In the dead of night, a little girl awoke from her sleep. Her eyes, though drowsy, shone with a childish innocence, one that had never witnessed a person dying before them, or really any hardship in general. She had enjoyed a simple, quiet life in this keep, the place she had known her entire life. The keep was in some sense a part of her life, just like her brother.
However, what had awoken her from a perfectly normal night,
were the embers floating through the air. The distinct hint of charcoal pricked at her nose. Was somebody grilling food outside, at this hour? No, her window wasn’t open, how would she smell-
A loud crash shattered her thought. Glass shards spun through the air, filling her room. They glistened in flight from the rays of the moon. The noise made the girl fall out of her bed, not before being cut by the glass. The sudden pain made her recoil even further and her brain acted quickly to process the situation. Her window had been broken. That was because a man had dove through it.
That wasn’t right, her room was more than five stories up the keep, just how did-
The man surged for her. He was more akin to a phantom than a person, wrapped in rags, no exposed skin anywhere on his body. He lifted a sword high, and it shone momentarily off the light of the moon. The air escaped the girl’s throat, and she crawled backwards as fast as she could, but it was no use. The sword came down. She cringed her eyes. She didn’t think she was going to die. Just that whatever was about happen was going hurt much more than the cuts from the glass, and that was incomprehensible to her, having lived a sheltered life.
The pain never came, and when she cracked open her eyes tepidly, she saw another man slamming into the first. They were both identical, one of them evidently having been thrown at the girl’s aggressor. The two phantoms collapsed back toward the window.
“Celistine…my dearest sister…”
A familiar voice called to her from the door of her room, and she looked to see her brother, covered in blood, armed with both his swords and clad in his armor. Behind him, through the door that he had crashed through, was a raging fire. She heard screams of battle and pain from all throughout the keep. He paced toward the girl.
“You must survive…Tell everyone of what has happened here!”
He ordered the girl, and she stared up into his dark eyes, not understanding the situation. Before the girl could question it, her brother scooped her up in his arms, and stumbled to the window of her room.
The girl only now vaguely understood what was happening.
“N-no! Rickard no!” She hissed, trying to wrestle free of his grip.
“There’s no going back, Celistine.”
He said simply. She froze as she heard those words. A moment later, he dropped her out of the window. Even as she fell, she was still frozen in thought. Her life would never be the same. She couldn’t go back. The moon seemed to shine on her, like a spotlight.
…
The air was ripe with anxious chatter. In the cafeteria of our dorm, everyone was talking about how the first batch of graduates would be assigned today. To an elite unit, no less. Those involved were flocked by their peers, heralded as the best of the best, the best of the Academy.
But not me. I can only wish that my friends would be as normal. All…two of them.
“…Again she wakes up in the middle of the night, sweating bullets, looking like she just dropped out of the academy!”
Ukuri remarked, twirling a fork in the air with a devious smile.
“How many times does that make it? I’ve lost count.”
Oda replied, eating her food, her eyes closed, holding a dignified countenance.
“Celis looks nothing like the top graduate of our class! When she looks so scared in her pajamas like that, she looks just like any other girl!” Ukuri pressed on the remarks. “Of course, she has that same dream right before such an important day, it’s like a sign.” Ukuri grabbed hold of her fork with both hands, closed her eyes, and said in a mystical tone, “The day Celis wets her bed in fear will be the day she’ll get a boyfriend-“
“I-I’ve never wet the bed! Stop saying that out loud!”
I frowned, my face red. People are going to get the wrong idea if Ukuri keeps on running her mouth.
Ukuri sneered at me in victory. “I just wanted to see you angry one last time. You’re always so boring, it’d be no fun if our last day together is the same-old-same-old, right?”
I’m…‘boring’? I’m the strong, silent type, alright!? There’s a difference!
“T-today’s already a nerve-wracking day as it is.” I mumbled.
“Right, right, getting a master and all…from the 51st! You haven’t forgotten, have you?”
Ukuri leaned in.
