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The first time it happens, Reinhard is patrolling with Felix and Julius. They don’t patrol very often, all three of them, but they’ve all agreed to do it when they have the chance; it’s an excellent opportunity to learn more about the goings-on of the city, especially in the lower districts, where poverty, unemployment, and crime run rampant. Reinhard certainly learns all sorts of things on these patrols. On this particular patrol, they’re wandering around the fourth district—there’s been rumors of serial-killing and increased robberies, and Reinhard figures they may as well be useful on their time off. He doubts they can do much about all of the robberies, and Reinhard’s relationship with Felt has made him wonder whether he really should do anything, but Reinhard would certainly like to put a stop to the serial killings.
Currently, they’re stopped by a sweet stall for knightly reasons that are too obvious and numerous to list.
“What’s the harm?” Felix is asking playfully, waving a cookie towards Reinhard. He’s got another few that he’s eagerly shoving into his mouth. The stallkeeper looks delighted by the business—the poor woman probably doesn’t get much, selling in the fourth district as she is.
“Hey! Reinhard!” someone shouts, and Reinhard turns around at the familiar voice, just in time to see Subaru materialize out the crowd.
“Oh, hello, Subaru,” Reinhard greets, mildly startled. More than that, though, pleased. Subaru treats him strangely, but Subaru treats everyone strangely, so it’s like he’s being treated the same as anyone else. It’s nice.
“You’re coming with me,” Subaru announces, abruptly grabbing Reinhard’s arm and towing him away. Reinhard lets himself be towed, blinking in a docile manner. He can hear Julius and Felix following behind him
“I swear, there’s gotta be different alleys to lurk in! They’ve gotta have better things to do! This is, like, the sixth time! Do you guys not arrest people?” Subaru raves, weaving aggressively through the crowds. They pass into the third district as Reinhard processes what he’s saying. He has a suspicion, but he’d like to think he’s wrong. Besides, Subaru is a surprisingly wily person, and Reinhard suspects that he’s much more dangerous than he acts; it’s unlikely that he’s been mugged by the same person multiple times.
“Excuse me,” Julius interrupts, drawing even with Subaru, who doesn’t even spare him a glance. “What seems to be the issue?”
Subaru scowls. “Those freaking muggers! They got me in the back again. Agh, this is so embarrassing.” They got him in the back? Reinhard eyes Subaru, but he seems largely unharmed. Still, there’s a frantic focus to the way that he tows Reinhard along that makes him take a second look, and then a third.
Subaru slows to a stop in front of a seemingly-random alley that Reinhard finds suspiciously familiar. “Reinhard, deal with them!”
Reinhard is shoved unceremoniously into the alley. He blinks, regaining his bearings. In front of him are three stunned muggers. Reinhard immediately recognizes their distinctive appearances and attempts a placating smile. The smile does not work; the thugs look even more terrified. Reinhard is unsurprised. He is very terrifying; he knows this.
“You were mugged?” Julius asks from the alley entrance.
“It’s him!” the one with the collar hisses. He and his friends flee, practically falling over themselves to get away. Reinhard wonders whether he should chase after them. Rarely does he do so. He’s aware of the conditions in the fifth district, the Poor District, that make petty crime one of the few options that people can turn to, and he’d rather not punish people for societal factors that are ultimately beyond their control. Besides, Reinhard is fairly certain that these muggers wouldn’t seriously injure anyone—if anything, they seem more likely to kill someone on accident.
Reinhard turns and heads back towards Julius, Felix, and Subaru.
“Ah, do I really have to admit it?” Subaru is bemoaning. Felix pats him on the shoulder, the back, the stomach—a quick check.
“You seem fine,” Felix notes, stepping away.
“Sure, I’m fine now,” Subaru grumbles.
Reinhard steps out the alley, unruffled. “They have been dealt with,” he reports. “They were the same muggers as before, were they not? You seem to have terrible luck in regards to them.”
Subaru frowns. “Yeah, you’d think they’d be arrested, or something.”
Reinhard smiles awkwardly. Subaru doesn’t look impressed. He doesn’t look flattered or cowed or intimidated, either, which is...nice. “My apologies. I rarely detain people.”
“Hm? Why not?”
Julius steps in. Reinhard glances at him, but doesn’t protest. He’s had people get upset at him for his lack of harsh action, and he’d rather not have the same happen with Subaru. Reinhard could deal with it, of course. He can deal with anything. “The punishment for petty theft is mutilation. Oftentimes it’s easier to simply let the offender go with a warning.”
Subaru raises an eyebrow. “Mutilation? Huh, I forgot I was living in a medieval fantasy land. Do you still have the witch trials too? That’s awful.” He frowns harder. “I mean the burning or drowning ones, not Echidna's trials. That’s a bit confusing. Hey, is that why they’re called the trials? Weird.”
Julius exchanges a look with Reinhard. Reinhard is very concerned as to what Subaru means by Echidna’s trials. Felix peers down the alley curiously. “If you’re referring to the mobs that persecute people based on accusations of witchcraft, then yes,” Julius says slowly, apparently deciding to ignore the oddities of Subaru’s statement. Reinhard makes the same decision, of course. It's easier that way, and he doubts the answer would be helpful even if he did comment.
