Every bone in my body is aching. I never knew a battle could be so exhausting. Without me even realizing it, the sun had set as we finally approached the cave once more. This time though, there’s no Sidonians waiting in ambush, and there sure as hell shouldn’t be anything else. Following behind me, are all the Heroes, summoners, and Trissdean, as well as those three Platinum Ranks. By my side, walks Jeremiah; since me and him have the most resilient armor, we’ve taken point. Behind Trissdean walks two rows of half a dozen people each, they were members of the Yötiv Corporation. They looked like merchants and businessmen sure, but what the hell are they doing here? With that little invoice from Jeremiah about the beast hive being Trissdean’s mess, I think she’s got a little army of colluders. Trissdean’s already assured us that there’s nothing else in this research base; but the eerie silence, droned out only by our footsteps, seems to numb my ears.
As we continue onward, the tunnel gradually started to look more and more like a subway tunnel than a cave; the walls slowly evened out, and it became more and more well-kept. Soon, we came to a large bulkhead. The size of it was huge, a haul truck could easily drive on through it with room to spare.
Stopping at the base of the metal bulkhead, in awe of it’s size, Trissdean continued on past me. There aren’t any locks, levers or buttons on the bulkhead, how exactly are you supposed to open this thing? Forget that, this clearly isn’t something I’d see a medieval society capable of building. The procurement of all the metal was one thing, the craftsmanship another, and the elaborateness of building something so big within an enclosed space…I didn’t think I’d see anything other than a castle that’d be such an show of human ingenuity. I still haven’t seen a castle, though I’ve seen much bigger, the Andestinian capital of Re’relihn. The Heroes Chapel was breath taking building, it looked like the Notre Dam Cathedral, the whole structure shone with mahogany and orange, every nook and cranny bursting with warmth and color. There was also a massive fortress in the center of the city, though it was very clearly an acropolis-sorta schpeel, it looked like a work of art. From it’s numerous spires and keeps, long rods were tipped by emerald-green carvings of various tools, animals and symbols. The walls of the structure towered, but they were thick with multiple columns, statues, and a plethora of buttresses of varying design. The tops of the walls had elaborate parapets. The one portcullis I saw was beautiful, decked by-
-M’m, uh, yeah. What am I, an old man talking about architecture? Well, I can’t just brush that off as some boring topic, compared to the samey skyscrapers I’ve been used to, every building in this world is so unique and new, it’s hard not to take a second glance at them.
Trissdean lays a hand on the bulkhead, I can hear the bare skin of her hand echo on the cold and hard surface. After glancing behind her for a moment at us with narrowed eyes, an outline of green encircled her hand. We could hear a rumble, not of the hum of machinery that’d be associated with a metal door like this, but the sound was of the dull grinding of stone on stone. She withdrew her arm and took a step back, behind me and Jeremiah. After more moaning and rumbling from behind the walls of the tunnel, I heard a distinct click, and the bulkhead began to rise. It rose quickly, completely disappearing into the ceiling within a quarter of a minute, halting it’s motion with a loud clang, sending a shockwave through the ground.
“Alright, spread out, make sure the Sidonians didn’t leave any going away gifts. Do not, by any means, go through any of those doors to the far ends. I will be watching all of you.”
Trissdean quickly paced forward into the newly opened chamber, followed by her entourage of Yötiv members. This place looks like some sort of airport terminus. The ceiling is high and convexly curved, that and it’s smooth white stone texture make the ceiling look like some sort of cloud. The air here was crisp, and the cleanliness rivaled any residence in Re’relihn. The floor too was a bright white stone. As the floor continued further back, there were a few jumps of elevation with stairs and railings. The whole area was filled with numerous tables, papers, and crates. Boxes and barrels occupied most of the space by the walls, but there were many glass vials and flasks across tables and upon shelves.
So much for a ‘Research Base’, this place looks like a witch’s retreat. After a moment of scanning the area, the rest of our group reluctantly spread out. Arciel flicked her head at me, and I followed. We walked along the left side of the colossus lab, my eyes darting between every nook. As time progressed, and the initial uneasiness of this alien place started to wear off, the odd couple dozen people spread out across the lab started to quietly talk. It created a drone, and let me tell you, I don’t care how quiet it is, it’s extremely comforting to hear human speech. Towns, villages, cities, they seem so comforting after those few long moments of silence. Granted, it sounds like the inside of a church, filled solely with monks because of everyone’s soft tones, but it’s better than nothing.
