Chapter Text
"...Do you believe in God?"
So said the man with a downcast look, his hands clasped down as if to keep them busy, his gaze always looking around not relaxing on a single thing. He sat opposite of me, in the reception area of the "Flaming Sword Office". There was a small homey table separating us. He took the office chair, and so did I.
"Well, I mean, surely they do exist. I just don't personally subscribe to them, y'know?" The man in front of me squirms when I said that. Almost like to him, I may have very well insulted him. And that I may have. I didn't take him to be the zealous fellow, honestly. This "Dunham" looked to be 33, with sunken eyes, his hair is a kempt cyan, and he dresses moderately.
The only feature I find odd is that despite his frail stature and tired eyes, he exudes a sort of confidence. One that I've seen much in the war. One that gets people killed when motivation becomes order, and order becomes zeal.
This is the client Murdoch fetched me? Well, it's not like it matters what I get, I've been stewing on my bedside for a long 4 days. I could use the work.
He spoke in an inconsistent manner. When speaking about himself, he spoke loudly, with a Lupian accent. Then when I wanted him to speak clearly about the job, he spoke in a hushed tone, his accent changing into a more formal one. Much like a Kisaragian. Even his body seemed to follow this, switching from puffing his chest, to lowering his gaze and curling into a smaller, albeit, proper stature.
He told me that one day, he started getting strange dreams. And that those dreams came crashing into his reality. Showed him things. Very ominous, but also very unbelievable. I'll take this with a grain of salt. At least, that was before he told me why he's seeking help.
"I need help ma'am. I need you to look for the Book Wyrm." The Book Wyrm. An infamous member belonging to the Tide of Qlippoth. I should have known they were somewhat related to this man's unrest. But I didn't take them to torture a single man for no reason. It's odder yet that the one torturing him is the Book Wyrm. I'm not up to date, but even after making 4 public appearances, The Book Wyrm remains the most elusive of the Tide of Qlippoth.
He then went on to rant about god, ideals, the general truth of humanity. How it's subjective, never objective. This man needs help, desperately, yet I can't find it in me to actually bear with this incessant whining. After telling him to get on with it, he told me that he'd recently just sold everything he'd own just to fund this request.
To further the point, he slid a cheque. With my name on it. For the sum of 25000 gold pieces. How'd he figure out my identity that quickly? He went to a handler first? How annoying...
He went on about me being his last hope, and how he found me and the office. Telling me that this is the only place where his problems would actually go to be fixed. But his ramblings were bordering an underlying insanity. The look in his eyes gave it away. Like one of the boys after the war, dilated and unfocused yet the sharp intensity could still bore into you.
...I find no reason to decline the request. After making clear of our payments and methods, I asked him to return to the office if there was anything else he'd find out about his dreams or anything pertaining to the Book Wyrm. But after welcoming him out, I'd remember him telling me that he'd sold all of his belongings and his own domicile.
...I can only hope this job will go off without a hitch. The Tide of Qlippoth remains an elusive threat to the general public yet among the members, for some reason I've yet to recollect, I reasoned Book Wyrm to be the easiest to track down. Several accounts of his arrests and escapes have already been recorded. And he's even been said to have left the Tide of Qlippoth long ago. In all the swirling anxieties, for some odd reason, I have a good feeling about this job.