Mhaieiyu
Arc 1, Chapter 15
Scoundrels of Scoundrels
The Guardian's Sword. A title passed down since the thirty-second Guardian set foot upon mortal soil, awarded to a Celestial so sharp with his blade, that they and their choice might very well be called inseparable. To guard the Guardian, alongside his Bow and Shield. To give aid when battles seem at their most awry — to give hope to the individual charged with bestowing the same among countless.
This title—this honour—was non-hereditary. The bearer of such skill wasn't chosen by wealth, class or blood. The Guardian's Sword could be the world's most knowledgeable champion of all swordsmen, or even the humblest of wood-thwacking children. Through talent and skilfulness alone, the true Sword came forth, alongside their counterparts, almost simultaneously after the new Guardian's birth; as if chosen by Victus herself to keep the world's hardest jewel from breaking.
To be bestowed with such a power, only to end up in a dark, depressing cell locked onto a wall is beyond humiliating. It's downright debilitating, in fact. His head could hardly sway as he plunged into thought. Corvus had lost the perception of time, and knew not whether he would reasonably see the light of day properly once again. To be kept here once the war had passed was futile, especially posing the risk that he did. It was more than likely he was awaiting termination, unless his allies could conjure up some kind of deal.
Even so, whatever pact that could be made would almost certainly spell doom for the Syndicate. To be weakened or stripped of resources... Even if they did repel Yanksee, they would find themselves plummeting instantly once the Reds reached them. The Celestial couldn't accept this. He would rather die here than cut their slim chances in half. If this was his final act of servitude to his kin and his alliances, then so be it. He could only wish that his beloved would already be there to meet him; as heartbreaking such a thought was to the winged man.
He could only whinge as a loud crash robbed him of his despairing thoughts. His head shook reflexively in place, stopped by the machinations keeping him pinned. Corvus weakly observed as a soldier, covered from head to toe in disguising, heavy armour, locked the door behind him before approaching the angel silently.
In all honesty, he had half the mind to expect to be shot just then and there. But alas, the officer produced a device from his pocket, pressing a button that undid the large binds holding his legs, chest and neck. Then, he reached up to his stiff handcuffs, disconnecting the heavy piece from the wall. As soon as his body was freed, the Celestial collapsed forward. His body had been restrained in such a godawful way that his entire body ached, refusing to obey. Gripping a handlebar embedded into the clunky device that stiffened his wrists, the guard dragged the stumbling mess of a Celestial towards that door he had so absent-mindedly stared at for the last few hours.
"Stay still," the officer promptly commanded, unlocking the door before Corvus, before nearly blinding him from the sun outside. In his dazed state, the guard saw no resistance as he mundanely grabbed Corvus by the cuffs and threw him outside, closing the door behind him with a loud bang.
With little aid from his trapped hands, Corvus took the bash to his cheek, the sensation of pain and the taste of blood revitalising his numbed state. It took him longer than normal, his joints having stiffened as much as they did, but he managed to stand up. His eyes had adjusted, and he could now understand his surroundings. He was in some kind of prison courtyard, that stretched horizontally to cover about a dozen other cells which likely contained prisoners akin to or as dangerous as him. Besides the stretch of concrete, the space really wasn't much to gawk at. The width was barely twice as long as his cell was, and was walled off by a semi-transparent sheet of hardened, glass-like material he soon understood was heavily electrified. Just beyond these walls were tall tesla towers, prepared to deliver a lethal shock to any who might slip out somehow, rendering the wings strapped to his torso even more useless. Such a device was likely the motive for not needing a roof, which gave the sun all the space it needed to cook those within.
Looking at the other sombre, quiet inmates mumble unintelligibly in awkward couples, Corvus noted that they were all wearing shirts numbered at the back, likely to identify who goes into what cell. As depressing as it was to even witness such a sad place, Corvus' eyes peered further. Something was amiss.
For through the small divided crowd of exhausted, sunken-eyed prisoners, some of which had lost a great deal of their muscle mass and looked completely dishevelled, a single man stood straight, almost gloating his well-being as he found himself directly opposite to the Celestial while wearing a charming yet concerning smile. His skin seemed immaculate in comparison to his fellow inmates, as if even the thought of warfare had never grazed him. His teeth, charcoal hair and body shape all looked perfect, fitting just the right proportions of a fine aristocrat wearing the unsightly cuffs and monochromatic clothes the others wore. For such a man to be in a place like this…
A politician unfavoured, perhaps?
