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HFfC: CH 11: Silent Night
🕑 Added 2025-07-25 14:58:38 +0000 UTCAs Erwin walked through the bustling city streets, his journey to the Royal Library was a fundamentally different experience from Soma's. Where Soma had been overwhelmed by the novelty, Erwin was a cold, calculating engine of observation.
His mind, a fusion of two powerful analytical frameworks, processed the city on multiple levels. The Commander in him saw the strategic layout: the narrow streets that could become deadly chokepoints, the sturdy architecture of the bank that could serve as a defensible position, the open plazas that were kill-zones with no cover. He mentally mapped evacuation routes, supply lines, and sniper perches, a silent, instinctual preparation for a disaster that had not yet occurred.
Simultaneously, the Detective in him saw the people. The Conan Edogawa card had sharpened his perception to a razor's edge. He could see the subtle tells of everyday life: the way a merchant's eyes darted nervously suggested he was hiding untaxed goods; the worn-down heels of a Watchman's boots spoke of long, thankless patrols on the city's outer edge; the slight tremor in a noblewoman's hand as she clutched her purse revealed a deep-seated fear of the common crowd. Every person was a story, and he could read the first chapter in a single glance.
As he walked, his senses, now unnaturally keen, registered something else. A strange feeling in the sky above. It wasn't a sound or a shape, just a subtle, dissonant pressure, a feeling of being watched by something vast and impossibly distant. He scanned the blue expanse but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Erwin mentally cataloged the feeling, filed it away under "unexplained phenomena," and returned his focus to the mission at hand.
He needed to understand the source of this world's hatred for demons. If his analysis of human history was correct, the current narrative was almost certainly a fabrication. The victors of a war do not preserve the noble history of the vanquished; they erase it, alter it, and paint their enemies as monsters to justify their own actions. He just hoped they hadn't been so thorough that nothing was left to find.
Nearing the grand plaza of the library, Erwin ducked into a deserted side alley. He checked both ends to ensure he was alone, then activated the change. His tall, commanding form dissolved into a swirling vortex of blood, which then rapidly coalesced and reformed into the small, unassuming body of a seven-year-old child.
Now as Conan Edogawa, he walked out of the alley. The acting traits of the card settled over him like a second skin. He approached the Royal Library's massive front desk, his steps full of childish energy. He had to stand on his tiptoes to see over the tall marble counter.
"Excuse me, ma'am?" he said, his voice pitched perfectly to sound innocent and bright. "Can you help me find some books?"
The librarian, a kindly-looking woman with spectacles perched on her nose, leaned over the counter with a warm smile. "Ah, of course, little one. What kind of books do you need? We just got a new volume on the history of magitech golems. It has many wonderful pictures, and all the boys your age seem to love it."
Erwin shook his head, his expression one of pure, earnest innocence. "No, thank you. I got a school assignment, you see," he explained. "My teacher said to write about something unique. All my classmates are doing golems or famous knights, but I want to write about... demon history."
The librarian's warm smile faltered. She looked taken aback, a flicker of distaste crossing her features. "Oh, dear," she said, her voice taking on a patronizing tone. "You shouldn't be curious about those filthy kinds. They are a brutish, violent race. Most of them can't even read, you know."
Erwin looked up at her, his big glasses making his eyes seem even wider and more sincere. "Please? I just know if I write about something no one else picks, my teacher will give me the highest grade! I want to do a really good job."
The librarian sighed, torn between her prejudice and her professional duty. "Alright, boy," she said, unable to refuse the face of such scholarly enthusiasm. "As a keeper of knowledge, I cannot turn down a quest for it, no matter how... misguided." She beckoned for him to follow. "Come along. I will lead you to the section."
Erwin followed the kindly librarian as she led him deeper and deeper into the colossal library. They passed towering shelves that stretched up into the gloom, past sections dedicated to magical theory, ancient lineages, and the complete histories of the Great Houses—each section larger than an entire bookstore from his old world. The air grew cooler here, the scent of old paper more pronounced. It was clear they were heading toward the back, to the less-trafficked archives.
