“So,” Vera said. “What’s this about?”
Cyr looked at her, walking towards the Night Market. “Do you know of the cemetery outside of the Night Market? The one with the statue of our founder?”
“There were multiple founders,” Vera responded.
“But only one who mattered,” Cyr shot back.
She eyed him, and then sighed, “Yeah, the one with Alyssa Kamakura. I know of the place. The Carrion Cemetery located east of the Market.”
“I need you to lead me there. There’s something I need from one of the graves for our next hunt,” Cyr said. Silence followed, and her eyebrow shot up at his suggestion of grave-robbing, but Vera ultimately nodded.
“So, you’re from around here,” she remarked.
Cyr kept silent for a while before responding, “A long time ago, I was.”
“Follow me,” she said, voice darkening, as she led Cyriak Imeraza outside of the Market. Almost an hour had passed, and more than a mile of trekking through merchant stands, mining facilities, and the district border guards, saw the pair arrive at an old monastery, located at the outskirts of the Market, a few miles out. It’s pointed roof towered over the large statue of a woman dressed in an old coat. Wearing an embroidered headpiece marked with the symbol of a tripedal crow - a reference to lost mythology and a testament to the species that represent Neo-Kamakura, the statue of Alyssa Kamakura looked pristine, even after all these years, despite that creeping outgrowth which surrounded the dirt around her.
Caz did mention the Blackbirds were tied to Alyssa. This was probably what he meant, Cyr thought. Cyr actually cared about history more than his friends realized. It is through history, that we learn not to repeat the events of our predecessors and allow us to forge a path towards the future. Though he seldom voiced his thoughts, he always wished life in the city was better, where violence and fear weren’t considered part of the everyday.
“Ok, we’re here,” Vera said. “Doesn’t seem like anyone’s visited here in ages.” She began patting shaking her arm as if dirt caught on it, though there didn’t seem to be any. “Just grab your gear so we can move out. You still haven’t told me where we’re supposed to be going after this.”
Cyr did not respond. Instead, he walked up to a set of granite gravemarkers, three in total. Each bore a faded imprint of the names, “Toriel Imeraza, Malakai Imeraza, and Zariah Imeraza”. They were his late parents and sister, respectively, and he watched in silence, reminiscing of his past. Most of the Blackbirds like himself, were born in the underground, as that was where the dregs of society had been relegated, when the surface could no longer tolerate and sustain them. His parents were poor, but hard-working individuals, who provided for the Imeraza trio back then – now duo. He looked at the cavern flowers which grew around the grave. They glowed a soft-blue and such flowers could be found near sites of death like these. Zariah had always found them beautiful though, and so, she lay there with them, in symbiotic peace.
Daily life had been particularly hectic even back then, back when the place now known as the Night Market was simply known as the Refuge. It was a community where those who have faced hardships in the surface could escape to - to start a new life - and members from all walks of life travelled here. This included the poor, the outcasted, the orphans, and…the marked. Though many villages existed outside the Night Market, none had the Refuge’s prosperity, nor its ease of access to Lucens Mundi’s resources above it. Those outskirt villages numbered in the dozens, though the presence of subterranean Enthipids and the harsh terrain made such journeys arduous unless you knew of the entrances above which lead down to those villages.
And so, excluding the wandering villagers who ventured deeper into the caverns all those decades ago, the Refuge became the home for many people. Defenses were fortified to prevent invasions by Enthipids, runners brought materials in from the surface, sometimes in less than legal manners, and life prospered.
At some point, the Clan of Tributes, working with local hunters of Lucens Mundi, orchestrated the events that led to one of the first great purges – and later rebellion - of the underground, and fostered the longstanding hatred for the Clan of Tributes which persist to this day. It was there where - in the hunt for marked individuals hiding amongst the shacks which served as homes at that time - the Golden Order of the Clan of Tributes had one of their “investigators” burn the district down to ashes, and Cyr’s parents and sister died in the fires. Cyr would have died there too, but Nyx – the overprotective sister that she was – carried him out of his burning home on his back. She had passed out that day and would never know that members of the Clan of Tributes tried to kill them afterwards, tying up loose ends. She had not known that a young teen named Casimir at that time single handedly took down all but a few of the Clan members that day, and inspired Cyr to take up the mantle of the hunter.
They were not happy memories, but he doesn’t regret being the person that he is today. He always preferred to stay in the shadows, and though he always acted serenely amongst in his friends, deep-down, he had a deep-rooted hatred for those Clan of Tribute members who got away and had been searching for them ever since.