The angel found himself staring at the man for a tad too long, quickly taking his eyes off the bloke to instead better captivate his surroundings. He approached the edges opposite that man, and met the plainness of this prison's architecture. Absolutely boring, with not a hint of entertainment available. Not even a ball. After half an hour of wandering in circles, Corvus almost felt tempted to touch the electrified walls, if only to feel something. This exterior access was clearly designed to prevent muscle decay from being stuck to those walls for so long at a time. The thought that he'd have to return to such felt heavy in his stomach, but another thought was still banging his head from the start.
Where is...
Where is Erica?
Where has that dumb brat gotten to? She was captured too, right? So where is she?!
He had hoped that somehow, upon opening that door, he would miraculously find a way out of here, with Erica in tow. And yet, she was nowhere to be found. He had gotten that smidgen of freedom he yearned for hours ago, and yet he was already unsatisfied.
Is she even alive?! Do I need to beat one of those guard's heads in until they tell me?! If I cave in their skulls, will they then choose to listen?!
Corvus found himself banging at the walls of the prison with his handcuffs, his thoughts clashing in his mind.
Just... fucking... tell me——!
"That's an interesting way of giving it a go. I'll admit, I didn't imagine you would try to break into the place," a mature, humoured voice spoke next to him, strangling the Celestial's desperate thoughts before he became maddened by them.
Swiftly spinning in place, Corvus stared back at the man who disturbed him. That same man, who stood unshrinkingly opposite him just prior. The sight of the bizarre sir left the Celestial speechless for a moment, but whether or not this stranger had noticed his discomfort, he continued to speak, looking away from the confused angel's eyes, leaning guardant with his arms wrapped behind his own back in a formal, inquisitive posture.
"Is it tempting? I haven't seen you around before. Have you already lost your will?" His voice was chilling, yet full of concern. A disarray of intention and delivery, giving just the right amount of fuel towards Corvus' nerves to arm his thoughts with reaction. Noticing the tenseness of his body, the prisoner frowned, pulling his arched body away from the startled man. "Not a word? I'm disappointed, but I'll have to respect that. Ah, can't fault a mute." Turning around, the aristocrat lookalike spread his arms far and high, inhaling the stench of the prison as if it were a garden of roses. His chest heavy, he exhaled.
"The taste of freedom, so cruelly taunting atop us. Amusing, isn't it?"
This time, Corvus spoke. "Don't know how to agree with that... Who are you, exactly? Are you new too? You look way too cheery for this place."
Unleashing a short cackle, growing in intensity as if told the most hilarious joke in the world, the now-stranger individual turned to the angel, his eyes still not looking into his. "Do you think so? I believe it's an acquired taste, though I have only been here a week at most." Turning back towards the glassy walls, staring out into the world partly veiled by stone as if he were admiring theatre, the inmate answered. "Call me Noire. It's about as good a name as I've been given, I'd say."
"As good a name as you've...? No, what's your birth name?" Corvus pressed, feeling increasingly agitated by the freakish nature of this man.
"That's a good question, one I'd struggle to answer."
"And you've been named by... whom?"
"Heavens, all sorts of names by all kinds of folk! Some happier than others, I'd say." Noire turned around to face Corvus, seemingly satisfied from the display. "Though, you should know, to ask a name without giving your own isn't a good courtesy."
Corvus could only stare back at the bloke, baffled. The entire conversation seemed off, as if it weren't natural. Scripted, even.
"I'm..." The Sword hesitated for a moment, still conflicted. At the very least, this individual wasn't notorious. But then, why would he be placed in such desperate-measure confinement? It was far from the first time he had visited this country, so he understood they didn't practice such imprisonment by standard, which only raised the suspicion of the Celestial as he watched the gentleman stare off absently.
"I'm the Sixth Lieutenant of the Syndicate. Corvus."
To remain as formal as he could, the angelic prisoner stood straight and bowed halfway, giving the man an amused expression. To act out such authority in a place as this was, admittedly, quite absurd.
"I see... well, I can certainly see why you were thrown here amongst the scoundrels of scoundrels. A member of the Syndicate... how bloody fascinating!" Noire expressed with unfiltered enthusiasm, as if anticipating a gift.
"Right... why were you locked up here?" Corvus finally asked, trying in vain to ignore the uniqueness of this lunatic. It would be unfair to call this man the strangest thing he had bared witness to.
