Three days.
Three days since I had torn off José Porla's head and thrown it at the feet of his subordinates as a bloody warning. Three days since the Magic Council had surrounded the Phantom Lord fortress and begun its endless bureaucracy. Three days since half of Fairy Tail had decided that I was something to be feared rather than just tolerated.
And now, I was carrying wooden beams.
Wooden beams.
"Azra'il, that one goes over there in the corner!"
I looked up at Erza, who was coordinating the guild's reconstruction with the efficiency of a general commanding an army. She was pointing to a specific corner of what would eventually be the new main hall, her finger indicating the exact spot where my load should go.
"I know where it goes," I grumbled, dragging the beam with all the enthusiasm of a cat being forced to take a bath. "I have functioning eyes."
"You have functioning eyes that were closed five minutes ago while you were pretending to work."
"I wasn't pretending. I was meditating. It's different."
"You were snoring."
"Deep meditation."
[Technically, you were in a state of REM sleep,] Eos helpfully informed. [Your brain patterns indicated dreams involving violence and tea. In that order.]
(No one asked for your opinion, Eos.)
[I offer my analyses free of charge. It is a public service.]
I dropped the beam in the indicated corner with more force than necessary, raising a cloud of dust that made two nearby members cough and move away. They were already moving away anyway, I noticed. They had stopped talking the moment I approached, their conversations dying out like candles blown out by a cold wind.
Three days, and I was still the monster in the corner of the room.
[Twelve members have significantly altered their behavioural patterns in your presence since the incident,] Eos catalogued. [Seven show clear signs of fear. Three show discomfort. Two appear to be in active denial.]
(Thank you for the report. Very helpful. I'll file that under "things I pretend not to notice.")
[You have a mental file for that?]
(It's getting quite full lately.)
"WATCH OUT!"
The shout came from somewhere to my left, followed by the unmistakable sound of wood catching fire. I turned my head in time to see Natsu standing in the middle of a small inferno that used to be a pile of perfectly good planks.
"My bad!" He waved his hands frantically, trying to put out the flames and only succeeding in spreading them further. "I sneezed!"
"You sneezed fire on building materials?!" Gray appeared out of nowhere, already shirtless for some reason I had given up questioning years ago. "What kind of person sneezes fire?!"
"The kind that eats fire, you walking stripper!"
"Who are you calling a stripper?!"
"You! Where's your shirt?!"
Gray looked down, genuinely surprised to find that he was, in fact, shirtless. "What the devil…?"
"YOU TWO!"
Erza's voice cut through the air like a blade, and both boys froze instantly, Natsu's fire seeming to diminish in intensity out of sheer fear.
"Put. That. Out. Now."
"Y-yes, ma'am!"
I watched Gray create a layer of ice over the flames while Natsu tried to look innocent and failed miserably. A few metres away, Elfman was shouting something about how "rebuilding was a man's job" while carrying three beams at once, apparently trying to compensate for the destruction caused by the idiotic duo. And then, something caught my attention.
A movement. Behind a pile of rubble. Blue hair disappearing quickly as I turned my head.
[Movement detected,] Eos confirmed. [Pattern consistent with stealthy observation. Someone has been monitoring the perimeter for approximately forty-seven minutes.]
(I know. I smelt her an hour ago.)
The smell of rain. Seawater. And something else… obsessive.
"Gray," I called, without taking my eyes off the makeshift hiding place. "You have an admirer."
"What?" He followed my gaze, and his face visibly paled. "Oh, no. Not her again."
"Again?"
"She's been following me since we left the Phantom Lord fortress!" He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "Every time I turn around, she's there. Hiding behind a tree. Or a post. Or a rubbish bin. Yesterday she was inside a barrel!"
As if summoned, a blue head emerged timidly from behind the rubble. Large, bright eyes fixed on Gray with an intensity that bordered on the disturbing.
"Gray-sama," she sighed, the sound carrying across the construction site.
And then, realising she had been discovered, she squeaked and disappeared again.
"Is that…" Lucy appeared beside me, looking at where the girl had been, "…is that normal?"
"For Fairy Tail? Probably." I shrugged. "At least she's not trying to kill us. It's an improvement on the last time we saw her."
"She follows me everywhere!" Gray seemed genuinely perturbed. "To the market. To my house. To the public lavatory!"
"The lavatory?" Natsu grimaced. "That's weird even by our standards."
"I KNOW!"
"Gray-sama is so handsome when he's frustrated," a dreamy voice echoed from somewhere to our left.