Subaru crosses his arms. “Even though all of the witches are basically dead?”
“Satella is not dead,” Julius points out. “But yes.” He shares another glance with Reinhard. “We try to stop the prosecution when we hear of it.”
“Good on you,” says Subaru. He changes the topic. “Hey, what are you guys all doing together, anyways? Don’t you have knightly stuff to do?”
Mildly rebuked, Reinhard glances away, towards the few carriages rolling down the nearby roads. Subaru’s right. He should be doing his duty.
“We are doing knightly stuff!” Felix says cheerfully, unashamed. “Want some?” He offers Subaru a cookie from his stash. Subaru shakes his head, mumbling something about chocolate chips and man-ays, whatever that is.
“Indeed,” Julius agrees grandly. “We’re patrolling the city.”
“Patrolling the city but not actually arresting anyone?” Subaru asks suspiciously.
“We’re gathering information,” Felix corrects, nibbling on his cookie with a shrug.
“Arresting?” Reinhard muses aloud, subtly prodding, “I don’t think that’s a term I’ve heard used that way before.”
“Detaining, whatever.” Subaru waves his hand flippantly. “Hey, apple seller!” he calls to a large stallman, who scowls but gives him a wave. “You said you mutilated people for petty crime? You didn’t mutilate Felt though, right?” He stops to eye Reinhard, who immediately puts his hands in the air and shakes his head, horrified by the implication. Subaru nods, then continues. “What sort of mutilation? Why don’t you just give them community service or something?”
“You seem awfully interested in the punishment for thievery,” Julius remarks dryly.
“Actually, it’s the mutilation part that concerns me,” Subaru mutters. “Losing limbs is not fun.”
“It varies depending on the crime and accuser,” Reinhard says, wrestling the conversation back on-topic while eying Subaru’s limbs concernedly. They don’t seem recently reconnected, but Reinhard knows Felix, and is thus well-aware of the miracles powerful healing magic can produce. It’s still dangerous, though, as healing magic often cannot combat hidden infections in time. Reinhard looks back up at Subaru’s face, temporarily dismissing the issue. “What is this community service you speak of?”
“Arrest the people and use ‘em to get stuff done,” Subaru answers, like it should be obvious. “Then they’re giving back to the community and falling in line.” He pauses. “I watched Nanbaka, so I know all about the justice system.”
“That’s...a surprisingly good idea,” Julius realizes.
“Hey! What’s so surprising about it? I have good ideas all the time!” Subaru exclaims, lifting his chin. Julius hides a smile; Reinhard doesn’t bother hiding his. Subaru seems quite a bit more relaxed now.
Something catches Subaru’s attention and he stops in his tracks. “Oh, I completely forgot,” he says. He spins to face Reinhard, Felix, and Julius fully. “I’ve gotta go now. Thanks for helping me out, Reinhard. Thanks for the cookies, Felix.” He vanishes inside a clothing store, one with beautifully intricate dresses on display, leaving as abruptly as he entered.
“No thanks for me?” Julius asks thin air, amused.
“Community service,” Reinhard repeats to himself. “That idea bears merit.”
“There’s nya question of that,” Felix agrees.
“Indeed,” Julius says, thinking. “Indeed.”
The second time it happens, it’s just Reinhard and Felix. Ostensibly, they’re discussing ways to reform the criminal justice system, but in actuality they’re having snacks because Felix needs a break. He’s had a lot on his plate, what with Crusch’s situation. Besides, Julius, Felix, and Reinhard have already been making plans to change up their punishment system. Due to the king’s absence, they can’t do much for the more rural areas, but they can adjust their own methods and the methods of the people they command. Reinhard is genuinely excited, and it’s a strange feeling.
“Worms can be very dangerous in the right scenario,” Reinhard is arguing when suddenly Subaru’s ground dragon vaults through the gate and skids to a stop in front of them.
“Hey, Reinhard, Felix,” Subaru greets, panting and sliding off of his dragon. “I’ve got a papercut.”
“Subaru?” Reinhard says, bemused. “Are you alright?”
“I get those too, sometimes,” Felix says thoughtfully, like he’s not also absolutely befuddled.
Reinhard doesn’t get papercuts. He wonders what they feel like. He wishes he knew. He squashes the feeling as soon as he identifies it.
“I’ve got a papercut and it could kill me,” Subaru announces. He raises a finger gravely.
Felix laughs. “I’m sure it won’t kill you.” He holds out his hand, ignoring Subaru’s mutter of can and will and has. Subaru gives him his hand, watching intently as Felix heals him up. Felix gives him a little kiss on his finger, like he does sometimes for children. Reinhard muffles his own laugh at Subaru’s expression.
“That’s not the problem,” Subaru continues, aggrieved. He backtracks. “Well, it’s a little bit the problem. I can’t even brag about that one.” He lifts his finger and eyes it suspiciously. “There isn’t any antibacterial stuff here? No penicillin? No disinfectants?”