At least he's not the Mad Magician... Right? He shook himself silly of those thoughts; the oddest of oddities springing in his mind for a fleeting moment. To think such a man could even exist baffled Corvus even to this day.
"Ah, me? Witchcraft, apparently," Noire answered nonchalantly, smiling broad before tilting his body forward to observe the angel's back, revealing his folded wings. The act forced Corvus to recoil, dashing sideways while almost slamming the prisoner's face in with the handcuffs. It took a great deal of willpower not to do so, all things considered, but Corvus wasn't the type to be violent. Truth be told, he wished only to teach his sons not to see with violence. To wish such a world wouldn't cut back at their naivety wouldn't fall short, either.
With a contemptuous chuckle, Noire straightened up with renewed interest. "A Celestial, I see."
"Look, I'll be honest, you're creeping me out and I'm known for being calm," Corvus admitted, putting the heavy handcuffs he wore between them.
"Oh? Then there'll be nothing to expect when I tell you we aren't staying here?"
"What...?" Corvus became cautious again, listening carefully as the next words slipped out of the overjoyed, yet calm man's lips. And how heavy it fell on his stomach for his previous worries to be confirmed.
"The block has been filled, and will need clearing. So instead of wasting time on a bunch of worthless scum, they'll be purging us soon."
"I don't understand... why would they keep us here in the first place if they're——?"
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"Ransom, of course. The lot that falls behind these bars are often worth a pretty penny alive..."
"And they'll risk an outbreak—in their cities no less—for money?" Corvus asked, baffled.
With that same classy grin, as if he were on the verge of scoffing at a pleb's naivety, Noire raised his gaze to the clear skies. "Mm. Such is the pig-headed, gluttony-addled state of mankind. Deplorable, wouldn't you say?"
The Celestial couldn't contain his own amusement as he too smiled, closing his eyes with a sigh. "Deplorable's a stretch, but it's definitely disturbing." Tilting his head and observing the distracted Noire with a subtle glance, Corvus proceeded. "That said, I doubt I'll see my head on the chopping block. I'm an asset to the war, after all, as is my partner."
"Partner? If you mean to assert their value, I'm willing to guess they're in the same situation you're in? Oh, is that why you were trying to break in, then?"
Right on the mark, the eccentric gentleman struck gold with a single attempt, sending the calmer Corvus into a newly found feeling of despair. He could will away his own need to live, but to leave Erica to rot would be unforgivable.
"The look on your face says it all, my Celestial friend. Oh how quaint it is, to finally say such!" With a calm excitement, Noire stared at the angel with a look unreadable by the internally conflicted, silent swordsman. This glare of his was incomparable to anything the Syndie often saw in a man. The strangest mix between conviction, elation and calmness, topped with a hint of something else indiscernible. With this final look, the gentleman spoke with a low, quiet voice. "Regardless of your value, I didn't just mean the purging. We're leaving soon. I'd suggest trying to find a way through to your beloved, lest you end up leaving them behind. I look forward to working with you...!"
"She's not my——"
With this parting message, Noire turned around by the axis of his heel, before stepping away. Before Corvus could mutter anything more than a choked complaint, a loud buzz resonated through the complex. The prisoners in the courtyard heeded the bell without question, though some did weep at the prospect. Just how long had they been here, tormented by this routine
"Hey, Syndie," a voice called from behind the angel, before mercilessly striking his stomach, forcing him to his knees. With an assault rifle in his grip, the heavily armed soldier bellowed. "Break time's over. Get the fuck back in your cell. Move it!"
Corvus offered no resistance as he was dragged along back to the wall in his hold, locked back into the same open sarcophagus he was previously forced into. In the instant he was struck, he had tried to cast a spell, and found that his throat paid the price — charring even as he merely prepared to cast it. Clearly, the measures taken to prevent such obvious methods of escape. If Yanksee had anything to admire, it would be their innovative designs when dealing with those they normally wouldn't stand a chance against. A true act of prey becoming the predator. The angel could almost commend them.
And so, watching the sun's last rays creep through the slitted door that lead to the outside, Corvus gave way even through his aching discomfort, allowing slumber to whisk him from this claustrophobic hell, if only to give himself a better chance at finding something out tomorrow.
♦ ♥ ♣ ♠
In the black of night, when even cities became quiet as their residents came to rest, a disturbance proved to be unrelenting, making sleep impossible. The rattling of metal against concrete, grunts and groans of a struggling, unyielding woman.
An angry bang echoed off into her cell as a tired soldier desperately tried to assert himself to the lass, to no effect.