“Knowing how airheaded Celis can be, she might’ve.” Oda remarked, her eyes closed, eating and mostly ignoring the conversation, but still finding the energy to insult me.
“Of course I haven’t forgotten, it’s what’s making me nervous…”
I poked my food with a fork tepidly.
“You have to be ‘high-energy’ today Celis!” Ukuri grinned.
“W-why’s that?”
Ukuri sighed, and leaned back, repeatedly tapping her fork in the air as if she were a teacher lecturing me.
“You need to put on a good – no, great! – impression for your would-be master!”
“W-why would I do that?”
“Because, you want somebody nice! You don’t want to end up with some weirdo right?”
“Knowing Celis, she’ll get paired up with the creepiest master.” Oda said. “And they’ll also be a man.” I don’t like where she’s going with this. “And then maybe Celis will be-“
“S-shut up already!” I shook my head, blushing. “We’re apprentices, we shouldn’t be thinking about stuff like that! And no master would ever do that to their apprentice!”
Oda finally opened her eyes, leering at me with a small smirk of sadism.
“I wasn’t talking about that Celis. You’re the one thinking lewd thoughts here.”
All I could was flash a glare of indignity at her.
“See! Look at her face! It’s so lively!” Ukuri put her hands together, apparently admiring a rare sight.
“Well…what master would you all want?”
I asked, trying to change the subject, and also because I really hadn’t thought about the subject up until now. I can’t imagine being paired with someone so closely for years, it seems mystical.
Every time people have tried to be close with me, anyone who’s ever been close to me; My family, my old team of apprentices…They’re all dead. Maybe that’s why people have stopped trying to be close with me. Because I’m nothing more than a bad luck charm. A walking jinx.
“A handsome, cool kind of guy! One that’s like a prince! But he’s cocky too, and really strong!” Ukuri said, fantasizing. “The kind to sweep me off my feet and say: ‘Are you unharmed, my lady?’ Oh~! I’m getting all worked up just thinking about it!”
She writhed.
Oda swallowed a gulp of food. “Someone who can cook well.”
Typical, coming from her.
“But what about you, Celis? Who would you want?” Ukuri asked.
I averted my eyes. “I…don’t know…I’ve never really fantasized about other people before…”
“Just think! What do you like in other people?”
I thought for a moment. “Someone…I guess a…big girl? Like, an older sister? T-that would protect me…?”
“She’s thinking about a woman with big breasts.”
Oda said, and took another bite of food.
“She’s thinking about a woman with big breasts.” Ukuri nodded.
My face flushed red. “I-I never said that!”
…
The sun had not risen yet, many of the residents of the Capital were still asleep, and the town was silent. Deep within the Nuam Keep, Alisson observed his normal routine. Sitting on a bench, Alisson lifted an iron weight, over and over.
One of his twin servants stood off to the side of the gym, holding a towel, their eyes closed.
The single ray of morning light that lit the room made Alisson’s sweat glisten on his bare chest. After finishing his set, he stood before a mirror, and flexed his bare muscles, but after a moment, sighed, his body loosening.
“An excellent effort as always, master.”
The male servant complemented Alisson as he always did, but the truth was that for the past hundred years Alisson’s physical strength had not changed. His muscles hadn’t gotten even a bit bigger; such was the vice of a Nekomata. At his age, he was still immature – Why, he didn’t even grow facial hair, just how was he supposed to get bigger? The answer was that he couldn’t. Not until he grew older. How older, he didn’t know; but regardless, he still exercised as much as he could – The best Alisson could do in his situation was maintain his stature. Which, admittedly, was nothing to scoff at, but compared to a grown human, or even someone like Daventdale, Alisson was inwardly quite jealous of their frames.
He took up a heavy practice sword, and sunk into a stance at a clearing in the room.
His swordplay however, had no arbitrary level that he could not proceed past. Drilling footwork always helped, no matter one’s skill level, to think otherwise was the height of arrogance. It was one of the reasons the majority of humans on the continent couldn’t best him. He had a solid century and half of both training and battle-experience on others.