The librarian chuckled, looking down at the small child trying to keep pace with her long strides. "Are you okay walking this far, little one? It's quite a ways."
"I'm a strong boy, ma'am!" Erwin chirped, his voice full of a practiced, childish bravado that made the librarian smile.
She patted his head, a gesture that made Erwin's internal commander want to snap her wrist. She stopped before a small, dusty nook tucked away behind a towering shelf of agricultural records. She pointed to a single, short row of books crammed into the corner.
"Here we are," she said with a sigh. "Like I said, those Tainted-kind were not an intelligent race. This is all the literature we have on them, and most of it was written by our own scholars. A sad, brutish history." She gave him a pitying look. "Come back if you change your mind. I have a few suggestions on other topics that would be much more suitable for a bright young man like yourself."
Erwin put a small hand on his chest in a gesture of sincere gratitude, a perfect imitation of a polite child. "Thank you so much for your help, ma'am."
"What a polite kid," the librarian murmured to herself as she turned and left him alone in the dusty corner.
The moment she was out of earshot, Erwin's innocent expression vanished, replaced by a cold fury. 'Fucking bitch,' he thought, his mind seething. 'How dare she pat my head.' For a split second, a vivid, strategic image flashed through his mind: a full-scale military assault on the library, his troops securing every text before razing the prejudiced institution to the ground. He blinked. 'Oh shit, that's a bit extreme.' He reined in the commander's instincts. 'Whatever. Let's see what we have to work with.'
He turned his attention to the "demon section." It was pathetic. There were maybe fifty or sixty books in total. In the context of the Royal Library, which must have held millions of volumes, this wasn't just a small collection; it was a deliberate, insulting erasure. He scanned the titles: The Infernal Lineages: A Study in Tainted Blood, An Imperial Scholar's Treatise on the Demon Wars, Bestial Tongues and Crude Rituals. It was all just as he'd predicted: history written by the conquerors.
Erwin sighed, a quiet, weary sound in the dusty silence. He pulled out the most neutral-looking title he could find. "Let's see this, shall we?"
…
Meanwhile, back at Café LeBlanc, the atmosphere was considerably more cheerful.
Zero and Soma clapped their hands enthusiastically as Sebas concluded his demonstration. With a kettle in one hand, he had stood at the far end of the loft's living room and poured a perfect, unwavering stream of steaming hot tea into a tiny porcelain cup resting on the dining table on the other side of the room. The long, graceful arc of liquid landed dead center without spilling a single drop.
"Wooooo! Sebas, you're the best butler!" Soma whistled, thoroughly impressed. "With a skill like that, you could pour tea for customers from a fifth-floor window with ease!"
"Let's goooo, battle butler babyyy!" Zero added, pumping his fist.
Sebas, unperturbed by their rowdy praise, simply placed the kettle down and gave a calm, perfect bow from the waist.
Just then, a loud growl echoed in the quiet room. Zero looked down at his stomach, a sheepish look on his face. "Do you guys want to eat?"
Sure enough, a glance out the large windows confirmed their suspicion. The sky was already streaked with the deep orange and purple of sunset. "I guess experimenting with Sebas's skills made us forget the time again," Zero mused.
Soma stretched, already heading for the open kitchen in their living quarters. "Alright, dinner it is."
"I'll handle the drinks," Zero said, heading downstairs to the café floor to use his own station.
While Soma began pulling out ingredients and Zero's footsteps faded down the stairs, Sebas did not move to help either of them. Instead, he walked silently to the large loft window and stood, looking out at the darkening sky. His calm, placid expression shifted. He narrowed his eyes, his gaze fixed on a point high above the city's rooftops, as if trying to resolve an image that was just at the edge of his perception.
Soma, who was chopping vegetables with a rhythmic thump-thump-thump, noticed the butler's strange stillness. "What are you looking at, Sebas?" he asked, pausing his work.