"Oi! Victus woman, can you shut up already?!"
No response. She had already wasted enough of her breath on questioning where Corvus was. Her own freedom never even came to mind, if only to liberate her life-long ally from his distant binds, of which she knew not the location of. For all she knew, he could be in this same prison, just as he could be on one of the islands within Yanksee's domains. Whether the distance he was held was feet or miles away, she demanded to know. But, of course, the officers would not budge. The poor sods probably didn't even know who she spoke of, and so asking would do naught but squander her time. Instead, she opted for the more brash approach.
Without answering, she continued to clatter and groan, doing everything in her power to loosen her restraints, if even a bit. Even if it meant she would be beaten, she would continue. Even if it meant her progress would be undone, she would continue. If she still had her body and her life, she would continue. Groaning from her lack of respect, the soldier stumbled to find the keys to her cell, fighting through the tiredness as he barged into her keep with a miserable look in his eyes.
Seeing that she stopped for none but her own goals, he grit his teeth, before punching her in the stomach. She recoiled, the apparatus she was confined to leaving her no room for her to back into. She heaved for a moment, gagged for the next, and then simply looked up at the officer and spat in his face, much to his disgust. Wiping her saliva from his skin with an irritated growl, he slapped the smirking face of the angel in frustration.
"Why won't you just give in, Goddess damn it!" He slapped her again, and again. She only faltered for a moment between each hit, looking back at him with purpling cheeks and a hateful smirk.
"To bend to a simpleton like you? I didn't think we were doing a comedy now—! Ngh!" Another blow met her stomach as she tried in vain to suppress her reaction, giving the pathetic man a smidgen of satisfaction to harass her with. Incapable of fighting back or even moving away from his assault, Erica had no choice but to take the blows, even if it meant spitting bile and blood. If she could protest with anything to spite him she would, even if it meant having to use her own fluids as projectiles.
After a few minutes, the guard finally backed away, wiping the filth off of his armour to the best of his ability. Stepping back, he admired his efforts, a sinister smile spreading on his mug as the soldier watched the woman heave, cough and bleed; having lost the will to continue slandering his name to no avail. Cracking his knuckles, the now fully-awake soldier approached her once more, she bracing herself for yet another one-sided barrage. Instead, a finger, free from its glove, caressed her swollen cheek.
"Can't lie, missy. You're a pain in the ass, but you sure don't look half bad," he complimented, his malicious grin visible through his headgear. Raising his touch up to her hair, he gave the length of her ruby mane a stroke, before bringing a clump to his nostrils for a sniff. "Not bad at all..."
She growled at his perving. It was a shame he lacked the courage to come in closer — even through the pain, she would gladly headbutt him through his armour.
"You know, the least you could do for being such a hassle and cutting our sleep is to shut up about this," he cruelly whispered, dissatisfied at the lack of shock on her face. She still looked just as fierce, and as he mistakenly raised that same finger to touch her lips, she unflinchingly opened her maw, throttled her head as far forward as her collar would allow, before wrapping her teeth around his entire index finger, clamping down immediately. The officer screamed out as the extremity was seconds from being mauled from its joints, stopped only as he yanked it out of her mouth with another swift blow to her skull. She bled, and her head spun, but it was more than worth it just to see the agony on the man's face through her blurred vision.
"You fucking bitch! You think that's funny, ah?! Fuck going easy on you, I'll have you crying you stuck-up—!"
Jutting his other hand towards her body in anger, his intentions were impeded only by the deafening rattle of a gun's fire, the sound bouncing off the confine's walls and assaulting both the guard's and the Celestial's ears, causing them to writhe in place. The bullet had encrusted into the farthest wall of the cell, though it was only a wonder whether it was an intentional blank or a genuine act of revenge against the perpetrator.
Turning to the bars dividing her keep from the prison, Erica clutched her teeth as she tried to peer through the ringing in her ears, finding the stern look of a middle-aged man in deep blue, noble attire.
"Churlish and inadequate. Do you take this job seriously?" the cutting voice of the authority spoke, instilling a feeling of absolute regret and fear within the soldier, who immediately saluted.
"Lord Ace, Adolphus, sir!"
"Answer my question."
"Yes sir, of course sir! I'm eternally grateful for my status. Please forgive my misdeeds!"
The harasser was on his knee in seconds, showing not an inch of the pride and arrogance he showed earlier. To witness such confirmed Erica's thoughts of this country. Familiar to a place she knew well, this entire city ran by high authority, and it was disciplined, unwavering loyalty and subservience like this that proved it. Yet another miserable country, ran by even more miserable leaders. The angel almost felt sympathy for the officer. Almost.
