Akamori jolted awake after his alarm tore violently into the silence of his sleep. Flailing for the device, he slapped at it until the chirping wail itself silenced. Rising slowly, he ran a hand through his short, cropped crimson stubble. At the beginning of his training, Cenine demanded he cut his hair. He protested, but it was hard to argue the benefit of having to maintain and deal with it. He squinted blearily at his comm, and his brain struggled to make sense of the numbers through his grogginess.
He fumbled his way into his uniform as his body struggled to wake back up after only getting less than five hours of sleep. He desperately needed rest, calories, and energy. He just shrugged into his uniform when his attention was torn to the door by a loud banging.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he muttered curses about Cenine under his breath. When he opened the door, though, he blinked through his weariness and saw Amara looking at him with an urgent look on her face. She forced her way in through the door and he gestured to it with a half wave.
“Come in,” he said dryly.
Amara marched into the center of the room and about faced. Taking a moment to study the area. He hadn’t picked up in days. Doing that would imply he’d had the time. His uniform was a ragged mess. Several edges were frayed, and he didn’t have time to get it washed because of the constant high tempo training.
“You look like hell,” she said.
“Thanks?” he replied, trying to make sense of what was so important she’d marched down here before he even got started with his day.
As if reading his mind, she wove an illusion spell, and cast the replay of the captain’s court martial. His focus was just returning as the panel read the verdict. He watched as they posthumously awarded Lt. Rayshe with all of their accomplishments and awards, as if he’d been a part of it, instead of working against it. All because he had some kind of weird hate fetish with nulls. Racist, elitist classist bullshit, in his opinion.
Akamori didn’t have time for that kind of bullshit. He only cared about if people could fight, and if they would. Nothing else was important. Still, it stung harder than he cared to admit that all of his own accolades were being stripped from him and given to someone else. Something cold and powerful seethed deep within him. He marched for his armor, slapping the mind rune, and stepping into the armor, allowing it to harden around him. Akamori blasted off into the air on a wave of void energy.
Akamori’s AP gauge ticked down by one. Miniscule to his 20 AP so far. The trees sliced past him as he roared through the air as fast as the armor would propel him. His hud damage icon showed he was taking damage from collisions with branches, but he ignored anything less than a red. He didn’t know what they fed the trees here, but some of them grew as hard as steel. Crashing down into the ground just shy of the Grand Temple where the ArchPriest and, by effect, Morwen would be staying. He marched up the concrete walkway only to find himself intercepted by gold and emerald armored body guards armed with spell staves tipped with spear points. Two of them crossed their spears, barring him entry.
“Sorry sir. You’re not on the list.”
“Check it again.” Akamori growled.
“Look at that. You’re not on it. Still.” The taller one replied. Akamori was fed up with this world, and the way they looked down their noses at non-natives. He was ashamed to admit the thought crossed his mind to force his way in, but he knew he wouldn’t be winning himself any favor doing that.
The shorter guard pressed a hand to the side of their helmet and nodded a moment later. “You’ve been requested. This way, please.” A feminine voice said.
“Well, wouldja look at that. Guess I’m on the list, after all.” Akamori teased, raping the golden bicep armor of the taller guard as he entered the temple. He allowed himself a pleased smirk as he passed.
His escort left him in the entryway to what appeared to be personal quarters nested within the temple. A beat later, Morwen swayed into view, holding a bottle of wine. She was wearing a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt. Her normally severely groomed hair lay slack around her shoulders and for a moment, she looked almost like one of the gang. Less like a stern officer and more than just someone he’d hang out with. It caught him off guard for a moment until he absorbed how badly she must be taking it. Then the fire was stoked again.
“Captain.” he said. The word came out more clipped than he would have liked, and he secretly wished he could take it back and redo it.
“It’s lieutenant now.” She said, swaying into a thick wooden column. “I expected you’d come when you found out. As was your right.” She swished her goblet of wine, peering down at it with a beaten expression.
“Why let them undo all our work like that?” he asked. The faceplate of his armor telescoped back, and the armor retreated into the collar.