We all turned. Juvia was now hiding behind a different beam, only half her face visible, her eyes still fixed on Gray as if he were the only thing in the universe that mattered.
"HOW DID YOU GET THERE SO FAST?!"
"Juvia has her methods," she replied mysteriously, before disappearing into a puddle of water that formed on the ground.
There was a moment of collective silence.
"Okay," I said finally. "That was impressive and terrifying in equal parts."
"She's from Phantom Lord, isn't she?" Erza frowned, her hand instinctively going to her sword. "Should we be worried?"
"She doesn't seem hostile," Lucy offered hesitantly. "Just… intensely in love?"
"Intensely insane, you mean," Gray muttered, looking around paranoidly. "She could be anywhere. In any puddle. In any glass of water. I CAN'T EVEN HAVE A BATH IN PEACE!"
"Technically, you don't need water to have a bath," Natsu pointed out. "You're an ice mage. Just rub yourself with snow or something."
"That's not the point!"
[Her obsession with Gray Fullbuster appears genuine and intense,] Eos analysed. [Behaviour consistent with what humans call "love at first sight," although "manic fixation with stalking tendencies" would be a more clinically accurate term.]
(She'll get tired of it eventually. Or he'll give in. Or she'll literally merge with him in liquid form. Any of those scenarios seems equally likely at this point.)
[You are surprisingly calm about having an ex-enemy stalking a member of your guild.]
(She's in love, not hostile. It's different. And honestly? After everything that's happened this week, a romantic stalker is almost… refreshing.)
"Juvia will wait for Gray-sama!" The voice echoed from somewhere undefined. "Juvia will wait forever!"
"PLEASE DON'T!"
It was almost… normal. Almost as if the last few days hadn't happened.
Almost.
"Hey, Azra'il."
I turned towards Lucy, who looked somewhat hesitant, as if approaching a wild animal that might or might not bite. Her hands were clasped in front of her body, her fingers fidgeting nervously.
"Blondie," I greeted, keeping my voice neutral.
"I just wanted to… I wanted to thank you. Again. For what you did." She swallowed hard, her eyes unable to meet mine for more than a second at a time. "For rescuing me. For protecting the guild. For everything."
"You've already thanked me. Three times. In three days."
"I know, but…" She bit her lip, and I could see the guilt radiating from her like heat from a fire. "If my father hadn't hired Phantom Lord, none of this would have happened. The Master wouldn't have been hurt. The guild wouldn't have been destroyed. You wouldn't be in trouble with the Council. It's all my—"
"Stop."
The word came out sharper than I intended, and Lucy flinched visibly. I sighed, forcing my voice to soften a little. Just a little.
"Listen, blondie. If you apologise one more time, I will use your head as a hammer to nail these planks. And considering I've just been summoned by the Council for tearing off the last head I used as a tool, that would be counter-productive for everyone."
Lucy blinked, apparently unsure whether she should laugh or run.
"José made his choices," I continued, going back to picking up another beam because Erza was giving me that look that said "work or suffer the consequences." "Your father made his choices. You didn't ask to be kidnapped. You didn't ask to be born rich. And you definitely didn't ask to be used as a pawn in a power game between guilds."
I heaved the beam onto my shoulder, looking at her directly.
"The only person responsible for José's head being separated from his body is me. And I don't regret it. Understood?"
Lucy was silent for a moment, processing. Then, slowly, a small smile trembled on her lips.
"That was… strangely comforting? In a slightly terrifying way?"
"It's the best I offer. Take it and move on."
She nodded, looking genuinely lighter. "Thank you, Azra'il. Really."
"You just thanked me again."
"Oh. Sorry."
"And you apologised."
"Sor— I'll stop now."
"Good choice."
She walked away, still smiling in that nervous but relieved way, and I went back to the tedious work of carrying building materials like a common pack mule.
[Successful social interaction,] Eos commented. [You managed to comfort a human being without threatening them with death more than once. Remarkable progress.]
(I threatened to use her head as a hammer.)
[Yes, but you didn't specify that you would tear her head off first. That shows restraint.]
(Your standards for "progress" are disturbing, Eos.)
[I calibrate my expectations based on historical data. Your historical data is… unique.]
The rest of the morning passed in a haze of manual labour, arguments, and the constant presence of Council soldiers noting our every move. Gray's aquatic stalker continued to appear and disappear in random places, once inside a bucket, another time in a puddle formed by the previous night's rain, causing small scares every time someone noticed her.