Felix shrugs. Reinhard is similarly lost. He’s spent a lot of time around Felix and the Healing Institute, and so considers himself fairly knowledgeable in the art of healing, but he doesn’t know what any of these words mean.
Subaru plops down by them. “Death by infected papercut is an annoying way to die,” he says seriously.
Felix’s tail swishes and his head tilts. Reinhard recognizes that annoyingly perceptive look—he’s figured something out, and he wants to know more. “...You know of ways to avoid that, then?”
“Listen up.” Subaru claps importantly, wincing when his fingers collide together and then stopping to examine his healed papercut again. He nods, satisfied, then looks back up. “A lot of the time, to stop infections, you have to stop the bacteria. Alcohol acts as a good disinfectant, but it’s not a perfect one. Heat, too, helps a lot, at least when you’re sanitizing things. Antibacterial medicines and creams are really good too.”
“You keep mentioning ‘bacterial,’” Felix notices. He’s leaning forwards, thoroughly invested in the conversation. Reinhard is glad that someone seems to know what’s happening, because he sure isn’t. The feeling is a common one, albeit one he generally goes to great lengths to conceal. Felt delights in it, when she notices it. “What does that mean?”
“You don’t have germ theory? How do you think that infections are caused, then?”
“One of the main schools of thought is that they’re caused by malevolent spirits,” Felix says carefully. “Another is that they’re caused by an imbalance of humors.”
Subaru makes a face. “Humors? Really?” He shakes his head. “Nah, it’s bacteria, and sometimes viruses too, I guess. They’re these little, microscopic creatures that are everywhere. Some of them will make you sick, cause your immune system doesn’t like them. Your white blood cells will attack them, which is what creates all that gross oozing stuff. White blood cells are the defenders of your body—they stop you from falling ill. Viruses are harder to explain, but they’ll hijack your cells and mess things up until you get sick.”
“Tiny creatures in your body,” Felix echoes.
Subaru frowns, scratching at his arm. “They’re—it’s like if the Great Hare was really small, and everywhere, and they could eat people without them noticing.”
“That would be...bad,” Reinhard summarises. It’s an underestimate. Merely the thought is disturbing; Subaru has gone pale, presumably due to his comparison. Reinhard moves the conversation along swiftly. “Is your homeland skilled in combating these creatures?” And how did you end up here? Reinhard wonders.
“Where’d you learn this?” Felix jumps in.
“We’ve got universal healthcare,” Subaru boasts. “We’re world leaders, you peasants. Also, Cells at Work and Wikipedia.”
Felix tilts his head, then shrugs. He was probably expecting a response of that level of coherency. Reinhard certainly was. He’s a quick learner. “What do you propose we do?” Felix asks. He doesn’t fully believe what Subaru’s saying, Reinhard can see, but Subaru’s always known things that he shouldn’t, and normally he’s right about them. Felix is willing to hear him out, at the very least.
Subaru leans back. “Huh, I didn’t expect you guys to believe me.” He strikes a dramatic pose. “Well! Never fear! You can use medicines, like..uh..mold! And yogurt! And honey, I think.” He points at Felix; his voice takes on a dramatic edge. “Do you ever heal someone just for them to get sick a few days later?”
Felix leans further even further, tail lashing. “Nyas, I do.”
“That’s because the infection gets trapped under the healed skin! Probably.” Subaru puts his hand on his chin. “If you disinfect the wounds before healing them, you’ll reduce the chances of bacterial infection! Liquids with a high alcohol concentration can be used to do so!”
“Nya see…” Felix murmurs. He’s enraptured by this, Reinhard realizes. His words are slipping closer towards meows. “What about the viruses you’ve mentioned?”
“You have to use vaccines for those,” Subaru explains. “I don’t think you can do that, though.” His brow furrows. “The basic idea is that you can immunize someone by introducing them to a related or dead strand of a virus. Basic sanitation should reduce virus spread a lot, though. Just, you know, wash your hands and tools before interacting with open wounds, and wear masks if you or your patient is sick. Basic stuff.”
“Interesting.” Felix waits, and when Subaru doesn’t add anything else he settles back into his spot.
Reinhard blinks and looks back and forth between Felix and Subaru. “Your country’s technology seems very advanced, Subaru.”
Subaru strikes a pose, one hand over his eye and another in the air. “Of course it is! We have all sorts of stuff, like hot springs and mayonnaise and hentai!”
“What’s hentai?” Reinhard asks curiously.
Subaru flushes bright red. “I—well—” He stands abruptly. “I’ve just remembered something—I have to go. C’mon, let’s go, Patrasche. Thanks for healing me, Felix! See ya, Reinhard.” He jumps onto his ground dragon, who releases a war cry and careens off.
“He ran away from me,” Reinhard realizes sadly. It’s a common occurrence.
“People do that,” Felix says unsympathetically, patting Reinhard’s shoulder. “Now shh, I’m thinking.”
