Tannerport, 892 AE.
Dixon wakes up a couple of days later with an ache charging his head. He finds himself lying down in Arthur’s cabin which is still intact. Looking over the window, he realizes that it’s in the middle of the night. The pain wakes him up, it seems. At first, he’s reluctant to move from the comfortable bed, but something inside him urges him to leave the place. Do something about his life. Leave the planet. But of course, it’s not as easy as it seems. He doesn’t know where his spaceship’s key is, apart from the fact that Master Kraven has it. Master Kraven could be hiding it in some secret dungeon he’s never told him before. He then changes his mind to the subject of Arthur. What was the meaning of Master Janus giving Arthur a purse of coin, he meditates looking for an answer. It can only mean one thing. Arthur is a mercenary. Suddenly, a creak at the door unsettles Dixon as he stands up in response. His face again, is bandaged after the beatings Arthur gave him. Most importantly, his temples are covered by bandages. He’s not brave enough to see the hole drilled by the needles of the weapon he was injected with. Whatever that weapon was. Dixon thinks the masters have implanted a neural chip inside him so that he can be their slave. Doing whatever they wish him do.
The door opens to the sight of Master Kraven walking in, body as frail as ever. Dixon sits down. Master Kraven closes the door behind him and sits on the tool by the bed, with hands offering Dixon to sit on the bed. Dixon follows his order as he sits on the bed, diagonally across his master. They don’t talk. It’s clear that Master Kraven is waiting for Dixon to start first. “Where is the key?” Dixon asks.
“What key?”
“You know what key I’m talking about,”
“Ah, you mean this,” Master Kraven reaches his pocket and shakes it from the insides, ringing key noises.
Dixon remains calm however. His body struggles to move anyway. “What did you do to me? The needle, the—” he asks once more before pausing. “Why did Arthur try to kill me?”
“You must’ve had so many questions brimming inside your head,” Master Kraven says while crossing his fingers.
“Whole my life,” Dixon digs at him.
“I’ll help you. Answer my questions first,” Master Kraven orders. “Who are you and what do you do?”
“You know who I am and I’m not playing your games ever again.”
“Shame.” Master Kraven turns around to leave.
“Ralf Xerlayne Dixon. I’m a mercenary, raised and trained by my masters,” Dixon stops his master.
“Good. Now, why do you do the things you do?” Master Kraven asks again.
He’s never put that question into consideration. Why is he a mercenary again? That day when he left on a journey, he could’ve left everything behind. He could’ve had a fresh start. Become someone normal. But, he didn’t. Why didn’t he? He gulps upon the question. “Because you forced me into this life,” he tries to outsmart the old master.
“Not entirely wrong. Who am I to you then?”
“Master Kraven, the one who robbed me of my life.”
“Scary. But now, we’re off with a good start. I want to understand you,” Master Kraven crosses his legs. He leans closer, aiming to see his disciple in a larger view.
“Likewise,” Dixon says desperately.
“My family, and I’m not babbling about my father or mother or brothers or sisters only, but all of them were slaughtered like pigs by them,” Master Kraven rants something from his past.
Dixon is shocked, not by the revelation, but mostly because he’s never seen Master Kraven opening up since the day he was taken as mercenary. Instead, Dixon tilts his head with eyebrows sharpened wondering who his master meant by ‘them’.
“The Imperials,” Master Kraven continues. “You know what they did to me? I remained the lone son after all their killings. Then, they sent my sister, my beloved sister who I hadn’t seen for a long time, after me. I was such a young boy, years younger than you now. I was naive to think that the world or whoever set everything in motion was kind enough to finally reunite me and her together again,” Master Kraven cuts himself, coughing. He’s trying not to shed a tear, judging from the shake of his body. He breathes slowly and continues, “I wanted to embrace her. After years my parents left me in hiding, seeing my sister’s face was like seeing an oasis in the middle of a desert. The moment I jumped, I expected a hug in return. But she held me instead. Stopped me in my tracks. I fell and I wanted to cry. But that was not until I heard her whisper,” Master Kraven drinks from his water canteen. “I heard her whisper, run.”
Dixon is hooked by his master’s story. He’s waiting for his master to proceed, but he realizes his master has run out of water in his canteen. So, Dixon takes the canteen and refills it with water from a machine in the cabin. He returns, handing the canteen over to his master. “What did you do, then?” he asks.
“I only stepped back a little. I thought she hated me. But then, when she noticed that I didn’t run, she screamed. Loud,” the master leans back and now stares at nothing. “Her body then exploded. Guts flying around. Her blood, like a water cannon, drenched my entire body.”
Dixon is shocked at this story. He never knew that his master had such a terrible childhood. But, that doesn’t mean he gets to treat him wrong, though.
“I fled from the scene that still haunts me to this day. Ever since that day, I swore to never let anyone die in such a horrifying way. What we did to you, Dixon, was a necessary precaution. You came home bearing odors from those damned Imperials. I’ve been running away from them my entire life, I’m familiar with their scent. I don’t know whether telling you this is a good idea or not. But I know you. I know who you truly are, even when you don’t,” Master Kraven reasons.
“Why are you lot so bent on breaking me?” Dixon asks, ignoring his master remarks at the end.
“When you said you’re mercenary because of me, I can’t blame you for that. It’s true. I lived my younger days forced to become someone else. To be another man, another person, to be unrecognized. Can’t say it worked since they always found me out. That is until one day, I got to be a man who I wasn’t sure to be.”
“A mercenary,” Dixon suggests.