So, until the sun rose, he did just that, drilling both his swordplay and his footwork.
By the time the Capital audibly hummed with life, rolling wagons and the incessant drone of chatter, Alisson had worked up quite a sweat. He wiped himself down with a towel generously handed to him by his servant; who had stood for hours watching Alisson in order to complete that one task.
His two servant’s devotion was absolute. The two of them were twins, a boy and girl, of only fourteen, whom Alisson had rescued when they were children off the streets of the Principality’s capital. It was odd watching humans grow old and die whilst Alisson himself stood unchanging.
“Master. The bath is drawn.”
Only giving a little knock at the door, the other servant told Alisson, staying out of the room for she knew how Alisson didn’t like to be seen by the other sex. Even if he was only shirtless; it was still embarrassing. Perhaps that was why the boy closed his eyes like that.
After bathing, Alisson got dressed for the day. He made a mental list of the day’s events, as to know how to dress, but there was really only one event today. It had been a week since he’d returned from the 6th army, and it seemed the recruits promised to him by Lente were ready to be officially transferred to the 51st as apprentices. Out of the forty-eight –
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
Alisson shook his head.
Thirty-two 51st – He had still yet to fathom that Harshel company were all gone – about half of them would have to voluntarily pick out an apprentice. Some Nekomata hated training apprentices, and abstained, but some loved it; So, some of his troops were in a very excitable mood today – As the 51st hadn’t had an opportunity to train recruits since, well, ever. Manpower was something Sidonia lacked, but when it came to an elite unit, high command obviously saw it fit that they were at full-fighting capacity as quickly as possible. Special treatment for a special unit.
The ceremony itself was quite an informal event, as the formalities for the apprentices lay in their graduation from the Academy which had already taken place, so Alisson didn’t have to dress sharply; but neither did he have to don his armor – Some soldiers didn’t know how to wear anything that wasn’t armor, and Alisson wasn’t one of them. He decided to just wear something normal.
Of course, being the son of Lord Nuam, he was the heir to the Nuam House, and as such his wardrobe was anything but normal – He had to maintain appearances for the House as a whole, after all. So, he picked the least eye-catching tailcoat, one that was mostly black like the Nuam House, and emblazed with decadent shoulder pads bearing the Nuam crest.
There was one last touch that Alisson would always wear whenever he could. His mother’s hair clip. It was the only memento he had of her. Lord Pusheal, before departing with the 6th, informed Alisson privately of his distaste of such wear upon someone like Alisson. Taking it as an order, Alisson had left the clip behind, but now finally he clipped it back onto one of his bangs, where it belonged.
…
I wasn’t expecting such a crowd. It’s almost surreal. In the gathering hall of Nuam Keep, me and fifteen other would-be apprentices sat in chairs in a line. Before us were one of the most elite units in all of Sidonia, the 51st. All of units from the 50th to the 59th were ‘elite’ even by Sidonian standards. Like the armies, they had influences rooted in the noble families. The 51st was backed heavily by the Nuam House; I think I heard that their captain was the Nuam heir, so it makes sense.
The members of the 51st were already eyeing up the recruits, and seemed to be calling dibs amongst themselves about who would get what apprentice. I anxiously awaited the arrival of the captain. Whenever he arrived. the ceremony would start, and the 51st guys had made abundantly clear that they wanted everything to go perfectly; because anything less than perfection was an insult to the captain. They were certainly loyal; but they were elite too in more subtle ways, all of their movements, no matter how mundane, were so trained and precise, each 51st carried with them an air of confidence and cool; one that only radiated off of people who had survived a great deal of life-or-death battles.
The door to large gathering hall opened.
“Captain on deck!”
One of the 51st, a large, masculine young man, called out, and all of the 51st snapped to attention, placing a fist to their hearts.
“At ease.”
The captain walked into the room. If he hadn’t been announced as such, then I wouldn’t be able to tell that he was the captain. The guy was shorter than most of the 51st and…is that a hairclip?
