Campaign 12
Eleazar was in his office taking care of paperwork. With him was a man with a ponytail, Carlos.
“Your Highness,” greeted Carlos, “Are you certain about this?”
Eleazar continued working on the papers laid before him on his desk. Without stopping or even glancing at Carlos, he replied back.
“I had Clara take a look at her,” he said, “Aside from being from a fallen noble family, Ms. Li is clean.”
Carlos slammed his fists on Eleazar’s desk.
“But, sir!” he clamored, “That’s the thing! Her records are too clean! It was as if she never existed before we caught wind of her, and now you wish to accept a suspicious ‘Imperial’ into the Kingdom’s most prestigious martial institution!?”
Eleazar finally sighed.
“Carlos,” he said, “I understand how you feel, but don’t you think you are thinking too deeply on this?”
Carlos raised his voice a level higher.
“Sir!” he called back, “Is it not you who is too careless!? What if she was sent here as a spy!? Even worse would be that she may be an assassin!?”
Eleazar finally stopped writing.
“Is that not why I have you all here?” he asked, “You are all my eyes and ears. Even so, if she were a spy, then let her run free. Let the Empire think we are too lax in our security, make them drop their guard; it is all strategy, Carlos.”
Carlos clenched his fists.
“And what about Malachi’s creations?” he asked, “What if she were to take those back to the Empire for their own use?”
Eleazar clasped his hands and rested his head on his fingers.
“Then that would be Malachi’s problem, and not mine.”
●
“I can’t take this anymore!” cried a cadet, “It has all been running and records! Running and records! Running and records! I’m sick and tired of it!”
It was a few hours past noon, and Class 13 was at the kill house. The cadet who cried threw down the gun he was using to the floor and panted heavily.
Arlianne approached the angered cadet.
“So this is all you can accomplish?” she inquired, “Then you should have either worked harder during your application to avoid being in this class, or dropped out completely if you will be half-hearted about it.”
“Shut up!” roared the cadet, “Why the hell do I have to follow your orders!? I am a son of an aristocratic family of soldiers—why do I have to follow orders from a traitor and a tainted!?”
Arlianne expressionlessly watched the cadet hurl insults at her.
“Then, why not leave?” she suggested, “Malachi and I, we never forced any of you to stay. Although we had Shyama ‘persuade’ those who won’t follow orders, it was merely because you still hadn’t left.”
“Kh…” the cadet bit his lip, “’Leave’ you say? Leave!? Leaving once I’ve been accepted into the academy!? That is the greatest disgrace I could ever achieve!”
The classmates that surrounded the two were once more split into groups. Although Malachi’s scolding once relit the fires in their hearts, some could already be seen to be faltering from the unease in their eyes. The Eskurs could not move due to knowing where the cadet’s hatred stemmed from—the Eskur Uprising.
Patrick Bryant, one of those to have experienced the war first-hand, stood by silently. He carefully watched how the events before him would unfold.
‘Skaria, your clan has taken much from us,’ he thought, ‘but, now, where does your loyalty lie?’
There was hesitation in his heart. He, of course, hated Malachi because his blood as a Skaria, but only for such. As an aged individual, he has gained much knowledge and wisdom over the course of his life. The cadet before him was one of the younger generations that seemed to have suffered from the effects of the war years ago.
Rae Ramirez, another of the younger generations, watched the cadet and Arlianne’s exchange with worry.
‘If what I’ve heard from Levi was correct,’ she thought, ‘Malachi has been preparing for this for a long time. I can understand how some would be impatient, but is it really worth wasting all that effort?’
Rae was one of the few to keep up with Malachi’s exercises. Being an energetic girl herself, she understood Malachi’s intentions for the rest of their class. She looked at the rest of her classmates, and found herself looking at the weakest person in their group—Tyler Simmons.
Tyler, despite being born from a huntsman’s family, had a weak-willed personality coupled with his below-average physical abilities. However, looking at the current situation, he watched the scene unfold with clenched fists and teeth.
‘You’re the one who should shut up,’ he thought, ‘Didn’t you give the reason why you’re so weak, yourself? Hiding behind one’s heritage like some spoiled brat…! Compared to me, I… I am…!’
Suddenly, a voice came from one of the armory’s corridors.
“Oh-ho? So that is what you truly felt, eh?”