Master Kraven nods. “When you don’t have anyone else around you, you turn to yourself. You then ask yourself, do you wish to be alone and restless? I answered no. I turned to become a person who would face problems. Who solved problems. Eventually summing into a person who demanded problems. When you don’t have anyone, you lose hope. But in the absence of it, you can become stronger simply by knowing that you have nothing to lose,” Master Kraven explains further.
“But why me? I had family,” Dixon wonders.
“Did you? You think the honorable dad figure you had in Orion loved you truly? Did you think your little crush really loved you?” Master Kraven asks.
“You can’t possibly tell. You seized me way too early for us to know that. I was just seven years old. You were supposed to be my Old Foster! One who would tell history and tales of great space events like most kids at my age had,”
“Yet, I teached you something more valuable. I teached you reality. I teached you how to survive. Old Fosters imbue their tales with too many heroics and myths. I intended to imbue yours with real experience. And,” Master Kraven stops in the middle of his explanation. He doubts at first to continue, but upon seeing the face of Dixon he adds, “That’s not the only reason I took you in.”
“What? What else?” Dixon begs for answers.
“A story for another time. When you’re ready,” Master Kraven aims to avoid the conversation. He turns around to leave.
“I’ve bled for you. For years after years. I brought you gold. I brought you coins. I brought you honor. I brought you everything! I brought you glory!”
“Correct. When you don’t have anything left, being a mercenary is the only way you can achieve glory. You’ve misplaced the glory you’ve brought. You should’ve brought the glory upon yourself, not me,” Master Kraven entails.
“What?”
“Have more rest. I still have jobs for you to do, but it can wait,” Master Kraven leaves the room before adding another, “Oh, and regarding Arthur. When you were gone for four years, he took the vow. Not a single sway had to be inflicted by the masters.”
Dixon remains speechless. Arthur became a mercenary when he was gone? That makes so much sense in his head. That’s why the masters beat Arthur. That’s why his body is ripped. That’s why he’s been missing from the house. That’s why he received the gold from Master Janus. That’s why he attacked his best friend for money. His best friend. Dixon is overwhelmed by the new information he absorbed. He puts himself into the darkness of his sleep.
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Planet Xendocia, Indus Ring, 1st June 892 AE.
The man in white coat approaches a woman who’s examining the microscope. He greets her, “How are things, Dr. Nikita?”
“Ah! Professor Ludwig! Just some leftovers. Had no idea that the rabbit would show some progress, it’s been days after he abandoned his crave for food. Aggressive behaviors as side effects however,” Dr. Nikita answers.
“There’s someone who wishes to speak with you,” Professor Ludwig claims.
“Really? Finally someone that finds me amusing after all this time?” she says it while still looking at the microscope. It’s not until loud steps can be heard approaching them. She turns to see a woman figure behind him.
The mysterious woman knocks Professor Ludwig out of consciousness.
“My goodness!” Dr. Nikita shrieks.
“An honor to meet you, Doctor. My name is Acosta,” the woman adds.
The moment Dr. Nikita lays her eyes on the woman, she realizes in an instant who Acosta is. The woman is red haired, very muscular, and obvious red paints marked throughout her skin. “What do you want?” Dr. Nikita asks.
Acosta answers, “You’re required at home.” After her clarification, she pulls the jacket covering her wrist up and it reveals a tattoo, more like a sigil.
“I can walk to my house just alright. No need for an escort,” Dr. Nikita acts like she doesn’t understand Acosta's intention. She knows what the sigil means.
“I’m not talking about your home in this planet,”
“Well, I don’t have a house in Nierlagon so I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Dr. Nikita coys. Dr. Nikita now turns attention to Professor Ludwig’s body and kneels beside him, “And look at what you’ve done. Security ever finds this out, you’re dead.”
“Security’s been dealt with,” Acosta jokes.
“You’d better not!” Dr. Nikita is angered by this. She sighs before calming herself. She wraps her arms around Professor Ludwig’s chest and tries to drag him, but she’s not strong enough. “Help me tend his body, will you?” She requests Acosta.
Acosta only nods at her request and they lay him down on a bunk bed inside the laboratory.
Dr. Nikita quickly scans his body for injuries. Nothing comes out, so she sighs in relief. She looks at Acosta and reminds her, “I’m not going.”
Acosta shakes her head at first. She leans back to one of the tables behind her.
“And for goodness sake. Don’t touch anything!” Dr. Nikita warns her.
Not wanting to be rude, Acosta raises her hand apologizing for her ignorance and strays from the table. “Mama Zeta read your work, you know. She’s beyond impressed,” she says.
“Tell her I’m flattered.”
“You’re not leaving, are you?”
“What do you think? A gent came into my lab, knocked my colleague, touched my stuffs, and possibly disarmed the security. I’m surprised you haven’t knocked me out and surprised me when I woke up at Nierlagon already,” Dr. Nikita bites. “Why haven’t you?” she adds while smirking.
“I have a mission. Mama Zeta won’t be happy with me if I return without you,” Acosta explains.
“I’m not going back and that’s final, okay?” Dr. Nikita reconfirms.
“You don’t have to. In the near time at least,” Acosta says, suggesting something.
“I won’t have you run from your responsibility. Just tell her that I don’t want to return,” Dr. Nikita says.
“That’s not what I meant.”
Nikita is visibly confused upon hearing those words. “What do you have in mind?”
“Well, my mission will not be accomplished as long as I don’t return to Nierlagon with you. I suggest a stall.”