Sebas turned from the window, his serene butler-mask instantly back in place. "Nothing of sort, Young Master Soma," he replied smoothly, his voice a respectful baritone. "Do you require assistance with the mise en place?"
"Oh, yes please," Soma said, momentarily distracted from his curiosity. "That would be appreciated."
…
As the last rays of sunlight faded from the sky, the head librarian began her closing rounds, her voice echoing in the vast, empty halls as she urged the few remaining patrons to depart. Erwin, still in his Conan form, dutifully returned the books to their dusty nook and allowed himself to be shooed out with the others.
Once outside, he found a dark, secluded alley and let the transformation take hold. The small body dissolved and reformed into his proper, commanding stature. As he stepped back onto the main thoroughfare, he was immediately struck by how much the city had changed in the few hours since he'd arrived.
It was becoming desolate. The vibrant, bustling energy of the afternoon had evaporated. Shopkeepers were rolling down heavy metal shutters over their windows, families were hurrying indoors, and the wide streets, once choked with carriages and crowds, were now eerily empty. This was wrong. A city analogous to New York, the city that never sleeps, should have been roaring to life as night fell, its magitech lights painting the sky. Instead, it was shutting down, cowering from the encroaching darkness.
Erwin quickened his pace, his senses on high alert. He looked up. As the sky bled from deep twilight into true night, the strange phenomenon he had sensed earlier became visible. It was a barrier. A vast, shimmering dome of faint, silvery light arched over the entire city, so high and transparent it was invisible during the day. It pulsed with a soft, rhythmic glow, like a sleeping heart, its latticework of energy creating a celestial net across the heavens. Erwin tried to see where it ended, but it stretched beyond the horizon in every direction, a cage of breathtaking scale.
He was so focused on the sky that he didn't notice the vehicle until it was almost on top of him. A heavy, armored Watcher's car, its rune-lights glowing a menacing red, screeched to a halt just inches from his boots.
A Watcher with a thick mustache rolled down the passenger-side window. "Hey!" he barked, his voice filled with impatience. "Get off the streets! Go back to your house! The mages will begin their sweep in twenty minutes!"
Erwin didn't understand the specifics, but he understood the urgency and the authority. He gave a sharp nod and immediately hurried down the street toward the café's alley.
The Watcher shook his head in exasperation as the car pulled away. "People these days," he grumbled to his partner. "Can't even be bothered to mark their calendar for the most important night of the month."
The other Watcher just chuckled and grabbed a crystal transmitter from the dashboard, its surface humming with static. "Detective Wolfe, you there?" he said into the device. "We're clearing the last of the stragglers now. Are the mages going to be on time tonight?"
A crackle of static answered, followed by a calm, serious voice. "We'll make sure they are. We can't afford another Tear."
Inside a heavy, rune-plated Watcher patrol car, Detective Wolfe stared out at the empty, silent streets. Beside him, his rookie partner, Monet Montallet, sat ramrod straight, her blonde bob cut framing a face that was a mixture of focus and awe.
"Alright, boot," Wolfe said, his voice a low gravel that seemed to match the car's idling engine. "This isn't your first Silent Night duty. Talk me through it. What's our job right now?"
Monet's green eyes didn't leave the street. "Sir," she recited, her tone crisp and professional, "as the primary patrol unit for this district, our duty is to ensure all residential and commercial blocks are cleared of civilian foot traffic. We are also to ensure any known homeless individuals are safely relocated to the designated municipal shelters for the duration of the reinforcement."
Wolfe glanced at the glowing chronometer on the dashboard. "And what happens if the mages are late?"
Monet hesitated, her by-the-book confidence faltering. "That... wasn't in the training manual, sir."
Wolfe let out a short, harsh laugh. "Of course it wasn't." He shook his head, a deep-seated cynicism in his voice. "Those Spire bastards have too much tea and tradition up their asses. They come when they're good and ready."