“How exactly can Andestine hide something like this from the public?”
I mutter, once again looking at the size of this lab.
“The people of Andestine can keep a secret, especially the higher ups like the council members. They each have their own motives and secrets you know, and a bunch of loyal subordinates to execute their agenda’s with.”
Arciel shrugged.
“They sound less like a council and more like a group of backstabbing nobles.”
Arciel raised an irked eyebrow at me on the phrase of backstabbing nobles.
“They’re a lot more individual in operation than you think. It’s less like they’re working together than them being focused on their own little plans. The Great Nobles of Andestine would never connive on such clouded grounds with the populace. Hmph!”
She crossed her arms, averting her head.
“If this place is owned by Andestine, I don’t see what Trissdean’s gaining from it. For being a council member, she didn’t bring a lot of troops now did she?”
“Trissdean isn’t stupid Shepard. If she brought anymore men than word of the battle and of our movements would’ve gotten out. But, I don’t know what this place is for. This looks more like s storage house than a lab.”
As Arciel finished speaking, we neared the far wall, wherein a few reinforced doors lay locked. Trissdean and some of the other Yötiv guys were crowding around one of the doors.
“Yes, it makes sense now.” One of the Yötiv men, kneeling by the base of the door, says while rubbing his chin with a piqued brow.
“What is it? Did the Sidonians really not breach the lower level?”
Trissdean asked, tilting her head and placing a hand on her hip.
“No, the opposite. The entered the lower level alright. But, they didn’t break through it with force, and they had the courtesy to lock the door on their way out.”
Trissdean’s eyes cringed in concern.
“How exactly did the they manage to gain access without force?”
The Yötiv member shook his head, rising.
“They cracked the security, somehow. The knowledge of security using a mana locking system shouldn’t be available to them; we made that system after all, and they still somehow fooled it.”
Trissdean nodded her head.
“They clearly didn’t know the actual code to open the door, but somehow, they got the greenlight.”
Trissdean, noticing us, exhaled.
“We can discuss this at a later time.” She said softly to the man she’d been talking to. Yeah, too bad I’m a Hero so I heard literally every word she said. Trissdean opened her mouth, about to speak with us, when I heard the thundering of footsteps. Danton jogged over, his face was more in disappointment than real imminence.
“We found the researchers ma’am.” He said, averting his eyes. Trissdean’s brow piqued.
“Not a pretty sight I assume.”
Danton shook his head.
“No, the opposite.” He turned from where he’d came, and pointed toward the right wall specifically where a corridor had trailed off.
“They’re all dead, but they’ve been laid out like packed-together sardines in one of the rooms. They don’t have any injuries that I could see, but their skin was cold, and they weren’t breathing.”
“Body count?”
Trissdean furrowed her brow.
“Thirty-seven.”
Trissdean blew a burst of air through her nose.
“Forget about it. Arcielvitzi.” Arciel jumped, her eyes widening and lips tightening promptly. Trissdean was a head taller than Arciel, so Trissdean was looking down on her with sharp eyes.
“Round up your peers, you’re all no longer needed. I want all of you out of my sight within a quarter hour. Leave the rest to me. My little borrowing of all you Heroes is over, the rest of the council has things to be done, go and see to it that Andestine’s interests are secure.”
She waved her hand at the three of us, turning on her heel with an almost disgusted tone.
…
“I guess this means goodbye Shepard, for now at least!”
Danton smiled at me, his hands on his hips. After being pushed away from that mountain research base, we flew over to Geraldi, the survivors of the punitive expedition in tow. With four summoners, there was plenty of mana to go around to the pitifully small number of knights left. The moon was now straight in the middle of the sky, and the walls of the punitive force’s encampment are being torn down by the Geraldi Garrison. They’d been told that the punitive force accomplished it’s mission and continued on further north for reallocation, and were unable to clean up their encampment. The reality was, there was no punitive force left. Out of three hundred and fifteen knights, only thirteen Silver Ranks, six Gold Ranks, and all three of the original Platinum Ranks, had made it.