“They didn’t give me much choice. I believe Admiral Brown said it was this, or death. I can’t exactly remember. Lucinda and I have been playing some god awful drinking game for the past few hours.” She blinked and refocused, as if remembering she was in a conversation, then her gaze went unfocused again. “That woman has the drinking stamina of a dwarf.” Morwen said conspiratorially.
On queue, a tall, slender woman rounded the corner. Her cheeks were flushed rosy pink. Dark chestnut hair swam around her shoulders in lazy waves. Almond eyes framed by nearly perfect eyebrows, and a wry smile rounded out her features. She noticed Akamori and gave him a lazy once over before offering her free hand. The wine sloshed in her goblet and dripped to the floor with the gesture.
“Name’s Lucinda. Pleasure.”
Morwen’s expression twisted between annoyed and amused. It was strange seeing the confusion on her play out so visibly. Akamori was used to her being so reserved and hard to read.
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“Lt. This is Lucinda. She’s my father’s… partner.”
“A pleasure, ma’am.” He extended a hand, and she gave him a firm grip.
“She’s a three time Arena champion here on Aeryn.” Morwen said between sips of her own glass. “Though you wouldn’t guess it for as well as she drinks.”
Lucinda smiled warmly at Morwen, patting his former commander on the shoulder. “Don’t mind Morwen. She’s just letting loose a little. Too much pent up stress and not enough outlets to release. Have you fought in the Arena?”
“Just some sparring matches on the ship. Nothing professional.”
Lucinda frowned, eying him through her glass. Her expression told him she was sizing him up for a fight. “Pity. You might enjoy it. Worse, you might even be capable of taking the cup.”
“In another life, perhaps.” He admitted. While he wasn’t against the prospect, there was too much at stake with the war to just turn his back on it and indulge in idle debauchery.
“This one is much too stiff for it I’m afraid. And this whole business with the Federation demoting her and taking her ship is settling a little worse for the wear, I’m afraid.”
He looked at Morwen in disbelief. “Uh, huh? So you’re ok with this? We have to fight it.”
“Oh, of course I’m not ok with it. But what choice have I got? If I fight the judgement, then Allosius gets his execution. Otherwise, they kill me slowly with a pencil pusher job.”
“That’s cutting off their nose to smite their face, sir, and you know it.” Akamori insisted.
“I’ll let you kids hash this out.” Lucinda said, taking a step back and turning to head back into the living quarters. Akamori caught the wicked-looking spell blade hitched to her belt. It was a solid blade type. None of that newer Artificer guild mark series crap. And it oozed power, too. His own blade thrummed eagerly at his side, sensing a strong opponent.
We fight! The blade urged. He patted it disarmingly. Not right now. I’m sure Cenine will give us a chance to workout soon though. The blade issued a disgruntled shiver. He likened the gesture to a dog huffing and walking away.
Morwen shrugged, the gesture looked so alien on her. “You and I both know it, Lt. But I’m not in a position to do anything about it now. I told you when I shot him, there would be fallout for my actions. This is it.”
“Look, I let you rope me into this war because of what happened to my home. You promised we’d stop it from happening again. You didn’t say it was a one and done deal, though. Make this right.”
“Or what, LT? I have no authority. In fact, I have as much as you now. You’re all to be reassigned, and I’m being taken off the Crasher. Allosius destroyed any chance of me having any more effectiveness in the war.”
Akamori glared at her, an aura of void magic billowing out around him as he seethed in cold anger. As some of the cold violet energy licked at the enchanted wood of the temple, it casually regrew back the damage. His AP gauge dropped another tic, and he hated the wasteful use of the magic under normal circumstances, but he didn’t have time for her pity party.
“You sound pathetic. And maybe you have a right to. But I hope you kick this new side of yourself loose and soon. Because I don’t even recognize you. It’s pathetic. The Captain would have adjusted and reacted. You look like you’ve given up. When you find your fight, you’ll know where to find me.”