"Sir, look," Monet said, pointing up through the reinforced windshield.
Sure enough, high in the night sky, several robed figures were now visible, floating serenely into position near the faintly glowing nodes of the great barrier.
"It's still mind-boggling to me," Monet whispered, her professionalism giving way to genuine wonder. "That all of our lives, this whole city, is hanging by a thread. That we're all at the door of a death god if a few mages are late to their shift."
Wolfe pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it, the flare of the match briefly illuminating his tired, grey eyes and messy hair. "That's the fragility of it," he said, exhaling a plume of smoke. "Every month, on the dot, they have to come out and reinforce that barrier. If they don't, it weakens. The night has never been kind to mortals like us."
Monet smiled, a small, resilient expression. "But it shows our perseverance, doesn't it? That we do this. That we keep the night at bay. That's a mortal aspect too."
Wolfe took another long drag from his cigarette, considering her words. He looked up at the mages, now glowing with contained energy. "Alright, the mages are in position," he grunted. "Let them do their Abjuration." He put the car in gear. "We'll continue our patrol. There's always some stupid criminal who thinks the Silent Night is the perfect time to try something."
…
Meanwhile, Erwin arrived at the mouth of the alley leading to Café LeBlanc. The street was now completely deserted, cloaked in an oppressive silence under the faint, pulsing light of the great barrier. He hurried down the narrow passage, the urgent warning from the Watcher echoing in his mind.
He was just reaching for the café's doorknob when the door was flung open from the inside with explosive force. Sebas, his face a mask of calm urgency, rushed out.
"Master Erwin, get down!"
Sebas didn't wait for a response. He shoved Erwin hard, sending the commander stumbling backward through the doorway and into the café. At the same moment, something impossibly fast and utterly black shot down from the sky, aimed directly where Erwin had been standing.
It was a projectile of what looked like solidified ash, but it moved with a hungry, sentient purpose. Sebas, turning to face it, didn't even flinch. His skin took on a dark, metallic sheen, a subtle transformation that rippled across his butler's suit. He raised an arm to shield himself.
"Iron Skin," he muttered.
The ash projectile slammed into his forearm with a deafening SKRAAANG of tortured metal. Sparks flew as the entity scraped against his seemingly unbreakable defense. Inside, Zero and Soma rushed to help the thrown Erwin to his feet, their faces pale with shock.
Outside, Sebas calmly deflected the lashing tendrils of ash. He was about to press an attack, to neutralize whatever it was that had assaulted them, when the sky lit up. A squadron of robed mages, glowing with the pure white light of Abjuration magic, streaked across the sky toward a small, jagged fissure in the barrier—a Tear from which the ash had emerged. They moved in perfect concert, weaving a patch of brilliant light that sealed the breach shut.
One of the mages, a woman with a severe expression, descended into the alley. She saw Sebas, standing perfectly composed, calmly brushing a few lingering flecks of dark residue from the sleeve of his immaculate suit.
"The Tear is sealed," she said, her voice sharp and authoritative. "Go back to your house. It's dangerous out here."
Sebas gave a single, slight nod of acknowledgement and turned, walking back into the café without a word.
As the mage flew back up to rejoin her patrol, a disquieting thought wormed its way into her mind. 'Did that butler... just block an attack from the Ashen God?' She shook her head, dismissing the absurd notion. 'Impossible. No mortal could survive a direct touch of the Ash, let alone block it.' She could sense mana signatures, and the old butler's had been barely a flicker, a perfectly mortal amount. She looked back one last time at the quiet, unassuming café in the dark alley, then brushed the thought away again, refocusing on the vital, unending task of guarding the Silent Night.
Sebas stepped back inside the café, the door clicking softly shut behind him, sealing them in from the unnerving silence of the night. Zero, now standing on his own, his face a mask of confusion and lingering adrenaline, looked from the stoic butler to the spot outside where the attack had occurred.