Everyone followed the source of the voice, and finally found Malachi leaning on the wall with his legs crossed. The cadet directed his rage against Malachi.
“What are you even doing here!?” roared the cadet, “Aren’t you too busy turning the academy into you plaything!? Even if His Highness accepted you, even if the faculty and the soldiers have accepted you, I will never accept filth like you to walk these sacred halls!”
Malachi narrowed his eyes.
“Filth this, filth that. Trash this, trash that,” he said, “Can’t you give me something else other than insults? Looks like mere verbal scolding won’t get through with you lot.”
He straightened himself and approached the middle of the group.
“You know, there has always been a tried and tested way of resolving conflict,” he said, “It isn’t on a grand scale like war, but we could just beat each other to a pulp. The loser would shut up and listen to whatever the victor says. Seems fair, no?”
“In that case, you should listen to me!” bellowed the cadet, “Clan Skaria lost the war in the first place, and we were the victors. Maybe you should try shutting up!?”
Malachi sighed.
“What in all Hells is up with that logic?” he replied, “Then, as the victor, wouldn’t you be able to subjugate me easily? Come on, unless you’re all—like I said—all bark and no bite.”
Rage finally filled the eyes of the cadet.
“I’ll kill you!”
The cadet ran towards Malachi and threw a punch. The others, except Arlianne, threw into a panic as Malachi just stood there without doing anything.
Once the cadet’s fist was close enough, Malachi’s eyes turned sharp and he suddenly changed his posture. He spread his legs and lowered his body while twisting his left side forward. Leaning his body a bit, he swiftly raised his left arm. The back of his left hand landed on the underside of the cadet’s fist, parrying the attack.
When the cadet’s fist changed trajectory, in that short span of time, Malachi twisted his left hand to grab the cadet’s wrist. Getting a good grip, he raised the cadet’s arm, brought his right leg forward, and simultaneously threw a punch with his right fist into the cadet’s solar plexus.
Not stopping once getting in a hit, he retracted his right fist, released the cadet’s arm, and delivered an uppercut once his right arm gained enough momentum. The cadet was sent flying, and Malachi used the centrifugal energy of his body to backflip and to send one final kick to the groin. Imagine the pain.
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The cadet flew in a high arc and landed a few meters away, unconscious. The fight started with a punch and ended in a 3-hit counter combo in mere seconds.
“Now that I think about it,” said Malachi, “You’re one of those who always failed at running and getting records. Geez, even psychological attacks are too effective on you, you suck.”
Not minding the fact that the cadet had fallen unconscious, Malachi still berated him.
“Anybody else with something to say?” he asked his class. Seeing that nobody was stepping forward, Malachi went to the fallen cadet. “Carry on, then. I’ll take this idiot with me to the infirmary.”
He lifted the cadet’s body over his shoulder and left his class behind. The rest, aside from Arlianne, watched Malachi’s disappearing silhouette with dumbfounded gazes. Once Malachi was gone, everybody turned their gazes to Arlianne.
“C-can you fight like him as well?” asked another cadet.
Arlianne only nodded.
Despite her silence, her eyes were grim. It was as if she told them, “It may happen to you if you cross either of us,” without saying a word. With Malachi’s swift victory still fresh in their minds, Class 13 resumed their training with mixed feelings and—for the men—a bit of fear.
As Class 13 was overseen by Arlianne, she looked back once more where Malachi fought before joining the rest of her class.
●
Once Malachi dropped off the unconscious cadet and avoided the questioning gaze of the medics-in-charge, he went to the direction of the library. On the way, though, he crossed paths with Alexa.
When Alexa saw Malachi, she suddenly froze in her tracks.
“Um, g-greetings, Malachi,” she said, “What are you doing outside of class?”
Malachi held his advance to meet her.
“Hey, Alexa,” he greeted, “I just dropped an idiot off at the infirmary. Also, you should know that Class 13 is exempted for the time being to be thoroughly trained before my first mission with them. What about you?”
“I was, I was on the way to the library to get some texts,” she replied, “You seem to be heading there as well, do you mind if we go together?”
Malachi looked around them, trying to see if any member of Alexa’s “fan club” was watching them. Not seeing any other student, aside from a few faculty and guards, the coast was clear.
“Why not?” he said, “Let’s go?”
Alexa smiled in return.
As they walked through the corridors of the academy, a shadow was watching them from another location.