“Ah, wouldn’t you like a holiday! What? Nierlagon is boring? Because I found it so when I left,”
“No. I remain by your side. Make me your guard and let me worry about Mama Zeta. Tell her that I’m with the subject, but you need protection. That way, we can stall the mission,” Acosta suggests.
“A guard? Why would I need a guard?” Dr. Nikita asks.
Acosta smirks and stands in front of her face. She’s much taller than Dr. Nikita. “Tell me ONE reason why you shouldn’t have a guard? For all I can tell, someone can easily sneak into your lab, knock your colleague out, touch your stuff, and possibly disarm the building, the security. And, take you to Nierlagon by force,” she convinces.
Dr. Nikita laughs at her conviction, “Don’t try to be smart at me.”
“I don’t. That’s a you thing, Doctor,” Acosta refutes.
“Fine, be my guard. I won’t return to Nierlagon, however. Not in the near time. I can guarantee you that I won’t be returning even next month,” Dr. Nikita claims.
“Then we stall the mission for a month,”
“Two months,”
“Then we stall for two months,”
“Five months,”
“Five months, it is,”
“A year!”
“Right. A year we’ll stall,”
“I can’t tell whether you’re being nice or stupid. Mama Zeta won’t be happy,” Dr. Nikita is irritated by Acosta’s responses. “Come, we have to prepare our answers when Professor Ludwig regains his consciousness,” she pauses, looking at her quizzical look. “His name is Professor Ludwig and he’s a good person. That’s all you need to know about him”, she assures.
----------------------------------------
At Planet Acrona.
Dixon wakes up to the sound of thumping. The sky is pouring rain and the air is full of haze. He doesn’t know where to go, but he surely can’t stay in the cabin forever. He opens the door and sees Arthur about to enter at the same time. They stare each other in the eyes and it’s Arthur who breaks the contact first. Tension can be felt between them. Dixon walks past him and heads to his cabin. He sees it wrecked. The door is holed and the interior is a mess. Bed’s destroyed and splinters scattered on the floor. He runs his fingers along the walls. Then, he goes outside again. He sees Arthur once more who is now carrying a bag behind his back. Dixon shouts at him, “Where you going?”
Arthur is stopped in his path and looks at Dixon with lazy eyes, “None of your business.”
“You can’t work.”
Arthur is enraged when he hears Dixon say that. He clenches his fist and bites back, “Sh—”
“Yet. Not with those legs,” Dixon says. He’s concerned about the leg he stabbed with the knife. It’s patched up, sure. But it’s evident that Arthur is struggling to walk normally.
“You crippled me,” Arthur says.
“I did not—”
“YOU! CRIPPLED! ME!” Arthur shouts, making himself clear.
“You attacked me. What was I supposed to do?”
“I had a blunt mace and you struck me with a fucking knife. Where’s the fairness in that?” Arthur asks him.
“I—”
“No! No I!” Arthur cuts him and approaches him. He whispers close, “Did you think I was that weak? Why did you think I swung slow? If I wanted to kill you, I would’ve swung hard and swiftly.”
“I had to use something to fight back. My weapons were confiscated by the masters, along the blun—” Dixon tries to explain before cutting himself. It’s a pointless conversation. He can’t win this argument. He remains silent.
“Whatever,” Arthur says before breathing long. “Do whatever you want. I don’t care. Not anymore,” he says. This time, Arthur finally walks away from the scene. He dons his helmet and disappears.
Dixon enters the main building where Master Kraven is sitting in the living room. “Master Kraven,” he greets.
Master Kraven only nods at him. He picks himself up and walks to an open window. “Your next job is on the table,” he points out.
“Now that the bears are dead, surely this can’t be spotting,” Dixon says excitedly. He takes the contract details on the job. He reads it, “A group of protesters. They want us to handle them. How?”
“Have you killed innocents before?” Master Kraven says.
Given the magnitude of those words, Dixon is shocked. He has never been asked to kill innocents. He gulps and says, “I’ll find another way.”
“Such as?” Master Kraven asks.
Dixon doesn’t answer this time, but he shrugs. He’ll find a way. He always does. Does he? Doubts fill his cloudy mind. “The contract mentions I’m to meet a contact in the flightport?”
“Shame it’s not aligned with your freedom,” Master Kraven says.
“I’ll do the job well.”
“I’m not trusting you to,”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Arthur is going,” Master Kraven announces.
Dixon, half relieved and half worried. “He can’t. Did you see him walk?”
“He’s all that we have,” Master Kraven reaches out to his pocket and grabs Dixon’s spaceship key. He throws it on the table separating him.
“You can’t put me through this, Master Kraven.”
“I can and I am putting you through this. Best of luck,” he says as he turns around to the window again. He doesn’t want to see what Dixon chooses directly so he waits. When he hears the door behind him close, he takes a long breath and turns around to see whether the key is there or not.
----------------------------------------
At Dust and Repair Garage Shop.
Dixon strides into the garage shop, his eyes scanning the cluttered space for a kyblade he covets. The hum of the engines and the scent of lubricant fill the air as he approaches the owner, a grizzled old mechanic. Dixon could see the man sizing him up, taking in his weapons and the hard look in his eyes. Dixon launches into negotiations, but the garage owner is unyielding. The kyblade is worth every coin and then some, and he isn’t about to let it go for a song.
Dixon’s eyes narrow as he sizes up his opponent. He is used to getting things for free upon completing missions, and this old man is stripping his patience. Dixon’s hand drifts unconsciously to the handle of his laser pistol, target clear.
