The ocean was placid, with hardly any waves, as far as the eye could see. The sky overhead was a familiar sight, a canopy of stars that beckoned one to ponder their place in the universe. As she stood there, admiring the view, that word arose in her mind again: Human. - could she call herself that? It was a thought that troubled her, but ultimately she pushed it aside, firm in her resolve. She gazed steadfastly at the pier looming in the distance, a promise of what lay ahead. As they drew closer, the aroma of fried fish and vinegar reached her nostrils, making her recoil in distaste. She tilted her head back, frowning, and brushed her hair away from her eyes, lost in thought. While leaning her hands on the railing of the ship, she bent down and looked down into the sea. The black water only reflected the image of the sky and that was it. There was no trace of the image of herself and the ship in it, and no trace of their continuous motion on the water. It was not bad; At least once, Mar-chap and Gardavar had done their jobs. The crease on her nose deepened. For a moment, it was as if she had forgotten that there were troublemakers like those two with her.
For a fleeting moment, her mind transported her into the same predicament she had envisioned before the order was issued. In that scenario, she would have embarked on this arduous mission alone, her heart swelled with pride for having earned the trust of the great Kazhamuzes. She had been eager to return home bearing a treasure trove of knowledge, along with a bag brimming with captured divs, her pride on full display. But why had the mighty Kazhamuzes chosen to assign other people to accompany her? Human! ha! It was a question that kept nagging at her, despite her reverence for those who deemed as legends. Surely, there must be a good reason behind their decision. Unfortunately, the time between the issuance of the order and the commencement of the mission had been far too brief, leaving her with no opportunity to seek answers from those she admired so deeply. There was nothing else to do but grit her teeth and bear the burden—something that she knew was not her forté. But she resolved to remain firm in her convictions - if any of those incompetent fools, be it the ugly Mar-chap or the ridiculous Gardavar, endangered the success of the mission, she would personally oversee their punishment. "What does this word - human - even mean?" she wondered. Were the people who flitted about on the beach and busied themselves with mundane tasks, ignorant of the world's greater mysteries, considered human? If so, then from where she stood, with her vantage point and the dim light only augmenting her superiority, she could hardly see herself belonging to the same race as them. Nonetheless, she knew better than to assume she was entirely different from them, despite the potential for arrogance. The history books were clear on the matter; they and the humans had shared a common ancestor. But ever since the Red Fall and the subsequent ideological differences regarding warring against the old sorcerers, they had gradually diverged. She and everyone she knew were from the upper echelon of this conflict, the ones who had shrewdly redirected the focus on using divs to fight against the ancient sorcerers.
“I’m already missing our cows and sheep.”
This voice broke through the silence, tearing her away from the ancient library of Ashuban and into the present. She turned her head and saw a girl with long braids leaning against the mast, her hands clasped tightly to her chest. Her features were stunning, from her small nose and sharp blue eyes to the delicate arches of her eyebrows and dimples that punctuated her cheeks. But her skin was deathly pale, almost translucent under the moon's eerie light.
"You must be glad that everything's gone pretty well so far," the girl said, peering at her expectantly.
"We’re just getting started," she replied, her voice low and resolute. She knew that the opposition wouldn't abandon their claim easily.
"We haven't even reached the beach yet! Do we need to celebrate for safely crossing the calm sea? Luck was on our side. Look over there! The clouds are moving towards the port. If we'd arrived a little later, we might’ve been drenched by rain."
The girl rolled her eyes, her high boots clattering on the wooden deck as she approached, placing a hand gently on her companion's shoulder.
"I don't object to rigor, but there are limits. How many times must I remind you not to be too hard on yourself? We're all Ashuban's finest apprentices. It's true that we lack your level of prowess, but in our own right, we've always been recognized. You ought to first detect any hint of failure or a lack of success before pushing the boundaries of strictness to such an extent."
She turned to face the girl, positioning herself so that the moonlight bathed half of her face. Like her, she was a girl of around thirteen years. Yet from her darkened eyebrows and blue-grey eyes to her petite lips and clenched fists, she exuded a determination that hailed from an entirely different realm.
"Rule number thirteen of Ashuban: at the first signs of failure, you must try ten times harder. I don't see anyone eager to make things more difficult, so it's better to be strict from the start to avoid having to be ten times stricter later."
"And you're always reluctant to be a bit stricter," the girl said smiling.
"Listen, Siah-tin! Our friendship is important, but this is my first mission outside of Ashuban, and I won't let anything ruin my record."
"Let's not make it a permanent arrangement for the mission to call me by that name!"
"Ashuban law number forty-eight dictates that during foreign missions, members should address each other by..."