The third time it happens, Reinhard has started to notice a pattern. He’s on a walk by himself through the fifth district when it happens. He’s been going on these walks more often, generally with Felt accompanying him. She isn’t accompanying him this time, as the serial killings have been happening more often and Reinhard would rather not involve her. She’s seen worse, he knows, but she’s a prime target and Reinhard does not want to put her at risk.
The serial killer is worrying, but unfortunately not unusual. Reinhard’s been discussing schedules and actions with the lower level guardsman, and they’ll be upping their patrols to seize and arrest muggers and thieves. They can’t hold the prisoners in the Prison Tower, so they’ll have to either build a new detainment center or find a way to maintain contact. If they build a new detainment center, they’ll have to purchase food and other necessary living supplies as well. Reinhard’s fairly certain he’ll be able to convince Felt to contribute to some of the financing, but he has yet to broach the topic to her.
“Reinhard!” Subaru yelps, running into Reinhard and startling him out of thoughts. Subaru falls to the ground, hard. Reinhard winces in sympathy. He hasn’t seen Subaru in a few weeks; he assumes that Subaru had gone back to Irlam Village, and has only recently returned to the capital, perhaps to visit Felix or Julius.
“Subaru,” Reinhard greets. He offers a hand up. Subaru accepts it, grumbling all the while. “You seem distressed.”
“What’s up with your sanitation system?” Subaru shouts. “It’s awful! It’s super easy to fall into the river and then get sick and die! It’s way too easy! Some innocent person could just be wandering around and picking fights with bastards who don’t know that pedestrians have right of way and then getting pushed into the river by those bastards! And then they’d get cholera and die! That’s no good.”
Reinhard considers this remarkably specific example. He has many questions. He chooses the strangest one, as seems to be his inclination with Subaru. “What’s cholera?”
“Very unpleasant,” Subaru answers seriously. “Fatal within hours.”
The river is looking particularly brown today, Reinhard notices. He looks Subaru over, considering. “You have personal experience in the matter? And it’s caused by falling into the river?”
Subaru nods and shrugs in the same motion. “You could say that. Human waste spreads all sorts of diseases.”
Reinhard senses an opportunity. Or perhaps it’s one of his divine blessings, informing him of one. “Do you have any suggestions as to how to reduce the spread?”
Subaru looks at him like he’s stupid. “Create a sewerage system. It’s not that hard. If London managed it, so you probably can, too.”
“A...sewerage system?”
“Yeah, a whole bunch of pipes to carry away waste to a place to treat it.” Subaru tilts his head. “Wow, I never thought that field trip to the sewage treatment plant would be useful.”
Reinhard casts around for a piece of paper to write notes on. Unfortunately, there is not a divine protection of perfect recall among his many, many protections. Instead he gets the divine protection of telling salt from sugar. How useful.
Reinhard’s being ungrateful. He scolds himself internally. He’d likely hate a divine protection of that sort anyways; he can’t imagine what it would be like, to remember every detail of his life. There are many things he’d rather forget already.
He can’t find any paper. He may as well ask anyways. “How do you treat sewage?”
“They had it in big tanks, I think?” Subaru frowns into the middle distance. “Like washing machines, but bigger. There were quite a few stages involved. Something about separating the solids from the liquids and using bacteria?”
“And this will reduce the spread of disease?” Reinhard checks.
“Uh, yeah, that’s what I said.”
“Good.” Reinhard smiles and bows. “We’ll get right to working on it.”
“Huh?” Subaru backs away. “You’re so weird.” He turns around, catching sight of white-hooded figure that easily stands out amongst the relatively bare Fourth District streets. “Oh, right on time. See ya, Reinhard.” He trots away.
The fourth time it happens, Reinhard doesn’t know that it’s happening. He hasn’t seen Subaru in a while and he’s a little worried. Subaru is a bit infamous for getting into trouble, after all.
He’s walking with Julius this time. Felix is still busy with figuring out the logistics of managing the Crusch camp, and in his spare time he’s fiddling with his new medicinal discoveries. Reinhard is glad, if still a bit worried—it’s good that Felix is keeping busy, but he doesn’t want him to overwork himself. He should probably be hoping that Felix burns out, because then there’ll be less competition for Felt, but he can’t make himself wish ill on his friend.
“Felix is willing to support the sewage project as well, but he won’t be able to actively manage it,” Reinhard informs Julius. They’ve been walking for a while, long enough for the sun to be blocked by the tall buildings surrounding them. Reinhard can feel the change in his divine protections; he’s entering into that strange time where neither his day nor his night blessings take full control. It’s cloudy, too, so neither of Reinhard’s weather protections are in effect. He feels almost human. It’s a strange feeling, and one that Reinhard would like to feel more often.
Reinhard and Julius will turn in soon, probably; nighttime is a good time to catch criminal activity, but Reinhard’s been helping Julius oversee the building of the detainment area and he’s got a lot of work to do tomorrow. He introduced the idea to Felt, and she was skeptical—if you’re offering free room and board just for some grunt work, people’ll start trying to get arrested, she’d pointed out. This was a very good point. Reinhard has been wondering whether they should just employ people, but using reforming their criminal justice system solves two problems with one solution. Perhaps they can do both? Reinhard shakes himself out of his thoughts. “He’s hoping it’ll improve Crusch’s reputation,” he continues, “and since the”—the foreign word sits strangely on his tongue—“bacteria experiments have been going well, he’s willing to contribute to financing it.”