Then the mechanic lets out a chuckle, unimpressed. “You think you’re the first tough guy to come in here looking for a deal? I’ve seen it all, kid. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got work to do,” the mechanic says.
Undeterred, Dixon leans in closer, his voice dropping to a low growl and says, “I’ve got job to do, and the kyblade is the only ride that’ll get me there. Name your price.” The tension between them is palpable as they switch back and forth, the sound of their voices echoing in the cavernous garage.
The mechanic holds his ground, his weathered face set in a scowl. He is not about to let a mercenary bully him into a bad deal.
As the negotiations reach a stalemate, Dixon begins to pace, his frustration growing by the second. He needs that kyblade, and he needs it now. He is about to raise the stakes when the sound of a blaster being cocked catches his attention. He spins, hand flashing to his weapon, only to find himself facing down the barrel of a blaster, similar to the one he has, being held by a woman wearing all black.
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“Alright, alright, calm down,” she says, her voice calm and level. “Take whatever money he offers and call it a deal,” the woman commands to the garage owner.
Dixon’s eyes flicker between the woman and the owner, and he can see the relief in the latter’s face.
The owner knows when he’s beat, and the woman is clearly someone he doesn’t want to mess with. In the end, it is her iron will that wins, and she strikes a deal that leaves both Dixon and the owner harmless.
Dixon pushes the kyblade outside the garage, its engines singing as it lifts off the ground. He is one step closer to his goal, and he has the kyblade to thank for it. And the woman in black. He watches her walking closer. “Myalami X3?” Dixon questions her firearm.
She shakes her head saying, “X5. You own a Myalami too?”
“Yeah, an X3,” he says, revealing the gun behind his robe, hanging from his waist. “Who are you?” he asks.
The woman only laughs and leaves him. From the distance, she calls out, “Nice meeting you, Mister Xerlayne.”
As confused as he is relieved, he sparks out his gratitude from afar.
He steps on his bike and rides to the contact location written on his face. He can’t be sure enough to finally regain a moment of freedom, finally.
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At Angbor District, Outskirts of Neropolis
It’s not a duty that he usually commences in the name of his enterprise. But, poor Professor Zoil, having to visit a warehouse that belongs to a certain assassin guild here in the outskirts of Neropolis. The order was specific, to find a fitting assassin that could do whatever mission Lady Trianna orders the assassin to do. Professor Zoil isn’t too keen about having to endanger himself despite being guarded by two fierce soldiers of the enterprise donning loadouts and armors made by Mili-TX.
Professor Zoil cuts a striking figure in his gray tuxedo, which strains ever so slightly at the seams across his large frame. Standing at just above average height, Professor Zoil’s well-groomed appearance is only accentuated by the gleaming frames of his round glasses. Despite his somewhat unassuming appearance, Professor Zoil is, undoubtedly, a man of formidable intellect. He was appointed by Lady Trianna as the enterprise’s lead researcher for a reason. He possesses a sharp mind, able to cut through even the most complex problems with ease. Yet, despite his many accomplishments and his impressive intellect, Professor Zoil is a proud man. He carries himself with a confidence that borders on arrogance. With this however, he has become an indispensable asset to the enterprise. He is mostly driven by his thirst for power and his desire to see his research put to use, no matter the cost. He works tirelessly to uncover new secrets and develop cutting-edge technologies, always pushing the boundaries of what is possible.
He steps into the warehouse, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the cavernous space. The air is filled with the smell of sweat, and the sounds of bodies striking bodies and weapons clashing. Everywhere he looks, he sees assassins training, each one more deadly than the last. They are of all shapes and sizes, but each one carries themselves with deadly grace. As he makes his way onto a platform overlooking the training area, he suddenly feels the eyes of the assassins upon them. Some look up from their training, while others simply carry on, indifferent to his presence. Professor Zoil can feel his heart pounding in his chest, his fear a palpable thing in the air. He is out of his depth here, surrounded by trained killers and ruthless warriors, and another figure who slowly approaches him knows it. Upon greeting the man, Professor Zoil hears something being unraveled behind him. He notices his guards are being held with daggers on their necks by two slender figures, disarmed of their rifles. He panics and warns the figure in front of him, “Do it if you mean war against the enterprise!”
“Ah, lovely. A visit from the enterprise!” the man cheers. He looks at Professor Zoil with an investigating stare and eventually he raises his hand, ordering his assassins to stand down. “For demonstration purposes only. Pardon the lack of notice,” he proudly says.
Feeling insulted, Professor Zoil shouts, “Don’t you know who I am?”
“I fear not. Shall I remind you that you’re in no place to threaten us?”
Now back to his senses, Professor Zoil tries to steady his breathing and talks in a friendly manner. “Of course. My name is Professor Zoil. I’m here as a, say as an emissary on behalf of the Erving Enterprise,”
“I recognize militex armor from afar, yes. That much is clear. What can I help you or your enterprise friend with?” the owner of the assassin guild asks.
“Lady Trianna Erving wishes to hire one of your assassins,”
“Can’t you refrain from stating the obvious?”
“Silent one, preferably. Lady Trianna wishes him to be sneaky,” Professor Zoil requests.
“Ah, let me call some candidates,” the owner says. Within a clap of his hands, another figure appears, a woman, likely an assistant of his. He whispers something into her ears then she strides away. Upon her departure, he just stares at Professor Zoil.
The owner's stare is intentful enough to make Professor Zoil uncomfortable, but he remains steady so that the image of the enterprise he’s carrying won’t be stained. Few minutes later, three assassins are being presented to him. One male is a brute, one is shorter than him, the other one is slightly thin but has an empty stare. “These idiots can’t do,” Professor Zoil points out.
