~March 5th, 140 AH~
~The Caverns, Drill Ground~
Asena let out a gasp of pain and surprise as she fell flat on her back. At the same time, she lost her grip on her bo staff, which then clattered loudly by her side. Before she could react, one end of her opponent’s staff slammed into the ground, inches away from her face.
From above her head grinned down the flushed visage of Feray Geyik, entirely too pleased with herself for the trickery she’d just pulled. The Jaeger then offered a hand, but not before also throwing out a gibe.
“Had enough yet, princess? Guess all the fighting genes in your family went to your brothers, huh?”
Feray’s thoughtless comment stunned Asena far more effectively than any takedown technique could’ve. The fact that she’d left her family behind in Akropolis was still a sore spot. Not to mention one of these ‘brothers’ Feray referred to had died in battle only several years ago.
But Asena quickly shook herself out of her daze and grabbed her sparring partner’s hand, letting the shorter but much stronger woman help her to her feet. In the brief time they’d known each other, Asena had determined that Feray’s blunt manners came from a place of openness rather than malice.
Besides, after twenty-odd years of indeed being treated like a ‘princess’ by her peers, it was frankly refreshing to be addressed as an equal by someone close to her in age. As such, Asena tried in earnest to dish back some banter.
“Really, Feray, a leg sweep?” she managed, more than a little breathless. “I’d call you out for stooping so low, but I guess there’s not much stooping involved in your case.”
“Ouch! Careful, princess, I’m just as fragile as I look,” the squat Jaeger retorted with a laugh. “And don’t except me to play fair. You know the Syntropy sure as hell won’t.”
Asena scoffed. “I hardly think the Syntropy will be trying to take out my legs.”
“You’re probably right,” Feray said, this time with a shrug. “They’ll do much worse.”
“I—”
Once again, Asena was startled into silence. As much as she appreciated the other woman’s bluntness, it still took some getting used to.
Feray was right, however. The Syntropy were far deadlier and more uncompromising than any sparring partner could simulate. Asena could say that now with newfound certitude, having finally experienced one such deadly battle firsthand.
Only… had it been firsthand? She still remembered well the near-complete loss of control as a foreign entity took over both her and her Eidolon. On paper, Asena Shiranui had recorded her first kill of a Voras unit. In reality, she knew that she herself had very little to do with that kill.
Which was why she’d been so eager to hit the training grounds early and often since her return from the field. The bo staff was the closest thing she could find to a [NAGINATA], and Jaeger Feray had been accommodating and talented enough to play an effective opponent. Perhaps a little too effective, if Asena’s backside had any say on the matter.
Fresh bruises notwithstanding, Asena picked up her bo and lowered herself into a stance, while motioning for Feray to do the same. Evidently, she hadn’t had enough yet. Indeed she wondered if any amount of training would ever be enough for her to feel like she belonged on a battlefield—and not the ghost from someone else’s war.
Just as she readied for a strike, however, Feray suddenly broke out of her stance, with her eyes wandering over to something behind Asena’s shoulders. Asena turned, too naive still to doubt whether this might’ve been another one of Feray’s tricks. The interruption turned out to be genuine, however, as a third figure approached.
Upon the poorly lit path that connected the living quarters to the drill ground, Zelen Athelstan looked something like a ghost himself, with his slouching shadowy figure cast by a faint blue pall.
Asena’s chest tightened at the sight of Zelen’s ghostly figure. For it was a cruelly appropriate representation of the young man’s demeanour over the past fortnight—ever since Asena herself had helped to ‘bring him back’. Present and functional in body, yet lost and faraway in spirit.
To Asena—who’d known the true and unfiltered Zelen through his own memories—this version of him was not much more than a stranger. Indeed he seemed to share more in common with her mysterious [REVENANT] warrior than with anyone else in the Apfel Alliance, or Akropolis for that matter.
The truth was she resented him for it. His distance, his unfamiliarity, his emptiness. And because she resented him, she resented herself—for the part she’d played in his transformation, and for her own inability to accept the consequences of her failures.
For she had failed Zelen. Instead of building him back up and helping him move forward, she’d succeeded only in resurrecting a warrior—a killer—who’d lost everything he once fought for.
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With Asena frozen with inaction, it was Jaeger Feray who spoke first, voice lowered to reach only Asena’s ears.
“Welp, this was fun, princess, but I think it’s time for me to check on the rest of the troops.”
“No, stay,” Asena exclaimed, suddenly fearful.
“I’d… rather not,” Feray muttered, visibly discomfited. “Look, you two obviously have some shit to work out. Best not to let these things fester, I reckon. Good luck!”
With that, the Jaeger promptly made her escape. She greeted Zelen with a mock salute as they passed, but the latter appeared to barely notice, with his deadened eyes pointed squarely on Asena.
“So,” Zelen spoke first, “this is where you’ve been running off to every morning, is it?”
