Had this man no respect for his higher up? If King Bradley had been here, surely, the oaf would’ve snapped to attention much sooner, and wouldn’t have had such an attitude. He’d be apologizing for his current actions and words, instead of holding the weary glare that he did now while keeping up with his threats. Was it simply because he was a child? Or was his homunculus self enough to make him this aggressive? They weren’t that harmful, were they?
“You should have more trust and respect for me, Major. Whether you had known who I truly was or not from the start of this meeting, I would have shared my clues with you.” .. Wait a moment. Was this admitting that he intended on leaning on them?
No, not leaning. Using. Then, shouldn’t Armstrong be punished for speaking? Had he kept quiet and let the child carry on with his facade, Selim would’ve given the clues without hesitance. Did Armstrong and this woman deserve to know what his thoughts were after such a foolish mistake?
… Yes, they did. Pride knew that this riddle could not be solved on its own, no matter how bitter his feelings were towards working with such creatures. He had entered this conversation with the very intention of working together with them, even if he had denied it up until now.
“…. In spite of barriers, a pact must be made if you wish to claim your prize.”
“That means you must work together with others despite your differences, correct? I don’t think of you humans any greater than I have before, but if it’s entirely necessary to help you in order to get my shadows back, then I’ll do what I have to. Don’t think of it as anything special, since as it would seem, we could never get along, Major Armstrong.” The two certainly had inflated egos too large to deflate until there was room for both. He couldn’t say the same for the lady, but he’d imagine her first impression of him was far off from “friendly”.
“I’ll trust you, only because you know that if you’re lying you will end up in pieces.” His mind raced to remember what he had come up with through the riddles he’s heard about as he traveled through the storm. “One spoke of an impure building, one which was protected by a group of people who work for a single boss. Another spoke of dethroning such a high power, and another spoke of the group’s background; something about speaking with no words. It doesn’t make sense separated like this, but maybe there’s a way to piece it together…?”
A mental diagram appeared in his head, black hues trained on the floor as if picturing it there, with clues connecting with others in order to form a little more sense. “We can even go back to the barriers. If someone were protesting, or fighting for something- in this case it sounds like fighting for their boss- then they would protect that impure building with everything. Perhaps it means there’s another set of people with a different boss, and if the two are at war, a pact….”
No, this still wasn’t making sense. A few fingers raised to press against the temple of his forehead in obvious concentration. “If we’re the ones after the detonator inside that building, then shouldn’t we be making the pact with them? But which building could it be?”