“Perhaps the Priscilla camp would be willing to help as well,” Julius theorizes. “This sort of city-wide improvement will win some fame, if it’s successful.”
Reinhard nods. “With four camps already involved, she’d look—”
“Reinhard!” someone shouts, grabbing onto the knight in question. He experiences a flash of deja-vu. “Reinhard, I hate to bother you but I’ve got something really important, c’mon, please, let’s go.”
The lady tugs at his arm, attempting to tow him away. Reinhard stands firm. “Excuse me, miss. What’s wrong?”
She doesn’t answer, instead looking around wildly before freezing and composing herself. She’s a very pretty lady, Reinhard notices, with a very nice dress. She looks rather unusual, with her strangely colored dark hair and her squinty eyes. No, Reinhard realizes. She doesn’t just look unusual—she looks like—
“Subaru?” Julius identifies cautiously, stealing Reinhard’s line.
“That’s Natsumi Schwartz to you,” Subaru—Schwartz corrects with a sniff. His—her? hand clenches around Reinhard’s wrist and she takes a step back. This time Reinhard lets himself be pulled. Schwartz gives him an evaluating look before practically bolting with him in tow.
Julius easily keeps pace with them. Schwartz isn’t talking this time. She weaves through the thin crowd with a single-minded focus, heading straight for the fifth district.
“A man will come out of that backdoor in about…” Schwartz looks around. A Picouttate-style carriage rattles by on the street behind them—unusual, as they’re in the Poor District and it looks more fit for the Noble’s or Commercial District. Perhaps it’s there for the Healing Institute? Reinhard knows that Picouttate is very advanced in regards to the sciences. “Ten minutes. He’ll start talking to me. I’ll tell him to leave me alone, and he won’t. I’ll attempt to leave. He’ll attack me. That’s your cue—detain him or something. Don’t just scare him away.”
Schwartz whirls around and stalks into the alley. “This seems dangerous,” Reinhard comments, unable to restrain his worry.
Schwartz scowls over her shoulder. “Do you think I can’t handle it?”
“No, of course not,” Reinhard soothes hurriedly.
“Who is this man?” Julius jumps in to ask. He hesitates, then asks, clearly without much hope of without much hope of receiving an answer, “How do you know that he’ll do this?”
Schwartz narrows her eyes. There’s a strange glint to them that Reinhard automatically recoils from. It’s a familiar glint, he realizes, and it’s one that he hates. He doesn’t want to see it here. “He calls himself the Alley Stalker,” Schwartz says after a moment. “He’s a serial killer. He’s killed sev—sixteen people.” She frowns. “Shouldn’t you already know about him?”
“I’ve heard that there’s a serial killer,” Reinhard says. Julius, besides him, narrows his eyes. Reinhard suspects that he was not informed of the serial murders. “I wasn’t aware that you had interacted with him,” Reinhard adds, unable to stop the concern from seeping into his tone.
Schwartz scowls. “I wouldn’t have interacted with him if I’d known there was someone going around and targeting pretty women. You should really publicize that sort of information.”
Reinhard knows that’s a good point. Unfortunately, like how theft is very common in the second and third districts, violent crime rates in the fourth and fifth districts are very high. Only recently have the guards’ patrols been expanded to cover those areas and the slum-dwellers have no desire to assist their meddling, so it’s a fertile breeding ground for serial killers and the like. Having a way to spread information, even in a one-sided way, would probably save lives. “We should,” Reinhard agrees. He hesitates, then, on a hunch, asks, “How would you suggest we do that?”
“Newspapers, I guess? You can’t exactly have radio stations or TV shows or the internet here,” Schwartz answers, lifting her hand towards her face in a strange gesture, like she’s holding something. “That’s an usual question, sir. What prompted your—” A cloud passes overhead. Reinhard can feel his divine protections shift, and suddenly it’s late enough for his divine blessing of Night Skies to activate. Schwartz visibly tenses. “Hide,” she hisses, bustling to stand by the wall across from the door she’d pointed out.
“Where did I put it?” she wails to herself, fumbling around in her purse, flashing money around. It is perhaps the most over-dramatic representation of a confused tourist that Reinhard’s ever seen. Admittedly, he’s rarely had the chance to witness that particular tableau; Lugnica does not get much tourism. Julius and Reinhard both move out of the sightlines of the door, lurking in the shadows at the entrance of the alley.
A man pushes open the door and strides out. He’s not drunk, Reinhard thinks, but as soon as he sees Schwartz and her money he adds a stumble to his step and a sway to his walk.
“Hello there,” he leers, trundling up to Schwarz. She looks up, batting her eyes over-exaggeratedly and gnawing on her lip over-zealously. He’s not a large man, but the way he angles himself practically traps her against the wall. Reinhard suddenly very much wants to hurt him.
