The girl who fell from the polar star - Side Story 3: Varrell

It was Varrell’s first night working for Stella. His job was to keep the store safe until morning, and he was allowed to rest between sunrise and noon. It was well paid enough.

The moon was hiding behind the clouds, and the only sources of light were the lanterns hanging out front. But that was all Varrell needed. Should anyone approach, he relied on his sharp instincts to warn him—the same instincts that had saved his life on many different occasions. Varrell’s mentor had called it his “special trait,” which made little sense to him, but at least it was a useful trait to have. It was better than someone else he knew, whose only trait was her ability to inconvenience everyone around her. She had taken heavily after their mother and their mentor’s violent personality. Varrell wouldn’t want to touch her with a ten-foot pole. Or at all, for that matter.

The troublemaking fool, thought Varrell. When is she going to leave me be?

Varrell lightly cracked his neck, then raised his sword and started doing practice swings. He took his time with each one, cutting away at the distracting thoughts and feelings in the back of his mind.

“Whoa! Aren’t you supposed to be working?”

“I am working. Can’t you see?”

“I can see you waving your toy around, that’s what! You stop right now or I’m gonna snitch your ass to Stella!”

Beck clicked his tongue. He was sitting on a chair in front of the store. The man had hurt his back working in the backyard, after apparently having wielded his hoe for hours on end like a weapon of mass destruction. It wasn’t until after he was done and tried to stretch that he’d realized his mistake. When Stella had heard about it, her cold eyes had pierced him like icicles, and Beck had curled up into a small, dejected ball of sadness. Even Varrell couldn’t help feeling sorry for him then.

For people like Varrell, such injuries could be the difference between life and death. Stella, however, had simply given him a mysterious ointment and said that it would eventually make him feel better. Varrell had been kind enough to ignore Beck’s yelps of pain when he’d applied it.

Stock Company men stood in the surrounding alleys, struggling to stifle their yawns. These men would hardly be of much use in a fight. But why would a mere general store require so many guards? It didn’t make sense.

No, Varrell reconsidered, this is no mere general store. Stella was the owner, and that girl was special somehow.

“Didn’t you hear me, huh? I don’t care if you’re a combatant or king of the continent, I’m Stella’s first minion. Watch how you treat me, or you’ll regret it!”

That would have sounded almost threatening if you weren’t leaning forward in pain. “Keep it down. You’re going to wake your master. Why do you think I’m being so reserved with my swings?”

“Oh, shi—”

Beck covered his mouth with his hands and looked at the store’s window, where the bird Clever was perched. The bird pierced Beck’s soul with a threatening wide-eyed glare, like some apparition of the night. Beck paled. Tears glistened in his eyes as he lowered his head in apology.

“Come on, don’t cry.”

“You don’t get it. A thing from hell, that is. Absolutely unhinged. If not for Stella, he would’ve robbed me of my treasures long ago.”

“And why would he do that?”

Beck averted his eyes. “All right, it may have been my fault . . .”

Beck gave Varrell a quick rundown of recent events. According to him, Stella had completely lost faith in the guards assigned to her ever since a burglar had managed to break into the store right under their noses. That had led her to seek a new bodyguard of her own.

A break-in, you say? The burglar must have had a specific purpose in mind. Maybe he’d wanted to hurt Stella, or to get his hands on something she had. That crystal of hers immediately came to mind. Varrell didn’t know exactly what it was, but something told him it was extremely dangerous.

Maybe he could get something out of Beck. The man seemed far from tight-lipped.

“Beck. Why is the Company so interested in Stella? I know she runs a profitable business, but that doesn’t quite explain all the guards.”

Every day, people from all over town came to Glenn’s General Store for a glass of her tears of falling stars. Varrell had tried it once; the product truly lived up to its popularity. But it also didn’t feel very healthy, so he hadn’t drunk it again since. Varrell only drank socially, and he stayed as far as he could from tobacco and drugs.

Beck grinned. “So you don’t know?”

“I wouldn’t be asking if I did. Can you tell me?”

Beck stayed silent for a few moments, to build dramatic tension. It was hard to resist slapping the smug smile off his face.

“All right,” Beck finally said. “You see, Stella has another product only she can make. The world’s never seen anything like it, man. But I can’t go into details. If you wanna know more, ask her.”

“Will do.”

“Hah! Good luck with that, though. It’s not so easy to earn her trust like I did!”

Beck spit to the side. Then he reached for the wooden canister on his belt, opened it, and drank. It made a fizzing sound familiar to Varrell. Tears of falling stars. Clever continued to watch, as attentive of Varrell as he was of Beck.

That bird is worth a hundred bodyguards, thought Varrell. I should be careful with my curiosity, lest I get on his bad side.

Varrell returned to his swings, bringing his crimson greatsword down upon the night.