On his rightmost bang was an orange hairclip. His hair fell to the bottom of his neck, and his face…
My mouth was parted for a moment as I couldn’t help but stare. I remembered what Ukuri said about a prince-like guy, someone who was handsome, and thought perhaps this was that type of guy but…No, he wasn’t handsome. He was cute.
And there went any and all of my respect and mysticism for the captain. He’s way too effeminate. Hairclip, short, and a face like that. He could easily pass for a girl. I don’t care that he’s wearing a really cool tailcoat, he doesn’t look like the commander of a group of grizzled war veterans.
I was about to finally snap out of my staring when something caught my eyes. His eyes. They were sharp, piercing, they radiated command.
And…They were set right on me. Right, on, me. Out of all apprentices, out of all people in the hall, he was staring directly at me. It took the air out of my throat, and I almost choked, the pressure was too great. He too seemed locked in some trance for a moment as I had. Before I knew it, he was walking toward me, directly toward me. Very quickly in fact, aggressively even, I almost felt the need to stand up and back away and reach for my blades, but of course I wasn’t armored or armed.
“You are…”
He muttered as he came to a stop not a foot in front of me. He slowly knelt, staring directly into my eyes, his mouth parted. I could only wonder what he saw in my eyes.
“You’re Rickard’s little sister…”
The room had gone dead quiet, so even though he had but mumbled those words, everyone heard them. His fine eyelashes fluttered, apparently feeling the silence of the air, the captain’s eyes widened and he stood up in a hurry, backing away.
He cleared his throat loudly. “Pardon my uncouth behavior. I am the captain of the 51st, heir to the Nuam House, Field Marshal Alisson Vi Nuam.”
He declared, addressing the entire room, and with that his focus was off of solely me.
I sighed quietly to myself. My face felt hot. I’ve never felt like that before. His entire attention, his whole being, was directed at me; it had made my ears tingle, my shoulder’s prickle, and my lips tremble.
…
“By the end of this day, I will be your commanding officer. By the end of this day, one of my subordinates will be your master, your trainer, whom will guard you and bring you up as one of our own; So that one day you may be as useful to our Lady as we are.”
Alisson felt the need to talk quicker because of his little scene, but he couldn’t help himself - That girl, she was most definitely Rickard’s, Alisson’s partner’s, younger sister, the last surviving member of House Regadonia. She had Rickard’s hair; blue, it fell to the bottom of her neck. Her eyes too – Her eyes had a deep blue in them, if Alisson stared hard enough into them, as to lose focus in the rest of her face, he would no doubt see Rickard in her.
He paced before the recruits.
“I won’t lie to you. You were selected as replacements. Going forward the 51st will be impaired by the likes of you.”
The apprentices looked to him, scared by his words, under the impression that he saw them as nothing more than trash.
“It will be up to you to determine how long you will drag us down, however. Listen to your master, treat their words as equal to the Lady’s. They have your best interest in mind, and they will protect you. But in return, you must be ready to give your life if the time calls. My 51st are far more valuable than any recruit.” He stopped on this, and turned on his heel toward the recruits. “It is also up to you to determine whether or not I will treat you as one of my subordinates.”
He squinted his eyes, looking over the apprentices. “More aptly, whether I will care for you, and protect you as one of my own.” He started walking again. “But before that…You must realize one thing.”
He lifted a glass and a knife from the one taboret in the room, and passed it to Daventdale. Daventdale took the glass and knife, and with them, cut his hand so that he bled a few drops into the glass. Alisson took a second pair, paced toward the apprentices, and passed them to the nearest one. They looked tepidly at him for a moment, but cautiously repeated Daventdale’s example, and cut their hand. Within a moment, Alisson held in his hand a cup of the apprentices’ blood, all of them. Some nursed their hands, others let blood bleed into their laps, not wanting to look weak.
While they had cut themselves, the rest of the 51st had done the same with the other glass and knife. Alisson took both glasses and stepped before the apprentices.
“Our blood, is your blood.”
He mixed the two glasses into one, and raised it high.
“And when we bleed, you bleed!”
