Sally Whitemane might have been an unfamiliar name, but mention the "bastard couple" of the Scarlet Monastery, and every gamer knew them.
Her two classic lines with Renault Mograine, the final boss of the Scarlet Monastery—"Arise, my champion!" and "I fight for you, my lady!"—had pierced the lonely hearts of countless single players.
Seeing her in person before him was a tremendous shock to Unas. Her seductive, glamorous attire was a far cry from the image of a prosecutor representing equality and justice. He had no idea whether it was her personal preference or an official uniform.
A blond youth stood erect behind her, a sword in one hand and a shield in the other. He watched Unas expressionlessly, showing no intention of introducing himself.
A blue Twin-Headed Eagle tabard covered his armor. He appeared to be with the Silver Hand.
Could this be Renault? Unas wondered.
"Your name?" Whitemane dispensed with pleasantries and broke the silence by getting straight to the point.
"Unas-Lawugade," he answered instinctively. Deep down, he had already accepted the name. "Wulaizi" had drifted away with the wind, and he could finally say goodbye to nicknames like "Laizi" and "Wulai" too.
"According to Archivist Lake's report, you claim to be a Paladin?" Whitemane continued her questioning.
"Yes." Unas opened his system panel to check. The word "Paladin" was clearly written next to his class.
Whitemane sneered and began writing in the small notebook in her hand as she continued, "Your birthplace?"
"I've lost my memory. I don't remember." That was still the only answer Unas could give.
"Your parents?"
"..." Unas had no answer.
"Which church baptized you, and who was your Holy Light mentor?"
"What is your purpose in coming to Tirisfal Glades?"
"You—"
"I told you, I've lost my memory! I don't know anything except my name!" Unable to take it anymore, Unas shouted over Whitemane's questions.
"All right, you say you've lost your memory. How do you prove it?"
Once again, Unas had no answer. There was no way he could prove his memory loss himself.
"According to Medical Officer Hanni's preliminary examination, there are no signs of injury to your head whatsoever!" Whitemane raised her voice.
"You say you're a Paladin. How do you prove it?" "Prove" seemed to be her favorite word.
"I can do that." As he spoke, Unas began casting, putting Blessing of Kings on her and the blond youth from the Silver Hand. He then activated Seal of Righteousness and Devotion Aura. A faint white Holy Light enveloped his body, and a silver, shield-shaped aura appeared beneath each of their feet.
The blond youth's expression softened, and he seemed to believe Unas a little, but Whitemane refused to relent. "I admit you know a few Paladin spells, but that isn't enough to prove you're a Paladin. According to my investigation, there's no one with the surname 'Lawugade' on the Order of the Silver Hand's roster, much less anyone recorded with black hair and black eyes."
Of course there isn't. Making up "Old Wu's family" was a real blunder.
"Maybe I'm not a proper Paladin, but Gordon said I'm 'Holy-favored.' I saved his life with a resurrection spell. He can vouch for me." Unas had no choice but to bring up Gordon.
"Nothing but lies! You mean Joseph Gordon? That fallen fellow is still under investigation himself. He isn't qualified to testify for anyone!"
"But I did bring him back to life. It happened just last night," Unas argued.
"Very good." The pen in Whitemane's hand never stopped moving. "Now you also claim to be 'Holy-favored' and capable of using the legendary spell 'Resurrection.' How do you prove that?"
"Why don't you kill yourself? I'll cast the spell and bring you back, and then you'll believe me." Fed up with all her demands for proof, Unas shot back.
"You!" Whitemane was momentarily at a loss for words, but she immediately countered, "You just attempted to incite a member of the clergy to commit suicide. That charge alone is enough to have your tongue cut out!"
"I was only joking." Unas immediately put on a cheeky grin.
"There's no such word as 'joke' in my dictionary. Everything you say can be used as evidence in court!"
"Then you really don't have any sense of fun. What a waste of such a pretty big... little face." Unas had nearly blurted out "big, fair legs" and hastily changed his wording.
Whitemane froze. From the day she was born until now, she had never met anyone who dared speak to her like that.
A snort came from behind her. The blond youth couldn't hold it in and burst out laughing.
"Darian!" Flustered and furious, Whitemane shouted at the blond youth behind her.
So this kid's name is Darian. Could he be Renault's younger brother, Darion Mograine? Unas thought. He was a major figure in the game too, the leader of the famous Death Knight organization, the Knights of the Ebon Blade. But at this point, he was still a living, sunny blond youth.
"I've never met anyone so shameless. You aren't fit to be a Paladin at all." Whitemane's blue eyes seemed to shoot flames. "There's no need for further questions. Come with me to the Inquisition. There are professional interrogators there who'll make sure you give a full account!"
"I'm not going anywhere!" Unas snatched up the greatsword leaning to one side. He might be at a disadvantage, but he couldn't lose his nerve. Though he felt a little guilty, he couldn't let it show.
"You actually dare resist arrest?" A trace of mockery appeared at the corner of Whitemane's mouth. "Here of all places?"
"You have no right to arrest me. First, I'm not infected with the plague. Second, I haven't done anything wrong." Unas assumed a fighting stance. "I won't surrender without a fight!"