"I'm well aware of the blasted law!"
The girl with neatly braided hair turned away, making her way to the cabin. Just before she drew the curtain and stepped inside, she glanced back at her companion and stated firmly:
"I'm Parisa, and you are Suzanne! But if you're insisting on strict adherence to the law, so be it, Azarpeik!"
Parisa delivered this with a touch of sarcasm and disappeared inside. She had aimed to hit the mark and was fairly successful. Suzanne, while having a fondness for the name, did not particularly care to be addressed using it alone. She found it somewhat masculine. Since her childhood, whenever she had a dispute with Parisa, she would use that name to get under her skin. Nevertheless, Suzanne understood that the name Azarpeik held great respect among the Ashubanis, and her parents had encouraged her to uphold the honor of this name, to revive the legacy of that legendary figure, Azarpeik the Second, her illustrious ancestor. In her homeland, the descendants of Azarpeik were treated as if they were royalty. Among all of the seven noble families of Ashuban, the Azarpeik lineage held a place of distinction, and Suzanne was the youngest female of this noble line. From her earliest years, the names of the esteemed elders of the Azarpeik lineage were constantly whispered in her ears, accompanied by the reminder that she should cherish her heritage and, in turn, fulfill her responsibilities as an Azarpeik. The unjustly spilled blood of Azarpeik II had become the emblem of the indomitable spirit on her family's banners, and now, that very emblem adorned the center of the "gaparo" that Suzanne wore. The emblem symbolized the unquenchable flame of retribution that was meant to be passed down through the generations, an eternal flame that would continue to burn until the name of the Azarpeik family resonated to the very heart of people in all lands.
Her own resolute words echoed in her ears, the words she had spoken to her parents before embarking on this mission:
"I am not like my siblings. If I encounter any hindrance to my mission in Parsin, there will be bloodshed. No human nor any other force can stand in my way."
Her father, a robust man in dark purple "gaparo," gripped the arms of the Azarpeikan Throne with an unyielding resolve, internally proud of his daughter and externally composed, his eyes a reddish-brown:
"There's nothing amiss in eradicating those who consort with the divs. However, It is a formidable task. The rest are adversaries of the divs. But remember, the mere fact that most people are hostile to the divs doesn't automatically make them our allies. "
Suzanne nodded in acknowledgment, her gaze shifting to her mother, her concern palpable. The slender and bony woman, her throat marked by one or two faint scars, spoke in a soft but resolute voice that resonated throughout the hall of the Azarpeikan:
"For each div you capture, you may select a piece of Azarpeik's legacy to claim as your own."
Despite her initial trepidation, Suzanne couldn't help but feel a sense of relief. She had mentally steeled herself for far more demanding terms. Yet her mother's next words continued to unveil their conditions:
"The same offer extends to every human you may have to eliminate."
Suzanne neither showed surprise nor discomfort in response to this stipulation. Rather, she reproached herself for underestimating her mother's resolve. Her father, whose visage bore an air of regality and a penetrating gaze, turned his attention to his wife:
"Do you understand the gravity of your words? Your personal vendetta against humans is your own matter. You have no right to jeopardize our daughter's life due to events of the distant past."
The mother, her eyes still fixed on Suzanne, retorted to her husband without flinching:
"Vengeance is a motto that has defined this family. Or have my years of living been an illusion?"
The father grumbled with frustration:
"Same old ruse! How many times must I remind you that the atonement for Azarpeik's blood demands patience, cunning, and strategy?"
"What is cunningness but the art of defeating our enemies before they can harm us? Azarpeik sacrificed his life for Ashuban. Eradicating some of those responsible is a trifling effort," argued the mother, her conviction unwavering.
Her father responded with a measured tone, a hint of impatience creeping into his words: "Firstly, our adversaries have not ventured to this side of the sea for centuries. And secondly, to identify the enemy correctly is a prerequisite."
"The enemy is unequivocally the human populace of Parsin! Here, that’s for identification!" she retorted emphatically.
As though correcting a critical mistake made by an unknowing party, the father muttered under his breath, before raising his voice to continue: "Not to mention, what you've referred to as cunningness differs greatly from its truth. When the Kazhamuzes have expressly decreed that any killing of humans is a futile act until the conclusion of their research, it is unwise to intentionally send our trainee daughter to defy this law."
The mother, her gaze never leaving her daughter, propped her chin upon her hand and added thoughtfully, "Suzanne knows what she’s doing. While I hold the kazhamuzes in the highest esteem, I must concede that they display excessive leniency in this particular arena. We could cleanse Parsin ten times over before they decide how to handle their industrial machinations and ancient incantations."
