Ch.104The Third Entanglement – Clichy and Ragtime (3)

The detective immediately got into his car and left Gremory’s mansion. Since he hadn’t yet informed President Clichy about his betrayal, handling matters would be easier.

The Followers of the Forest’s Firstborn needed to be like well-prepared fish. They shouldn’t even be seen fighting desperately against angels in front of that broadcasting station. If even one such photo emerged, it would backfire.

He headed to the same phone booth where he had called President Clichy and dialed a number he already knew. This time, there was no connection tone that lasted over a week. Soon, an elf’s voice rang out.

The voice filled with reverence and pride was quite nauseating. This number was a direct line used when the Forest’s Firstborn gave instructions personally. If a call came through this number, they would naturally assume it was the Forest’s Firstborn.

“Ah, aah! The children of Pennsylvania have answered! The dignified voice of the Forest’s Firstborn, our leader and protector…”

“I’m a contractor hired by the Forest’s Firstborn. I need to speak with the branch leader about a job I received from the Forest’s Firstborn. Can you arrange an appointment?”

The fanatical elf on the other end of the line didn’t seem to like the detective’s choice of words but didn’t show it. He knew that anyone the Forest’s Firstborn would share this number with would outrank him.

“I’ll ask the Grand Druid of Pennsylvania! Please hold and don’t hang up!”

The way he pronounced “Grand Druid” as if he wanted to chew up the words suggested he hoped the detective would remember it, but the detective had no intention of doing so. He didn’t care much to begin with.

After a brief moment, an elderly elf’s voice came through the line. The Grand Druid, the oldest and wisest among the Followers of the Forest’s Firstborn… simply put, he was an old conservative elf.

These elves might go back not just to the Forest’s Firstborn legend but all the way to Napoleon’s era if given the chance. While the detective was swallowing his sneer, the elf cleared his throat and began speaking.

“Speak. I know not why the Forest’s Firstborn would use someone like you, but to doubt and dismiss you would be to dismiss the thoughts of the Forest’s Firstborn…”

The detective cut him off without listening further. He absolutely detested those who tried to write poetry with every sentence. The only person who could get away with talking like that was a hostess at Iris.

“Find a warehouse for a gathering. Somewhere quite far from downtown. It’s related to the orders you received regarding the broadcasting station, and I have no obligation to tell you more than that. Have you ever even seen the Forest’s Firstborn’s face?”

He pressed down with authority, which worked well with such old-timers. The convenient thing about the Followers of the Forest’s Firstborn was that their belief in the Forest’s Firstborn took precedence over rank.

When the detective mentioned the Forest’s Firstborn’s face, the branch leader made a rather displeased sound, realizing he was trying to bind them with their own rules, but showed no defiance.

“You must have a map. Come to Warehouse 113. What time do you want to meet?”

That old-timer wouldn’t come alone. He would bring at least one bodyguard, possibly up to three, and they would all need to be killed. He might need to prepare.

“Two hours from now. I’m hanging up.”

He maintained complete disregard until the end and hung up. There was no reason to treat them seriously anyway.

The detective headed straight into the forest. In his pocket was a bundle of Mr. John Bolt’s sturdy fishing line, and on the roadside leading to the forest lay a tree that had been struck by lightning, burned and broken.

The reporter had to exercise her specialty again. Persuading people was her forte. Calming down anxious people was particularly her strong suit.

Gremory, who seemed somewhat relieved after seeing the detective leave, gestured to the reporter. It was a gesture to come inside.

“First, I think we need to do some legwork to find an address or phone number, Miss Rose. Orcs are quite afraid of the Followers of the Forest’s Firstborn. It’s only been a few days since that incident, so if we want them to broadcast, we’ll need some convincing. Miss Rose, please think about a gift to bring when we visit. It might take some time… about an hour, I’d say.”

The reporter didn’t doubt Gremory. She simply realized once again how convenient it was to move around Pennsylvania with Gremory’s cooperation.

Sitting in the spacious living room decorated with various exotic ornaments and a portrait of Madam Gremory riding a camel, she put their heads together with Paulina. Since orcs and ogres were quite closely related species, Paulina seemed likely to be helpful.

Only after receiving Rose’s expectant gaze did Paulina, who had been anxious as if somewhat afraid of opposing President Clichy, start thinking. When she could focus on thinking, Paulina’s mind worked quickly.