He placed his hand on the grave markers and then planted one of the nearby flowers on top of his sister’s grave, patting the dirt gently to lock it in place.
Sorry sis, this is going to get ugly.
“Well?” Vera said, brushing her hair back behind Cyr, who was still crouched over his family’s graves. “Did you find what you were looking for yet?”
“Yeah,” Cyr said. “I found it,” and he spun around, blade in hand, aiming for Vera’s throat. It clanged against a Johrei shield, guarding her bare neck.
She had anticipated this? Cyr thought. No, she’s just that cautious.
“Now, what did I do to deserve this kind of reaction? I’m shocked,” Vera uttered.
Cyr said, “Your calm tone betrays your words. Who are you?”
Vera chuckled, “Won’t even indulge me? Let me guess, you wanted me to lead me away from your teammate. Find a nice quiet spot to confront me, away from the innocent.” The imagery of her appearance faded, and a new one replaced it. She watched through the openings of a golden butterfly mask, metal glinting against the beams of light which poured through from holes in the cavern ceiling above. Neon letters which raced feverishly in front of her mask, and she locked eyes with Cyriak’s, smiling devilishly. Cyr wondered briefly if what he saw was a holographic disguise earlier. Those were quite expensive to produce.
Bands of light began glowing down her newly-formed formal court dress, as she readied herself for the fight.
Cyr began, “When we went through the mines saturated in sulfur, I noticed you never put a mask on. Even a Johrei mask leaves shard traces in the air. Yet I saw nothing on you and there were no signs that you were affected. You waltzed through the smoke and debris like you were breathing fresh, spring air.”
The primary reason was Aio’s unusual expressions during the trip that caught my notice. If not for that, I may not have focused on Vera as much as I did. He isn’t the type to let his mind wander like that, Cyr thought. He would have to teach Aio proper subtlety of emotional display however, when he returned to base, but this time around, his lack of subtlety proved to be beneficial to Cyr.
“Perhaps, as an underground resident, it was just something I was used to,” Vera said, baiting the rebuttal.
“Don’t try to fool me. I had lived here for most of my life, and even my body struggles to tolerate the putrid, rotting air of the Market environment, let alone the mines. You know what sealed it for me?” The bloodlust was emanating from Cyr, and the calmness that he once sported evaporated, replaced with an unadulterated coldness. “You never corrected the old man at the orphanage that you weren’t part of the Blackbirds. Did you take your time thinking over that? Do you take me for an imbecile? You knew we never mentioned it to you.” He pointed his Johrei-lined blade at her.
The two began stepping lowly to the side, circling around each other in pace while navigating the tombstones and gravemarkers surrounding them. Soil crunched beneath their feets and the footing was uneven, but neither took their eyes off each other.
“Clever man, aren’t you? Though reckless, I would say, for basing your suspicions on a mere hunch,” Vera said after a long pause, flashing rows of needles from beneath her long robes. She tossed them at Cyr, who swiped at the air. A stream of Johrei trailed from where his slash had been, acting as a shield which deflected the needles. A sizzle could be heard from the needle points as Johrei shards dissipated.
“I do admit,” Vera said, “I do tend to underestimate my opponents, with good reason.”
Acidic needles, held in place by Johrei against the needle’s tip, Cyr thought. Underhanded tactics like this were common amongst the Clan of Tributes, and looking at her decorated mask, it clicked for Cyr.
“What is a member of the Golden Order doing down here in underground? How did you evade the border guards?” Cyr said. His tone was pure ice, the opposite of his sister’s outward fury. Night Market security was no laughing matter. Even the Valkyries would find it difficult infiltrating the district uninvited.
A brief flash of surprise crossed Vera’s face, replaced immediately by the cool, unaffected expression of a cold-blooded killer. “How indeed?” the woman said, pulling out a needle-like blade from within her bell sleeve. Protrusions twisted around the blade like roots, a spiral pattern of serrated edges, giving the blade an almost organic look to it.
“Perhaps for a Clan member, it would have been difficult. But for Vera, the kindly guide who assisted the Valkyries’ allies with safe travels into the underground?” She chuckled.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“Don’t play games with me,” Cyr snapped back. “You violated Clan law. A Clan of Tributes member can’t act in capacity of a hunter. And even if you could, I am not a marked individual. Once the Auditors find out –”
“They will find nothing,” she interrupted. She thrust her blade, Cyr sidestepped but continued to keep his peripheral locked on the blade. A brief thought invaded his mind. He found it odd that she carried a traditional blade like this, rather than the Johrei ones most opt for these days due to its ease of carry and concealment factor. She pulled back her arm, attempting a return slice. However, Cyr blocked the attack, and Johrei slid against Johrei, generating sparks of translucent shards.