“I warn you not to speak of my kids in such manner,” the owner warns him back, finally.
“And I warn you not to disappoint Lady Trianna, the leader of House Erving, the ruler of this plan—”
“If you came here just to boast, then you’d better leave. Three of these. Only pick, only give money, no talk,” the owner cuts Professor Zoil.
“I will not choose these gremlins!” Professor Zoil protests. He walks closer to the brute assassin and points out, “He’s a brute! His walks shake the core of the earth. What good is he for stealth?” The brute grunts. Then, Professor Zoil steps to the middle candidate, the short one and says, “This man isn’t even taller than me!” The man mentioned then spits to the ground as a response. “And finally, I doubt he’s even paying attention to his surroundings,” Professor Zoil says regarding the last candidate who has been staring at nothing. He tries to wave his hand, expecting a reaction out of the candidate, but to no avail. He then hears the owner sigh.
Professor Zoil then walks to the edge of the platform. He now scans the assassins training down under him. He spits down and about to turn around before he lays his eyes on something. Staring intensely as if he’s found a precious gem. He points at her and looks back at the owner saying, “You didn’t tell me you own a jackal, doofus!”
The owner sighs again, but this time louder. “She’s not for hiring,” the owner explains.
“No, nope. She is up for hiring. Exclusively for the enterprise,” Professor Zoil forces.
“I told you, she’s not—”
“And I told you that one does not simply reject the enterprise! We are the wheel of civilization, sir. Money runs deep in our pocket. Whatever money or form of exchange you wish for, we will grant you thus. In exchange, you hand over the jackal as our assassin.” Professor Zoil is desperate to win the jackal over. Their kind are rarely seen for slavery or any form of hiring since they’re of a great house with the same name, House of Jackal. Professor Zoil is elastic at the prospect of having a jackal to do the mission as their race has a special feature that allows them to move swiftly and quietly. He lets out a wide smile, satisfied with his mission finally completed. All that’s left is to report back to Lady Trianna.
Few moments later,
She’s on the way to the locker when two of her colleagues walk in front of her. They make sure that she can’t enter the room, not without force. Not seeking trouble, she tries to walk past between their jointed shoulders, but they push her back. She warns them, “I’m not in the mood for games, guys.”
Despite her reluctance, they only smirk. One of them touches her body, yet she remains silent. “You’ve become quite a commodity, huh?” the one that touches her body asks her. He gropes around her body, eventually cupping one of her breasts. He lets go of her when she puts her hand on her pocket where she keeps her dagger.
“No need for violence, we’re only inspecting. They say visiting Old Earth may reawaken something inside a person,” the other male tries to convince her. This time, that man steps forward, eyes staring at her bottom.
Without the need to further their prying eyes and intrusive touch, she slashes her dagger in one move, slashing both of their throats. She hears a clap next to her. It comes from Professor Zoil who’s descending a staircase.
“Splendid. Thoroughly deserved,” Professor Zoil compliments, but the woman is not in a friendly mood, not after what’s happened. The woman remains still before heading inside the locker before being halted by Professor Zoil. He speaks, “My goodness, it’s true they say that your kind is slender, but pretty,” only to be replied with a hiss from the woman. He climbs down the staircase further, reaching the ground she’s in, leveling them.
Just what she needs, she thinks, another pervert. She reaches for her dagger before finally Professor Zoil’s guards appear from above the staircase. Knowing who they are, she puts that intention down and wipes her knife at the corpses below her instead, cleaning it from their blood. She approaches Professor Zoil and stares down at him. She’s way taller, and way taller than the average human. Given her race of course, jackals are slender and paper-like figures. They’re supposed to be thin. Her hands are like feathers compared to normal human’s as she accepts Professor Zoil handshake.
Professor Zoil introduces himself, “Nice to meet you, Miss Ly—“ his words are cut off by a sudden attack he feels coming from his hand. What felt like feathers now feels like a thousand needles being stabbed at his hand, instead. Upon expressing terror on his face, he feels her grip losing.
She has let go of his hand and begins her first talk, “That’s not my name.”
“Pardon my lack of knowledge or obliviousness, but your owner said your name is Lyonora.”
“Gastogne knows jack shit about me. And you’re stupid enough to believe him,” she bites.
Hearing himself called stupid, Professor Zoil is enraged, but he’s smart enough to know that this is a mere touch of real life that he hasn’t been onboard with for almost his entire life. He spent too much time studying and experimenting. Of course, it’s natural for this process to be annoying. He can blame Lady Trianna for sending him here, but that too would be unwise to do. He can’t afford triggering the richest lady in the space federation, especially the one who granted him power and royalty.
“Ah, so his name is Gastogne. I didn’t bother to talk longer with him. He offered me three idiots to do my job. I’m glad I found you. A jackal, perfect!” he says in excitement.
“You act like you have never seen one. And I thought your kind was supposed to be enlightened.”
“And your kind was supposed to be smart enough not to be rude towards your suitor.” Professor Zoil is running out of patience. “You are to follow us as your first task,” he orders. He throws a watch-like device that can fit into her wrist.
The female jackal only scoffs at his order. “Ertells? No hired guns wear one,” she points out while following him.
Professor Zoil answers, “We’ve prepared this for our assassin. It’s custom made and privacy integrated. USF can’t track you with this.”
“Oh yeah? But the Imperials can.” she says trying to be smart.
