[Location: Friedrich Suite – Vanderlane Grand Hotel – Maranagara City – Noon – 2 Days before Night of Sarjavah Festival - Year: 1092 Ad Felicitas]
The Friedrich Suite lay in silence, broken only by the distant murmur of ocean waves beyond the window. Seated at his desk, Friedrich watched as the Lumina Core on his wrist pulsed to life, casting a faint glow against his skin. His expression darkened the moment Alma’s face flickered onto the screen. He spoke before she could, his voice steady yet taut, laced with an edge of unspoken concern.
“Alma... are you alright?” Friedrich asked, his tone low and sharp.
His fingers drummed once against the desk—a subtle gesture—but his eyes never left hers.
“I’m fine, Dad... Don’t worry. But the village... it’s gone. Destroyed.” Alma's voice was cheery, but the undercurrent of concern was unmistakable.
“Thats unfortunate…. I’m glad you’re okay. How’s everything else?” Friedrich paused, relief washing over him, but there was still a sharp tension in his posture.
"Everyone's okay, but we're laying low for now. Waiting for their enchanted sight to lose our trail.” Alma tried to sound optimistic, but the strain in her voice was clear.
“We’ll likely head to the Resistance base later, Professor. What about you?” Luna's voice was calm but serious.
Friedrich’s jaw tightened as he glanced away from the screen, fingers resting against his temple.
“Lance is out for now. Jaxon’s working on setting up the meeting. Once it’s locked in, I’ll move fast. Catch him off guard.”
“I see… Do you have a backup plan?” Luna’s voice was quiet, deliberate.
“Sadly, nothing comes to mind... I just hope it works.” Friedrich replied, his tone laced with uncertainty.
“And you, Drifter? Anything to add?” he asked.
Drifter’s voice came in soft, almost distant, but there was a deep empathy in his tone. “Nothing, Professor. Stay safe.”
“Take care, Dad. We’ll be fine.” Alma smiled.
“Stay safe, all of you.” Friedrich’s voice softened, almost a whisper.
He ended the call, the quiet hum of his Lumina Core reverberating against his wrist, a subtle reminder of the task ahead. His gaze drifted to the city below, the sprawling metropolis bathed in the dim glow of streetlights.
Damn it… If Lance betrays us, then what? Ask help of Grandmaster Ragnar? Amisha?
Alma, Drifter, Luna… I just hope they’re safe.
Splitting up might’ve been a mistake. Maybe I was a fool to think otherwise. His thoughts swirled, filled with doubt.
The sudden buzz of the Lumina Core shattered the stillness.
Friedrich glanced down, tapping the device to open the message.
Sender: JXV
To: FRH
He's here…
His eyes lingered on the words, jaw tightening. A familiar fire ignited in his chest. There was no time to hesitate.
He rushed out of his room, feet pounding against the floor. His pulse quickened, matching the rhythm of his strides. The city blurred past as he sprinted toward the nearest skyrail station.
At last, he arrived at the Union Branch Evocaier Order HQ, its towering structure casting long shadows over the street. The guard at the entrance straightened the moment he approached.
“Please, show your identification,” said the man, his mustache twitching slightly.
As Friedrich closed the distance, the man’s expression shifted. His stance stiffened, and he instinctively took a step back, bowing slightly.
“My apologies, Commander Rosenthal. I didn’t realize you were here.” The man’s tone was respectful, though there was an edge of tension in it.
Friedrich didn’t flinch. His gaze remained steady, cold yet sharp with intent.
“I need to speak with Lance Vermonth. Immediately.” Friedrich's voice was unwavering.
The guard hesitated for a moment before nodding, his movements more deliberate now.
“Of course, Commander. Right this way.”
Without another word, they moved swiftly through the leader private office of the Evocaier Order building. The cold air inside was a sharp contrast to the humid evening outside, but it did nothing to ease the tension that hung in the corridors. Their footsteps echoed off the polished marble floors, sharp and rhythmic. Friedrich’s eyes scanned the surroundings, taking in every detail as they walked.
When they reached the office door, a woman in a neatly pressed suit stood waiting. Her short dark brown hair framed a tense expression, her gaze flickering nervously between the two men.
“I’m sorry, but Mr. Vermounth is currently in a meeting with a guest. You’ll need to wait.” she said, her voice tinged with unease.
The man stiffened, his hand moving to the door, his tone sharpening.
“Tell the guest to leave. This is urgent!”
“No need. The guest is a friend of mine.” Friedrich said smoothly.
The door creaked open, revealing Lance Vermonth’s office. Inside, Lance stood behind his desk, leaning slightly on his palms, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp, sizing up the situation. The room hummed with quiet tension, broken only by Jaxon’s light-hearted chatter from the corner.
As Friedrich entered, Lance’s eyes widened briefly as he quickly straightened and rose from his chair.
“Commander Rosenthal. I wasn’t expecting you... not under these circumstances. What brings you here?” Lance’s tone carried a hint of unease as he nodded.