The pair jumped back simultaneously, out of reach of an immediate attack, and began circling one another slowly. Gauging each other, the pair looked for any openings in the other’s defenses. Vera continued, “Did you not say yourself that were hunting someone? There is a marked hunter involved after all, unless you mean to say you were lying to me, your dedicated guide?”
Her mocking tone infuriated Cyr. She knew damn well she was skirting the truth. Cyr made the first move and dashed in, settling his sword at his side in a tall guard stance. He made a lunge at the masked woman. She pulled her sword up to defend.
The blade arched towards her and in the last moment Cyr issued a non-verbal command, retracting the blade completely. It was a feint. The hilt of the blade arched passed her sword, and he issued another non-verbal command, extending the blade again. The extended blade would impale her in the chest right here.
However, she glided back, as smoothly as water, and the blade failed to reach her. At this distance, there was no way she could have moved so fast, especially not in the dress she was wearing, which dragged behind her. She didn’t look the fighter, but she understood and responded easily to what Cyr was doing, which confirmed one thing for Cyr…
An agility type.
As she dashed back, the woman brought up her bell sleeve, and swiped at the air. Her hand, hidden within her sleeve, tossed another set of needles at Cyr. He noticed the glints under the cavern lights, sidestepping at the last moment. The practice against Aio’s chitin bow actually helped Cyr prepare for this scenario more than he realized. A projectile war was something he was vastly familiar with.
Cyr retracted his blade back to its original size. There was a limit to how far any particular blade could reach, and doing so uses up a lot of its Johrei storage. He needed to be conservative. From what Cyr remembered, Clan of Tribute members had a deep-seated hatred for Inners, meaning that none of their members should, in theory, be utilizers of hidden armor abilities.
He dodged another set needles, jumping out of the way. Dirt melted where the needles landed, and a sizzle could be heard.
However, it’s foolish for a hunter to assume. Curse the Clans for putting me in this situation. Aio needs to get out of here. She might not be the only Clan of Tributes member who’s slipped through into the district, Cyr thought.
A quick exchange of blows followed. She thrust her weapon at him, the needle point followed by serrated edges would tear through flesh if Cyr was careless. He parried thrust after thrust, and returned slash after slash, and even with the dexterity enhancement he received from his armor set, his moves were still an echo of his sister’s techniques. It was good enough for now, as the sounds of metal clanging echoed throughout the cavern. A few attacks from each side broke through, and Cyr’s Johrei shield shimmered, taking the brunt of a few pinpoint attacks.
Her precise stabs dealt more damage to a smaller area of shielding, even if his own attacks covered a wider area. Given how their exchange went, he was sure she was targeting the same spots over and over again, and his shielding there would give way first.
That’s some absurd skill with the blade, he thought, a hint of begrudging respect blooming on his face.
Perhaps he could get the border guards involved? How far was that? Too far. Even the noise of battle wouldn’t reach them given how far out this monastery was. He lost his element of surprise – a gamble he was willing to risk. He needed to kill her without alerting others, lest he face the wrath of the Auditors.
Cyr was sweating. He needed to buy time somehow. Even assuming this Clan member was an Outer, that doesn’t preclude her from equipping her weapon with an Elite’s core, like Aio did, though the effects gained through that would always be a lesser version of those utilized by Inners. He looked to her thorny blade. Did he remember seeing a core there? He didn’t remember, cursing in his mind again for his carelessness.
He still had a few surprises up his sleeve, and it was time to use one now. He ran towards her, hands holding his blade aloft, ready to initiate an overhead slash. It was an obvious feint, just like his first attack. Vera, or whoever this woman was, took the bait, readying herself to step back, sword held up half-heartedly in defense. In that moment, Cyr threw the blade straight at her, using the dexterity boost of his armor to give him pinpoint accuracy in his throw. At this distance, it was too fast to be sidestepped, and she couldn’t step back far or fast enough, even with her added agility.
Vera had no choice but to block it, swiping her sword upwards to knock the Johrei blade out of his trajectory. This man must be crazy, she thought, giving up his weapon for such a small opening.