 

The next day, Varrell decided to come clean and ask Stella directly. It was better than sniffing around.

“The reason why I’m important to the Company?”

Varrell nodded. “I know this neighborhood isn’t safe, but you’re well protected beyond necessity. I’d appreciate it if you could tell me why.”

“The reason is simple. I’m their golden goose.” Stella smirked and reached into her pocket. “Behold.”

Stella produced a vial and placed it on the table. It was filled with a translucent liquid.

“Is it some kind of medicine?”

Stella nodded. “We call it simply ‘the elixir.’ It reverts the negative effects of drugs on the human body, bringing those stupid addicts back to normal.”

Varrell glanced at Beck. The man looked dismayed at how easily Stella had disclosed the information. Hang in there, buddy.

“And you’re the one who makes it?”

“That’s right.”

“Can it really remove the withdrawal symptoms?” It was hard to believe such a thing could exist.

Drugs were a common escape from the harshness of reality, but the relief they granted was temporary. Pleasure was soon replaced by pain. To avoid the pain, subsequent use of the drug was needed. This created a vicious cycle that would slowly destroy the mind and body and ultimately lead to death. One need look no further than the South District to see their effects firsthand; addicts roamed the place like zombies. But that wasn’t to say that drug abuse was a poor people’s problem. It was a horror that affected all classes of society. Drugs were parasitic, and their tendrils reached deep into people’s most vulnerable weaknesses. Once they had settled, it was all but impossible to escape their influence. Varrell would be glad to see the world rid of them, but too many farmers depended on the drug trade to eat.

“It can indeed. No matter how severe they are. But as you might have guessed, it comes at a cost. The elixir becomes less effective each time it’s used. At the same time, the drug cravings should become stronger, reaching twice, three times, or even more of their original intensity, eventually surpassing even the needs for food and sleep. But that’s still just a guess.”

Stella hadn’t tested the elixir’s effects yet, apparently, but she was confident they would turn out as expected.

“Yikes.”

“Well, if they simply use it until they’ve fully recovered and stop there, they won’t have to deal with the worst. They’ll have a chance to focus on building happy, healthy lives. Isn’t it wonderful?”

“It is—if they stop there. I don’t think most people will.”

Stella chortled. “I imagine that at least half of them will relapse. But whatever those idiots do is none of my concern. It’s not like they’ll have any wits left to think about their poor decisions anyway.”

The temptation of pleasure. For humans, it was hard to resist—especially when a miracle elixir was available to negate all consequences of indulgence. They would use it, then return to the drugs more eager than ever, then return to the elixir when the pain became too much to bear.

Stella knew that was what would happen. And she laughed, whispering—almost singing—her amusement.

“Does it eventually stop having any effects?”

“I can’t know for sure, but I believe it should still work at an increased dosage. They’d need more and more of the elixir for the same effect, and theoretically there’s no limit to how far that could go. Why, putting it like that, it’s almost like the elixir is just another drug.” Stella giggled. “Anyway, that loop should keep them functional while they can afford to keep it going. They’ll run out of money eventually, though. And what happens after that is what I’m really interested to see.”

What awaited those with no money left to fund the cycle would be nothing less than hell on earth. Colossal stress levels that would break any human being in a matter of minutes. She’s a witch, Varrell thought; there was no other explanation. Stella knew exactly how to exploit humanity’s deepest weaknesses. She made the elixir with full knowledge of the effects it would have on people. But Varrell didn’t blame her for it—not truly. She was just struggling to earn a living, like everyone else. Still, that didn’t mean he agreed with what she was doing. But fortunately, the elixir was an extravagance. Few people would have the opportunity to fall prey to its dreadful snare.

“I can see why that would make you valuable,” said Varrell. “And why they wouldn’t want any of their rivals to get their hands on you.”

Stella nodded. “Still, these people are utterly incompetent. So I took the matter of my safety into my own hands. And you, Varrell, are just the man I was looking for.”

“Thank you. For the compliment and for the answer.” Varrell nodded respectfully and walked away.

Well, that answers some of my questions. But it didn’t change what he had to do: stay close to Stella and that Magic Crystal of hers. Something like that should never have been allowed to fall into human hands. Were the power within it to run amok, Varrell would have to stop it even if it meant his death. It was his duty—or so he felt.

Varrell seemed to attract all sorts of trouble like a magnet. It ran in the Art family. He had embraced it, and would come out on top.

 

On his fifth night as security guard, Varrell’s instincts alerted him to a presence. A dozen or so people were hiding in the shadows nearby, watching the store. Probably near the building on the other side of the street. He glanced at Beck; the man groaned and rubbed his back. No one else seemed to have noticed either.

“Beck,” Varrell said softly.