Akamori’s helmet snapped back into place, and he spun. The last of the void field dissipating. Morwen watched from inside as he blasted off in a burst of void magic from inside the temple. Akamori watched as she shrank in the small inset window in his hud. Maybe she just needed time. Or something new to fight for. Whatever the case was, there wasn’t any fight left in her, which meant for now he had to focus on himself.
He cut a straight path through the thick tree trunks on his way back. Disappointment and anger boiled in his gut. He landed in a plume of void energy. Blackened marks marring the pristine clean white granite surfaces. He activated the mind rune and stepped free of the armor as it went pink and translucent.
“You’re late peasant.”
Cenine’s irritated voice cut through the silence and pierced his patience like a void bolt. Akamori needed several extra seconds to get a grip on his frayed nerves. His control was tenuous, though. He turned and saw her casually leaning against the wall of his dorm. She scowled at his uniform and the state of disarray his quarters were in.
“I’m not sure why I expected better from you,” she said.
“Not now Cenine. I’m not in the mood.”
“Oh? Have you just heard about your captain finally getting what she deserves?”
He rounded on Cenine before she could react, stopping within blade reach. Her hand darted for her spell blade hilt. “That Captain sacrificed everything to keep the Sauridius from coming to your world and trashing it the way they did mine.”
She narrowed her eyes, looking down her nose at him. “Clearly she wasted her time bothering with you. Perhaps I should return and tell the Headmaster what a waste of time this has been.”
Part of him wanted to her to go space herself. The other part knew he needed to play ball if he was going to learn anymore about his people. The Headmaster knew something. The only way he was going to get that was if he toed the line and did as Cenine asked. Fine. He sucked in a slow measured breath through his nostrils and exhaled it quietly and shook his head.
“No. That won’t be necessary. Sorry I lost my temper. It’s been a shitty day. I guess losing the new life I started building hit me harder than I thought. I’ll put more effort into my training.”
Cenine’s expression softened a level. “Yes, well, life can be chaotic for a mage. Try and keep your things in a more cleanly state.” That said, she turned for his door to stand next to her parked vehicle on the large porch outside the dorm area. He followed her out, and she held a hand out. “No. You take your armor. You’ll learn to pilot in my fighter soon, but for now, I want you to get used to what you’re most likely to see in a tactical situation.”
“This is the first time I’ve ever seen a fighter, to be honest.”
“No, but you have flown against dragons before. And they’re roughly the same flight behavior and capabilities as this fighter.”
She had a point there. He’d flown against several dragons on and above Hidros. The scope of the training intent finally sinking in. He blinked in realization and did a double take.
“Wait, hold on. You want to fight me in your spell fighter?”
She nodded. “Your reports showed squaring off against several larger, powerful and agile foes. I promise that by the end of my training you’ll have the wits and skill necessary to ensure you succeed when next you challenge one.”
Her words sank in slowly, like a large mammal trapped in a tar pit. She read his After-action reports? The act surprised him, since he assumed that she felt herself above him. Maybe he’d misjudged her. He finally offered a reluctant nod. If she will put in the effort, then he should get over himself, too.
“I’ll get my armor on.”
Cenine nodded crisply. “I’ll forward to waypoint to your armor’s navcomp.” She then retreated into the bowels of her craft. The metal ramp melted and returned to the side of the fighter, hardening, into the plate on the skin fighter’s lower right flank. The spell drive whined to life as potent, powerful plasma scorched the granite, and the fighter was airborne. Akamori watched as it jerked skyward quickly. His lips curled into an eager grin of their own accord.
He threw himself into his armor, willing it solid. He jogged out to the front area of the dorm where Cenine’s fighter had sat a few moments ago and launched himself into the air. Feeding the armor at another point of his magic, he watched his AP gauge drop another tic down to 17. Normally he’d have frowned at the heavy usage in a short period of time, but he had a duel to look forward to. And more importantly, training.
“I hope you’re ready Cenine, because I’m coming for ya.” he said. An eager grin spread across his lips.