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Around the center of the camp, all four Hero-summoner pairs, as well as Kana, were standing. We’d received our new positions; our little party’s been dissected. Even Clarke and Epsilon will be splitting off from us. They’ll be going down south on account of hostile elements, like rebels or pirates, something like that. Jeremiah and Danton are being pulled back to Re’relihn, where they’ll be standing by in reserve, for what I guess is going to be deployment to the mainland of Aleeze. As for me and Arciel, we’re heading off to a port town northwest of Geraldi, apprently Kana's coming with us. Right now, us four Hero-summoner pairs are the only ones on the Andestinian continent, the rest are apparently still on Aleeze from the initial deployment.
Dang, I feel bad to have to part ways with Epsilon and Clarke, other than Arciel, they’re really the only people I’ve spent an extended amount of time with in this world. Whatever, I’m not some guy who can’t handle talking to strangers and making new friends.
“Yeah, I’ll see you round Danton.”
Jeremiah stood with his eyes closed and his arms crossed.
“Well then, don’t any of you die just yet. The real war has yet to come.”
With that, he turned, and walked off. Fifio glanced around, evidently anxious and deciding whether to stay and talk, or follow her summons’s abrupt leave. She quickly curtsies, and turns, stumbling away to Jeremiah’s side.
“Nice to finally work with you two.” Mikhail said, bobbing his head at Clarke and Arciel respectively. Clarke nodded, and Arciel smiled pridefully.
“Come on Danton, we’re going to miss my evening study with all this procrastinating.” Mikhail said, smirking.
“That is something I would rather live without!” Danton exclaimed, but nevertheless followed Mikhail away. Kana stared at us for a moment, before shaking her head.
“I’m sorry again for what happened, if it weren’t for me, we would’ve gotten Ardinand.” Her head dropped low.
“Don’t worry about it,” Clarke said, raising his staff lightly.
“Better we have one live Nekomata than two dead ones yes?”
“I suppose. Well, I guess I'll meet you at Nerenton.” Kana nodded her head, tightening her fingerless leather black gloves. Now why isn't she going to travel with us? We have a carriage you know.
“Do you, do you have anyone you travel with?”
She halted midway through her turn, on my question. Turning back at me, she flashed a melancholic, closed eye smile at me.
“I did. My old adventurer team, we were the best in the country. Now though…” Kana’s voice trailed off, her smile weakening, but still faintly holding. Kana then quickly walked away, without another word. The four of us remaining, sat in a long minute of silence.
“Well, I hope to see you again, don’t do anything stupid without me, yes?”
Clarke bobbed his head at us.
“Yes, if I do do something stupid, I’ll be sure to tell you, so you can die too.”
Clarke smiled at Arciel.
“I’ll be looking forward to it.” He said, still smiling.
“See you.” I extend a fist out in front of me, into the center of the four of us. Epsilon, directly across from me, tilted her head at the gesture. As I keep my hand out, both Clarke and Arciel gave me curious glances. Seriously? You guys have never fist-bumped before?
“It’s a gesture of goodwill where I come from, like a high five.” Hearing me, Epsilon rose her hand, she looked at it for a moment before stealing a glance at mine, clearly working out this foreign idea in her head. She slowly touches the knuckle of her fist against mine, quickly recoiling after the fact.
“There, you’ve got it.” I looked at Clarke and Arciel and flicked my head. “Altogether!”
The two of them shoot a glance at me, and then at each other, before raising a fist. The four of us touch our knuckles together, everyone except me does so quite lethargically. I’m also the only one to wiggle my fingers as I recoil my fist. Regardless, everyone still had some form of a smile on their face.
…
Around the lower level of Eyeva Mountain Complex, walked two immensely influential people. The area they walked was underground, though it shone dully with red from the affixed small bulges periodically placed through the corridor. This dark red hardly illuminated much of anything, the real sources of light were mage lights, floating within small lanterns hanging from the ceiling every few meters. The room they were approaching was restricted to only a select few researchers and clearance granted personal, it was one to never be on the lips of the populace. A few Yötiv members milled about, but they were mostly located in the main room of the complex, and evidently did not take a step near the pair or their destination.