He crushed the glass in his hands, the shards digging into his hand and cutting his flesh. The blood of everyone in the room ran down his hands, and dripped onto the floor. Most of it came from Alisson, however. His left hand was utterly cut up, the glass piercing his black dress gloves, but he still clenched the shards of glass tightly.
“And even in times of great peril, times of utter loss and desperation…”
He audibly clenched the glass even tighter in his hand, and more blood fell onto the floor.
“We will still stand by each other’s sides! The company of 51st that was most recently wiped out, died whilst standing! They died holding off an entire army! They died…before a mountain of their enemy’s corpses.”
Alisson released the glass, and it fell to the ground in tiny shards, all glistening red. He put his hands behind his back, and paced away. “Endeavor to share their resolve.” He muttered. A moment of silence passed as he walked toward his 51st, giving a moment for dramatic effect.
“Now then, feel free to pick your apprentices.”
He melted behind the rest of the 51st, sighing. Commotion blared up, and the proceedings started. One of his servants sneaked into the room in happenings, and held his wounded hand with a bandage; the other quietly entered and started to clean up the spill of blood and glass in the room.
He watched as his subordinates smiled, taking their apprentice’s hands, and kissing them, as to mark the official apprentice ship. One of his 51st even lifted an apprentice of their feet and spun them around, like they were nothing more than a body pillow.
Daventdale backed up near Alisson, placing a foot against the hall’s wall, smiling.
“Great, isn’t it?”
Alisson cracked a smile. “Yes, I’ve never seen Alieri so happy. She might act like she hates apprentices but she’s one of the best trainers there is, that apprentice she got is quite lucky. What about you?” He looked to Daventdale. “Not going to be taking up an apprentice?”
Daventdale shook his head. “It’s great and all to have a little squire with you on the battlefield but I want to protect my company. I don’t need an apprentice getting in the way, not with the political landscape the way it is.”
Alisson smiled. That’s why Daventdale was the second in command.
“And what about you, captain?”
Claus approached, smiling. Alisson’s servant backed away respectfully with a blood soaked bundle of fabric, and Claus neared, casting a healing spell on Alisson’s hand.
“An apprentice.” Alisson thought for a moment. “I don’t know…”
He didn’t want any more of them to die. He didn’t want to become attached to someone else, then to have them just die on him. Or to just turn their back on him. His eyes glazed over thinking about it. At least these apprentices would not share the Nuam family’s terrible history of apprentices. He didn’t know if it was worse to be his apprentice, or his sister’s. He was like a bad luck charm, nothing more than a jinx for any apprentice he took.
“I guess it’s a personal thing for everybody.” Claus shrugged, Alisson’s hand having been healed already. “But that was quite the performance.”
“I’m quite the showman.”
Alisson retorted, as if insulting himself. Wearing a mask and playing out a part was of who he was. To be nothing more than a shell that could be dressed up to fit an occasion.
The three of them stood watching as the apprentices were snatched up. One though, was passed up, time and time again, until eventually, they were the last unpaired apprentice. She looked anxiously from side to side.
Alisson was once again momentarily in a trance. Her expression, it was so familiar. She reminded Alisson of himself, the way she glanced around, with those empty, lonely eyes, seeking something from those around her. Alisson stepped forward unconsciously, wanting desperately to give her what she sought, but quickly stopped himself. He straightened himself, and grit his teeth.
He needed to show restraint. Every time, every one of his apprentice’s, they’ve all shared a certain hell. And it was all because of Alisson. That was Rickard’s sister there. The least he could do to respect his old partner was to stay as far away as possible from her.
But at the same time, didn’t he owe it to his old partner to protect and nurse his sister? - For there was no better job done than one done thyself.
Alisson’s eyes glazed over. And… If tragedy did come to that girl under his watch… It’d be his fault, not the likes of his comrades. He’d rather suffer on their behalf. Or was this train of thought nothing more than a whipped-up logic to pad Alisson’s ultimately selfish reasoning? To give what he had not. Like in someway helping that girl would help himself. None of his other apprentices shared those scared glances of melancholy she now displayed. Perhaps the best apprentice would be one that wasn’t the most outgoing, cheerful one, but one that was just as lonely as Alisson was.