“Ah-ha~, Alexa~, that’s pretty bold of you,” said the shadow, “It really sucks that he can’t seem to recognize you.”
The shadow mischievously watched the two walk away.
○
Once Malachi and Alexa arrived at the library, they were greeted by its emptiness. Malachi looked around and found no one at all, not even Clara.
“I expected the library to be unused,” he commented, “but I didn’t expect it to this degree.”
Alexa was at a loss on what to do. Based on her reason for coming to the library, one would surmise that she may need the help of Clara, the assigned librarian. Alexa looked at Malachi.
“It looks like Clara is out for the moment,” he said, “What texts did you need, anyway?”
“Um, some texts on the kingdom’s nomadic history,” replied Alexa, “What about you?”
“I came for Clara, actually,” he answered, “She told me to look for her if I needed something from her.”
Alexa cocked her head.
“Are you… are you close with Ms. Clara?” she asked.
Malachi closed his eyes and crossed his arms in a thinking manner.
“Hmm, I can’t say we were close,” he answered, “Just that we had a bit of history. Ah, but not what you might be thinking.”
“What would I be thinking?” she inquired.
“Uh, what… exactly…?” he answered.
Alexa just giggled.
Naturally, the only history Malachi had with Clara was during his childhood at the arena and the previous encounter in the library. As for Alexa, who knew what she thought about the two.
Malachi raised a brow and clapped his hands.
“Oh, yeah,” he exclaimed, “You stay at the dorms, right? Can you tell me more about that foreigner, Erika Li?”
Alexa blinked a few times at him.
“How do you know about her?” she asked, “She said that she will officially transfer next week. Unless…”
She suddenly narrowed her eyes at Malachi with a gaze of suspicion.
“Were you hanging around a prohibited area?” she wondered.
Malachi put his hands in his pockets.
“Hanging around? Not really,” he answered, “I was just waiting for Arlianne in front of the dormitories when the foreigner showed up.”
Alexa still stared at him.
“It’s true, I swear!” he added, “Ah, there was a guard on patrol at that time. He talked with me about my presence there then left me alone. Just ask them for the details.”
Alexa still maintained his gaze, and Malachi stood unperturbed. Finally, Alexa relented and answered Malachi’s question about Erika Li.
“Fine, Lady Li is a daughter of an Imperial noble with ties to the Imperial Family,” she explained, “It seemed that there was internal conflict and caused their house to fall from grace. Now, with her life of exile, she came here to the kingdom.”
Malachi listened attentively.
“Is that all?” he asked, “That seemed a bit too convenient.”
Alexa raised a brow.
“What do you mean?” she asked back, “Do you suspect her to be a spy? I understand that she had ties to the Imperial Family, but what kind of spy would be so blatant as to expose her identity to the rest of us?”
“The kind of spy that may want us to drop our guard around her,” answered Malachi, “Besides, why a kingdom in the middle of a desert instead of one of the Imperial colonies under their control where rebellion might erupt?”
Alexa looked down thoughtfully.
“Point taken,” she commented, “Should we advise grandfather about this?”
“Nah,” answered Malachi, “I think Gramps also thought about this before.”
Alexa’s eyes suddenly widened at Malachi’s remark.
“‘Gramps’?” she repeated, “I understand that my grandfather is an old man, but are you close enough to call him that?”
Malachi almost slapped himself.
‘Crap!’ he cursed in his thoughts, ‘How do I explain this?!’
Alexa was, again, staring at Malachi for an explanation.
“Uh, you see, the Headmaster told me about his being friends with my own grandfather.” He explained in a panic. Good thing he recalled his reward if his first mission was successful. “He told me that he would share with me their history once I succeed in my first mission. Since I never met my own grandfather, the Headmaster appeared like a grandfather figure to me. Er, yeah, that’s right.”
Alexa’s expression softened.
“Oh, I see,” she said, “Um, right, I… I’m sorry about that.”
“Huh? Why are you apologizing?” he asked, “I should be the one to apologize, surprising you like that.”
Despite Malachi’s refutation, Alexa still turned around to avoid his gaze. Malachi, surprised by this act, reached out for her shoulder. Malachi caught her and had her turn around, only to be greeted by a surprise.
“Wha—why are you crying?!” he cried, “Hey, I wasn’t that rude, now, right? Hey, stop crying.”
Alexa was in tears for some reason. Just from being told about Malachi’s own grandfather, sent her to tears.