It was almost comical enough to make me forget that half the guild was still looking at me as if I might explode at any moment.
Almost.
"Hey."
Mirajane appeared beside me, casual, while I pretended to examine a pile of bricks that needed no examination.
"She-Devil," I greeted with a smile.
"White Wolf." She leaned against the pile of bricks, arms crossed, that teasing smile on her lips. "So. Tearing off the heads of Wizard Saints. That's new."
"It's not that new. I've torn off other heads before. José was just the most famous one."
"Hmm." She studied me with those blue eyes that saw more than most. "Half the guild is afraid of you now, you know?"
"I've noticed. It's hard not to when people stop talking every time I get close… Well, what about the other half?"
"The other half?" Mira smiled, and there was something genuine there beneath the usual teasing. "The other half understands. Or at least they try."
I raised an eyebrow. "Are you including yourself in that half?"
"I'm including myself in the select group of people who know you're frightening, but who also know that you're only frightening with people who deserve it." She tilted her head. "José deserved it."
"Careful, demon. That almost sounded like approval."
"Maybe it is." She shrugged, unconcerned. "I've done things that frighten me when I remember them. Things to protect Elfman and Lisanna. Things that most people here don't know about."
I looked at her with a renewed interest. "What kind of things?"
"The kind that leave marks." Her smile didn't waver, but there was something darker behind it now. "When someone threatens my family, I don't think twice. I just… act. And deal with the consequences later."
"That's surprisingly honest coming from you."
"I have my moments." She straightened up, cracking her back. "What I'm saying is: I understand. I'm not going to pretend I know exactly everything that happened inside that fortress, but I know you did what you did for the guild. For your family."
We were silent for a moment. It was strange, having someone besides Erza look at me without fear or judgement.
"If you need someone to hold your bag while you tear off the next head," Mira said casually, "let me know. I'll bring popcorn."
"I don't use a bag."
"It's an expression, you literalist."
"I know. I just like to annoy you."
She laughed, a genuine sound that drew a few curious glances. "You're terrible."
"I know. It's part of my charm."
"Charm is a strong word."
"And yet, here you are, talking to me voluntarily."
"Good point." She started to walk away, but stopped, looking over her shoulder. "Hey, Azra'il?"
"Hmm?"
"Good luck with the Council. Try not to tear off any of their heads, alright? The paperwork would be a nightmare."
"No promises."
"That's the best I'm going to get, isn't it?"
"You know me well."
She waved a hand and walked off, probably to flirt with Lucy or cause trouble somewhere else. I watched her go, thoughtfully.
[Mirajane Strauss demonstrates an unusual understanding of your psychology,] Eos observed. [Is this comforting or disturbing for you?]
(I'm still deciding.)
[Let me know when you reach a conclusion. I would like to update your emotional profile.]
(Of course. More data for your dossier on me.)
[It's a rather extensive dossier at this point. I pride myself on its organisation.]
(Sometimes you're frightening, Eos.)
[Thank you. I do my best.]
The messenger arrived a few hours later.
I saw him before anyone else, a figure in an official Magic Council uniform, marching towards the guild under reconstruction with the stiff posture of someone carrying important news and knowing it.
"Makarov Dreyar!" he announced, his voice carrying over the construction noise. "And Azra'il Weiss!"
The work stopped. All eyes turned to the messenger, then to me, then to Makarov who emerged from somewhere with a resigned expression.
"You are summoned to appear before the Magic Council in Era. Immediately."
"Immediately immediately, or immediately in the bureaucratic sense of 'when it's convenient'?" I asked, because apparently I couldn't keep my mouth shut even when I should.
The messenger looked at me with a mixture of contempt and nervousness that I was beginning to recognise as the standard reaction of Council employees to my existence.
"The next train to Era departs in two hours. You are to be on it."
"Two hours." I looked at Makarov. "Is that enough time for me to finish my interrupted nap?"
"Azra'il," Makarov said, his tone carrying a familiar warning.
"Right, right. Behave. I remember."
Erza appeared beside me as if she had teleported, her expression a mixture of worry and determination.
"I'm going with you."
"The summons is for Makarov Dreyar and Azra'il Weiss only," the messenger said, consulting his official document.
"I don't care about the summons. I—"
"Erza." I placed a hand on her shoulder, interrupting her. "It's alright."