“We ogres and orcs who lived in cold regions do like sweet and greasy things. And for a gift, dessert would be good… something sweet and greasy. Do you know anything like that?”

Sweet and greasy dessert, something sweet and greasy… Fortunately, something came to mind. Though it was debatable whether it was fortunate or unfortunate, it was a memory with her father.

She had once eaten a desert elf dessert with her father. Layers of pastry with finely crushed pistachios between them—it was exotic but delicious.

Since elves generally considered desert elves as their kin, they might be living in areas where the Followers of the Forest’s Firstborn had a strong presence. It would be better to keep it as an option.

“Desert elves make quite good desserts! They’re fried so they’re greasy, and they’re so sweet that after one bite, I told my father my teeth would rot… Ah, um. Yes, that’s right.”

She continued speaking, momentarily forgetting that the enemy she was fighting was that very father, but she couldn’t forget for long. She had as much love for her family as she had hatred for injustice.

Since Gremory was making phone calls here and there, the reporter approached the ogre bodyguard. Ogres were a race of gourmets. If such an exotic and good dessert existed, he must have tried it.

Or maybe not? Looking at Oleg the ogre’s statue-like solid body, it seemed unlikely. How much exercise must he have done to build such a body, given that ogres were naturally prone to gaining weight?

“Ah, Mr. Oleg. Madam Gremory asked us to think about a gift to bring, right? I was thinking about something greasy and sweet that orcs might like, and I wondered—is there a dessert shop run by desert elves nearby? It’s sweet enough to make your tongue tingle and quite greasy. I’m just brainstorming ideas.”

Oleg spoke without even seeming to think about it. He apparently knew of a place.

“Ah, you mean baklava? There’s nothing better when you have no appetite. The thinly fried pastry layers with plenty of pistachios and spices between them definitely make one happy. There’s a shop nearby, and an orc would certainly like it. We’ll stop by there after we set out, Miss Rose.”

Success on the first try. It felt good to be doing my part properly. And it wasn’t even a guilty kind of pleasure.

After Gremory spent about an hour making calls to various places and waiting briefly, the phone began to ring repeatedly. It seemed almost magical to be able to find anyone you wanted while sitting on the living room sofa.

She ended most calls with words of thanks, but for one call, Gremory used her characteristically young and fragile voice to make several pleas. The plea must have worked, as she immediately began writing down an address.

Judging by the “don’t apologize” she heard, it seemed someone had shared personal information that shouldn’t normally be shared, trusting only in Gremory’s request. This was the extent of Gremory’s influence here.

Gremory, holding the note with the address, rose with a pleased expression and approached the group. Her eyes were still moist as if immersed in sadness, but her smile was radiant.

“I got the address. I heard they’ve been holed up and haven’t returned to broadcast since learning about the incident… Have you planned what gift to bring? I gave you plenty of time.”

Instead of letting Mr. Oleg speak for me, I opened my mouth. It seemed I no longer needed to have others speak on my behalf.

“We decided to bring a desert elf dessert. Since two ogres recommended it, I’m sure that orc will like it too. Shall we leave right away?”

The four of them finally got in the car and set off. They didn’t have to drive long before arriving at a shop with a sign written in the desert elves’ language. Since all the customers were desert elves, the reporter and her companions stood out.

Nevertheless, they respected Gremory just the same. As Gremory naturally tried to line up, the customers in front began to step aside one by one, and soon Gremory became the person at the very front.

Since Mr. Oleg was the only one who had ordered here before, he would place the order. Honestly, even though desert elves were considered kin, they didn’t share a language. Their script just looked mysterious and curvy.

“Could you package some baklava as a gift? One serving will do. And could you please tie it tightly so the powder doesn’t leak out?”

Shortly after, a freshly made desert elf specialty dessert emerged from the kitchen, with oil still sizzling on its surface and appetizingly steaming, layered in their unique style.

The shop clerk was quite skilled. He placed the baklava in a paper bag prepared in three layers for greasy food, brought a thin string, lightly tied it, and then pulled it tight.

The hand holding the string applied firm pressure. It was perfectly tied. The detective confirmed that the branch leader of the Followers of the Forest’s Firstborn, who had been trembling with a fishing line deeply embedded in his neck, had stopped shaking.

