Chapter 67 - The Calm Before the Storm 2

A faint silence settled between them, lasting until their clasped hands parted.

After that brief handshake, Ash turned his gaze from Findriel to Santa.

"Master Santa. Is this woman the 'mom' you mentioned to us before?"

"What are you suddenly talking ab—"

Santa started to ask, then shut his mouth as a memory flashed through his mind.

["I'll bring you a badass mom."]

Santa's stiff face began turning red at an alarming rate.

Findriel tilted her head ever so slightly.

"Mom?"

"I-it's nothing! Nothing at all! Haha, please don't mind him!"

Frantically waving his hands, Santa briefly glared at Ash, but Ash merely shrugged at the reproachful look.

Meanwhile, Findriel glanced around, then strode over and settled onto a stool at the bar. She addressed Santa, who stood on the other side.

"You don't mind if I sit here, do you?"

Asking after she had already taken a seat.

It was more an announcement than a question, so Santa could only nod.

"Uh... yes, well. If that's what you'd like, Ms. Findriel."

Santa hastily produced an old rag and wiped down the bar, though it looked little different afterward.

"Ash Blade."

Just then, the woman called to Ash.

"You aren't planning to stand there the whole time, are you?"

Ash's optical sensors blinked a couple of times.

"... You mean you want me to sit beside you?"

"There are no other seats. What choice do we have?"

Ash glanced at the two bodyguards standing as still as wooden posts, but neither showed any particular reaction.

"It would be rude to decline an invitation."

And so he took the seat beside her.

A bartender, with two guests seated side by side before him.

Considering that they had only just met, and the conversation they were about to have, it was a decidedly peculiar seating arrangement.

Findriel interlaced her snow-white hands and examined the dusty liquor bottles behind the bar one by one.

"Since we're at a bar, I should order a drink. What's the best-tasting thing you have?"

Finally getting to sell some liquor, Santa studied the display for a moment, then shook his head.

"Everything up here is cheap stuff..."

He bent down and retrieved a bottle from beneath the counter. Even at a glance, it looked expensive.

Findriel frowned faintly at the sight.

"Santa Claude. I didn't come all this way to drink Foundation liquor."

"But this is the best-tasting liquor in my establishment."

"Then give me something strong instead of something tasty. The strongest thing you have."

Having placed her order, Findriel turned to Ash.

"My treat. Pick something."

Offering liquor to a humanoid.

Ash let out a low chuckle at the unprejudiced invitation.

"Your personality seems rather different from your first impression."

"Does it?"

After a moment's consideration, Ash replied.

"Well, since you're paying, I might as well help Master Santa's sales."

He ordered the liquor Santa was about to put away—the most expensive bottle at the rest stop.

"Just a moment, dear guests."

With their orders taken, the bartender immediately brought out two glasses and began polishing them with care.

* * *

How much time had passed?

The drink before Ash remained untouched, while Findriel's glass was already empty.

Gently rolling the empty glass on the counter, she slowly spoke.

"How interesting."

"What is?"

"You, Ash Blade."

Ash had been watching the amber liquor swaying in his glass. He turned to the pale woman.

"I don't recall doing anything interesting."

"That's what makes you interesting."

She slid her glass forward.

"Another of the same."

Santa took it and poured the strong, dark brown liquor into the glass. Meanwhile, Findriel looked at Ash.

"You don't seem like someone from a small Pathfinder team being hunted by Vortex. I was sure you would bring it up yourself after a little time had passed."

"Ah. So that was a psychological gambit?"

Ash shrugged.

"I simply thought a lady from a noble family was enjoying her freedom on a rare outing. Interrupting seemed impolite, so I kept quiet."

"Hmm..."

The woman narrowed her eyes.

But reading anything from Ash's face was a hopeless endeavor.

He had no facial expressions to begin with.

"... You grow more intriguing by the moment."

"The feeling is mutual."

"Then shall we bring this outing to an end?"

Findriel lifted her refilled glass and drained it in one go, then extended a hand behind her.

One of the bodyguards, who had stood at attention this entire time, took a data chip from inside his jacket and handed it to her.

"Vortex. This contains a list and profiles of the key Assaults in their employ whom we're monitoring."

She briefly gauged Ash's reaction before continuing.

"There is one in particular you should watch out for. I hear you've already met him?"

"... John Priest."

"That's right."

She placed the chip on the counter and spun it beneath a finger.

"He's Vortex's shadow, the hitman who handles their dirtiest work. Even we don't have an accurate count of how many rival executives and Pathfinders have disappeared at his hands."

"In other words, he's no ordinary man."

Findriel slid the chip she had been toying with toward Ash. His steel hand caught it as it glided across the counter.

"His information is on that chip too. His usual assassination methods, the weapons he uses, and so on. There are bound to be gaps, so don't put too much faith in it."

Ash studied the chip in his hand for a moment, then raised his head to look at Findriel.

