Ruban ignored them all, glaring down at Shwaan with singular focus. “Well, should I kill you now?” he asked, voice soft but carrying. The edge of his sifblade brushed Shwaan’s skin, making his breath hitch. “Since you seem to believe all fallen foes must be executed on the spot. And God knows you’ve given me more reason to want you dead than that X-class ever did.” He rolled his left shoulder, wincing.

Among the surrounding spectators, the hum of excitement intensified.

“Will he kill it?”

“He’s the ambassador of Vaan, isn’t he?”

“Is that even allowed—”

“It’s an Aeriel. What’s the Hunter Corps for if not to kill Aeriels?”

“Didn’t you hear Kinoh? They can’t just go killing random Aeriels on the spot—”

“If he doesn’t kill this one, it’ll kill that X-class for sure—”

“And it’d be a good riddance. We should officially hire Vaan for pest control here in—”

“Oh, it wouldn’t dare disobey Kinoh. Not after the beatdown he just delivered.”

“It’s all because of the reinforced sifblades they’ve got now—”

“Oh yeah? Did Kinoh have a reinforced sifblade when he killed the last queen?”

“I agree! Just because the Hunter Corps has gone from strength to strength these past few years doesn’t mean it was anything to sneeze at, before.”

If the matter had gone to a vote right then, Shwaan was fairly sure his life would’ve been spared. To the crowd, he was more useful alive than dead – as a living, breathing symbol of the Hunter Corps’ success. And, by extension, of humanity’s resounding victory over the Aeriels, their former masters.

Not that it mattered. When it came to Hunting, Ruban followed no counsel but his own – as he’d demonstrated time and again over the last few years.

Abruptly, he rose to his feet. This left Shwaan lying on the ground, unrestrained (aside from one booted foot on his thigh).

With a collective gasp, the crowd stepped back, unsure of what to expect now.

As he stood, Ruban twirled the sifblade between his fingers absently. With each rotation, the metal reflected the flashing lights from the surrounding cameras.

Shwaan blinked, all but transfixed by the display.

“I won’t kill you. But you already knew that, didn’t you?” As he spoke, Ruban continued to spin the sifblade between his fingers. The blade weaving intricate patterns in the air kept Shwaan (as well as the gathered protestors) on edge. “If I did, it’d just prove your point.” He smirked. “And there’s no way in hell I’m giving you the satisfaction.

“It’s enough that you and your kind understand – once and for all – that you’re not at the top of this food chain. Not anymore. Even an average Hunter with a reinforced sifblade can overpower the most powerful Aeriels in existence. We don’t care if those Aeriels come from Vaan or any other godforsaken corner of the universe. If you act like an ally, you’ll be treated like one. Act like an enemy and you’ll be annihilated without a second thought.”

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“I don’t think,” Shwaan gasped, fighting to keep his voice steady. “I don’t think I’m the one who needs to be convinced. It’s the biggest reason Vaan seeks this alliance, is it not? We can’t afford a war with Vandram, and trust me, we realize that. It’s the Exiles that refuse to submit—”

Ruban laughed. “Well, I daresay I’ve just solved that problem for you. Tonight, they’ve witnessed first-hand what the reinforced sifblade can do. That not even the prince of Vaan – the queen’s second-in-command – stands a chance against it. Common sense dictates that the Exiles wouldn’t fare much better.

“And these are just the prototypes. Once the reinforced sifblades have been fully rolled out, falling in line with the alliance would be the most foolproof way for any Aeriel to avoid annihilation.” He flipped the sifblade one last time in the air, before sheathing it. “Because Exile or not, I can promise you the blades don’t discriminate.”

Within the next fifteen minutes, the police and the Hunters worked together to disperse the gathered protestors. Then, they wasted no time formally arresting and dispatching the X-class to the nearest Aeriel detention center.

Shwaan suspected they’d never worked so fast or so efficiently in their lives, nor were they likely to do so again in the near future.

Once the coast was relatively clear, he pushed himself off the ground, exhaling heavily. Ruban, as expected, did not help – too busy nursing his own wounds under the awning of a nearby shop.

“What’s done is done.” He patted Ruban awkwardly on his uninjured shoulder, gesturing for him to start walking. “No use pouting about it now.”

“You could’ve warned me,” the Hunter retorted through gritted teeth.

“Would you have done it, if I had?”

“Done what?” snapped Ruban, refusing to look at him.

Shwaan raised an eyebrow. “You know what. Would you have used the reinforced sifblade?”

“It wasn’t necessary.”

“You and I both know it was. The people needed to see, first-hand, what it can do. To feel secure, not only about the alliance itself but about their place in this new world.” He shrugged. “And the Exiles needed to see it too, perhaps even more than the protestors and the cultists. They need to understand exactly what they’re up against. How futile it’d be to fight this.”

Ruban’s lips twisted into a sardonic smile. “And what better experimental specimen than the prince of Vaan himself?”

“Precisely.” Shwaan flicked his hair back, lengthening his stride to keep up with Ruban. “If I couldn’t stand a chance against it, what hope do they have?”

“It shouldn’t be possible to sound so arrogant while accepting defeat.”

“How about you show some gratitude for a change,” Shwaan retorted. “And stop trying to give this gift horse a goddamn dental exam? You have what you wanted, don’t you?”

“What I wanted?”

“You, your boss, what difference does it make? If that little display didn’t restore the glory of the Hunter Corps, I don’t know what would. Just visualizing the headlines and the TV debates this is gonna spawn,” Shwaan shuddered. “It makes me cringe. Casia will have her work cut out for her, over the next few weeks.”

Ruban nodded absently. “Well, this’ll certainly be a notch in Unnati’s belt.”

“And in yours. But who’s counting those, at this point?” Shwaan said, voice tinged with mock admiration. “Still, if this is what it takes to get the Chief Hunter on our side, it’s a price I’m more than willing to pay.”

“Are you? Really?” It was Ruban’s turn to raise a skeptical eyebrow. “That Aeriel could’ve been killed, you know. Or someone might’ve recognized it. It was one of the ones that fought on our side last year, at Reivaa’s castle. What if—”

Shwaan waved a dismissive hand. “Heiqaa can take care of herself. Besides, humans can’t tell Aeriels apart.” He smirked. “You should know this better than anyone. Still can’t tell the difference between male and female, can you? We all look the same to you, don’t even try to deny it. I’m impressed you even recognized Heiqaa after all these months.”

“Only after we’d pinned her down.” Ruban mumbled, with unnecessary emphasis on the pronoun. “And she’s under arrest now, so I don’t see what you’re so chipper about. Those detention centers are no walk in the park. More often than not they lead straight to Jahagrad, if the Aeriel even survives the detention center itself.”

“Oh, I’m not too worried about that,” Shwaan said airily. “Safaa will negotiate her release when she comes down to finalize the alliance. Heiqaa didn’t kill anyone, so it shouldn’t be too hard. And if she can’t, well…” he grinned at Ruban, a distinct bounce in his step. “In that case, we might just have to stage a jailbreak.”