"Huh?" Guinevere blinked at Coral's words. What did she mean? Altria had already come looking for him? No way—she moved that fast? Did she barge into Salisbury the moment he passed out? And how did it end up at Coral's door…? Could she have gotten into another fight with the city guards?
He replayed the opening of the fourth simulation in his mind and became more convinced. Right: in that scenario, Oberon would be in Salisbury right now; if Altria clashed with a guard, Oberon would rush over and then talk with Aurora or Coral. So him coming here to ask for leave might actually walk him straight into Altria's search.
He swallowed nervously, glancing at the stern pink-haired faerie before him.
"If you don't speak up, I'll take it as admission—you don't want to see her?" Coral said, reading his expression. She was thinking: obviously this guard knows Knight Tristan will come looking for him, so they must have some history. And since he looks so panicked, it can't be good for him.
"Um… well…" Guinevere was stuck. How could he explain? He'd never actually met Altria in reality! If he suddenly said he was avoiding her, it'd blow his cover—she'd realize he also has a simulator! That would be mortifying. Better she just think he's some NPC. He had no good answer.
"Sigh… this is annoying," Coral muttered, piecing it together. "This is tricky, I'm sure you know." She fixed him with a stern look: "If you really don't want to see her, fine—I can pretend you never came here today." After all, it was Knight Tristan who sent for him; if Coral handed him over, his fate wouldn't be good. Though she disliked humans, he was still a guard serving Salisbury, so she wouldn't just let him die.
"Aurora wouldn't stand for mistreating someone sent by her, either," Coral added silently. "So, you weren't here today, and you never requested leave; you just ran off for reasons we don't know. Understand? As for whether some "Wenevielle" or "Vielguin" shows up in Salisbury later—that's another matter. Got it?"
"?" Guinevere blinked, then brightened up: "Thank you, Lady Coral!"
"Don't thank me," she snapped, waving a hand. "I'm not doing you a favor; I just dislike that person coming for you. If you want thanks, thank Lady Aurora for her mercy." She sounded impatient: "Now get out—I hate humans, especially fools who can't even thank someone properly. You pollute the air just by standing here."
"Uh… right," Guinevere stammered, then bowed deeply and left. Coral's resistance to handing him over was a big help—he'd truly considered running away. As he hurried toward the door, Coral called after him, "Oh, wait a sec." He turned, and saw a small pouch flying toward his face; he caught it instinctively. It was heavy—coins rattled inside.
"You've worked here a month, right? That's your wages. Take it and go—don't ever think Salisbury owes you anything. And before you leave, get your armor and weapons from the armory. I feel sick just thinking of that armor you've worn." Coral's tone was nasty as she spoke over her shoulder.
Another guard captain hesitated: "Um, is this all right? That's your own money, and our armory—"
"Shut up," Coral snapped. "If that idiot died around here, Lady Aurora would lose face. Better he leaves with his wages than cause trouble."
"...Thank you," Guinevere said sincerely, bowing again before hurrying off to collect his pay and gear. He thought: Even though Coral sounded harsh, she actually did him a kindness. He'd remember this.
But then he paused, thinking: If Aurora truly sent someone to look for me, would Coral—so conscientious—actually let me go? Had he misunderstood? He slipped out the back of the cathedral and headed to his lodging, pondering this. Suddenly he heard a voice ahead:
"Ah! Guinevere, you bastard! You dare show your face?!"
He looked up to see a guard with a swollen face striding toward him. "Uh… Todd?" he said, recalling the name.
"Todd?" the man snarled, "It's your fault I got beaten like this!"
"Who hit you?" Guinevere asked, seizing the chance.
"Don't know—some blond countryside faerie!" Todd snapped.
"Ah, so it was her," Guinevere thought, relieved. Altria must be the one looking for him. Time to run. Fortunately, he was prepared: he just needed to grab his luggage and flee.
"Hey! Don't ignore me—stop right there!" Todd blocked his path: "I got hurt because of you—you…"
Before Todd could finish, Guinevere's reflex kicked in: a blur of motion, and Todd's unbruised cheek took a smack, sending him sprawling unconscious. "Sorry, I'm in a hurry," Guinevere sighed, sheathing his sword and sprinting away.
He dashed to his room, only to see Altria stepping out. Panicked, he dove into a corner, hiding.—Damn, too careless. If Altria knows my lodging, she'd spot me here. Luckily she looked downcast and didn't notice him.
He snuck into the next shop:
"Oh! A customer? That's rare—welcome!" A stout, bearded faerie greeted him excitedly. Guinevere realized he'd stumbled into a tavern. "Uh… boss, any recommendations?" he asked, relieved it wasn't an underwear shop.
"Recommendations? Sorry, we don't have anything like that…"
"Cocktails? Just make me a cocktail," Guinevere whispered.
"Uh… what's that? I don't know how," the owner admitted.
"That's perfect!" Guinevere brightened. "I know how—let me teach you!"
The tavern was tiny, empty; any passerby could glance in and see him alone. He ducked behind the bar, thinking to improvise like those cooking videos he'd watched online. As he braced himself to wing it, he heard a voice at the door:
"Oh! Cocktails? Great! I'll have one!"
"...Crap." Guinevere's heart sank—he'd be exposed. He peered toward the door, sweat forming.
"Hey, I heard no one here makes cocktails. Glad someone does!" The newcomer sat casually and smiled at him. Before Guinevere could react, the tavern owner called out:
"Hey, Oberon! You're in Salisbury again?"
Guinevere froze. Altria was not here yet—this was Oberon. Now he had to actually mix a cocktail in front of Oberon and Altria might follow soon. He took a deep breath and prepared to bluff through mixing a drink on the fly…