"What happened out there?" Zero demanded, his voice tight. "What was that thing?"
Sebas turned, his expression as placid as ever, and gave a slight bow of his head toward Erwin. "I believe Young Master Erwin has the answer to that, sir."
Erwin, leaning slightly on Soma for support, nodded grimly. The commander had already processed the available data, assembling the chaotic events into a coherent report. "Yes," he began, his voice steady despite the ordeal. "On my way back from the library, I gathered what information I could. The city was shutting down. The Watchers were clearing the streets." He paused, his blue eyes meeting Zero's. "Tonight is what they call the 'Silent Night'."
"The Silent Night?" Zero repeated, the name meaning nothing to him. "What is that?"
"A monthly reinforcement of the city's magical barrier, it seems," Erwin explained. "And a period of increased danger from... whatever that was." He gestured vaguely toward the door. "A full debriefing is required." He looked around the café, at the waiting dinner plates, and his pragmatic side took over. "How about we discuss this after dinner, and over some coffee? We need to recover our strength and assess the situation from a secure position."
Soma, who had been quietly supporting Erwin, let out a sudden laugh, clapping the commander on the back. "Our little detective already showing his prowess, ahahaha! Figuring things out already!"
Erwin brushed Soma's hand off his shoulder, his expression turning stern. "I'm taller than you," he stated simply, a direct assertion of the new pecking order.
"Hey!" Soma shot back, jabbing a finger at him. "How can you say that when your other card makes you a seven-year-old child?!"
While the two of them began to bicker, their argument a strange mix of military seriousness and sibling rivalry, Zero just shook his head. He and Sebas exchanged a brief, knowing glance. They were the adults in the room.
Without a word, Zero and the ever-silent Sebas turned and walked toward the stairs, leaving the other two to their squabbling as they ascended to the relative peace of the living quarters.
…
The last clink of cutlery hitting a clean plate echoed in the quiet loft. The meal, delicious as it was, had been a tense affair. Now, with the business of eating done, the real debriefing could begin.
Zero moved with a quiet purpose, preparing four different drinks at his small upstairs coffee station. For Soma, a rich, dark hot chocolate with a hint of chili, something to match his fiery, creative spirit. For Sebas, a perfectly steeped, traditional black tea, elegant and uncompromising in its simplicity. For Erwin, a sharp, black coffee, no sugar, no cream—a drink for focus and long nights of planning. For himself, a calming chamomile tea. He placed each mug before its intended recipient.
"Okay," Zero said, taking his seat and cradling the warm mug in his hands. "Now that our bellies are full, you can start, Erwin."
Erwin sat ramrod straight, his posture that of a commander addressing his war council. "Let's start with the elephant in the room," he began, his voice calm and methodical. "The Silent Night. First, I know the name from overhearing conversations among the city's populace on my way home. Second, I know it is a monthly occurrence."
"You can tell that just from observing?" Soma asked, surprised.
"You can tell a great deal from observing people," Erwin replied, his gaze unwavering. "And it is based on our own arrival. We have been here for less than a month. The nights prior to this one, while the city's nightlife was non-existent, were not this empty, this completely shuttered. Therefore, we can deduce it is not a daily occurrence."
"How can you be sure it's monthly?" Soma pressed. "What if it's a yearly thing?"
"The people are too familiar with it," Erwin explained patiently. "There was no panic, only a resigned, practiced urgency. Even without the Watchers ushering them, they all knew to go inside. The patrol units were also too familiar with the routine. For a city Watch that has only been established for a few decades, a yearly crisis of this magnitude would still induce a level of panic in their ranks. They were too used to this. It is a regular, predictable threat."
Sebas, who had been listening silently, added his own observation. "And I believe the shimmering phenomenon in the sky is a barrier," he said, his voice a respectful baritone. "I have been observing it since I first noticed it from the window. It was weakening, and it seemed there were mages who were required to reinforce it. The attack occurred at a 'Tear'—a breach in that defense."