“All this walking, I knew this place was supposed to be big but, you’ve really outdone yourself, Trissdean.”
The man walking next to Trissdean, almost took up half of the hall for himself due to his size. He wore clothes of admiralty, albeit they were sleeveless exposing his arms. His trimmed hair was in the process of graying from a light black, giving his hair a dull but dashed coloring. His exposed muscles seemed as though they were only centimeters away from breaking the rest of his uniform, as they bulged with mass, and the faded scars of battle. Even upon his rigid jaw and face, were a few small scars, namely one that streaked from his cheekbone to his forehead. He was Gravari Silverstream, more commonly known as General Silverstream; despite his rank now exceeding that due to his councilmanship.
“You, being impressed by size? How unheard of.” Trissdean, evidently joking with her faint smile, replied.
“But, make no mistake Silverstream, this area was not built by me. I just happened to move in once we’d found a particular artifact warranting a degree of power.”
Silverstream’s brow piqued.
“And what might be so important as to build such an underground facility then?”
“You’ll see. You should’ve got here earlier, now that all my people have arrived, it’s not the quiet haven of mine it used to be.”
“How many people did you lose then? Just how much of a problem did they cause?”
Silverstream asked.
“The entirety of the staff I had here. For me of course, I’ve just lost a whole host of intellectual property and human capital, but the real loss lays in what the Sidonians have done. All in all, I’m glad the Sidonians didn’t take any prisoners or get any converts, then they’d have the information that we’ve gathering for the past few months.”
She shrugged.
“…Don’t you feel the least bit bad about your subordinates? I have long since learnt to live with my men’s sacrifices, but I will never forget that I am the one that has to order their deaths; You’d do well to remember it.”
Trissdean paused at the end of the corridor, it was another iron reinforced door, same as the one they’d entered from the main hub of the complex.
“I suppose not. The only reason I brought such a force of weaklings here, and far too little of them, is so that I could still reclaim this place whilst having no loose ends. Those pitiful Silver Ranks didn’t stand a chance; the Gold Ranks were reduced by two thirds and my Platinum Ranks were the only ones to not falter. Those few surviving Silver Ranks, they’re worthless to me with that little tidbit of knowledge they have, and with their lack of loyalty, I’ll have those ends cut in the coming time. As for the higher-ranking knights, I bestowed many commendations upon them, and I’ve even given Diamond recommendations to the two of the Platinum Ranks; they will hold their tongue for me, I’m sure.”
Trissdean continued on with movement after she’d finished monologuing whilst facing the door, and not looking at Silverstream. She placed her hand on the door, and an outline seemed to draw itself around the sides of her hand.
“You have such a, disregard, for those lives, you remind me of the head councilman.”
“Oh ho, I’ll take that as a complement. Not everyone can be so cunning.”
“And equally deceiving.” Silverstream interjected Trissdean’s words with a hint of malcontent.
“Yes yes, it’s part of the trade of being one so intelligent such as he. The head councilman can bring even the likes of the Prince and Sidonia to their knees with his mind, why do you wonder why he is the Head councilman after a fact like that?”
Silverstream, wondering why the door had not opened yet, rose a brow in angst at the mention of the head councilman once more.
“All that wit of his is dangerous.” Silverstream replied, crossing his arms.
“Bold words for a such an equal mind in within the art of battle. Though I do share your opinion, he is dangerous. I can be terrified at times, he is of the kind to slit your throat for no reason other than foresight, foresight that can only be seen within his head, and incomprehensible to the likes of us.”
The door finally clicked, and Silverstream heard a burst of air, releasing due to some sort of pent-up pressure. The door slid open, two halves of it sliding horizontally away from each other with a thin hiss. Trissdean stepped forward, and without thinking, Silverstream followed.
“Who knows, maybe the head councilman would have calculated a better ratio of soldiers to bring along to ensure that there’d be no loose ends after my reclamation. I still think it was a good trade you know, we captured Lackadaisical and had three confirmed kills. Of course, by ‘confirmed’, I mean the corpses we estimated from all the little giblets that our spells turned the Sidonians into; they really like snatching away their wounded and dead before exiting the battle. Perhaps that is why their troops are so much better than ours, they religiously protect the fallen and wounded. Their small numbers are a blessing for us however.”