“Tell that to Lady Trianna later when you meet her, and you’ll have your tongue cut,” he warns her. He takes a deep breath before stopping on his track and whispers something in front of her face. With stinking breath, Professor Zoil says, hoping to finally shut her mouth, “Or perhaps not since you’re the best person to do her mission.” He smiles and they leave towards the exit, entering a fancy car that awaits them outside.
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At Crystalline Palace
King Richard dons his armor to rally his grand army to Barnhold upon a news relayed by his advisor that his only son, Dane Saintguard has retaken the city Amenthura. Happy with his son’s conquest, he intends to meet him face to face after. He steps outside the palace and sees his soldiers aligned right at the city gates, waiting for their king to depart with them. An army of one hundred thousand strong, he tells himself. He mounts his horse in the palace grounds and sees his first daughter sprinting to him. “Princess Valeria!” he greets her. Behind her, his second daughter appears slowly, not as ecstatic as her sister. “Princess Starla,” he greets though with a lower voice.
“Father, take me with you!” Princess Valeria begs.
“I can’t do that, my lady. Princesses shan’t be soldiers in a war.”
“How come Dane can be there?” she asks.
King Richard laughs at her lack of attention, “I said princesses not princes, Valeria,”
“But I wild hunt just fine. I can handle human!" She tries to convince her father.
“It’s a different thing to kill a human, my child,” King Richard claims.
Valeria grabs her father’s arm, pulling him down and his body curved down, “They’re out of flesh and blood too, father. I can do this!” she argues.
“Child, there is a difference between killing a living being that purely just exists and another being that has conscience. A being that can act willingly. A being that can choose right and wrong. A being that can choose whether to kill or not to kill. It’s significantly different, trust me. You thrust a different flesh and will be inflicted with different remorse. And for this one, trust me, it’s worse,” King Richard finally convinces her. It appears to be successful as his daughter now is quiet.
“How about my wild hunt then? I still have a final month to finish my ascension,” she asks.
“Your nobility won’t mean anything if the rebels are within our doorsteps, my child. We’ll delay your last month, don’t worry,” King Richard answers though it can be seen the answer isn’t satisfying enough for his daughter. He continues, “Besides, you have a duty here as you’ve proven yourself strong.” This time, he catches the attention of Valeria once again. “If man soldier protects their loved ones through battles outside. Then lady soldier protects their loved ones through battles inside,” he winks before adding, “You will be the protector of your sister, your mother, everyone in this palace and city. I trust by your strength you can do this? Come hug your father!”
Princess Valeria hugs her father and excitedly says acknowledge her task in return. “Send brother Dane my regards Father! Tell him to visit his family before retiring to Richardtown, please,” she requests.
The king only nods at her request. He then turns into his wife, kissing her, and saying some farewell words. He then turns his attention to the youngest child and youngest sister, Princess Starla. “Come here, my little bird!” he laughs and opens his arm.
Though not as swift as her older sister, Starla approaches her father slowly, walking in grace and dramatic fashion. She knows he loves her the same, but she can’t help but to feel that her father is much more attentive to Valeria. She offers her body to be hugged and she hugs him warm, tears releasing upon the clutch. “Do you wish me to be someone else when you return, father?” she asks.
King Richard now frowns upon hearing her daughter saying that. “You know I never wanted you to be someone else, my child. But tell you what, I want you to be better. A lady who never over thinks about herself. A lady who will always smile. A lady who will be as noble as those with the title. More importantly, a lady who remains herself. Can you do that for me?” he holds her hands and asks her. She remains silent though. He adds, “Will you try, at the very least?”
This time, she shows a wide smile and nods while saying, “I will, Father.” They embrace once more.
Now that farewell has been done, King Richard rides outside the palace and heads to the main city gate. Greeting all of his soldiers on the way just like the honored man he is famously known as. By the time he reaches the pinnacle, he’s lifted the morale of his army. With a loud cheer, they march to Barnhold, heading after their king’s son, the crown prince.
After their king's departure, the palace grows silent. They’re in awe with the sight of the army marching to the hills, disappearing from the vicinity. Leaves turning brown and wind stops blowing, they fall into a slumber. With the castle being lonelier than before, Princess Valeria and Princess Starla walk together. Starla as usual walks with grace, taking smaller steps and hands joined in front of her belly. On the other hand, Valeria’s steps are bigger and she hums in every corridor, trying to feel the freedom.
Starla is smiling at the sight of her sister being so careless and happy. “You seem to be happy, dear sister,” she points out.
“Nothing feels better than breathing the air of freedom. It reminds me of the wild hunts,” Valeria replies. This time her hum stops upon realizing what she’s said in the presence of her younger sister. She notices her smile now has faded away. With frowns being displayed, Valeria now regrets what she just said, “Oh, Starla! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” She moves forward to hug her sister.
Starla accepts the hug. Her face now shows annoyance rather than sorrow. She doesn’t like it when someone talks about the wild hunts, or anything regarding the nobility. She reassures her sister however, “It’s alright, Valeria. I promised Father I’d be better. I won’t sulk over it.”
Now their bodies have been untethered, Valeria is proud of her sister. “I wish you the best in overcoming all of this, Starla. If you wish to talk about anything, you know you can come to me, right?” Valeria offers her sister her time.