Friedrich remained calm, offering a formal nod.
“Lance. Apologies. Jaxon was here under false pretenses.” He motioned briefly toward Jaxon, who awkwardly waved. “But we’re on a mission from Grandmaster Ragnar, and I’d like to come clean about that.”
“A mission? Come clean, you say? And what exactly does that involve?” Lance's eyes narrowed slightly.
“We’ve been investigating a recent attack on our Academy. We tracked the perpetrators here.” Friedrich's voice remained steady, unwavering.
Friedrich caught the brief clench of Lance’s jaw before his fingers began tapping lightly on the desk.
Stolen story; please report.
“I see. Someone must have stolen something important from the Academy, then?” Lance said with a faint smile.
“Yes. A dangerous artifact was stolen. We believe the Nusa Union government is involved.” Friedrich paused, his gaze unyielding.
“You’ve been under pressure from them, haven’t you?” His voice was low and deliberate.
The silence hung thick in the air, pressing down like an unseen weight. Friedrich watched as Lance's fingers tightened on the edge of his desk, then went still. A muscle tensed in his jaw, and his breathing grew shallow. His eyes met Friedrich’s for the briefest moment before flicking away, his unease plain in the rigid set of his shoulders.
“If you help us stop the mercenaries from delivering the cube to the Yuvaka Cruiseship, Grandmaster Ragnar will take note of your... cooperation. It could ease the pressure you’re under from the government.” Friedrich said, his voice steady.
Silence settled over the room once more, Lance’s shoulders eased, his breath slipping out in a slow release. A flicker of a smile tugged at his lips
“I’ll help... contact me if you need anything. But I’m afraid I don’t have the means to get you onto that ship just yet. Even I didn’t receive an invitation. But I’ll see what I can do.” Lance's gaze dipped slightly, his words measured.
“Thank you. It won’t go unnoticed.” Friedrich responded.
As they turned to leave, hurried footsteps echoed down the hall. The door swung open once more, and two young boys, full of energy and joy, rushed inside. Their faces lit up when they saw Lance.
“Daddy! You’re back!” said the boy with black hair.
Lance knelt, arms open wide to embrace the two boys, a smile spreading across his face.
“Did you beat the bad guys, Daddy?” asked the boy with brown hair.
Lance paused, his gaze lingering on his children, something heavy flickering behind his eyes. Then, with a forced laugh, he nodded.
“Yeah… we beat the bad guys.”
Friedrich stood in the doorway, watching the boys’ joyful faces. His breath hitched as a sharp ache tugged at his chest. Alma’s laughter, once so familiar, echoed faintly in his mind—her small arms outstretched, running toward him after every mission. That was a lifetime ago.
Then, as he caught the look on Lance’s face, a bitter thought settled in his mind.
Maybe, deep down, he was just another man trapped in a system that was slowly suffocating him.
Friedrich gave a polite nod to Lance, who returned it in silent understanding. Without another word, he turned to leave, Jaxon following close behind.
As Friedrich and Jaxon reached the exit gate, Virendra was already waiting, leaning casually against the wall as though he’d been expecting them. Friedrich’s eyes flicked to him, sharp and calculating, then quickly back to the street, his senses on high alert. Virendra took a step forward, a faint grin curling at the corners of his lips.
“Good day, Garen Vexler... or should I call you... Commander Friedrich Rosenthal?” Virendra said with a hint of amusement.
Friedrich's steps faltered, a flicker of recognition sparking in his eyes. The name—Garen Vexler—stirred something deep in his chest, sending a ripple of alarm through him. His expression remained hard.
Wait... no one knows about that name... He must be... his thoughts raced.
Jaxon glanced between the two men, his brow furrowing.
"Professor... he knows that name," Jaxon whispered.
Friedrich nodded and met Virendra’s gaze, his expression steady, unreadable.
"So, it's you... the voice from the bar."
What do you want?" His fingers twitched at his side, though his stance remained firm.
“Ah, a man of business,” Virendra mused, a sly smile curling at his lips. “Straight to the point. No pleasantries. I can respect that.”
His left hand rested on his chin, eyes glinting with amusement.
“Let’s take this somewhere more… private.”
Friedrich's mind raced as he noticed Virendra's faint smile.
That man must be the general’s right-hand man… If he tells the mercs to back off and change the deal, that could be a problem. But does he even know about the cube?
"Uh... Should we really follow him?" Jaxon whispered, anxiety creeping into his voice.
"No choice. We follow him," Friedrich stated firmly.
"Alright. Guess we're doing this," Jaxon muttered under his breath.
"Smart move. This way," Virendra gestured with a subtle smirk.
"Lead on."
They were led to a nearby black alcherider with tinted windows. Virendra opened the back door, gesturing for Friedrich and Jaxon to enter with an elegant wave of his hand.
"Sit down. Let's get comfortable," Virendra instructed smoothly.