"It's not alright. You're being taken to be judged for protecting the guild. For protecting me. I should—"
"You should stay here and make sure Natsu doesn't set fire to the rest of the construction." I squeezed her shoulder lightly. "I'll be fine. I've got the old man with me."
"Oi," Makarov protested. "Less of the 'old man'."
"The very wise and respectable old man."
"Better."
Erza didn't look convinced, her jaw tense in a way I knew well. It was the expression she made when she wanted to argue but knew she wouldn't win.
"If they try anything…" she began.
"Then I'll deal with it. In the appropriate and non-violent way that civilised people use." I paused. "Probably."
"Azra'il."
"Alright, alright. No heads. I promised the Master." I let go of her shoulder, taking a step back. "Look after the guild while we're away. And don't let Juvia drown Gray with an excess of love."
"JUVIA HEARD HER NAME AND GRAY-SAMA'S NAME IN THE SAME SENTENCE!"
"See? A job for you."
Erza sighed, but there was a trace of a smile on her lips. "Come back in one piece."
"I always do."
"You came back with someone else's head last time."
"Technically, I was in one piece. The head was a bonus."
"Azra'il."
"I know, I know. No bonuses this time."
--------(*)--------
The train to Era was exactly as tedious as I expected.
Makarov and I had a private compartment, courtesy of the Council, apparently, although I suspected it was more to keep us isolated from the other passengers than out of any real generosity. The soldiers accompanying us were in the next compartment, probably noting down every time I breathed suspiciously.
"So," Makarov said, watching the scenery pass by the window, "are you going to be able to control yourself?"
"Define 'control'."
"Not kill anyone. Not threaten to kill anyone. Not describe in graphic detail how you would kill someone if you had the opportunity."
"You're taking away all my entertainment options, old man."
He gave me a look that was part exasperation, part something that could be reluctant affection.
"I'm serious, Azra'il. The Council isn't like Phantom Lord. You can't just… solve problems in your usual way."
"My usual way is efficient."
"Your usual way involves bodily fluids on the floor."
"Only sometimes."
Makarov sighed deeply, massaging his temples. "The Council will provoke you. They will ask difficult questions. They will try to make you lose your composure. It's what they do."
"And I'm supposed to just… take it?"
"You are supposed to answer politely, remain calm, and not give them any reason to imprison or execute you."
"Execute seems a bit extreme."
"You killed one of the Ten Wizard Saints, Azra'il. In the way that you did." He looked at me directly. "For some people on the Council, that is more than enough reason."
I considered his words as the train rattled along the tracks. Outside, the landscape was changing, fields giving way to hills, which would eventually give way to the mountains surrounding Era.
"I'll behave," I said finally. "As much as possible."
"'As much as possible' worries me."
"It's the best I can offer. I've already promised not to kill or swear at anyone. I can't promise to be nice as well. I have my limits."
Makarov studied me for a long moment, his face a mixture of worry and something that could be acceptance.
"Alright," he said finally. "As much as possible. I'll take it."
"Good. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to use the next few hours to meditate."
"You're going to sleep."
"Horizontal meditation with my eyes closed and occasional snoring. It's an ancient technique."
"It's sleep, Azra'il."
"You can't prove that."
I closed my eyes, settling into the train seat, and let the rhythmic noise of the wheels on the tracks lull me.
[Are you really planning to sleep before a trial that could determine your future?] Eos asked.
(It's not a trial. It's a hearing.)
[The distinction seems academic, considering the possible consequences.]
(Eos, if I'm going to spend hours listening to pompous bureaucrats talk about "proper procedure" and "consequences of actions," I need to be rested. Otherwise, I'm going to end up demonstrating consequences of actions to them. Live.)
[…That is a surprisingly valid argument.]
(I have my moments.)
--------(*)--------
Era was exactly as I remembered: grand, pompous, and absolutely convinced of its own importance.
The city rose in the mountains like a monument to bureaucracy, all white marble and imposing towers that seemed to exist mainly to make people feel small. The Magic Council building dominated the centre, a massive structure that screamed "we are very important and you should be impressed."
I was not impressed.
"Stop looking at the building as if you want to set it on fire," Makarov muttered beside me as we climbed the entrance steps.
"I'm not looking at it like that."
"You are looking at it exactly like that."
"Maybe the building deserves to be looked at like that."
"Azra'il."
"Alright, alright. Neutral look. The look of someone who is definitely not assessing weak structural points. That look."