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
After more muted grumbling from the father, met with the mother's silence, Suzanne made her way to the hall's exit. She paused at the threshold and spoke with unwavering confidence:
"I shall return victorious."
Then she bowed and left. I will return victorious. She looked at her clenched fists and suddenly realized that she was holding something in her left hand. Opening her palm, she was met with the sight of the crystal blade, and memories flooded back to her. She glanced at the approaching wharf and, with a sigh, seated herself on the deck, leaning against the railing. Her thoughts wandered back to the day of departure.
"Suzanne! There you are!" called a voice.
She was seated on the stone steps at the entrance of the Azarpeikan palace, gazing out at the sunset from an elevated vantage point that overlooked the entire western expanse of Ashuban. At the sound of Parisa's voice, she emerged from her reverie as if roused from a deep slumber. Parisa approached, a familiar smile gracing her features as she bounded towards Suzanne.
"Where else would you expect me to be?" Suzanne replied.
Parisa chuckled, her eyes sparkling with lively energy. "Well, on the ship, naturally! It's only logical that you should have been aboard for the past ten days, acclimating to the space, ensuring the ship's safety, and... I don't know, being Suzanne in every nook and cranny!"
Suzanne offered a smile that briefly transformed her otherwise solemn countenance, revealing glimpses of her thirteen-year-old self. Perhaps it was only Parisa who was privy to these moments of levity. To the rest of the world, she was the heir apparent of the Azarpeik lineage, and her courage and gravity belied her tender age—a reputation Suzanne was determined to maintain.
"Kazhamuz Tarikan told me to meet him alone in front of the palace around sunset. I managed to get the guards to leave for a while. If you stay here, all my efforts to clear the area will be in vain."
Parisa, wearing an expression that was uniquely hers, remarked playfully, "It must be something very important if he wants to see you alone, especially at sunset."
Suzanne retorted, "What are you getting at?"
Her friend's eyes twinkled mischievously as she continued, "Well, Kazhamuz Tarikan is the youngest member of the Ashuban council, and you're not only beautiful but also noble. It's been a few years since he was your teacher."
Suzanne's cheeks flushed as she exclaimed, "Don't be absurd!"
With a knowing smile, Parisa teased, "Sunset, my dear, is universally known as the most romantic time of the day!"
Annoyed, Suzanne threatened, "I swear I'm going to punch you! Go to the ship, I'll join you as soon as I'm done with Kazhamuz Tarikan."
Parisa narrowed her eyes mischievously and inquired, "What if it takes longer than expected?"
Suzanne, her cheeks still tinged with embarrassment, clenched her fist and muttered something under her breath. A small, green ball of fire materialized in her hand, and she playfully tossed it towards Parisa. However, Parisa, well aware of Suzanne's intention to miss, remained unfazed and burst into laughter.
"So, you know you we’re not alone in this mission?" Parisa asked, amusement still dancing in her eyes.
Suzanne's expression shifted once more, her resolution unwavering. "Yes, I've heard about it."
"Good! I was wondering how to tell you. That's why I came here. Do you know who else is coming? That boy, Arjang, they call him Mar-Chap. Ugh! With the other ones, his inseparable friends, Tufan Gerdavar and Dianush Tizpa! Uuugh! What a mission!" Every time Parisa playfully said “ugh!” Suzanne couldn’t help but laugh, but that couldn’t last much longer.
"Can you please go? We have time for these things later," Suzanne urged, her focus shifting back to the impending meeting with Kazhamuz Tarikan.
"I can get along with Robina of Makin. She is a good girl. And who can't get along with Shahab Azarbar?" Parisa mused dreamily, temporarily lost in thoughts and fantasies that further fueled Suzanne's anxiety.
"Are you going, or should I throw the next one more precisely?"
"Okay, okay, I'll go. Just don't fall into the trap easily!"
"Go away!"
As Parisa dashed off, she continued to offer parting words, although her voice grew fainter with distance. "You will explain everything to me later!... Don't be intimidated by his Kazhamuz status! If he is a Kazhamuz, you are a noble!... Don't try to..."
Alone with her thoughts, she found herself dwelling on the idea of her and Kazhamuz Tarikan. It was almost comical to entertain such fantasies, as she had never regarded her teacher in that light. His black oiled hair had never stirred any particular feelings in Suzanne. His height was decent, and the long black robe he wore suited him, but...