"To the garrison with you. If I ever see you near a female within these grounds again, consider your status revoked."
"Sir, thank you sir!" The officer sprung to his feet immediately, taking his gun and removing himself from the cell as quickly as could be, not even wishing to glance at Erica as he shamefully escaped, leaving the noble to sigh desperately to himself.
Entering her cell, Adolphus sat down by the wall opposite her, clutching his hair in an act of exhaustion. "I apologize. If ever a guard is to harm you unfairly again, please inform me next we meet."
Exhaling through her nose, humoured, Erica finally spoke again. "That's a lot of trust for someone like me. What if I lie?"
"I would hope, that you would at the very least reserve your grudges for those worthy of them. Can I expect that of you, Celestial?" Adolphus asked, raising a brow at her as he peeked her through his fingers.
Rolling her eyes, Erica let her head touch the concrete behind her once again. "Sure. If your kind is so bent on seeing us as omni-benevolent, go ahead."
"I don't. To be honest, I don't believe in such arbitrary concepts as benevolence and malevolence. Good and evil, justice and injustice... to base such simplicities on anything beyond pure insanity should be a sin above them all."
"So why trust me? I feel like you're dodging the question," the Celestial challenged, narrowing her eyes at the sunken man. He, who had made himself present in her life in an act of pointless altruism, for seemingly no gain beyond her appeal.
"To say it simply, I don't hold a lot of appreciation for my kin either. They have long since lost their spark, as well as all faith I placed into them when I first came to be. A defence team such as the Military... how truly disgusting they have become."
With a fire in her eyes, and spite unwavering, Erica proudly propped her body as high as her binds would allow, flaring a toothed smile as she asked: "So, you won't mind when we burn your 'kin' to the ground after we breach your walls? If you believe we won't break through, then prepare to be disappointed. Once this little feud's over, we'll launch a counterattack. To enact war with the Syndicate is suicide, and your men should've known that from the start. We will win this. Do you hear me?!"
Staring up at the blundersome overconfidence the lass sparked, the noble didn't retaliate. No hatred or competitiveness filled his gaze; in fact, it was more passive than disdainful. With this, crippling her composure, he replied simply. "Why, yes. I fully count on it, too. Hopefully then, you'll do away with what worthless leaders we have, and so we may replace them. The old and the weak are as valuable as lambs, and if ever they are to try to lead us, they'll find themselves shepherded to the slaughterhouse."
With a smile unbefitting a noble, Adolphus stood with a small grin, pushing his fine, black hairs from eyes. "Such is the true meaning of natural selection, wouldn't you agree?" he asked, his voice wise yet devilishly acute, still maintaining some of its youthful tones.
His question silenced Erica as she frowned in contemplation, flabbergasted at his response. She had expected her words to at least rouse a tinge of ire, yet they seemingly did naught but awaken a feeling of hope within the man. In a distant way, she even felt remorse, if only due to her understanding of the current liege of Yanksee's nature. While not entirely dictatorial, he was far from a man of respectable qualities; opting for ruthless completion of his capricious goals even if it came at the expense of his own country's men. Flawed and corrupt as it may be, the Syndicate at the very least saw value in its army's individuals — even if, in the grand scheme of things, it was merely a ploy to discourage self-destructive strategics within its forces that could potentially weaken the empire's numbers, on which it relies on.
Trapped in thought, Erica never did give a response beyond silence. To this, the man regarded as a 'Lord Ace' shook his head, stepping towards the lass, who quickly regained awareness.
"Don't look so shocked. This is but the passing of time, to be refreshed with newer, better leaders. It's within our nature to adapt and improve, after all," Adolphus sighed contentedly, reaching once more for the cell door. Before leaving, he offered a few words before departing that dazed her even further, complicating her mind and finally quietening her, much to the resting officers' gratitude. "Tomorrow, the electric generators will require maintenance, and as such our defence mechanisms will thus be quietly disabled for fifteen minutes starting at four on the dot. Corvus is in sector 2-C; it's marked on the floor of the courtyards. Take this chance now or forfeit any hope of change. I'm counting on you, Syndie. Don't disappoint me."
"What do you get out of this?" she whispered, dumbfounded, just within hearing range.
As the door clattered shut, Adolphus peered into the cell with dangerous eyes, saying one word: "Change."