“You’re pretty,” Schwartz says easily, much too easily to match that in her eyes, “but you’re not my type. Hands off the merchandise, buddy.”
The man takes a step back, a bit of surprise creeping into his expression. “You’re exactly my type,” he decides.
“Too bad, so sad.” Schwartz turns with an extra flounce of her ornate skirt. “I’m out.”
The man pulls out a knife.
Julius and Reinhard simultaneously decide that this is an excellent time to intervene. Reinhard would have been fine intervening at any point in that interaction, really.
Reinhard whaps the man over the head with the hilt of his sword. Julius doesn’t catch him when he slumps to the dirty ground.
Schwartz looks annoyed. “Why didn’t you let him go on?” she asks, casual. She wipes at her mouth and scratches at her arm. “He would have started ranting about his victims. That’s a perfect confession right there. Straight from the horse’s mouth.”
“I’m sure we’ll figure something out,” says Reinhard nicely, like he isn’t planning on smiling ominously at the man until he confesses. And the man will confess; Reinhard’s smile can be very terrifying, and his reputation much more so. He is the strongest man in the world, after all.
“What are you going to do with him?” Schwartz asks, unceremoniously kicking at the limp man’s side.
Reinhard glances at Julius. “He’ll be detained in the Prison Tower and then executed,” Julius answers. Julius and Reinhard have still been working out the issues in the system, but this punishment is not one that they plan on changing from the original.
“Huh.” Schwartz processes this. She straightens up suddenly. “I completely forgot to grab the fruit this time. Thanks for helping me, Reinhard! And Julius too, I guess.” She bolts out the alley in a blur of fabric.
Reinhard watches her go, then looks at Julius. “Newspapers,” Julius repeats thoughtfully. “How would we distribute the information?”
“Didn’t they just invent a…” Reinhard pauses, grasping for the name “...printing press in Picouttate? We could use that to create copies of the announcements.”
Julius smiles. “Writing, producing, and distributing these newspapers sounds like a full-time job.”
Reinhard casts a look at the slums around them. A few people are watching them eagerly. Hopefully. “Yes, I think it does.”
The fifth time it happens, it’s Reinhard approaching Subaru instead of the other way around. Reinhard isn’t quite on patrol; Felt’s with him this time, too. He’s coming back from walking around in the fifth district, trying to employ people to sell newspapers. It wasn’t very difficult; word of his offer of employment is spreading, and he found that people were quite willing to approach him, especially with Felt’s familiar face by his side.
“You’re gonna hafta have someone write the newspapers, you know,” Felt tells Reinhard, skipping a bit too close to the road. He watches her carefully; for once the streets in the slums are bustling, and he knows all too well how often people get hit by carriages and trampled by ground dragons.
Reinhard hums in acknowledgement, already considering the problem. He can probably find some scholars and artisans who would be willing to help. They’d have to create a network of people to gather information too, which may prove challenging, especially considering Reinhard’s reputation. He suspects that he will have to ask Felt for her assistance once more. Reinhard dislikes the idea of asking her for help; this is not her responsibility, after all.
“Hey! You!” Reinhard turns quickly at that familiar voice. Felt perks up as well. Subaru charges past him, grabbing a random kid and lifting her away from the street. “What do you think you’re doing? You could get run over! Hasn’t anyone told you to look both ways before crossing the road?”
“What the hell, Mister?” the kid screeches back, flailing around in Subaru’s arms. Subaru plops her down unceremoniously. “You can’t just grab someone like that! Creepy old man!”
Subaru looks egregiously offended as Reinhard and Felt draw near him. “Who are you calling old man? I’m eighteen years old!” He frowns. “Wait, am I? How long have I been here?” He turns to Reinhard. “Ugh, perfect timing. You’re so perfect. What’s the calendar like here? Wait, that’s not the point.” Subaru turns back to the kid and grabs her ear. For every word, he pokes her in the forehead: “Don’t—poke—play—poke—in—poke—the—poke—streets! Poke.”
He actually says poke every time he pokes her. Reinhard laughs quietly. “Don’t encourage him,” Felt hisses to him under her breath.
“This is no laughing matter!” Subaru exclaims, clearly disgruntled. He pokes Reinhard, too, but since he crouched down to poke the kid, he ends up jabbing the back of Reinhard’s knee. Reinard says ouch nicely, even though he barely noticed the sensation. “Poke. Now I’m really feeling the semantic satiation.” Subaru pats the spot he poked, possibly in apology, possibly in triumph.
“Do you just go around saving small children all the time?” Felt crosses her arms.
“Are you admitting that you’re a small child?” Subaru points out, delighted.
“No.”