He stood, his mind frozen for a long moment, staring on in indecision, knowing that he shouldn’t but desperately wanting to.
“Alis?”
Claus tepidly touched him on the shoulder and he jumped. He was quick to avert his eyes in embarrassment of himself.
“A-ah sorry I was just er…”
Claus smiled gingerly at him, in that motherly way that she always did. “It looks an awful lot like someone is very interested in the last apprentice.”
Alisson stepped back away from her. Most of the time he appreciated her motherly care, for it filled that gap of his own mother’s pre-mature passing, but now, it only made him uncomfortable. He could see Daventdale smiling at him, like a wingman would, urging him on.
“I don’t know…”
Alisson looked across the floor.
“Well, think about it.” Claus smiled, and with that, walked away.
By the time he looked up again, the room was eerily empty. Everyone had already moved on to the outside of the Nuam Keep, to the proving grounds, with their apprentices. He was left in an empty and now suddenly silent hall. He looked warily to the line of chairs, and saw the only other person with him in that room. She was staring at him, but when he looked, their eyes momentarily locked, and she hurried to avert her gaze.
Seeing that, Alisson’s face softened. His shoulders fell from their tension, he stood tall, and paced toward the girl. His footsteps echoed through the hall. He stopped before the girl, and tilted his head with a smile.
“What’s your name?” He asked.
The girl stared up into his eyes, for a moment awestruck.
“C-celis….Celistine Regadonia…”
Her tone was one of stoicism and seriousness, but her voice and countenance were nothing but that of an apprentice: Weak, and innocent. Alisson knelt before her. He looked to the rest of the hall, then back to Celistine.
“It seems you don’t have much of a choice.”
The girl just looked at him with a wobbly expression, anxious.
“I’m sorry for the odd circumstances, but, would you extend your hand?”
Celistine hesitated for a moment, before slowly raising a hand toward Alisson.
…
I could see how fine his eyelashes were when he kissed my hand, how soft his face was. It didn’t look like one that belonged to one of the strongest swordsmen in the world. His grip around my hand was gentle, and his hands warm. He looked up to me from my hand.
“I’ll be your protector now, understand? You don’t have to be scared anymore.”
His expression and words once more left me frozen. Half of me was shocked by the pure social circumstance, the other half shocked by his declaration.
He’ll protect me…he’ll protect me…
I thought for a moment about all those who had been close to me before, and I suddenly imagined this person sharing in the same fate. I felt pressured to say something. This, this infallible swordsman, radiating nothing but purity and perfection, to be defiled and corrupted by taking on the likes of me as his apprentice left a sour taste in my mind.
“You…” I started, “…You should’ve just left me…”
My hands were shaking. I didn’t know what else to say, but even if I found any words, I doubt that could’ve spoken them.
He sighed. It was so out of the blue it made me immediately scared that I’d said too much. He looked into my eyes once more, saying,
“I probably should have.” He shook his head. “But instead, here we are.” He smiled bittersweetly to himself.
His words and expression didn’t match up, and it left me in a state of confusion. He stood, and placed his hand on my head. It made me jump in surprise.
“I…feel something of kinship with you…I don’t know how to explain it but, I hope I can help you.”
I made eye contact with him, my mouth agape, and seeking answers. The warmth from his hand sent shivers down my spine. It was such a surreal moment, speaking such words and acting so weak to a stranger, someone who I hadn’t even laid eyes on before today.
“Now…are you ready, Celistine, to be my apprentice?”
I could only stare up at him blankly. “Yes…Master.”
My master. My master, Alisson.
***
Addendum
Apophria smiled to herself out of the protection of a shadow.
“I didn’t even need to do anything…Maybe those two are destined for each other.”
More aptly, Sidonia’s Influence had probably been enough to sway her younger brother’s actions without much fuss; how receptive that boy was to it.