“I-I’m not c-crying…” she refuted, “I just… I just…”
Malachi, not knowing what to do nor knowing the reason for her tears, just stood there with a slackened jaw. Eventually, their sight was seen by another person.
“Hey, I understand that the library is a quiet place for a rendezvous,” said the voice, “But it isn’t right to make a… girl… cry… uh…”
Malachi looked at the owner of the voice and found Clara staring at the two of them.
“Uh, Clara, this isn’t what it looks like,” he desperately tried to explain, “This is not what it looks like at all. Believe me, please! Stop looking at me with eyes of disdain!”
“Malachi, I understand that you want answers about your ancestry,” said Clara, “But taking it out on a member of the Royal Family is just plain tasteless.”
“I. AM. TELLING. YOU. THAT. THIS. IS. NOT. WHAT. IT. LOOKS. LIKE.” He repeated with futile effort.
While Malachi was trying to explain what was going on, Alexa left the library.
“Excuse me,” she said, “I think, I think I need some time off.”
Malachi and Clara watched as Alexa’s silhouette disappeared.
“Ah! Hey, Alexa!” cried Malachi once more, “What in all Hells happened?”
Clara turned her gaze at Malachi again.
“First it was Arlianne,” she commented, “Then it was me and one of your engineers, now it was your cousin. You are such a sinful man, Malachi.”
“Shut up, already!” he bellowed, “And when in all Hells did I hit on either of you?! Also, how the heck did you catch wind of Margaret and me, huh?! I may be sinful, but I am not tasteless!”
Clara looked at Malachi with amazement.
“You… you don’t deny being sinful,” she commented, “But you deny your involvement with your women. What was that about being tasteless?”
Malachi shut himself up and just glared at Clara.
“Eep!” she squeaked, ‘Ah, yes, that gaze…!’
Malachi was about to burn a hole at Clara when he relented and sighed.
“What in all Hells is going on?”
○
Meanwhile, as Alexa ran through the corridors. Her tearful face was seen by many cadets and faculty. Despite the explosion of incomprehensible rumors that may stem from her pitiful appearance, only one thing was running through her mind.
‘Please don’t hate us! Please don’t hate us!’
That single sentence went on loop within her thoughts.
●
Once Malachi and Clara calmed down from their recent incident, Malachi asked Clara about Erika Li. Clara did not know how to react seeing that he knew about the foreigner. And, like what she reported to Eleazar, she told the same to Malachi.
“Hmm, even the statements are the same,” he commented, “I was hoping for a few discrepancies between sources, but for it to be this flawless was outside of my expectations. Could she really be just an ordinary student?”
“If you think that haughty attitude of hers is normal, maybe,” she added, “How did you know about her, anyway?”
“Oh, we met in front of the girls’ dormitories,” he answered truthfully, “Wipe that smirk off your face.”
Because of the earlier incident with Alexa and—by extension—Margaret, Clara thought of something else entirely.
“Oh, I thought you were just interested in another beautiful woman,” she commented, “What? You did say that she was drop-dead gorgeous.”
“Hey, I only said she was beau— you were there?!” he clamored.
Clara laughed.
“Of course not,” she denied, “I only heard it from my acquaintances.”
“‘Acquaintances’?” repeated Malachi, “You mean your other, fellow spies.”
A smile floated on her face.
“Hush, now,” she said, “We may never know who might be listening on us.”
Malachi stared at her.
“… ‘Walls have ears, doors have eyes. Trees have voices, beasts tell lies.’” He recited. “‘Beware the rain, beware the snow. Beware the man you think you know.’ I know what you mean.”
He looked up and waved at nothing at the ceiling. Clara wondered what he meant and looked up as well, and then narrowed her eyes.
“Looks like you found some of the shadows,” she commented, “Good job spotting them.”
Like she said, there was a small hole through the ceiling, and beyond that was another person peeking from within. Once Malachi looked and waved at their direction, chills went down that person’s spine.
‘What in the world is that kid…?’ thought the person.
Clara returned her attention to Malachi.
“Still, what you said was interesting,” she said, “How did it go, again? ‘Walls have ears, doors have eyes…’ Although we rarely have rain and we don’t have snow, it speaks strongly about out occupation. Where did you hear that from?”
“Just from travelling Eqari merchants,” he lied, “The merchants know a lot of things about this world.”