His tone was polite and earnest, as was typical for him: just a statement of fact. Even so, Asena felt a prick of irritation.
“I wouldn’t say I ‘run off’ to anywhere, Zelen,” she responded, failing to hide a slight edge to her voice. “If you’d only asked, I would’ve happily told you about it. Perhaps even invited you to come along.”
Zelen halted in his tracks, now eyeing her with mild surprise. He said, “I didn’t mean to offend you. Nor to interrupt your session. Should I… call Feray back?”
“It’s fine,” she sighed more than said, “and no offense taken. Did you need me for something?”
By way of answer, the young man stepped around Asena and took the spot vacated by her erstwhile sparring partner. He then picked up the bo Feray had left behind, turning it over in his hands and inspecting it with apparent interest.
“I just spoke to Akash,” he explained without looking up. “I feel like I’ve gotten to know him for the first time since we’ve met. And somehow, that’s left me more confused than ever. How do you do it, Asena? How do you know what you want to do with such certainty? … I could never be decisive like you.”
That’s not true, Asena wanted dearly to tell him. You also believed in something once. So fervently that you were willing to fight the whole of Akropolis by yourself. And yet, how could she get him to understand? How could she make him remember something that was no longer his?
“I’m not as certain as I might pretend to be,” she confided instead. “I’m constantly filled with doubts and fears, enough to paralyze me if I let them.”
Zelen looked up from his bo and held Asena’s gaze. She continued, “But as doubtful and fearful as I am, for the first time in my life, I’m making these decisions on my own. My choice, and my fight—for better or for worse. That’s why I can’t look back. I can only move forward.”
The Reiter seemed to consider this, his polite and earnest face betraying naught of what he thought of a Kurator and her justification for war. After several beats, he asked, “Do you believe Akash? That all people have the potential to become Sehers, with or without the Ascension Standard?”
“I do.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“Like I said, Zelen, I’m not sure about anything. But just look around you. At this city. Left behind by a people who spread the burden of fighting the Syntropy among all who were capable and willing. I don’t know when they fought their war, nor how that war ended. But I’d like to believe that they fought with conviction and freedom of spirit. In fact, I know they did. And that is the way I want to be. The way I want all of us to be.”
As she spoke, she thought again of her [REVENANT] warrior: the dancer that spun and flew across the battlefield with a singular joy, unbeholden to duty or creed. Granted, Asena herself would prefer to temper some of the dancer’s bloodlust, but she couldn’t deny that she’d been taken in by her sheer unbridled power.
She couldn’t deny, also, that she craved it. That a part of why she came ‘running’ to the drill ground every morning was to seek just a taste of the warrior spirit that flowed within her blood.
By now, Zelen stared at Asena with naked interest, not unlike how he’d earlier scrutinized the bo in his hands. He mused, “It wasn’t that long ago that you questioned my decision to eliminate Fenix Duodecim. Do you feel differently now? Would you… kill Akropolitans… in service of this freedom you wish to fight for? If that were to be the only way ‘forward’?”
For a moment, Asena lowered her gaze, overcome by yet another bout of indecision. Zelen’s question wasn’t anything new. It was something she’d wrestled with ever since she witnessed the fatal duel between Ashborne and Kingfisher. And now, with her having discovered her own place inside the cockpit of an Eidolon, the question was more urgent than ever.
“I… would still rather this conflict reach a peaceful resolution,” she hedged, “but if need be—”
“Answer the question, Asena,” Zelen commanded—pleaded—with voice slightly raised. “If you find yourself in direct confrontation with a Joint Forces soldier… would you fight to kill? Because I can assure you, that’s the only way we’ll ever stand a chance against the Reiter Regiment.”
Asena looked up and held Zelen’s gaze. She said softly, “Yes.”
“Even if that soldier is Spindrift?”
A gasp rose up from Asena’s chest and caught in her throat. She saw mirrored in Zelen the same hesitation—the same inevitability. She realized then that his question wasn’t meant only for her. A warrior adrift, reaching for an anchor. Searching for a companion he could fully trust to have his back, with whom to fly into battle side by side.
It was what she’d taken away from him. And it was hers to give it back.
“… Yes.”
For some time, the two of them stared at each other in silence. A young man and a young woman, promised to each other since childhood, yet they’d only grown more apart as the years wore on.
Only… as Asena looked into Zelen’s eyes, she thought she finally saw something of the familiar. Polite, earnest, sorrowful. The old Zelen. The true Zelen. He was still in there somewhere, lost amidst the turmoil of everyone else’s war but his.
Eventually, Asena had seen enough to know what next to do. She knew it, not with reason nor logic, but with certainty of spirit. She gripped her bo staff with both hands and lowered herself into a stance. Then she motioned for Zelen to do the same.
“Would you care for a round?” she asked with a faint smile that wasn’t entirely her own. “Show me what it would take to stand a chance against the Reiter Regiment.”