Starla only nods at the offering, just like many times she would. She thinks her sister is only being kind because she feels superior compared to her little sister, therefore she has never done any talks with her sister, not when she feels so alienated due to her sister’s achievements. She believes that her family members all despise her, and consider Valeria as the best daughter. She feels like an unwanted child, born out of loathe, raised as a spite. The only thing Starla can do is isolate herself and let the world take her wherever it can take her to. Oh, but she’d kill for freedom. Away from her sister, away from her father, away from titles, from politics, from her own blood even. She has always wanted one thing growing up. Leave her planet and find a better life on another planet. A life where people wouldn’t be scared of her identity and whisper behind her back instead. A life where she could be recognized for her strengths, rather than her weaknesses. A life where she could find a partner that she gets to choose, not a partner she gets to marry for alliance. A life where she could be free. Though, all of those are mere faint imaginations. Imaginations that hurt her in her daydreams and attack her everytime she takes a cold shower. Then, she stares at her sister to ask, “What will become of your hunt?”
Valeria smiles at the notion that her sister’s taken an interest suddenly. As if she has become another person. She answers, “Father said it can wait.” She holds her hand now and adds, “And one more thing. Father mentioned that he would take our brother to the palace after the war’s over.”
“Really?” Starla jumps in excitement knowing her brother is finally coming home. He has missed out on Valeria’s feast for the last two months, ruling at their father’s stead in Richardtown as the town’s major. Starla’s quite fond of her brother. He’s the only person that could understand her pressure and wishes. Though he can’t do anything about it, something about her brother being respectful makes him someone she can trust to confide. Perhaps the distance helps, she thinks. Her brother is two years older than her and they were separated when she was just 8 years old. He was taken by her father to rule at Richardtown, making him the youngest major in Orion. Since then, he has become some sort of prince charming. A prince whose name is only heard through the talk of the town, gossips between the ladies, noble or not, and tales from the street performers. She only got to see her brother’s face once in a while, more often than not. She is reminded of the times when they were just kids and they would play act in the park together. Her brother would be the promised prince who descended from the skies, Valeria would be his wife and princess, Starla would be the damsel in distress. She would be the one who needed help, the one who needed to be free from being a hostage of the evil dark king. But, she could never remember who would act as the dark king. Her memory is blurry, and the face is scratched away, but she knows one thing true. The dark king was a broken prince and her character always felt sorry for him despite being a hostage. She had asked about the forgotten king to her sister and her brother, but none of them remembered either, so she gave up trying to unveil. Now, just like any other memories that came after, those snippets are washed away. She sees no use in commemorating.
“Hey. What are you thinking?” Valeria interrupts her soon after Starla ends her thoughts.
“Just old memories. Of Dane,” she replies.
“Am I included?” Valeria wonders.
“Not really, but sure you were there,” Starla tries to explain but unsure.
Valeria chuckles a bit before saying, “Ah! You must’ve been thinking about our play when we were kids.”
Starla once again, only nods at her sister.
“Why do you always do that?” Valeria asks out of curiosity.
Starla only arches one of her eyebrows in confusion. Then she notices her sister is making silly faces trying to mimic her expression. Struggling to raise one of her eyebrows, but lifted both instead, Starla growls at her sister. What is meant to be harmless, she takes offense to it. She pushes her sister away. She watches as her sister plummets into the floor. With a loud thump echoing, a creak is heard from the giant door in that room, revealing a worried face that belongs to an elderly woman, their mother.
“What happened?” she asks in panic before seeing her oldest daughter on the ground, face down probably ashamed. She drops to help her, but she’s shocked upon realizing the person standing in front. Her youngest daughter has slammed her oldest daughter so hard that the oldest daughter is struggling to breathe and her elbows are bleeding. “Are you insane?” she growls at Starla before continuing, “Are you trying to kill your sister?”
With eyes teary and body shaking, Starla only utters, “I’m sorry,” before leaving, not wanting to face their vengeful gazes.
A couple of hours later, Valeria wakes up in her room with her left hand restricted for movement. She sees a splint wrapping her entire arm from her shoulder, protecting her elbow from further harm.
“Be careful, my dear. There’s a fractured bone in your elbow,” a voice reaches out, warning her not to move her hand.
“Advisor Cantellan?”
“Yes, it’s me, my dear,” Cantellan confirms.
“Bu—What are you doing here?” Valeria asks.
“Figured you would ask. I’m no fighter nor I possess a battle mind, so I insisted to your father to stay. Consider me as your protector. I rushed when I heard you were injured. Pardon me for not tending to my duties. I could’ve avoided this,” he explains and apologizes.
Valeria doesn’t think it’s something he should be apologizing about. He would be meddling with family business had he been present there, seeing two sisters having a lovely exchange before things took a turn for the worse. “You shouldn’t apologize for it, Advisor Cantellan,” she says.
“Aren’t you a kind little princess, my dear,” he says with a rough voice, but slowly.
Suddenly, her mother barges into the room, bringing a cup of tea for her wounded daughter. She freezes upon seeing her husband’s advisor. “What are you doing here, Advisor Cantellan?”
“My Queen, I was just checking on—”
“You don’t have my permission to visit my daughter!” she yells at him. She puts down the cup on the table beside Valeria’s bed and pulls Advisor Cantellan's shirt.
“Sister Alexia, you’re disturbed. Allow me to explain,”
“Guards!” she yells. A couple of guards then swarm in after her calling. “Take this man out of my daughter’s vicinity,” she orders. The guards are hesitant, so she screams again, “What are you lurking about? Take him out of here!” The guards then move swiftly and drag Advisor Cantellan by force, lifting him off the ground. “And don’t ever let him in ever again!” she shouts from inside.
