Eleanor entered Infinium at half past one in the afternoon, the method of entry still as jarring as all of the previous five entries.
When do I get my wings… Then I could just fly over this wall!
Sighing and touching her temples, she allowed the rush of dizziness and confusion, each amplified by her emblem, to run its course.
It lasted less than a minute, and she soon collected herself, the familiar scent of flowers wafting through her nose.
Unlike the first time she had arrived in the courtyard, she had a rough map of all essential areas of the castle and, specifically, the path to Marcus Twynam's common meeting spot.
Does he ever stop with the drinks?
Moving down the stone path, she could tell it was a slow day in Infinium, with very few souls wandering in the park space.
"Is there some kind of event I'm unaware of…?"
Looking up into the sky for any indication whether she might have been right, she found nothing of substance, so the only thing she could do was to continue on her way.
Quickly passing through the halls, she arrived at the packed tavern in record time, her lean form phasing through the endless crowds and towards the booth they had agreed to meet at.
Pushing past a dog-human hybrid, she heard the brown-haired drunkard before she saw him, his booming voice echoing through the chamber.
"I'm telling you the truth! Even the damn coin says it is correct, yet you still don't believe it?"
Eleanor furrowed her brow, confused at who the man was yelling at before hearing the response.
"I don't care about your magical Draught or whatever it's called! That man is a myth, and even if he wasn't, he wouldn't be here anymore!"
She arrived at the edge of their booth as Norman Reed finished his declaration, and both speakers looked up at her, startled.
Marcus spoke first with a weak smile.
"You've learned your way around better than I did when I got here."
She chuckled, taking a seat beside the former chairman of the Oceanic Association and picking up the drink that they had ordered for her.
"Mr. Reed always changes his room whenever I come, so it is necessary to memorize anything I can. Otherwise, I'll be a fox lost in its own hole."
The King of Dreams scoffed at her words.
"A fox, eh? If you're a fox, then I'd be a wolf. They love their games with each other, but everyone knows a wolf is the superior!"
Rebuking with his own friendly banter, there was a short pause as the blonde-haired girl took a large swig of her drink, the loud music nearly covering her response.
"There's a reason why wolves have been extinct for nearly two decades and why foxes still exist, my lord. One was intelligent and adapted to their changing environments, while the other was as dumb as…"
She paused.
"A rock."
The purple-haired King's lip quivered, his back reclining against the booth, and his eyes closing shut.
Taking the opportunity of the man's prolonged silence, Marcus, as serious as always, began to speak.
"You want a beer? I always let my sons drink venom when they were your age, so why not become a true corrupt priestess, not simply a corrupted one?"
Laughing while he held up his mug, he received a deflated reaction from the girl, who rubbed her forehead.
"The Lord still treats me as one of his own, even with that old wrench's corruption. You, on the other hand, are likely blacklisted from every tavern and cathedral in our homeland."
Across the table, Reed mustered a chuckle before falling silent again, making Marcus's lip quiver for a change.
"It seems that Norman and I have corrupted your vocabulary more than I originally believed. The ladies of the Angelic Order mustn't like all that sass…"
Muttering something else under his breath, he focused his gaze on the man across from him.
"Norman. Don't you have something to tell our friend?"
There was a pause as the purple-haired man remained frozen in place, unmoving and quiet.
"Norman."
Marcus spoke again, this time with a hint of annoyance.
The man across from the two groaned and sat up as slowly as he could.
"Marcus here thinks he has a lead on that mission you assigned us. Personally, I think it's a bunch of crap, but he seems adamant."
Gesturing to the Draught still sitting in the middle of the table, he once more reclined in his seat; however, this time, he didn't shut his eyes.
A lead? So quick?
Turning to the brown-haired man, she didn't have time to say a single word before he interrupted her thoughts.
"There exists a man who goes by Nautilus, and might know the name or identity of the soul that you are looking for. Furthermore, as the one that the former Library of Nautilus was named after, his own historical intellect is nothing short of extraordinary."
Eleanor's brow curled inward, a memory prickling at the edges, only to be hidden by her subconscious.
"How did you come by this information? You speak as if you've never met this Nautilus person before."
He nodded, his own expression regretful as he spoke calmly.
"It was my own eavesdropping that garnered me this knowledge. In my drunken state, I fell asleep behind a sack of fresh flour, the softness of the bags acting as a quite soft pillow… When I awoke, I could hear two Angels discussing a private affair in the open."
There was a look of longing behind his words that the girl could tell was real, the memory of him becoming so drunk that he could fall asleep behind a flour bag, apparently a fond one for the former chairman.
"They spoke of this so-called Nautilus man who lives in the wastelands outside the city in a shack of his own creation. He is knowledgeable about all important arrivals and departures, so he will almost certainly know of the situation we are curious about."
Norman huffed, still displeased at the man's words.
"I told you. If he really existed and weren't simply a myth, they would've sought to employ him long ago. Why would Death leave an asset like him to rot in the wastes?"
It was a good point that Eleanor had to agree with; however, something within her told her otherwise, prompting her to doubt the doubts she had heard.
Twynam replied to the former King with a remark of his own, interrupting the blonde child's thoughts yet again.
"I believe that he has a particular disdain for the divine in general, a fact that we must consider if we try to approach him."
The King of Dreams frowned as he reached out and grabbed the base of his own drink that had been left largely untouched.
"Another heretic, eh? He wouldn't happen to be a member of the Architects, would he?"
Marcus sighed and shook his head at the question.
"Not at all."
His denial spurred a laugh from the throat of his friend, who had just finished drinking his entire glass in the short period between responses.
"So we're going for advice from someone younger than half the Angels here? If he isn't an Architect, there isn't much point in even asking about these things."
Pleased with his criticism of Twynam's foolish plan, the Sea King left his cocky smile intact, staring as the brown-haired man prepared to counter.
Eleanor, who had been watching passively, felt something stir within her chest, an individual matching the descriptions that had been given coming forth in her mind.
"Mr. Twynam…"
He turned to face her while the purple-haired man also focused his gaze on her.
"This Nautilus man… He wouldn't happen to be someone with blond hair and turquoise eyes, would he?"
The former chairman froze, pursing his lips as he did so.
"I'm uncertain about the specifics; however, if you are suggesting that you are already acquainted with this gentleman, then this could be quite advantageous for your mission."
In only a short exchange, the tides of the conversation had changed, Norman's smug expression falling flat as he was robbed of his momentary victory.
Grumbling something so quietly under his breath that two of the three table members missed it, he gradually stood up.
"You're leaving?"
The corners of Eleanor's lips turned downward in concern.
Marcus followed her gaze with a frown of his own, though a glimmer of hope emerged beneath even his somber expression.
Now standing, the former Sea King sighed deeply and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"Come on. I'll prove that this is all a bunch of wavewash even if I have to leave this damned castle."
Closing his eyes, he turned away, walking off into the endless crowd of drunkards who gathered around the other high-ranking souls inhabiting the bar.
Now alone in the booth with Twynam, the blonde girl faced him again, surprised.
"H-he agreed so easily…"
The brown-haired man chuckled, his own body moving upward as he spoke.
"He might've been called The Hunter as a Sea King, but long before he ever gained that title, he held the position of Guard Commander in the Oceanic Association. There, he received another name, one more fitting for his personality."
Grinning with his teeth on full display, the man holding his mug of beer whispered just for her ears.
"The Argumentalist."