His thoughts were interrupted by Safaa’s next words.

“I'm curious,” she began, head tilted inquisitively. “If the Rai family knew about the existence of the vankrai, and all that it implied…” her sharp, dichromatic eyes locked on Viman. “Why did they not share this knowledge with the rest of the world? Why keep it a secret for the better part of a century?”

Well, there was a question worth asking. From what little Ruban understood, Darpan Rai’s scholarly youngest son had been Viman’s grandfather. He’d shared his discovery with his family, and then with his descendants. As a result, his branch of the family did not become Aeriel Hunters, but rather devoted themselves to researching and studying the Aeriels. Particularly the vankrai.

So, why hadn't they publicly shared the knowledge they’d acquired through their research? Wouldn’t it have helped the Hunter Corps perform their duties more effectively? Wouldn’t it have improved public safety?

What purpose was served by keeping such critical information secret?

“You’re asking me that question?” Viman held Safaa’s gaze, his lips twisting into a sardonic little smile. “You’re the reason why.”

“Me?” Astonishment colored Safaa’s voice.

“For six hundred years, Vaan used earth as a prison colony for its most vicious criminals,” Viman said. “You’re telling me that wasn’t your doing?” He breathed out, seeming suddenly tired. “All the so-called ‘benevolent’ Aeriels had retreated into Vaan and locked themselves in. The only ones remaining on earth – for humans to deal with – were the murderous, malevolent kind.

“And while the proportion of vankrai was higher among the earth-bound Aeriels, their total number was still far lower than the feather-borns. Simply because vankrai are rare, anyway. A miniscule fraction of the Aeriel population, despite their disproportionate impact.” Viman fidgeted, seemingly seeking a more comfortable position. “Even if humanity knew that there were, in theory, beneficent Aeriels who meant them no harm – the average person would never encounter such a creature in their life. The only Aeriels they would encounter were the so-called Exiles. Who wouldn’t think twice before tearing them to shreds on a passing whim.”

At last, Ruban understood Viman’s position. And agreed with him, to a certain extent.

Even if the existence of harmless, benevolent Aeriels was theoretically true, it would’ve had no practical bearing on the lives of most people. All those Aeriels were locked up in Vaan, seeming to have no intention of mingling with humanity ever again. The only Aeriels the average person would encounter were the violent, murderous variety. That status quo had held true for over six hundred years, and nobody had expected it to change for the next six hundred.

So what good would it do to spread fanciful rumors about the benevolent Aeriels of Vaan? It’d serve only to confuse the public, sparking unnecessary debate.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

Humans had always had a tendency to anthropomorphize Aeriels. Wouldn’t that problem be exacerbated if people knew the truth about the vankrai – that they were in fact half-human? It might even have led some people to start identifying and sympathizing with the vankrai, endangering themselves and everyone around them.

It was perhaps better for everyone if the general public just saw all Aeriels as the ‘other’, the ‘enemy’.

As long as the public knew nothing about the vankrai, at least the Hunter Corps hadn’t had to deal with misguided protests over the killing of the ‘half-humans’. The mere thought of that possibility sent a shiver down Ruban’s spine.

Dawad had presented him with similar ideas, a few years ago. But the professor’s delivery being far more circuitous and academic, Ruban hadn't really grasped the full picture at the time.

“Until the emergence of the reinforced sifblade formula, my family never considered the possibility of peace between humans and Aeriels.” Viman carried on, oblivious to Ruban’s ruminations. “The very idea was outlandish. We kept our knowledge of the vankrai under wraps, continued to study Aeriels of all kinds – in the hopes of finding some vulnerability that could be exploited during a Hunt.” A bitter smile twisted his lips. “That was as audacious as our dreams ever got.”

Ruban leaned forward slightly, intrigued despite himself.

“It was only a decade ago that my father learned of the reinforced sifblade project,” Viman continued. “Still in its infancy. A mere glimmer in the eye of some mad scientist at SifCo. Back then, we didn’t dare hope anything would actually come of it.”

But, of course, something had come of it. And reinforced sifblades had completely transformed the dynamics between humans and Aeriels.

“Only then did we realize the opportunity staring us in the face.” Even as he spoke about it, Viman’s eyes lit up with forgotten zeal. “Calling it a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity would be an understatement. It was the kind of opportunity that came once every hundred generations. Six centuries of violence and chaos – this one formula could at last put an end to it all. Reinforced sif could pave the way for peace between the two species.”

Well, ‘peace’ was one way of putting it.

As Viman continued speaking, it became clear to Ruban that his idea of ‘peace’ involved quite a bit of violence.

Conquering the Aeriel homeworld would be necessary, of course. To subdue the existing vankrai, and prevent any more from being born.

And if that involved a hundred thousand deaths on each side?

Well, wasn’t it one of the Founding Fathers who’d said that those who want peace must prepare for war? Or something to that effect.

Clearly, Viman Rai had paid more attention in middle-school history class than Ruban.

What did become increasingly apparent, however, was that Viman’s grand plan lacked a clear endgame. His ideas of what was to come after this ‘great crusade’ were…muddled, at best.

The Rai family didn’t have any interest in enslaving the conquered Aeriels. If anything, they seemed to have a rather naive view of the fate awaiting the survivors on the losing side of a protracted and brutal conflict.

What they did want was control. Control over the Aeriels, yes, but also over humanity. At least insofar as their interactions with the Aeriels was concerned.

And considering Viman had quite a few family connections within the government and the Hunter Corps, he had some reason to believe he’d be able to exercise that control, when the time came. If not personally, then through his relatives, who apparently held a similar worldview.

It turned out the previous Director of the IAW had been his uncle. Ruban had met the man before. But since he didn’t share Viman’s surname, Ruban hadn’t made the connection until now.