"Oh, Parisa, you little...!" Suzanne silently chided herself, trying to suppress a smile as she lightly tapped her forehead with her knuckles. These playful games and whimsical thoughts invariably followed her conversations with Parisa. She was fully aware that these flights of fancy wouldn't help her in achieving her goal of becoming the head of the Azarpeik family, but for some reason, she always found herself in need of Parisa. Parisa was neither of noble birth nor a skilled div-capturer, yet she consistently ranked in the top ten among the best apprentices due to her other talents. Suzanne had been told by her mother, "That girl, Parisa Siah-tin, is holding you back. She weakens your resolve, making your will fragile, causing your hands and feet to tremble in the worst situations. If you truly desire what you claim to, you should distance yourself from her as soon as possible." And Suzanne desired to become the head of the family, that is, she had to…
Before she delved deeper into thoughts about this newly opened chapter, a shadow suddenly fell over Suzanne, and a deep, masculine voice addressed her:
"Sunk in thoughts again, Suzanne?"
Suzanne was startled, immediately stood at attention, briefly bowed, and replied, "I'm sorry, Kazhamuz."
Kazhamuz Tarikan, looking tired, waved his hand dismissively, saying, "No need for formalities. I don't have much time. I came to tell you that I am confident in your success. Also, I wanted to give you this."
From the inner pocket of his robe, he produced a crystal blade resembling an ice candelabrum, but with a greater transparency and multiple sharp edges instead of a single point.
Suzanne accepted the blade from her mentor and inquired, "What is this?"
"It's one of the outcomes of years of research by the Kazhamuz Council. No one outside the council is aware of this blade's existence. It has no name yet, so if it proves effective, you'll have the honor of naming it."
Suzanne lightly pressed her finger against one of the sharp edges, but it did not cut her. Pressing harder and running her finger along the edge, she saw that nothing happened.
"Either I've misunderstood its use, or the Council could have focused on more practical inventions," she commented with respect.
Kazhamuz Tarikan responded, "No, it doesn't work that way. You have to throw it forcefully at your human enemy. It doesn't function on any other species..."
Muttering under his breath and wearing a regretful expression, he added, "At least, not yet."
Suzanne carefully placed the blade in her pocket. If it was important to Kazhamuz Tarikan, it was certainly significant to her.
"So, you're saying I'll need to deliberately engage with humans if I want to use this blade?"
Kazhamuz Tarikan, his hair tousled from scratching his head, replied impulsively, "If no such conflict has arisen naturally by the end of your mission, then, yes."
“What will happen next? How do I know if it went the way you wanted?”
“Oh, you’ll know! Just be sure to bring me a sample of your results once you succeed. Understood? Now, here are two more. I must leave. Perhaps I can catch a few hours of sleep."
Tarikan then leaned close to Suzanne, his face drawn close to hers. Suzanne, fixated on maintaining respect for her teacher and her own nobility, summoned all her feminine strength to prevent her cheeks from reddening. If not for Parisa's teasing remarks, she would not have reacted in any particular way. Kazhamuz Tarikan habitually leaned close to his students to provide feedback on their daily activities at the end of their training sessions. It wasn't anything novel to make her...
"I'll eagerly await your return, Suzy. The Council and I have high hopes for your success."
Returning to the night, the deck, and the present, Suzanne's cheeks flushed again as she recollected Parisa's teasing. Remembering the faces her friend made whilst she kept repeating "Suzy!" Suzy!" made her smile involuntarily. However, her laughter gradually faded as she remembered the extra minute she had spent with her teacher, something she hadn't even shared with Parisa. Kazhamuz Tarikan had been standing a few steps away, and she had been observing him from behind. Suddenly, Tarikan clenched his fists, lowered his head, and fell into thought for a few moments. Then, he swiftly turned to Suzanne, his tone laced with a sense of excitement she had never heard from him before.
"Suzanne, I've given you what the other Kazhamuzes had collectively agreed upon and conveyed their instructions. But now, I have a personal request for you..."
Suzanne, taken back by the fervor in Tarikan's eyes, could only nod in affirmation. For the second time that day, Kazhamuz Tarikan reached into his inner pocket, producing a triangular piece of stone. It was a polished black stone, unremarkable in appearance. As if they were being watched, Tarikan swiftly displayed the stone to Suzanne for a few seconds before placing it in her gaparo pocket.
"I'm placing my full trust in you, Suzy. This is something I've personally been working on for quite a while, and it could potentially enable Ashuban to conquer the entire known and unknown world effortlessly, with the Azarpeik family, led by you, being the catalyst for this achievement."
Suzanne's initial uncertainty transformed into a fiery determination. "What must I do?"
Kazhamuz Tarikan, still maintaining his caution and speaking in hushed tones, continued, "There's something I'm searching for... though I don't know precisely what it is. I only know that when this stone comes into close proximity to it, there will be a noticeable reaction."