As she began to get back into a fighting stance, her eyes widened. Cyr, was already next her, bearing down on her with knuckle dusters in each hand, ready to deliver a killing blow with a hard right hook. He aimed for her face, knowing her blade was still recoiling from deflecting the sword he threw.
Vera tried to back up, but he issued a non-verbal command and the blades extended, arching and hitting her shield. The recoil knocked her back, breaking her Johrei shield as she threw another set of needles, aiming for the points of Cyr’s shielding that were weakened from earlier. However, the arc of the knuckledusters left behind a stream of Johrei in midair, which acted as a makeshift shield. This trail of Johrei absorbed the damage from the needles and dissipated a second later. It echoed how he blocked Aio’s attack during training.
Vera looked surprised and held at her face where the knuckleduster strike landed. Her shielding failed and blood trickled down the side of her face. She touched her cheek, fingers now red, and smiled. Shielding broken in one section of the body stayed broken until the armor’s Johrei stock was replenished, or in the case of Inners, naturally regenerated over time.
“Not bad,” she said.
Crazy bitch, Cyr thought, as she lunged at him, going on the offensive this time. She thrust her blade at him again. With his knuckledusters, Cyr’s defense was severely hampered as he didn’t have as much range as he did with his blade earlier. Instead, he expended more Johrei and swiped at the air with both hands in a cross pattern, creating a makeshift X shield in midair. Her thrust collided with his shield, shattering it. However, her attack’s momentum slowed just enough for Cyr to react. He began to sidestep again, raising his right hand to bear down on her once more.
Vera was abundantly aware of the downside of increasing agility when donning lighter armor. Her dress, lined with thin layers of Bastion metal, couldn’t possibly stop the force of his next strike, and though she might be able to step back in time, at this range, she couldn’t avoid taking significant damage. However, the mark of a true hunter is the ability to reveal all the cards of the opponent early on, whilst only revealing your own, at the very last moment.
Right as the knuckledusters were about to land on her cheek, Vera issued a non-verbal command. Johrei blades jutted out from the gaps located on the grooves of her weapon’s blade, which looked like “roots” spiraling around the stem of a plant. The Johrei blades curved and stabbed into Cyr, breaking his shield and puncturing him. He reeled from the attack, clutching his side with his right hand, as he jumped back and created a makeshift shield in the air with his left hand.
He looked at her, pain coming in waves. Vera’s weapon now had smaller Johrei blades protruding from it. The blades gave him the impression of an old flower, the Lotus flower. From Cyr’s view, this weapon acted more like a spiked mace than it did a sword. His assumption earlier cost him the advantage, though part of him commended her for coming up with such a clever use of a weapon. This many blades had to have expended a great deal of the weapon’s Johrei storage, which is probably why she didn’t extend the blades until an opportunity presented itself.
He didn’t have time to recover. She closed the gap in an instant, shattering the shield with her bladed flower mace. Right as he tried to take advantage of the slowed momentum of the attack to move out of the way, she tossed another set of needles at him. This time, it pieced his skin causing great agony. The injuries sizzled, but it was then that he realized something. What she hit him with, wasn’t acid. Something was off.
He looked up at her using his extended blades to parry her strikes. However, he didn’t have nearly enough range to reach her, and the heavy blows from her weapons were breaking through his defenses, nicking and slashing at various points of his arm. He was bleeding from multiple spots, even if he managed to keep her away.
“You’re not looking too good there, hunter,” she taunted.
“Shut up!” Cyr said. He needed an opening. He stepped back, navigating the grave markers and tombstones to give himself more space. However, it was of no avail. Vera glided easily around each obstacle, navigating the muddy terrain without a single misstep. Though Cyr noticed she was notably slower than earlier. That Johrei she lost from his blow earlier meant she had to be frugal with the remaining Johrei she had. Her abilities were cut down significantly, and he could use that to his advantage.
The light from the caverns shone brightly where he was currently standing, right beneath statue of the founder, Alyssa Kamakura. He took a deep breath as she approached nearer and solidified the strategy in his mind. He issued a non-verbal command, and dashed towards Vera, removing and tossing his right knuckleduster at her face, where her shielding is weakest. The knuckleduster maintained its Johrei-extended blade at the front, and this time, instead of making the same mistake of swiping the weapon away, she held her mace in front of her face, blocking the strike.