"Thank you for the information."

Yet his optical sensors betrayed no emotion.

"But information is not what we need most."

For the first time, a distinct smile bloomed on Findriel's face.

"It's too early to be disappointed. That chip is merely a small gift to demonstrate my 'good faith.'"

She propped her chin on one hand and looked at Ash.

"Around the start of the active season, we'll launch a public opinion campaign in collaboration with Halloween Entertainment."

"A public opinion campaign?"

"The horrific human experiments Vortex conducted in Underland. We intend to expose them to all of Sanctum. I imagine it'll cause quite a stir. Enough to keep even Vortex's executives scrambling."

Her eyes curved prettily.

"Our Pathfinders will be moving at the same time. To explore the Outer, of course. But they might 'happen' to get into a dispute with Vortex Society during their expedition, wouldn't you say? Then, well, they'll have no choice but to fight."

Findriel paused, then spoke with conviction.

"Everything will happen simultaneously. A public opinion campaign targeting their leadership, while we strike the Pathfinders who serve as their hands and feet. If we do that, I expect... the number of enemies pursuing your team will drop dramatically. What do you think?"

Rather than answering immediately, Ash sank into thought.

It was not a bad offer.

No, it went well beyond that. It was extraordinary.

Of course, this was only possible because of the friction between Foundation and Vortex. Even so, it amounted to a megacorporation personally setting the stage and taking action on his behalf.

After turning his glass in circles on the counter as he contemplated the offer, Ash finally spoke in his electronic voice.

"It's a little excessive."

"What is?"

"Everything Foundation is offering seems a little excessive."

Ash tapped his torso.

"All I have to offer is the combat data recorded in this torso. You're providing this much support for that alone? It may sound strange coming from me, but isn't Foundation taking a loss here?"

The smile on Findriel's lips deepened at his words.

Still resting her chin on her hand, she answered.

"I never said I wanted 'only' the data, did I?"

Ash shook his head.

"As I said before, all we can offer is—"

"No. There is something else."

"... And what is that?"

Findriel extended a hand and pointed at Ash. Her scarlet eyes met his turquoise optical sensors head-on.

"You."

Ash stopped turning his glass.

The amber liquor inside rippled faintly.

After a brief moment, a low electronic voice resonated through the rest stop.

"Are you asking me to join Foundation?"

To his surprise, Findriel shook her head.

"I wouldn't ask for that much."

"... Then?"

"Become Foundation's ambassador."

The word was unfamiliar.

But instead of asking what it meant, Ash accessed his system and searched for the unfamiliar word he had just heard.

[DATA RECALL: Ambassador]

[DATA RESEARCH. . . NOW<<<]

*//

Ambassador.

A term referring to a freelance Pathfinder who operates with the full sponsorship of a particular corporation.

An exclusive, mutually beneficial partnership that guarantees freedom of action, as the Pathfinder does not formally belong to the corporation.

An ambassador's very presence and accomplishments can serve as a living symbol of a corporation's influence and technological prowess.

For this reason, corporations provide lavish support, including vast funding, top-of-the-line equipment, privileged intelligence, and legal counsel.

Countless people aspire to become ambassadors, enjoying full corporate support while operating freely. Precisely for that reason, however, it is an honored position granted to only a select few.

*//

The data search ended in an instant.

Ash remained silent for a while. Then, at last, he raised his head and looked into Findriel's scarlet eyes.

"... Now I see. You didn't come to help us. You came to propose a partnership."

"Is there such a great difference between help and collaboration? Either way, it benefits us both."

"The scale of the benefit differs. As does the relationship between us."

Findriel smiled and held her empty glass out to Santa.

"The best time to invest is at the lowest point."

Dark brown liquid began filling her glass.

"I've spotted a giant who's only just about to get moving in earnest. Shouldn't I do whatever it takes to secure him?"

"And put him in your debt while you're at it?"

"Debt? This is a signing bonus."

Lifting her newly filled glass, Findriel looked at Ash and said,

"You'll be our ambassador, won't you?"

Ash looked from her glass to her face.

The red eyes reflected in his optical sensors gazed at him with almost relentless intensity.

Instead of answering, he slowly lifted the glass he had yet to drink from.

"You're more of a drinker than you look. How many glasses have you had already?"

At the unexpected remark, Findriel raised her eyes.

"Why? Does that contradict your first impression too?"

"Very much so."

With that brief reply, Ash lightly tapped his glass against the one she held out.

CLINK.

The clear ring of glass echoed through the quiet rest stop.

"Oh. By the way."

Findriel suddenly spoke.

"What exactly did you mean by 'mom' earlier?"

Without offering any particular answer, Ash looked at Santa. Following his gaze, Findriel turned as well.

Now under the scrutiny of both guests, Santa did his best to feign ignorance and kept polishing the innocent glass in his hands.