When the room is quiet and closed, Valeria speaks out in a hoarse voice, “Why so hostile, mother?” She’s terrified after her mother lashes out at Advisor Cantellan. She never saw this side of her before. Protective she is, but never this overprotective.
“I don’t want you talking to him ever again. Do you understand me?” her mother orders.
“But he’s your brother. My uncle,” Valeria tries to argue.
“And he’s not to be trusted!” Queen Alexia reminds her. Then, she reaches for her broken arm and lays her hands on it gently before saying, “Haven’t you seen what siblings could do?”
Valeria gazes at her splintered arm and gulps. She then wonders what happened to her sister, “What did you do to Starla?”
“She’s locked herself in her chamber,” she answers.
“What will become of her then?” Valeria asks again.
Queen Alexia lays her face on the bed and explains, “One does not simply lock herself forever. When she’s out, I’ll see her punished.”
Valeria doesn’t want to give a reaction yet. She doesn’t like to be hurt and feel defeated, especially not by someone that isn’t a noble. However, she doesn’t fancy the idea of seeing her sister get hurt either, just like her mother probably wouldn’t too. She can see her mother conflicted. She thinks a loving mother doesn’t simply punish her own child, but honor enforces her. But at least, she wants to understand her sister. So, she tries, “Then don’t, mother.” She pauses before their eyes lock once again. “Don’t punish her,” she adds while giving a smile of assurance.
“But, Valeria, you’re hurt badly,” Queen Alexia reminds her.
“I know. But, I provoked her. I guess I deserved it,” Valeria defends her little sister.
Queen Alexia is proud of her daughter defending her little sister. She knows her daughters. They are kind, but one is too careless and the other is too silent. It’s often hard to tell the difference between her daughters’ actions because only stress would bring their contrasts. They’re twins in everything but appearance and desires, she believes. Despite her daughter defending her other daughter, she won’t let this go without any repercussions. She will try to become a good mother for both of them. She quips, “Very well. I’m being a good mother for you, but I will try to become one too for your little sister. If she is to be let without any repercussions, I fear she’ll turn for the worse. I won’t punish her harshly. But I want you to bear no ill thoughts towards your little sister, okay?”
“I won’t, mother. I love her,” Valeria reassures her mother.
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At Planet Acrona, halfway the distance to the City of Lancetanner.
Dixon stops his kyblade at an electrical recharge station, hoping to refill the deprecated battery. He’s been throttling without any regards to the speed limit. He had visited the spaceport back at Tannerport before he learned that the contact had disappeared. He assumed Arthur had reached out to the contact first. However, with the help of a familiar face, he received a clue. He slides up his ertell and calls this new acquaintance of his. His voice stutters at first, but the second Dixon shakes his ertell for signal, he can hear him loud and clear.
“Finally got signal, ‘ey?” the man on the speaker asks.
“Terrible. I’ve never been to Lancetanner. What should I expect?”
“T’was city for farmers back. Since the peasants broke, ain’t heard nuttin o’er than crazy twilight shit, ye feel me, little bro?” the man explains.
“Elaborate on what you meant by twilight shit,” Dixon requests. The man he’s communicating with can’t speak a clear sentence at all, he complains inside.
“Anarchy? Anarchism? Anarchist? I ‘on know the word. But yeah, them peasants been burnin’ villages. Other nasty stuffs too, like rape, torture, and yada yada,” he tries to explain.
“Okay, thanks for the heads up, Jeremiah?” Dixon tries to remember his name as the man introduced himself with an accent he couldn’t comprehend.
“It’s Jerome, ye dungus!” the man shouts through the speakers.
Dixon shuts down the ertell and recharges his kyblade. It should take around ten minutes to recharge it fully. It’s the lowest model anyway. But he’s grateful for the kyblade. It’s been modified, it should have better acceleration and more responsive handling. Perfect for his job. He stops to think about what happened the other day when the woman in black helped him to get the bike. He wonders whether he’d meet the lady again, knowing nothing in this world comes for free. Hopefully a peaceful meeting next time around. He wouldn’t like to exchange gun duels with one wielding a Myalami X5. It’d be stupid. Dixon takes his Myalami for viewing. He inspects the trigger, the barrel, the LED display for bullets, and the handle. He remembers the moment he held his first Myalami and it felt like the greatest weapon in the universe, manufactured to the sleekest details by the most brilliant craftsman, or craftbot, in the entire universe. He wipes the weapon and sheathes it back to the holster right on his waist. He then reaches back to his ertell and tries to use the map system to mark Lancetanner. It’s around two hours away. He hopes that Arthur hasn’t done anything reckless knowing the condition of his legs. After recharging the battery, he rushes to his kyblade and throttles it to the limit. He has no intention of stopping for the remainder of the distance.
Inside his mind however, he fills it with the memory of him taking his spaceship’s key from Master Kraven. He remembers wanting to leave it on the table since he would not need it anyway as he’d rather save Arthur than escaping. However, the prospect of Master Kraven getting to keep his belonging has bored him. He doesn’t want Master Kraven controlling his life any longer. He trusts Master Kraven more through his stories, so he expects Master Kraven to trust him back. He needs to regain their trust. Not for the fact that he wants to work with them anymore, but he wants them to treat him as equal. He’s not his disciple anymore. He’s old enough to be in the same level in this little guild of mercenaries, though with respect towards the masters as they have more experience. And also, he’d like to prove his masters wrong. He will be useful and shove it on their faces. He will make them proud for the sake of his own self, not for them. That’s what Master Kraven wanted him to do, chase after his own glory.