Inside, a desk sat positioned before the vehicle’s plush seating, an unusual addition for a mode of transport. As Friedrich and Jaxon settled in, Virendra stepped in through the side door, taking his place across from them. He eased into his chair with practiced ease, folding his hands atop the desk’s surface.
"Here we can talk," he announced, folding his hands on the desk's surface.
Friedrich and Jaxon exchanged an uneasy glance.
"So, guests from the Evocaier Order, what brings you to the Nusa Union?" Virendra drawled, his tone deceptively casual.
Friedrich remained silent, his gaze locked on Virendra as sweat beaded on his forehead.
"I didn't bother with disguises—just a small token of respect. I'd appreciate it if you'd trust me, just a little," Virendra mused, leaning back in his chair.
He waited, letting the silence grow heavier.
"By the way, I just read something interesting. The Verm Evocaier Academy was attacked recently—first time in its history. Did something go missing? I'd bet on it." His words hung in the air like smoke.
Friedrich and Jaxon remained silent, avoiding eye contact, their expressions unreadable.
"I'll take that as a yes," Virendra observed with a smile.
"What do you want with us?" Friedrich finally broke, tension evident in his voice.
"Well, as you can see, this country's a bit... dirty, isn't it?" Virendra answered, his voice silky smooth.
"And how does that involve us? The Order doesn't meddle in internal politics," Friedrich shot back.
"True. But you're after the one who stole your precious artifact, aren't you? Forget about Lance. I've got more authority than him, and I already know you've been in contact with him," Virendra revealed, his eyes gleaming.
"Enough. Just tell me what you want," Friedrich demanded through gritted teeth.
"Well, not exactly 'what' I want. More like... what I need you to do for me," Virendra purred.
With a small flick of his wrist, the Lumina Core on Virendra's arm whirred to life, projecting a holographic map of a complex geometric structure with detailed layout and an image of a Strigidae owl-like humanoid portrait.
"This is Na'theva Irma, leader of the resistance. I want you to free her. The data I'm giving you includes all the security information you'll need, along with a map of the facility. What you choose to do with it... well, that's up to you," Virendra revealed, his tone dropping to something more serious.
As Friedrich studied him in silence, recognition stirred. He had seen Virendra’s face before—broadcasted across the arcane network, often standing beside Maranagara’s Chief Administrator, Sarvan Einar. The name surfaced in his mind, along with a distant memory of the headlines.
Years ago, in the embattled Ibeshia Archipelago, where the tides of war crashed over its coveted Eterion reserves, a young Union officer had made his mark. While other officers fell for the Kingdom's ploys, Virendra, with only a handful of troops, had led the Union to victory against the Serrahn Kingdom.
"You're Virendra Parama, aren't you? Why would someone in your position be doing this?" Friedrich asked, his voice tense.
"Ah, you've done your homework. Smart," Virendra's lips curved into a thin smile. "Nothing personal. You'll come out of this with two things: one less useless person in the world, and maybe even that artifact of yours. If they're planning to trade it at Yuvaka, that is."
Does the Grand Chancellor give the orders, or is he following his own agenda? Could he be the one behind the rumored serial murders? If he is… that makes him dangerous, Friedrich thought.
Friedrich’s thoughts raced. Only two days…
His gaze flicked to Virendra, whose smile remained unwavering. That look—calm, assured—belonged to someone who had already placed every piece on the board. Someone with nothing to lose.
A faint tremor ran through Friedrich’s fingers. Alma. The mission. Doubt and unease gnawed at him, but Ragnar’s words echoed in his mind. Failure was not an option.
The academy attack resurfaced—lifeless students and instructors strewn across the bloodstained courtyard, their dying cries still echoing in his mind. Grief and trauma hollowed their eyes, a silence more haunting than screams. The stench of burnt stone clung to his memory.
Next time, it wouldn’t be just the academy. It would be all of Vesteria.
Ragnar was right.
"We'll take the job. But I'm doing it today. We don't have much time," Friedrich declared, his voice firm with resolution.
"Excellent. Don't worry about the equipment. It's already prepared. Just contact me when you're ready," Virendra remarked with practiced ease.
They exited the alcherider, watching as it drove away into the busy street, leaving them standing amid the flow of other vehicles and pedestrians.
"Great. So from farmer to merc, and now we're doing criminal work? Even the mercenaries won't touch a job like this," Jaxon muttered, running a hand through his hair in frustration.
"No choice, Jaxon. He already knows everything. If he intervenes, our whole plan's dead in the water," Friedrich countered, his expression grim.
"...You're right," Jaxon conceded with a resigned sigh.
"I'll contact Hunter. We might need his help," Friedrich added, already active his lumina core in his wrist.
"Well, the split might have backfired now... we can't rely on Drifter, Luna, and Alma's help," Jaxon observed, glancing nervously at the passing crowd.
"They don't need to know. It's just the three of us on this one," Friedrich stated with finality.
Jaxon nodded, and a heavy silence settled between them. The weight of their decision pressed down like lead in their chests as they steeled themselves for the mission ahead.