Subaru gives her a gloating look, then stands. The child scampers off as soon as he does so, with a cautious little wave to Felt. “Shouldn’t you have people directing traffic? This is the second time I’ve seen a kid almost get hit by a dragon. This is an epidemic, and since they’re not getting hit by Truck-kun, they won’t be isekai-d. They’ll just die, and that sucks.” He raises his finger and asks contemplatively, “Or would it be ‘reverse-isekai-d’ because they would be going from a fantasy world to the not-fantasy world? Except this is a not-fantasy world if you live here, which they do. And besides, isn’t it isekai regardless of the world? It doesn’t have to be a fantasy world in particular. There’s just gotta be dimension hopping. But Sword Art Online is an isekai because of the fantasy video-game aspects, right? So then…”
Reinhard isn’t following any of this, but he still waits for Subaru to finish. Felt is not so patient. “What sorta nonsense are you spewing now?”
Subaru’s attention snaps away from his musings. “Semantics,” he admits.
Reinhard seizes his chance. “That is a very heroic act, saving a child. I likely wouldn’t have made it in time, had a carriage come.”
“You would have been able to save her easily,” Subaru deflects, looking uncomfortable. Reinhard thinks it’s a deflection, at least. It’s a strange one. Reinhard doesn’t comment, a bit of guilt gnawing at his stomach for putting that far-away expression on Subaru’s face. Subaru blinks and suddenly he’s back to his cheerful self. “Well, I’m going to get going. See you around, Reinhard, Felt.” Subaru waves and wanders off down the crowded street.
Reinhard watches him go for a moment before Felt tugs at his sleeve, steering back towards the woman that has approached him in hopes of a job selling newspapers. Reinhard smiles at her and she takes a few cautious steps back. He lets his smile fade. Felt does the talking.
A month has passed by the time Reinhard sees Subaru again. It’s been a very productive month for Reinhard. It’s been a very productive month for Lugnica’s capital as well. Julius has been working hard with the Kingdom knights and petty criminals have been put to work building the sewerage system, with a team of artisans designing the system itself. He’s been using his contacts in Kararagi as well, and trade is booming with both Kararagi and Gusteko as materials are imported to and from the capital for the project. The Vollachia Empire has not been included.
Felix has gone through with his decision to expand the Healing Institute, and now there are smaller hospitals located in all five districts of the city; assistants have been hired to help in the hospitals, as knowledge of magic is no longer as necessary for healing. Felix had excitedly mentioned that he’d been able to talk to some expert healers in Picoutatte who rely on science more than magic—it seems that the healing Institute will be gaining a few new areas of study, ones that are more universal than magic.
The integration of the printing press has been going well, and Reinhard suspects that competing newspapers may start to appear. With the spread of information and employment has come an increase in morale for the more impoverished district, and combined with the opening of trade routes due to the defeat of the White whale, for the first time since the Demihuman war the city as a whole is experiencing an upwards trend in morale.
Reinhard is delighted. Exhausted, because he’s been managing the employment of the new newspaper sellers and printers and designers, and the traffic directors, and—this idea is his own, and he’s rather proud of it—the teachers at a series of education centers, where students are taught literacy and trades of their choice. Reinhard has managed to find quite a few artisans who’d be willing to teach in an atypical manner for the chance of earning some money, and the response from district five to a chance to find potentially permanent employment has been very positive. Reinhard’s hopes that investing in the artisans will result in a boon of valuable craftspeople that will again increase trade with Gusteko and Karagiri. Almost all of the royal candidates have been funding the endeavor, along with the other reformations; the competition between the candidates for more fame and influence has been vital to the projects’ survival and success.
Subaru’s leaning against the newly-installed railings that surround the river when Reinhard spots. Reinhard pauses in his pace, then walks up to him. He’s on his way to his biweekly meet-up with Julius and Felix, and the two won’t be too concerned if Reinhard is late. Like everyone, they know that nothing can hurt Reinhard.
“These railings are new,” Subaru observes. His voice is quiet.
“Yes,” Reinhard agrees. “We installed them when you drew our attention to the river’s role as a health hazard. The sewerage system looks to be a long-running project, so they’ll likely stay there for a few years.” It’s a bit strange, saying we instead of I. He’s not egotistical, he doesn’t think; it’s simply strange to be involved in a project where the other parties are vital to its outcome. Julius’ and Felix’s foreign contacts and diplomacy are irreplaceable. Reinhard wouldn’t have been able to do this without them, which is natural, of course, but it’s still an unusual revelation.
Subaru turns to look at him. “You’re making a sewerage system?”
Reinhard nods. “You’ll—ahem, Camp Emilia will be given some of the credit for it, of course.”
“Huh.” Subaru turns back to the water, watching it with a strange look in his eyes.
“We’re adjusting our justice system as well,” Reinhard says after a few moments. He feels strangely self-conscious. It’s an odd, soft feeling. He’s more used to shame. “Lugnica is entering a period of reform, it seems.”
“I thought this was Dark Souls, but maybe it was Stardew Valley all along,” Subaru mumbles nonsensically.
Reinhard waits again. Subaru doesn’t explain, still staring vacantly at the turbulent, turbid, tepid water. “You seem pensive. Are you alright?”
Subaru startles a bit. “Hm? Yeah, I’m fine.” He draws his hand over his face, and when it’s visible again he’s smiling and alert. “Sorry about that,” he practically chirps. “Natsuki Subaru has returned! Please, hold your applause.”