We passed by guards who examined us as if we were criminals, which, technically, was what the Council was trying to determine, and entered the grand hall. More marble. More grandeur. More people in elaborate uniforms walking back and forth with expressions of self-proclaimed importance.
An official guided us through endless corridors until we reached a large double door carved with the Council's symbols.
"The Council is in session," he announced. "You will be called shortly."
"How long is 'shortly'?" I asked.
"As long as the Council deems necessary."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the answer I have to offer."
I looked at Makarov. "Am I allowed to dislike him?"
"You are allowed to dislike him in silence."
"You take all the fun out of everything."
We waited. And we waited. And we waited some more, because apparently making people wait was an intimidation technique the Council found very effective. After what felt like hours but was probably only forty extremely tedious minutes, the doors finally opened.
"Makarov Dreyar and Azra'il Weiss. The Council will see you now."
The Council chamber was circular, with raised chairs arranged in a semicircle so that the councillors could look down on anyone who appeared before them. In the centre, two seats awaited us, the seats of the accused, the interrogated, those who owed explanations.
I sized up the faces above us as I walked to my position. Old, for the most part. Expressions that ranged from severely disapproving to curiously calculating. And then—
My gaze met a familiar face. Blue hair, eyes I knew all too well, a smile that used to be genuine but was now just a mask.
Jellal.
Or "Siegrain," as he was calling himself now. Sitting there as if he had every right to judge anyone, using a pompous title and a false identity.
Our eyes met for a moment. Something passed between us, recognition, tension, the silent promise of future confrontations.
And then I noticed something else. Someone else.
A woman standing just behind Jellal, apparently an assistant. Dark hair that fell in elegant waves over her shoulders, a face of almost perfect beauty, and a posture that exuded confidence and something else… dangerous. The kind of woman who made heads turn when she entered a room and knew it.
But it wasn't her appearance that made me narrow my eyes.
It was the scent.
A floral perfume reached my nostrils, complex and elegant. Notes of night-blooming jasmine, a citrusy touch of bergamot, and a warm base of sandalwood. Sophisticated. The kind of fragrance I had smelt before.
On Galuna Island. On an 'old man' named Zalty who moved too fast and knew too much.
[Olfactory match identified,] Eos confirmed. [The aromatic signature is 94.7% consistent with the individual you encountered on Galuna Island.]
(So I was right. Zalty was a woman in disguise.)
[Apparently so. And now she's here, working directly with Siegrain/Jellal.]
(Interesting. Very interesting.)
The woman noticed my gaze and her body became almost imperceptibly tenser. Her dark eyes assessed me with a calculated coldness, but there was something else there, irritation, perhaps. The ghost of an unforgotten humiliation.
Ah. So she remembers me too.
She remembers how I had undone her magic on Galuna Island. How I had mocked her ridiculous disguise as she fled. How I had said, in that drawling tone I knew irritated people, that from her expensive perfume she must be a very beautiful woman under that old man's mask.
I was right, as always. She was beautiful. Irritatingly beautiful.
And from the look she was giving me now, she had not appreciated my observations on that occasion.
I let a slow smile form on my lips. The kind of smile that said, "I remember you, and I know what you are."
She looked away first.
Point to me.
[Do you intend to mention this recognition during the hearing?]
(No. Not yet. Information is power, Eos. And I prefer to keep my cards close to my chest until the right moment.)
[Solid strategy. I am impressed.]
(Don't be too impressed. I could still ruin everything in the next five minutes.)
"Makarov Dreyar. Azra'il Weiss." One of the older councillors, probably the chairman, spoke, his voice echoing in the circular room. "You are here to answer questions regarding the events that took place at the Phantom Lord fortress. How the actions of the Fairy Tail guild and, specifically, the actions of Miss Weiss resulted in the death of José Porla, one of the Ten Wizard Saints."
"Technically," I said before Makarov could stop me, "José Porla's actions resulted in the death of José Porla. I was merely the instrument of implementation."
The silence that followed was almost palpable.
Makarov closed his eyes in an expression of silent pain.
The chairman councillor stared at me. "Miss, you consider killing one of the most powerful mages in the kingdom to be… an implementation?"
"I consider that attacking a guild, kidnapping its members, nearly killing its Master, and threatening to destroy an entire city with a war cannon are actions that have consequences. José Porla found out what those consequences were." I tilted my head. "In the most educational way possible."
More silence.
"Educational," another councillor repeated, his voice laden with disbelief.
"Well, he certainly learned a lesson. Unfortunately, he didn't survive long enough to apply it, but that's a detail."
