The strange noise outside the window made Maltz draw his saber warily. Years of meticulous maintenance had kept its edge sharp, and it gleamed coldly in the candlelight.
Maltz moved swiftly along the wall toward the window.
He used the reflection in the saber's blade to inspect the view outside.
But there was nothing.
"Did Chief's arrival attract some stray cats?"
Maltz murmured to himself.
Then Old Chief began marching in place, stepping heavily at first before gradually easing off, giving anyone listening the impression that he was walking away.
He remained exactly where he was, listening closely for any movement outside the window.
Only after a full ten minutes did Old Chief confirm that no one was outside.
He sheathed the saber and returned it to the long case, then carefully put his other old companion back inside as well. His gaze settled on the faded medal. He reached out to touch it, his expression growing even more forlorn.
He locked the long case again and pushed it back under the bed.
Maltz sat down at his desk once more, picked up his pen, dipped it in ink, and began to write-
My friend, South Los in autumn is a land of abundance, enough to tempt anyone!
Come to South Los!
We'll feast on fish!
Old Chief continued writing his letter.
Arthur, who had put the "pedestrian's corpse" into the [Athos Box] and was standing in the shadows, looked utterly astonished.
What was going on with that matchlock?
Why did it feel as though it was about to come alive?
And...
Why did its aura feel so much like Fuginn's and Muninn's?
After all, Fuginn and Muninn were about to advance into magical creatures!
Could an inanimate object advance into a magical creature too?
*Or was it a