your mouth with my own hands, all so that you could grow and grow...
You've devoured everything in my life, then you devoured Theo himself...
Theo... Theo...
It was me, I nurtured the monster that took your life!
Soon it will stand in the square on Samhain, spread its wings, and turn everyone in the city into the dead, those who can only live in the past...
...
You're right, monster. I'm no hero.
I'm a fraud. A vain, pathetic fraud. Once, I fooled others; now, the only one I'm fooling is myself.
But they need me.
They need you?
They need a hero to wake them up, to tell them that the war is over, that what really matters is what lies ahead. The future. Tomorrow.
And you think you're the one?
I'm the one.
The blacksmith walks away from the forge with resolute steps. He takes the thickest metal chain he can find and walks back to the dragon, its empty eyes still fixated upon him.
Come with me.
Where to?
To the square.
It's not Samhain yet.
I can wait no more. I will not wait for your ominous prophecies to come true.
Come with me...
I will dismantle you...
And return our lives to the people.
The dragon does not move. In the eyes of the blacksmith, however, he sees the dragon bow its head, perhaps mockingly, perhaps invitingly.
Reed, Nemos, I'm back. Culann's in a real bad place right now. You should go see him.
How about on your end? What's going on in the city?
People are still looking for spies... Victorian spies.
Are they off their rockers? Taran or Victorian, we're all human. We gonna keep fighting to the death like this, when the war's already over?
Tell them, Nemos. Tell 'em that Dublinn made 'em go hungry, and was punished by the Red Dragon. The food's now—
Do not mention the word Dublinn ever again, Brigid. The Leader's orders.
I... only overheard whispers about the food at the victory party. No evidence, no trial.
I don't even know how it got back.
Besides—news about all those missing people hasn't spread at all... How am I supposed to explain it?
...
If they can't be reasoned with, we'll do this the hard way.
What do you mean?
When I came back, I told myself I would never be her shadow again.
But if the true Leader is refusing to show her face and take responsibility, then I must step up, if only to calm the people.
What about Culann? Everyone knows him as a hero. Things would be much simpler if he's willing to help.
He should still be at his smithy. I'll lead the way.
As for you, Brigid, you should leave the city as soon as possible.
Why?
Well... if we and Culann both fail, then the people will...
I see. They don't much like me here, so I'd just get in the way, is that it?
I'm sorry, Brigid, that's not what I meant, but—
Culann!
Culann...
Is he not in?
He...
What the...?!
...
They are both rendered speechless.
The door of the smithy...
No, the entire front wall of the smithy is gone.
The wall, which was supposed to stay up until the statue was finished, is now a pile of rubble. Visible through it is a long trail leading to the square.
Along with drag marks so broad they span almost the entire breadth of the road.