Erwin nodded, incorporating the new data. "Which brings me to my final point." He paused, his blue eyes sweeping over each of them. "I want to return to Cecil's last words to us. He stated that this world is several times more dangerous than the DC Universe. An event like this—a monthly, city-wide lockdown to defend against an attack from a seemingly god-like entity—seems to align perfectly with that warning."
Zero rubbed his chin, the pieces clicking into a terrifying picture. "You don't say," he muttered. "But it does align. If we compare this city to Gotham, you could say it's far more dangerous. As dangerous as Gotham is, they don't have a scheduled monthly godly entity trying to tear a hole in the sky to get at them."
Soma took a sip of his spicy hot chocolate, a thoughtful, almost academic look on his face. "Well, to be fair," he said, "if Batman just killed those villains, his city would be a lot safer."
Erwin took a calm sip of his black coffee, the bitter liquid doing little to change his composed expression. He placed the mug down with a soft click.
"As for the world we now inhabit, Aetherion," he began, his voice cutting through the quiet of the loft, "my initial suspicions were correct. We are in a city that is the geographical and cultural analogue of New York City. We are located within the Granite Cape Duchy, though it is more commonly referred to by the name of its ruling house: the Evercrest Duchy."
"So, New York is just a duchy's territory, huh?" Zero mused, trying to wrap his head around the scale of it.
"No," Erwin corrected patiently. "This city itself is the heart of a county known as the Hudson Reach. This county is led by a Margrave of House Warren, who in turn answers to the Duke of Evercrest."
Soma rubbed his head, a look of profound confusion on his face. "Wait, wait. Are we in a duchy or a county?"
Erwin calmly took another sip of his coffee. "Both," he said simply.
"Aagghh! That's so confusing!" Soma groaned, slumping in his chair.
A faint sigh escaped Erwin's lips, the first sign of strain he'd shown. "Okay," he said, shifting his approach. "Let's compare this side-by-side to the America we knew. Think of the entire continent as one kingdom, called The United Realms of Averidane. At the top is the Royal House, which rules over all. Underneath them are seven other Great Houses." He held up a hand, ticking off the points. "Three of these are Archduchies—think of them as massive regions, like the entire West Coast or the Southwest. Then there are four Duchies, which are smaller but still vast territories, like our own 'state'." He looked at them pointedly. "What you need to remember for now is the duchy we are in: the Evercrest Duchy, led by House Evercrest."
Zero and Soma both nodded slowly, the analogy beginning to click. "Okay, we follow that," Zero said.
"Good," Erwin continued. "Now, under Duke Evercrest, there are lower nobles who manage his lands for him: Margraves and Earls. The Duke splits his territory into these 'counties' for them to govern, making it easier to manage."
Soma raised his hand like a student in class. "What's the difference between a Margrave and an Earl?"
"They both manage a county, which you can think of as a state from our past lives," Erwin explained. "In that way, their rank of nobility is similar. However, a Margrave typically governs a border territory and is chosen for their military prowess. An Earl tends to govern a more internal, stable territory and is chosen for their political and economic acumen."
"So which 'states' does this Evercrest Duchy have as its territory?" Zero asked, leaning forward.
Erwin answered without hesitation. "The lands analogous to New England, New York, Pennsylvania, and New Jersey."
Soma and Zero stared at him, then at each other. "Holy shit," Soma breathed. "And this is just a Duke we're talking about? Not even one of the Archdukes."
"Correct," Erwin said, his expression grim. "Look, what we are lacking now, more than anything else, is intelligence. While it is good that we arrived in this world as adults, our general knowledge is dangerously lacking. We are operating blind." He looked around the table, his gaze settling on each of them. "We need information. Reliable, actionable information."
As the weight of their ignorance settled over the room, a new voice, quiet and respectful, cut through the silence. It was Sebas. A slight, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips.
"Regarding that, Master," he said calmly. "I believe I may have something in mind."