Ignoring the pride biting remarks of Trissdean, of how she ‘calculated’ soldier’s lives, Silverstream’s eyes wandered over this new colossus room. It was cylindrical, and seemed to extend infinitely upwards; and, downwards, for the two of them were standing atop a catwalk. This limitlessness was not an exaggeration; When Silverstream looked up, he saw light clouds, and when he gazed down, the darkness of a bottomless pit manifested itself. The suspended path wrapped all along the shaft in a circle, dotted with numerous other doors and halls branching away from the main shaft. In the center of the never-ending pit, however, is what drew Silverstream’s attention. It was a large white cylinder in simple terms, it extended from the darkness of the shaft and ended in a visible point just below the clouds of the gigantic shaft. There were many markings, small incisions, and extrusions that splashed across it’s slim body.
“What in Ior’s Hell is this?”
Silverstream asked, not able to take his eyes away from the large object in the middle of the room. Trissdean turned to Silverstream, a childish smirk on her face for the likes of a grown woman.
“Unfortunately, the only people allowed to know that and leave this place alive are me and the head councilman.”
“Oh yeah? What about the researchers then? Isn’t this what they have been working on, it’s definitely the crown jewel of this conniver’s den.”
“I said, leave alive, the replacements for the previous staff here know full well what they’re getting into, and of the implications on the line. Why do you think this place is equipped more like a shelter than a laboratory?” After seeing a musing frown from Silverstream, Trissdean folded her arms. “The reason we should be concerned however, is that not only did the Sidonians possess the means to penetrate this far, but they somehow had the capabilities to gut the artifact. It’s dead. It is of little use to us now, for the Sidonians have ripped up the components and set ablaze the rest of the essentials, so my workers tell me.”
Silverstream didn’t answer for a moment, his gaze lay splashing across this, ‘Artifact’.
“It doesn’t look tampered with in the slightest.”
“Believe me,” Trissdean redoubled, “The Sidonians turned it’s insides into outsides, and didn’t leave anything for us to study.”
“Then why re-man this place if it is useless?”
“It is not completely useless per say, there is still value, however small it is and however long it takes to uncover. The garrison here has been sliced by three quarters, effectively, it is no longer apart of the strategic picture. The Sidonians, they knew of our efforts to study this complex, and in response, they came and surgically disabled it, and with it went our ability to extract any other information. It’s puzzling, I can believe that they were able to sniff this place’s existence out, but just where did they get the knowledge to pry open our doors, and of how to disable the artifact?”
Silverstream didn’t answer, instead, he broke off his gaze from the artifact, staring at Trissdean.
“Do you, do you and the head councilman know anything definite about this thing?” Trissdean frowned.
“No, of course we are not psychics. All we know is what the researchers have been able to infer and discover, which, according to them, was next to nothing. They were all so eager to uncover the mysteries of this place of this artifact; to think that Sidonians would come only a few months after all this was discovered in the first place.” Trissdean glanced back over to the artifact. “Now then, tally along, I may be the lowest ranked council member, but people will ask questions why such an esteemed man such as yourself is spending time in a place like this.”
Silverstream’s eyes narrowed at Trissdean.
“I’m still wondering, why didn’t you ask me to command your forces, I was in the area after all.”
Trissdean smiled.
“As if I’d want such a famed celebrity taking part in my ‘non-existent’ errand. If we made too big of a splash with something of this matter, we’d be compared to the other pitiful nations of the world. I for one do not think Andestine is to be tarnished by being thrown in with those pigsties on the main continent.”
Silverstream only stared in silence at Trissdean. Normally, any man, even steeled soldiers, would cave to the pressure of his presence, but this councilwoman, the lowest ranking, had quite some gall.
“Well. Pigsties the lands may be, but they are my battlefields, shouldn’t the graveyards of the Sidonians be regarded with higher respect?”
Trissdean closed her eyes, smirking and looking down.
“They deserve no such respect. Mockery shalt be their payment in death.”
***