With her weapon close by she was able to react much faster and bring her weapon to bear, keeping an eye out in case he tossed his remaining weapon at her. Once she noticed he hadn’t, she used the advantage of her range to swipe the mace horizontally at him. With his momentum carrying him forward, there was no time to dodge back. She had him.
Cyr smiled and Vera’s eyes widened. At the moment of her swing, he stepped on one of the tombstones and hopped into the air. There was no way he could hop high enough to avoid her strike, but at that moment she realized.
That’s why he threw it, she thought.
Cyr had hopped onto the trail of Johrei created by the thrown knuckleduster from earlier, taking a little inspiration from Calli’s way of fighting. Though the Johrei itself didn’t have enough strength to maintain his weight for long, it gave Cyr just enough of a foothold to jump up again – a second jump in the air, which barely avoided her swing.
She couldn’t retract her attack, as the weight of the weapon was too great for her to bring her weapon to bear. She knew she was vulnerable this time. As she released her weapon, readying her feet to move out of the way, while raising her other arm to block the attack, Cyr’s knuckleduster swung down, Johrei blade extended, and pierced her upside her head. She let out a muffled gasp, before collapsing to her knees, and falling to the ground.
The cavern silenced and the light shone over Cyr’s bloodied body. This Vera, or whoever she was, didn’t fight like any hunter he’s fought before. She was stronger than most hunters, probably even at the level of a Daimyo or Shogun. As he looked at her corpse lying facedown on the ground, he released a large sigh, thankful that the battle was finally over.
“In a cemetery no less,” he laughed softly. Oh, the irony. The pain burned at his side from her earlier attacks. Puncture wounds from the needle, and a blow from the mace. He’ll need at least a few days of bed rest for this. His vision began to dim and he held his hand to his face to steady himself, eyes getting foggy. It was then that he noticed something was off.
Vera’s corpse wasn’t bleeding…at all. “Where –” he began.
“Indeed,” he heard a voice behind him say. And before he could turn around, multiple blades pierced through his chest, impaling him. The flower mace had found its mark.
“How…” Cyr said, as he coughed up copious amounts of blood.
“The needles took longer than expected, but it seemed they did the trick. Johrei weapons that alter one’s perception, and dull’s one’s senses.” She gripped her weapon’s hilt tighter, twisting it against his flesh. He grit his teeth in pain. “Not all of the senses are affected at once, unfortunately. Still, it was enough to fool you into believing I died.”
“Who-” he started, before she violently ripped out her weapon from his backside, causing him to collapse to the ground. His vision blackened.
“Phantasma, or the Golden Order” she said. “The Vera you were supposed to meet had met her end long before you came into the saloon.” She retracted her weapon’s blades, as Cyr’s eyes tried to look at her from the ground. She took off her mask and took out a Johrei vial, replenishing her Johrei stock. Her eyes were hauntingly beautiful, a face no one could forget.
“You were the one…” he began. The only who killed the Imeraza line. Before he could finish his words, he let out his last breath. On that day, Cyriak Imeraza died, his corpse strewn next to the graves of his family. Alyssa Kamakura’s statue towered over him, her face one of etched solemnity. From the statue’s view, it looked as if she watched over him, as she tried to do for her people, all those decades ago.
Vera swept her eyes over Cyr’s remains. A worthy opponent indeed. If the Blackbirds were involved in the Trepidor incident, this might be a bigger issue than she realized. Now she needed to find a way to get that young Blackbird to further her investigation, whilst hiding this man’s corpse from him at the same time. Things didn’t go as she planned this time she thought, but it wasn’t as if she got recruited into the Golden Order for her lack of adaptability.
Phantasma placed her mask back on, activating its holographic effects across her body. Golden locks appeared on her head, and a mole formed under her left eye, giving her the appearance of Vera once more. Her noblewoman’s dress faded, causing the air to shimmer ever so slightly in the air. Maintaining the disguise didn’t require much Johrei, though she needed to reissue a non-verbal command every now and then, to adjust its appearance under different lighting situations.
A series of lights began flashing behind her visor.
Leave now. Others coming. No time.
She sighed internally. Looks like there wasn’t even enough time to use a Hunter’s Curtain to rid of the body. She retracted her weapon, placing it beneath her sleeve, and into the pocket-space generator attached to her arm. Despite all the advantages in equipment the Clan had provided for her, taking down a Blackbird took more out of her than she expected. It has been a while since she executed a mission in such a shoddy manner.
But what’s done is done, she thought to herself, and looked towards the Night Market buildings out in the distance, ready to continue her investigation.