"Azra'il," Makarov muttered beside me.
"What? They asked."
Before the situation could escalate, another councillor, a stern-looking man with a thick folder of documents, cleared his throat.
"Perhaps we should proceed in a more… structured manner." He opened the folder, flicking through pages. "We have here the complete file on Miss Azra'il Weiss. S-Class Mage of Fairy Tail."
Ah. The file. This promised to be fun.
"Curiously," the councillor continued, his eyes scanning the pages, "Miss Weiss is the Fairy Tail mage with the fewest complaints of public property destruction."
Some councillors seemed surprised by this. I didn't blame them; Fairy Tail's reputation in terms of destruction was legendary.
"Which, considering Fairy Tail's reputation, is… remarkable," he admitted reluctantly.
"What can I say? I have good aim." I shrugged. "When I destroy something, I destroy only what I intend to destroy. No unnecessary collateral damage."
"However," the councillor continued, his voice taking on a graver tone, "the few complaints that do exist about the young lady are… disturbing."
"Disturbing how?"
He looked at me over the documents. "Excessive brutality. Disproportionate use of force. In missions involving bandits and hostile creatures, the survival rate of the targets is…" he checked the number, "…zero."
"Zero?"
"Zero, Miss Weiss. In fifteen documented missions involving direct confrontation, no opponent has survived."
"Ah." I considered this. "Well, in my defence, they were bandits and monsters. It's not like they were productive members of society."
"Some were human."
"Human bandits. Who were actively trying to kill me. Or kill innocents. Or both." I crossed my arms. "I don't start confrontations, Councillor. I just end them. Definitively."
"Definitively," he repeated, his tone dry. "That seems to be a trend."
"It's more efficient than leaving enemies alive to try for revenge later. You should try it sometime. It would significantly reduce the paperwork for criminal reoccurrences."
Another councillor intervened before the first could reply:
"It is also notable that, despite being an S-Class mage, the young lady rarely accepts missions of that level."
"And?"
"And that raises questions about your… motivations. Most S-Class mages seek challenges compatible with their abilities. You seem to actively avoid them."
"I don't avoid them. I simply…" I searched for the right word, "…prioritise my time differently."
"The records indicate that you need to be, and I quote, 'physically dragged on missions by Miss Erza Scarlet'."
I heard someone, probably Siegrain, stifle something that could have been a laugh.
"Dragged is a strong word," I said, keeping my expression neutral. "Erza is… persuasive. And occasionally uses physical force to express that persuasion. But I wouldn't say I'm dragged."
"The reports say otherwise."
"The reports are written by people who clearly do not understand the difference between 'dragging' and 'vigorous escort'."
[That was technically a lie,] Eos observed. [Erza literally drags you through the guild corridors at times.]
(Details, Eos. Details.)
The councillor with the file flicked through a few more pages, his expression growing more serious.
"This brings us to the main issue. Your actual power level, Miss Weiss. Until the Phantom Lord events, there was little concrete information on your capabilities. Now…" he paused significantly, "…we know that you are capable of defeating, and executing, one of the Ten Wizard Saints."
"José Porla was already injured when the fight took place," I said, being technically honest. "I encountered him before, when I rescued one of our mages. Let's just say… I left a lasting impression on him on that occasion."
"A lasting impression?"
"The kind that breaks ribs and impairs respiratory capacity." I shrugged. "Details."
The councillor stared at me for a moment, clearly trying to decide if I was being arrogant or just honest.
"Still. The manner in which you defeated him indicates a power level significantly above what your records suggest."
"Perhaps my records are outdated."
"Or perhaps you have deliberately hidden your true capabilities."
I met his eyes without flinching. "Or perhaps I simply don't like to draw unnecessary attention. Not everyone needs to announce their power to the world. Some of us prefer… discretion."
"Discretion that ends in public decapitations?"
"Everyone has bad days."
The tension in the room was almost palpable. The councillors exchanged glances, clearly torn between irritation at my attitude and genuine concern about what I represented.
And then, Siegrain spoke.
"Miss Weiss." His voice was soft, controlled, full of that false sweetness I knew so well. "I must admit, I am fascinated by your record. A mage with so much potential, hidden in the shadows of Fairy Tail for years…"
"Councillor Siegrain," I greeted, letting a lazy smile form. "What an honour to be noticed by someone so… distinguished. You have one of those faces, you know? The kind that seems… familiar."