“What? Need to pee?”

“No. What’s the name of the Stock Company’s rival again? The Palpud Union?”

“I guess you can say they’re our rival. We come to blows every now and then, but it’s nothing major. Prez says there’s too little to gain from an all-out war to justify the risk.”

“But what if the Company had caused the Union to lose face? They wouldn’t just let it slide. What would they do then?”

“What do you think, huh? They’d get reven—”

Before Beck could finish, several flaming objects arced toward the store from the darkness. Makeshift incendiary bombs. Varrell cut two of them down in midair; Clever launched himself toward a third, destroying it with his beak. The spilled oil caught fire, providing some welcome light.

Then the enemy charged from the shadows in a maelstrom of screams. The guards, who had never expected an attack, were quickly overwhelmed. Unable to so much as fight back, they cowered against the metal bars endlessly assaulting their bodies. At least they were bars and not swords, but that was a small consolation. There was no regard for human life in the way the attackers swung their weapons. They were here to kill and cripple.

“W-Who the heck are these people?!”

“The Palpud Union, most likely. How many can you take on your own?”

“I, uh—”

Beck hesitated. He held a knife with quivering fingers, and his legs shook so much he could barely stand. Not to mention his hurt back. The man would hardly be able to hold his own.

“If you can’t fight, go hide inside. I can handle this!”

Varrell swept at a charging enemy with the flat of his sword. The man took the blow with his bar, but the sheer force of it was enough to both bend the weapon and fling him away at an outrageous speed. He would probably survive, but that hardly mattered. An eye for an eye.

“You piece of shit!” one of the attackers cursed.

“My, my, we’ve got a feisty one in our hands,” another one said. “You better learn some respect, or you’ll see what we do with insolent dogs like you!”

A third man, who seemed to be their leader, stepped forward. “No one needs to die here—we came to send a message. The girl needs to understand that her actions have consequences. She can’t just walk all over us and leave it at that.”

“Stella didn’t start this feud,” said Varrell. “It was your man who broke into her store.”

“That doesn’t matter. We can’t let this go—”

He didn’t finish. Clever whirled past the man’s neck, slitting his throat with his razor-like beak. No, he didn’t just slit it—he completely separated the man’s head from his body. Blood gushed out of his headless neck like a fountain, raining down on his former subordinates.

‘Keke! Death to you all, I say! Varrell, bud! Let’s kill ’em!’

“Watch it. Stella won’t like it one bit if you stain the store with their blood.”

‘No, she won’t! I better make sure they die facin’ the other way, eh!’

“I’m going in!”

With his new partner at his side, Varrell charged. The two made short work of the enemy, Clever using confounding tactics and striking at openings with lethal precision, Varrell wheeling his sword about in a whirlwind of death. Not ten minutes later, nine of the attackers were incapacitated and the remaining four dead. Varrell had avoided killing as best he could, but he’d had to act fast, for Clever would have killed them all if given the chance. In his hurry, he’d probably crippled a few of them for life. But that was not his problem.

“Please . . . enough . . . forgive me . . . !”

“I-It’s a monster . . . It’s not a bird, it’s a monster!”

‘When you gonna start carrying yer own weight, eh, Beck? We could’ve used yer ’elp, eh!’

Beck groaned. “I-If it weren’t for my hurt back . . .”

He was still there, holding his knife. By choosing inaction, he’d probably made the right choice—but that wouldn’t help improve Stella’s opinion of him in the slightest.

“Clever,” said Varrell. “Are you going to report this to Stella?”

‘Let ’er sleep for now, eh? She ’ates being woken up. We can wait till morning, eh!’

“And what should we do with them?” he asked, pointing at the defeated attackers.

‘Tie ’em up and let Master decide tomorrow, eh. Dump the bodies in the canal, eh!’

“I-I’ll round up the men to deal with the bodies,” said Beck.

‘I’ll be a-goin’ to sleep, then.’ Before Varrell or Beck could answer, Clever disappeared into a window.

“Well, time to look after our injured.” Varrell sighed. “They don’t help and they give us more work to do.”

“Y-You’re really strong, huh,” said Beck.

“I fight for a living. Of course I’m strong. Either way—”

“Varrell—No, Master Varrell!” Beck knelt and clasped his hands together. “Please train me! I want to be strong like you!”

Varrell inwardly sighed, but he said yes anyway. Beck was serious; Varrell liked the look in his eyes. But first things first. There was work to be done here.

I think we may have gone too far in killing these people. What happened here tonight was bound to make the Company’s relations with the Union even worse than they currently were.

No, what was he thinking? That was nothing to worry about. Whatever came out of this, Stella wouldn’t feel the slightest trepidation. Much to the contrary—she would love it.

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Source: https://ncode.syosetu.com/n4468cs/21/