Despite her distaste for him, Asena quickly realized Bannan’s usefulness in the moment. If she couldn’t build direct rapport with her subject, perhaps the next best thing would be to interview his sibling. She asked, “And why would you say that about your brother?”
Bannan grinned, infuriatingly smug. “Are you sure we should be talking about this, Corporal Shiranui? I thought the nature of your work was classified.”
“I haven’t said anything about my work,” Asena countered, inwardly impressed with her own calmness. “I’m merely asking why you would call your own brother a ‘ticking time bomb’. It’s just a strange thing to say about your own family, isn’t it?”
“But that’s just the thing.” Bannan’s smugness quickly curdled into something closer to contempt, the intensity of which startled Asena, but not as much as his next words, “I’d hesitate to even call him family.”
“Why?” Asena demanded with a frown. “Just because he was adopted from a Sehermensch bloodline? That’s hardly a reason to—”
“That’s just a lie my father cooked up to pretty things up. But I know the truth. Zelen isn’t an Athelstan. He isn’t even Sehermensch. He’s Essential.”
Even among the Tetrarch elites, the obvious disgust with which Bannan spat the word ‘Essential’ would’ve been considered gauche. It took Asena a moment or two to process this revelation, as it had at once launched several disparate trains of thought.
First was the confirmation of her long-held belief that Bannan Athelstan was as foolish as he was vacuous. Even if it were true that Zelen was of Essential origin, their father clearly had good reason to hide that fact about his adoptive son. Bannan was lucky that Asena wasn’t someone who’d use this knowledge toward nefarious ends. But something told her she wasn’t the first person he’d blabbed to, and if that were the case, well, god help him.
Second was to wonder whether her own father had been complicit in the lie. The marriage between her and Zelen Athelstan had been arranged since she was eight, even before she’d laid eyes on the boy two years her senior. The doubt did arise whether Yuito would’ve agreed to the arrangement with full knowledge of his future son-in-law’s lowly origin. The same doubt also filled Asena with a shameful anger she’d not been prepared for, though she couldn’t quite say exactly whom she was angry at.
Third—and most pertinent to her mission—was the question of why Zelen had been pulled into the Athelstan family despite being an Essential. It went without saying that the Ascension Standard would’ve shown him to be a proto-Reiter, which by convention would’ve elevated him to the status of Sehermensch and nothing more. To go from Essential to the vaunted scion of a prominent Tetrarch family was quite literally unheard of, unless—
Unless he’d shown to be something more than a typical proto-Reiter. Unless Zelen Athelstan possessed an Einkunst.
With a start, Asena recalled the strangest sequence within the memory fragment she’d [EVOKED] earlier today. In her distracted state, she’d somehow forgotten about it until now (and had neglected to mention it in her verbal report to Yuito).
Zelen had Makiri pinned against the arena wall. Makiri managed to slip out in the last second. And yet, the next moment, the fight was over, with Makiri apparently defeated.
“Asena?”
Her mind floated back into the solarium and onto the unpleasant reality of Bannan’s company. There might be more she could extract from this vindictive older brother, but now her desire to be left alone with her thoughts trumped her curiosity.
“I really must insist on ending this visit early, Bannan,” she said without meeting his gaze. “It’s time I concentrated on the main purpose of my day leave.”
“It’s not like you to be so uncharitable,” Bannan mocked as he took a step closer. “I shared my secret, didn’t I? I rather expected you might share something of yours in return…”
By way of a response, Asena unholstered her standard issue handgun and placed it on the workbench beside her. A needless gesture, but one that quickly got its point across; Bannan checked his advance.
“Really, Asena, I just wanted to—”
“Please don’t force me to do something rash. I don’t care what happens to you, but I don’t wish to cause your mother undue grief.”
There was no possibility of her actually using the gun, but the threat of physical violence was real enough. Even if it weren’t, Bannan wouldn’t have the mettle to test it. A non-combat personnel Asena might be, but she still wore the Joint Forces uniform, which meant she knew an ample variety of ways to hurt an untrained civilian.
Eventually, Bannan spun on his heels and strode to the exit, though not before spitting out one last retort, “Mark my words, Asena Shiranui. There will come a day when you’ll regret choosing my brother over me. History will be on my side, you’ll see. The way he trampled on the sacrifices of his fellow Reiters… it’s a wonder he hasn’t been court-martialled already!”
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What do you know of sacrifice? It took all of Asena’s self-discipline not to shout back. Muscles tense, she kept her eyes pointed to the handgun on the workbench and didn’t relax until her guest’s stomping footsteps faded into the distance. Then she slumped into a chair and buried her face in her hands.
Despite her utter disdain for Bannan, she couldn’t stop herself from ruminating on their latest encounter. Had she gone too far? Been too direct with her threats? And what was that nonsense about her having chosen Zelen over his brother? If she’d ever had any choice in the matter, that was certainly news to her.