The detective had intended to make this branch leader appear to be a traitor. Inside the car that had stopped in front of the burned tree moved to the middle of the road were two elf bodyguards, dead with bullets in their heads.

He had deliberately left two bullet casings on the floor. This way, it would appear there were three people but only two bullets. No one would think that the attacker had killed one person by means other than a gun.

The detective, who hadn’t bothered to remove the fishing line stained with the branch leader’s blood, took out a waterproof sack from his car trunk. He pushed the branch leader, who had died in his hands, directly into the sack.

Since the body still retained some warmth, it wasn’t difficult to shape it. And since this wasn’t his first time packaging something like this, he wouldn’t make mistakes. A blue bag wrapped the contents.

That bag was handed over. The reporter received the desert elf dessert wrapped in a blue gift bag and returned a bright greeting to the clerk.

Now all that remained was to meet the orc. How should she persuade them? While they were a strong race, appealing to strength wouldn’t help in this situation.

It would be good to make it clear that Gremory could help, and then to say that this was about washing away the fear of the Followers of the Forest’s Firstborn.

It would be better to tell them that this wasn’t just about washing away their personal fear, but that it might help their fellow orcs no longer fear the Followers of the Forest’s Firstborn.

Now that they had the gift, they headed straight to the orc’s address. It was a large apartment in the city, closer to the reporter’s place than the detective’s.

The address was apartment 407, so the four of them took the elevator together and lightly knocked on the door. The sound of knocking on the ornately decorated wooden door echoed down the empty corridor.

As the door opened before the reporter’s eyes, a door also opened before the detective’s eyes. A Follower of the Forest’s Firstborn, seeing a human visiting their branch, was about to make a surprised sound when the detective stopped him.

“Keep your mouth shut. I’m a fixer directly hired by the Forest’s Firstborn. I have to go handle another job now, so tell the Forest’s Firstborn right away. The branch leader didn’t show up at the meeting place, so I went back to check and found the car abandoned. The two bodyguards were dead with bullets in their heads, and the branch leader was gone. I don’t know what kind of rat he was, but he must have been a rat.”

The elf, who understood what the detective meant, trembled. He blurted out, shocked at the possibility that their branch leader might be a rat.

“A rat? That’s… Ah, I understand! I’ll report it right away! So, you…”

“I have more important things to do than help your branch. I have a job directly from the Forest’s Firstborn. Damn, this is going to get complicated… Handle it yourselves. Understood?”

“Yes, yes! Understood!”

The detective naturally left the Followers of the Forest’s Firstborn’s office. They couldn’t even afford to build their own building and were renting just one office in a multi-company building.

And yet they proudly used terms like Grand Druid and Druid. Now he didn’t hold back his sneer. Once he returned to Gremory’s mansion, the preparations would be complete.

The branch leader of the Followers of the Forest’s Firstborn had lost his head, and the branch was in confusion over the fact that there had been a spy among them. There was no way their organizational strength could be maintained.

The reporter faced a trembling orc at the open door. She discovered for the first time that such a powerful body could look so vulnerable.

Since it wouldn’t be good for an elf to show their face first, Gremory stood at the front. The orc, seeing Gremory’s face, didn’t seem anxious. She looked down at Gremory with a face full of trust.

“M-Madam Gremory? What brings you here…”

Gremory, with eyes still moist as if about to shed tears, said:

“I wish I had come only to comfort you… Unfortunately, I came because I have a favor to ask, Nina. May we come in?”

A woman with bushy black hair, sharp protruding fangs, and the characteristic ochre skin of orcs opened the door and welcomed them. This person seemed to be the orc broadcaster.

She growled upon seeing an elf among the group, but knowing they were Gremory’s guests, she didn’t get angry.

It was the reporter’s role to present the gift. She handed the blue bag brought for the visit to the orc named Nina, who accepted it with a sour expression. A smell she liked wafted from the bag. She asked the reporter who had brought the gift:

“What’s inside this? I mean… the smell is good enough to make me forget my wariness.”

The reporter answered with her characteristic clear smile. It was still a smile that naturally appeared on her face without any effort.

“It contains something essential for defeating the Followers of the Forest’s Firstborn. Open it and see!”