A flash of caution passed through his eyes, so fast that most wouldn't have noticed. I noticed.
"Familiar how?"
"As if I've seen someone very similar before. Blue hair, intense eyes, a special talent for… how can I put it… inspiring people to do things they wouldn't normally do."
The air between us grew heavy. The other councillors seemed confused by the direction of the conversation.
"You have a vivid imagination," Siegrain said, the smile still in place but a little more forced now.
"I have an excellent memory." I propped my chin on my hand, studying him with feigned disinterest. "It's funny how some people change so much over time. As if something gets into their head and rewrites everything they were. Tragic, don't you think?"
"We all change with time. It's human nature."
"Hmm. Some more than others." I examined my nails casually. "Some people change so much they become completely unrecognisable. They abandon who they were, who they loved, all in the name of… what? Power? Obsession?"
I let the words hang in the air for a moment before continuing.
"I knew someone like that once. When I was a child. A boy who was the best of us. The bravest. The most hopeful." My voice softened, almost nostalgic. "He made people believe that everything would be alright, even when we were surrounded by darkness."
Siegrain was very quiet now. His assistant, the woman with the perfume, was watching me with renewed attention.
"And then, one day, he changed. Something broke inside him. Or maybe something got in." I shrugged. "I never found out which. But the boy I knew disappeared. And in his place was… something else."
"An interesting story," Siegrain said, his voice carefully neutral. "But I fail to see its relevance to this hearing."
"Relevance? None." I smiled, showing too many teeth. "Just philosophy. You commented on my record, and I got to thinking about people I've known in the past. Lost connections. Old betrayals."
The word "betrayals" hit its mark. I saw his jaw clench almost imperceptibly.
"You seem to have many… opinions about the past."
"I have many opinions about many things. About the past. About the present." I tilted my head. "About people who hurt those I care about and then pretend that nothing happened."
Our eyes met again. Behind the masks of civility, a silent war.
"Especially," I continued, lowering my voice so that only he could hear clearly, "when those people have the audacity to sit in positions of power and judge others. While their own sins remain hidden. For now."
The 'for now' hung in the air like a threat.
"You are very bold," he said finally, the political smile completely gone.
"You are very patient," I replied in the same tone. "I can wait for years. Decades. Until the right moment."
"The right moment for what?"
"Ah, that depends." I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms. "On how well certain people behave. On whether they leave the past in the past. On whether they have the wisdom not to repeat old mistakes with people I care about."
Siegrain's assistant, Zalty, or whatever her real name was, was looking at me with an expression I could only describe as intrigued. As if I were a puzzle she wanted to solve.
Let her try.
"Councillor Siegrain," Makarov intervened, finally breaking the tension, "perhaps we can return to the matter at hand? We are here to discuss the events of Phantom Lord, not to philosophise about the past."
"Of course, of course." Siegrain recomposed himself with impressive speed, the political smile back in place. "Forgive me. Miss Weiss has a… fascinating way of conversing. It's easy to get distracted."
"I have that effect on people," I said innocently. "It must be my natural charm."
"It must be," he agreed, but his eyes said something completely different.
'I know what you are,' those eyes said. 'And you are a threat.'
(Good,) mine replied. (May you lose sleep over it.)
The interrogation continued for another hour. Questions about the battle, about my actions, about my power level. I answered most of them with technical honesty, partial truths wrapped in a sarcasm that clearly irritated some of the councillors.
Makarov did his part, defending me eloquently:
"José Porla attacked my guild without provocation. He kidnapped one of my mages. He attacked me and nearly killed me. He threatened to destroy an entire city of innocent civilians with a war cannon."
His voice echoed in the circular room.
"Miss Weiss acted to protect her family and her city. Yes, her methods were extreme. But the threat was also extreme. I ask the honourable councillors: if José had managed to fire that cannon, how many children would have died? How many families would have been destroyed?"
He let the question hang.
"Miss Weiss prevented a massacre. And you want to punish her for that?"
The deliberation was shorter than I expected. The councillors gathered, whispering amongst themselves, occasionally casting glances in my direction. Siegrain participated in the discussion with a neutral expression, though I could see the tension in his shoulders.
Finally, the chairman of the Council stood up.
"After deliberation, the Council has decided the following."
The room fell silent.
"Considering the evidence presented, including the testimonies of members of Phantom Lord, civilian survivors from Magnolia, and the official records of the events, the Council recognises that the Fairy Tail guild acted in self-defence against an attack by the Phantom Lord guild."