The overcast sky above Akropolis began to dim, and what meagre light filtered into the solarium dwindled with it. Asena shut the door and quickly changed into the tattered hand-me-downs she wore for painting. She’d come here for her alone time, and she wasn’t about to let worries over Bannan Athelstan of all people rob her of what little remained of the natural light.
Asena set up a fresh canvas and painted, with an almost angry determination. She didn’t stop until two hours later when it’d become too dark to continue.
She’d started with no clear idea of what she wanted to paint, and it remained an early work-in-progress two hours later. But as she changed back into her uniform, her eyes lingered on the patterns that had begun to emerge.
The blotch of black-on-grey in the foreground was a handgun resting upon a table. And in the far background was a lone amorphous figure, whose only discernible feature was a pair of eyes that trained on the handgun. Asena didn’t know who this figure was, nor the thoughts that hid behind their eyes. Perhaps she wouldn’t know until the painting was finished.
~February 4th, 140 AH~
~Joint Base Akra, Kurator Corps HQ~
“How was your sleep, Zelen?”
“Um… good. I guess? I don’t feel exhausted, but also not particularly well-rested. Which to me sounds like a normal sleep.”
“Did you dream of anything?”
“I… I think so?”
“What did you dream about?”
A pause. Asena thought she could hear the subject’s mind churning, but the Nexus remained silent.
“I don’t remember. I just know you were there.”
“How do you know I was there if you don’t even remember what your dream was about?”
“I know you were there, because I felt safe in my dream.”
The answer briefly shocked Asena into speechlessness, before she forced herself to recover. She had plenty of time later to let her heart break for her subject, but right now, she needed to be his Spiegel.
“Did you also feel safe whenever you flew into battle?” She chose her words carefully. “Because I was there?”
In the end, Zelen’s unexpected comment had provided a rational segue into the very thread Asena wanted to pull. After an evening spent in contemplation, she’d set herself a personal goal for today’s session: try to determine if her subject had an Einkunst.
Her first instinct had been to simply ask her father. By bedtime, however, she’d talked herself out of that idea for two reasons, neither of which sat particularly well with her.
First was the very real possibility that Yuito Shiranui already knew Zelen to be an Einkunster, and had kept that fact from her deliberately. Even during this morning’s briefing, when Asena had tested the waters by bringing up the confusion surrounding the outcome of Zelen’s and Makiri’s duel, Yuito had quickly brushed it off, claiming that it was an expected artifact in recollection. She didn’t know her father to be someone who would leave stones unturned, and his instant dismissal of her query only lent credence to her suspicions.
Second was the implication of what it would mean if her suspicions actually turned up anything of substance. From the start, this whole mission had an unprecedented air of secrecy and urgency, especially by Kuratorial standards. There was something that made Zelen Athelstan uniquely valuable to the Joint Forces and Akropolis as a whole, placing him far above any other Reiter who might’ve been decommissioned before their time. Something that couldn't be fully explained by his impressive but not quite extraordinary kill count.
At least a part of that would make sense if he really was an Einkunster, though it still wouldn’t explain the secrecy. After all, having an Einkunst—a unique ability that went above and beyond what was normally expected of Sehers—was something to be revered and celebrated: a fact Asena herself still struggled to come to terms with. What was it about Zelen’s Einkunst that had the JF brass pulling out all the stops to revive it, while keeping mum on what it actually was?
Whatever the case might be, Asena knew that she was prying into something that wasn’t meant for her eyes and ears. It’d never been in her nature, nor was it her intention now to rock the boat, but she couldn’t deny herself her sheer curiosity. And the safest way to satisfy this curiosity was to keep it to herself.
Of course, all this could just be in her head. Perhaps she’d worked herself up over nothing. Be that as it might, she still wanted to know. Didn’t she deserve to know? After all, this was her future husband they were dealing with!
So, it was with an undercurrent of nervous excitement that she directed the conversation toward battle: that arena where Reiters among all Sehers ruled supreme, where their unique ability—if they had one—would shine brightest. And in a testament to his unquestioning trust in whom he thought was his Spiegel, Zelen obliged.
“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared of fighting. You know that, Silon. But it’s also true that, with you by my side, I could overcome my fears. That I felt like I could take on anything.”
“Do you remember a particularly scary battle you had to overcome?” Hit by a sudden inspiration, Asena spoke a bit too quickly and had to check herself as she went on, “Perhaps back when our partnership was still in its infancy, and I hadn’t fully won your trust.”
Zelen chuckled briefly, then asked, “What’s the big idea, Silon? Is this a test of our relationship? Are you trying to get me to say something bad about you?”
Something about the tenderness in her subject’s voice stung, waking in Asena an emotion she didn’t wish to give name to. She forced herself to ignore it and focus on the mission.
“I’m just trying to help you, Zelen, as always. And I need you to try and remember.”
There came a lengthy silence over the radio, during which the subject strained and laboured to cooperate with his Spiegel. Asena knew this, because it came with a stirring in the Nexus, and wispy threads of Kingfisher’s memories appeared in her mind’s eye.
She pulled on one of them as she prompted, “Yes, that’s a good one. Tell me about our first mission together.”