He made a show of rubbing his wrists in flustered relief, of staring suspiciously at Sei’s outstretched hand before accepting it in appreciation.
“As a team,” he replied at length with an enigmatic half-smile, carefully masking his thoughts beneath a layer – not wholly contrived – of gratitude. If Sei could project words into the minds of others, then there was no telling what he could read in return. “I am truly honoured by your confidence.”
Sei’s deductions bore all the hallmarks of truth, substantiated at least in part by what Touma himself had learnt via his mirror-gazing techniques. At the very least, Kenneth Stern seemed to be testing each of the groups: by grouping them in such a manner as to try their patience, by throwing them into battlefields that suited some but not others, by turning themselves into their own enemies. Perhaps, ultimately, the title of ‘user’ most befit the mysterious and illusory Mr. Stern.
And if the mute wanted to believe that Touma had acted with their best interests in mind, then so be it. It had always been long odds for the Nipponese to hope that he could eliminate a hero of such stature on his own, no matter how he masked the traces of his involvement.
Still, once rumbled, Touma found himself surprised to be let off so easily. True, he had never honestly thought that he could best anybody in single combat; true, he had always expected the infamous Sei to at least have a trick or two up his sleeve; true, he had banked on the younger brother to have greater clemency than the elder. On the other hand, he had acted from the beginning whilst bearing in mind Kayu’s information regarding the involvement of the death-defying Ai’Brone monks in such official tourneys, and Touma actually felt slightly disappointed that he had not been able to accept their mystical mercies in person.
He bowed to both Ciato and Sei, genuinely humbled. The encounter had served as a timely lesson: he could not yet hope to operate effectively when alone and in the open with no prior schemes in motion to put his faith in. He had much to improve upon before he could even begin to think of challenging the Disciples.
But he had also gained a considerable wealth of knowledge from his uncharacteristic recklessness. In terms of actual combat experience, he had learned that he could not rely upon his shadowstep as infallible when matched against a veteran practitioner, and that his blade as yet lacked the ability to disable powerful innate enchantments. In terms of his companions, he had learned much about the Orlouges: not only how they fought, but also a unique insight into why as well. And in the brief minutes of mirror-gazing across the island from the tower’s peak, he had seen much of the other contestants, information that would no doubt come in handy at a later stage.
Perhaps most importantly, he had not critically exposed himself to Sei and Ciato. They knew nought of his purpose or his ambitions, or of the knowledge he had gained whilst scrying. They had not even successfully learnt his name. He saw no benefit in prolonging the confrontation; from here on he only had advantages to lose.
And last but not least, Dan Lagh’ratham no longer participated alongside them.
All in all, he could not consider it a bad morning’s work. The path to the Book of Destiny still lay open before him.
Clear mirrors, still waters.
As they entered the portal to whatever awaited them next, Touma carefully concealed a small sinister smile.
(The pleasure was all mine, Sei. I hope it reads as enjoyably as it was to write!)
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