From this point forward, Suzanne listened with a furrowed brow.
"It's all rather last-minute. I only just unraveled the properties of this stone a few minutes ago, so there's no time for a thorough explanation. When you locate the entity that triggers a reaction from this stone during your mission, complete the task and bring that entity to me immediately. Once that entity is in our possession, it will render all other missions and policies redundant. No further precautions will be necessary."
"But... could you at least provide a clue as to where I should search for this entity?"
Kazhamuz Tarikan, who had evidently considered this question beforehand, promptly responded, "It must be a place with some form of power source... though I can't pinpoint the exact location. My best guess is either the southern regions, such as Abparakan and Raburamona, or the west, past the Zarnegar mountains. The choice is yours."
Tarikan leaned in closer once more. "Promise that you'll return victorious."
Suzanne locked eyes with him. "I will ensure that the flame of the Azarpeik family burns brighter than ever."
"We're almost there." The boyish voice reached Suzanne's ears, prompting her to swiftly conceal the blade in her pocket alongside the black stone before rising to her feet. No visual recognition was necessary; the flickering light that bathed Suzanne's form was ample for identifying the newcomer on deck. She raised her gaze to meet Shahab Azarbar, the only other noble accompanying them on this mission. Everything about him exuded magnificence and grandeur, and even at the tender age of thirteen, he radiated a presence of power and self-assuredness well beyond his years.
The most prominent feature, one that stirred envy in boys of his age and attracted unanimous attention from girls, was his spiky hair. Even in its natural state, it was alluring—black, voluminous, and slightly wavy. Yet, a unique quality set it apart: some strands were composed of pure fire, and these delicate flames sparkled and danced atop his head in a magnificent and majestic spectacle. Beneath the fiery crown, he possessed a prominent forehead, thick black eyebrows, confident black eyes, a straight nose, pale lips, a strong jawline, and an overall impressive visage. His vintage gaparo, much like Suzanne's, bore the emblem of his noble family—a flaming sword—displayed on the left side of his chest.
Shahab, whose heelless leather boots made no sound as he moved (as if he were composed entirely of feathers, and even the wooden deck, typically vocal in protest under any weight, now gazed at him in awe as the sole heir of the Azarbar family), approached Suzanne.
"I hope you realize I saw you conceal something, and I hope you understand that I don't care about what you've hidden. Whatever contraption you've brought along to help accumulate points doesn't matter. This mission will reshape the entire landscape."
Suzanne raised an eyebrow and responded with a frosty tone, "Really? And how, precisely, is it going to change things?"
Shahab took another step, pausing a few paces away from Suzanne. "No need for defensiveness. I have the courage to admit that all these years, you've rightfully held the top spot among the trainees, with me at a close second. But with missions beyond Ashuban underway, everything is poised to shift."
"Why is that?"
Suzanne could have sworn for a moment, she saw the image of flames in Shahab's eyes.
“Because I have been preparing myself for the fights ahead for years! No matter how much freedom Ashuban has, for our age, there are limits. But in Parsin, we are free to use all our fighting force.”
“Of course, according to the law, only if we really feel that we are in danger.”
“Well, it just so happens that as of now, I strongly feel that I am in danger!”
Suzanne rolled her eyes, nodded and turned her face back to the dock. Her blood was boiling, but she did not show it. This boy should have been shown that Azarpeiks are head and neck higher than Azarbars. No! It should have been shown that Suzanne Azarpeik is better than Shahab Azarbar in all respects. She took a deep breath and filled her lungs with the sea breeze. The smell of fish and vinegar she could barely ignore, but the rest of the weather conditions were good. She calmed herself again, like the sea:
“A person who carries an enchanted glove with him everywhere and through that glove constantly informs his father about where he is and what he is doing, does obviously feel himself in danger all the time.”
Shahab's face became hard and cold like a stone. He didn't think Suzanne would still remember the glove he always had in the inside pocket of his gaparo.
“When we get into action, you are free to collect points however you want. But whenever there’s no div around, I am the leader and I give orders. Got it?”
Suzanne turned her head a little with a domineering attitude and looked at Shahab from the corner of her eye. Shahab, whose nobility would not allow him to spit on the ground as a sign of disrespect, suppressed his anger with difficulty (which caused more of his hair to flame) and returned to the cabin.
Suzanne turned towards the port, towards all of Parsin - a land that she had only heard stories about all her life. In an instant, her father, mother, siblings, and Tarikan passed in front of her eyes. Her fists tightened around the railings of the deck and pressed. The sound of the wood being compressed was raised, and a tangible hollow appeared in those thick fences. She whispered under her breath:
“No human nor any other force.”
*****