Reinhard just looks at him, thinking. Today is one of the rare days when Julius, Felix, and Reinhard all have no major appointments for a solid block of time, and they’d been planning to meet up and do something fun instead of doing a quick ‘patrol’. Reinhard’s brought Felt on these meetings before, so Julius and Felix probably won’t mind if they have an extra tagalong, right? “Can you bake?”
Subaru blinks, startled.
The short answer: No.
The long answer:
By the time they’re ready to put the cookies in the oven, Subaru has managed to switch the salt and the sugar, put in twice the amount of eggs necessary, and get into a flour-filled fist-fight with Julius. This is incredibly impressive, considering the fact that Reinhard has the divine protection of salt reasoning, the fact that the recipe calls for a copious amount of eggs to begin with, and the fact that Julius and Subaru were both assigned to opposite sides of the room, completing different tasks that did not involve flour in any way, shape, or form, respectively.
Their creation has massively deviated from the recipe. They’d managed to spill chili powder into the batter when Subaru was sampling it, as apparently he’d never had it before. Julius felt the need to add cinnamon and bananas as well. Felix very obviously gave up on following the rules and started chucking in whatever ingredients caught his fancy. Were Reinhard a lesser man, he would have become incredibly concerned about how Felix approaches healing his patients if this was how he followed a recipe. Fortunately, Reinhard is the strongest person on the planet, and, as such, was only very concerned.
Reinhard himself ended up on damage control, trying to add in ingredients to make it work. Due to the previous salt-or-sugar and egg mishaps, the recipe has been doubled and then tripled. Reinhard does not know how to bake. Reinhard thinks that someone else should have been on damage control.
They dole the batter onto a very, very large pan, which may or may not be an old shield. This could hypothetically be considered a breach of knightly chivalry and disrespect towards their weapons, but there was a lot of batter and no one wants to wait for two batches of cookies. Plus, it was an old shield, so no one was using it. Subaru and Felix both eagerly argue that they’re recycling and repurposing the shield for good use, which is of course a very knightly action. Reinhard lets himself be convinced. Julius grumbles, but as he’s been making efforts to be less aggressive in his chivalric pursuits, he turns a blind eye to the issue. They put the batter-soup filled shield into the oven.
“What do you do for fun around here?” Subaru asks, crouching to look in the oven.
Reinhard thinks. “Board games?”
Subaru’s never played checkers. It’s a fairly simple game, and so it should be fairly simple to teach. It is not. Subaru is an avid learner, but also an easily distracted one. His manner is, as always, infectious. By the time the cookies are ready to be removed from the oven, Subaru is kowtowing to Felix, who is standing on top of the table and holding Reinhard in a bridal carry, surrounded by flaming candles. Julius is running around the room, trying to put out the fire that the spirits started when he told them to light things on fire and failed to specify the candles as ‘things’.
“That’s not a cookie,” Subaru observes, staring down at their creation, which they’ve separated from the shield using a few kitchen knives and three of Reinhard’s divine protections. It is currently resting on the clearest part of the counter. It has occurred to Reinhard that they probably should have cleaned up after baking instead of creating and then disbanding a very small, four-member semi-religious fanatical order, which is what they did. It was not a cult. Subaru was very clear about that, and since he has the most experience with cults—a large amount of evidence points to the theory that his experiences with the witch cult are more personal and numerous than most—Reinhard accepted his words.
“It’s a cookie,” Julius decides. “It’s just one singular cookie instead of many cookies.”
“And who’s fault is that, nya?” Felix asks, leaning towards them both. Subaru shoves at him and he falls over, cackling.
“It’ll still taste good,” Reinhard says, just a bit desperately.
Julius reaches to grab a piece. Felix smacks his hand away, scolding, “You’ll get burnt!”
Subaru seizes his chance and breaks off a piece with a gloating look towards Julius. He lifts it up, waves it around, and eyes it suspiciously. Felix sniffs it.
Subaru nibbles on the cookie. Reinhard holds his breath. Subaru gives him a strange gesture that involves a balled fist and an upright thumb. “It’s good!”
Felix, the hypocrite, breaks off a piece as well. He munches on it. “It’s not a cookie,” he announces.
Julius and Reinhard grab some as well. It is, in fact, not a cookie. Strangely, it’s pretty good anyways.
“How did we make this? What did we put in this?” Julius asks, sounding a little lost.
“It’ll be difficult to make again.” Reinhard seizes another piece.
“I have full confidence in us,” Felix dismisses.
“Again?” Subaru echoes, sounding surprised. He looks at Felix, who offers him another piece, and Julius, who is busy chowing down on his second helping. He looks at Reinhard, who smiles at him.
Subaru smiles back.
He accepts the not-cookie, then steals Julius’ not-cookie when Julius reaches to grab a third helping. Julius attempts to recapture his stolen prey. Subaru dances away. Julius lunges at him and they both knock over the candles. The room catches on fire.
“This was a great idea,” Reinhard says to himself as the room burns down. Felix pats him on the shoulder and eats another piece.