"Very good. Everything you said is true, but as the prosecutor on duty, I have the privilege of arresting anyone I find suspicious." Whitemane stepped back and unfastened the white cross-shaped staff at her waist. "Darian, take him!"
The blond Darian raised his shield and stepped forward. "Brother, I think you'd better put down your weapon and come with us to the Inquisition. I don't want a pointless fight."
Unas wanted to fight even less. He had received no training in swordsmanship or anything of the sort, and he had almost no experience in a fight. Hacking wildly at a few skeletons was one thing, but against a well-trained Paladin with a priest standing behind him, he had no chance of winning.
Even if he could beat the two of them, he feared more enemies would come. His chances of winning this fight were zero, but the Inquisition didn't seem like a good place, and no matter what, he didn't want to be taken there.
Of the thirty-six stratagems, running away was the best.
With that thought, he pretended to relax and lowered the sword in his hand. "Pretty boy, I don't want to—"
Before he could finish with "fight you," he leaped up and kicked both feet at the shield in front of Darian with all his strength.
With a thud, the kick sent Darian staggering back several steps. "Big Fair Legs" let out a soft cry. Caught off guard, she was knocked to the ground by the suddenly retreating Darian.
Ignoring the numbness in his feet from the impact, Unas took advantage of Darian going to help "Big Fair Legs." He scrambled to his feet with a roll and swung his greatsword hard. With a tearing sound, he ripped a large opening in the tent behind him and dove through it.
Once outside the tent, he had no idea where to go. He could only hide first and wait for Gordon to return and rescue him. He hoped the Flame Knight could protect him from those two.
Fortunately, there was still no one around. Unas turned off his conspicuous seal and aura, dashed into the rows of tents, and ducked into one that looked empty.
A musty smell filled the tent. Unas glanced around. There was nothing stacked around the sides, not a piece of luggage, yet there was someone inside?
A slender figure was curled up in the corner. She was a woman with short brown hair, her face so covered in soot that he couldn't make out her features. A gray robe wrapped her entire body, concealing her figure as well.
Though someone had suddenly barged into her tent, she neither screamed nor ran. She merely looked at Unas with her large, listless eyes, a hint of fear in them.
Unas quickly pressed an index finger to his lips, signaling her to be quiet. Then he lowered his voice. "Beauty, do me a favor and let me hide here for a bit. I'll reward you generously."
He reached inside his clothes as though taking something out. With a thought, five gold coins appeared in his palm.
He drew out his fist and held it toward her, opening his hand to show the gold coins to the woman in gray.
The woman in gray seemed frightened by the large hand reaching toward her. She didn't take the coins he offered, merely curling up tighter against the corner.
Unas helplessly withdrew his hand. Just then, Whitemane and Darian's shouts came from outside, mostly threats telling him to come out and surrender, that he'd be spared if he laid down his weapon, and that resistance would be dealt with harshly. He ignored them. Only an idiot would go out there and get himself killed. Take your time looking.
The peaceful Whispering Gardens grew lively as the quarantined refugees came out of their tents, discussing the commotion. The situation became even more chaotic.
Unas peered through a gap in the tent flap. The silver-haired prosecutor had called in a squad of soldiers, who were checking the tents one by one.
This couldn't last long. Unas grew anxious. Blend in with the refugees? His tight-fitting warrior's outfit was far too conspicuous among them. He turned to the woman in gray. "Miss, don't be afraid. I'm not a bad person. Can I buy a robe from you?"
He took another five gold coins from his bag and piled all ten in front of her, thinking that ten gold coins ought to be enough.
The woman in gray didn't look at the coins. A trace of longing appeared in her large, listless eyes, and she asked softly in a sweet, cute voice, "D-do you have anything to eat?"
"No, but if you have money, surely you can buy food?" Unas asked in puzzlement. Since coming to this world, he had only gnawed on a piece of dry bread, and his own stomach was empty too.
"N-no, I'm not sure."
Seeing how pitiful she looked, Unas couldn't help feeling sympathy. "We're both in the same boat. I'm starving too. How about this? Lend me something to wear first, and when I get some food, I promise I'll share half with you."
The woman in gray hesitated, then took a black cloak from the bundle behind her and handed it over. Unas hurriedly took it and draped it over himself. It was a little small, and it carried a pleasant scent of roses. Could that be her natural scent? Suppressing the fanciful thoughts that arose, he put on the cloak and pulled up the hood, wrapping himself up tightly.
He lifted a corner of the tent flap and looked outside. The refugees were gathered in groups of three and five, while the soldiers were still far off. Everything around him was in an uproar. It was the perfect chance to slip out among the crowd.
He looked back at the woman in gray. "By the way, I still don't know what to call you, miss."
"L-Luisa." Her sweet little voice was still hesitant.
"Lulu, right?" He lifted the tent flap with one hand and gave the woman in gray a thumbs-up with the other. "I'll be back."
After delivering that movie line to look cool, he strode away without looking back, leaving the woman in gray murmuring to herself, "Lulu is a nickname my family uses..."