He adjusted his glasses, consulting his notes before continuing.
"As for the specific actions of Miss Azra'il Weiss…" he looked at me directly, "…the Council recognises that, although extreme, they were carried out in the context of defending innocent lives and protecting guildmates."
He cleared his throat, exchanging a significant look with the other councillors before proceeding.
"However, the brutality demonstrated, as well as the potential power revealed, are causes for concern. Therefore, Miss Azra'il Weiss is officially placed under the observation of the Magic Council. Any future incident involving excessive use of force or questionable conduct will be treated with the utmost severity."
He brought the gavel down, because apparently gavels were necessary to add drama to bureaucratic decisions.
"This hearing is adjourned."
We left the Council building in the afternoon sun, and I finally let my shoulders relax a little.
"That was…" Makarov began.
"Tedious? Irritating? A colossal waste of time that could have been summarised in a memo?"
"I was going to say 'better than expected', but your options work too."
We walked towards the train station, the Council soldiers finally leaving us in peace, at least for now.
"You almost ruined everything with that conversation with Siegrain," Makarov said after a moment.
"I was just being philosophical."
"You were provoking a member of the Council in a way that clearly had personal meaning."
"Perhaps."
He looked at me sideways. "You know him. Really."
It wasn't a question.
"Yes."
"From where?"
I considered the question. The old man deserved the truth, at least part of it.
"From the same place where Erza and I came from," I said finally. "He was… different, back then. Before he became what he is now."
Makarov was silent for a long moment, absorbing the information.
"The Tower of Heaven," he said quietly. It wasn't a question.
"Yes."
"Does Erza know he's on the Council?"
"She knows. They've met before." My jaw tightened. "She avoids talking about it. Pretends it doesn't affect her. But I see how she gets when his name is mentioned."
"And you? What do you intend to do?"
"For now? Nothing." I looked out the window, watching the platform approach. "But if he tries anything with her… if he dares to hurt her again…"
I didn't need to finish the sentence.
"I understand," Makarov said softly.
"I know you do, old man."
We arrived at the station. The train to Magnolia was already on the platform, steam rising from its engine.
"That woman," I said suddenly, as we waited to board. "Siegrain's assistant."
"What about her?"
"I've seen her before. With a different appearance."
Makarov raised an eyebrow. "A different appearance?"
"On Galuna Island. There was a man named Zalty. Except he wasn't a man." I wrinkled my nose slightly. "The perfume was the same. Night-blooming jasmine, bergamot, and sandalwood. Hard to mistake."
"You recognised someone by their perfume?"
"I have a good sense of smell."
Makarov studied me for a moment. "Do you think she and Siegrain are working together?"
"I think there are more pieces on this board than we can see." I got on the train, Makarov following me. "And I think that, sooner or later, they will all make a move."
We found our compartment and settled in for the long journey back. The train began to move, leaving Era behind.
I watched the city shrink through the window, the Council building becoming just another speck on the horizon.
[You are thoughtful,] Eos observed.
(I am always thoughtful.)
[Not in this way. Your brain activity indicates long-term strategic processing. You are planning something.]
(I am just… organising information. Jellal on the Council. That woman working with him. The Tower of Heaven still existing and being built. Erza in the middle of it all, even without knowing.)
[Many variables.]
(Many pieces. And I still can't see the whole board.)
The sun began to set as the train crossed the mountains. Shades of orange and red painted the sky, creating a beautiful contrast with the approaching darkness.
I thought of Erza. Of Jellal. Of the boy he had been and the monster he had become. I thought of the woman with the expensive perfume who wore faces like masks. I thought of all the things I hadn't told anyone, about the Tower, about the past, about the shadows that still moved in the corners of my vision.
And I thought of promises. The ones I had made. The ones I intended to keep.
(If he tries to hurt Erza again,) I thought, watching the stars begin to appear in the darkening sky, (I will make what I did to José seem like mercy.)
It wasn't a threat. It was a promise.
And I was very, very good at keeping promises.
[Azra'il?]
(Yes, Eos?)
[You are smiling. It is a disturbing smile.]
(Is it?)
[The kind of smile that usually precedes significant violence.]
(Hmm. I think I'm just… anticipating the future.)
[Should I be concerned?]
(No. Not yet. But when the time comes…)
I left the thought unfinished, closing my eyes as the train took me back home. Back to Erza. Back to Fairy Tail.
Back to the only family that mattered.
And may the gods help anyone who tried to take them from me.