London Header [https://i.imgur.com/jzF4Hgo.png]

Episode 12

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Maka leaned in again, up to his ear this time: as the last firework made its lonely path through the sky and erupted in a shower of red and white diamonds.

"Thank you, Pierre Havelock, thank you so very much -- Goodbye, Gem Havler."

****

The world seemed to swirl uncontrollably around Pierre. One moment he was sitting on a park bench, watching fireworks with Maka, kis-- The next it was all black.

"Goodbye"

Pierre panicked. He felt his blood quicken and tried desperately to look around himself. Was the room pitch-black? His eyes blindfolded? Was he asleep? Before he knew it, vision returned, and the world re-enveloped him. His mouth moved by itself; "Behind you, Aardig!!"

There she stood a short way in front of him, dressed in her finest plate armour, signature red cloak and emerald battle kilt, with her blade drawn in a fierce clash with a far less opulent foe. She quickly took heed of Gem's warning, raising one heavy-clad boot and kicking out hard against the enemy soldier's stomach - The smaller man being sent sprawling onto the floor with a pained grunt.

Before she had even finished the kick, Aardig's crimson eyes glowed an even deeper red than usual, with a seamless pirouette on her heel of equal menace and elegance to face the threat that Gem had warned of. Charging at her was a middle-aged awkward-looking man dressed in a civilian’s research-clothing and clumsily striding forward with what appeared to be a soldier's short sword.

From how he ran, the sword was most certainly not the civilian man's, but that was no reason to underestimate someone. Just metres away from the semi-dull blade colliding with Aardig, the man suddenly stopped and collapsed to his knees - Aardig's own sword now found its way to his neck.

The reason for his stopping? Aardig had simply used her power to remove the sword from her attacker’s hand. One moment, the civilian had been desperately charging with all his might and resolve - The next, he had looked down to see his sword had quite literally flown free of his hands and hit the floor with a harmless clatter.

Happy that the untrained man wouldn't try to stab her in the back a second time, Aardig turned back to the soldier she had kicked just moments prior and stared as though into his very soul.

The lightly armoured, ragged soldier had picked back up his own sword and stood with a decent stance, but Gem (who by now had made his way to the trembling civilian, who still stared longingly at his empty hands) simply hoped the enemy would do the sensible thing and lay down his weapon. As long as he did, Aardig would happily leave the man alive - After all, had she wanted to, she could have killed both men in mere seconds, simply turning their swords against them. Have them fly out of their hands and into their throats or hearts or lungs or eye-sockets or...

'She still tries to avoid giving people painful deaths...'

The soldier continued to look between his tightly gripped blade and Aardig. The air was tense, and time seemed to move slower as the man made his choice. To die doing what he perceived was his duty or to live as a disgraced warrior. Gem was almost about to open his mouth and try to talk down the enemy: all around them were corpses, dozens of them and more outside this building, enough for one day. But before he could, the soldier made his choice - He charged, yelling with everything his tried lungs had left to give.

Aardig stepped to the side expertly, and effortlessly brought down her blade. The enemy's head rolled off cleanly, his body following soon after.

'Decapitation, a method of death that hurts the executor more than the victim - Except if it fails of course, nothing worse than a guillotine that stops halfway... But Aardig never fails - An instant death.'

"Nice call," Aardig said in her usual flat tone.

Gem smirked mirthlessly in the middle of binding the civilian man's hands (not that there was much need, watching the last friendly soldier in the room get decapitated had been more than enough to break the small man); "Ha! Like you needed it, a man that weak hardly posed a threat, and I doubt this here jester would have even scratched your armour!"

Aardig's lip curved downwards slightly, "Gem, he might have had dependants. You should not be so callous."

'Dependants? Not family or loved ones, but Dependants....' 

Gem had hoped returning to the battlefield might break Aardig out of her shell a little more. The plan had gone perfectly, as any plan of Aardig's always did. A squad of ten - Himself as leader, the Golem as his second and Aardig as Empress simply 'observing' her forces in the field (at least that's what they had told all the marshals who insisted it was insanity for her to enter the battlefield - Even if she had already racked up the most kills).

Along with seven others of Gem's personal choosing, they had snuck their way past the Alliance's army and into the sacred city of the Ancients: taking out more than half the local force before an alarm was even raised. Ten against a hundred is not such bad odds when you have the element of surprise and a knife in the dark. Maybe not the most honourable way, but if they succeed today, they would save a lot more blood in the long run. And yet, rather than being pleased with their victory, Gem felt uneasy.

More and more lately, he felt it. It was many years since he had been the helpless boy at the battle of ten-thousand - Since that day when he had been unable to even stand by her side - Now he could at least guard her. Known as the best swordsman on the continent, only Aardig herself could best him with a blade.

Even so, the more years passed, the more that felt irrelevant. Here was his oldest friend, speaking through an almost blank face with the words of a machine rather than a person.

'What the hell is happening to you Aardig? How do I help you?'

Before he could apologise for his comment on the dead soldier, one of the others from their party came charging in. Youngest of the group, the boy had been automatically picked as squad 'goffer', the one tasked with running messages between groups, despite a heavy set of armour on his back underneath a camouflage cloak.

"Sir Havler, Your Highness." He said, immediately going down on one knee to bow.

Gem saluted back, "What is it lad? Speak freely."

"Yes Sir. The Sarg-- I mean Lord Golem Sir, he says the main alliance army has started to move in our direction. Thirty minutes before their forces are on top of us, even less for scouts."

Gem cussed under his breath - 'A Golem’s eyes are never wrong' - Before looking over to Aardig. She nodded before speaking, "Teams of two, check each building quickly. We have this one."

The younger man glanced up at Gem as though for more elaborate orders.

"You heard our Lady, didn't you? Pair up in teams of two, at least one sensitive or magi in each group. One team to each of the smaller temples, me and the Prin- Empress will take this central building. If you find something, do not try activating it without reporting back to us first. Relay that to the Golem, he will handle the pairings and co-ordination - Understood Son?!"

The Sacred City of the Ancients lived up to its name - For miles around, there was the rubble of ancient houses and other buildings, central of all was the five temples. Four of them surrounding a fifth. The four were multiple layers of metre-tall stonework in height. Each individual block carved with intricate masonry detail and massive sections of inlaid metals and rare gems.

But the central temple was the most impressive of all. It dwarfed the other four's already massive height, spanning into the clouds. Like the others, it was made of large square-stone layers - Ridging into a pyramidal shape as each square was narrower than the last. Even more gems and metals lined this temple, and large fine-worked staircases tracked up each side.

Pyramid Stock Image [https://i.imgur.com/FUul7JT.png]

Aardig led the way up these stairs to the top level of the Pyramid, Gem close behind, dragging his prisoner by bound hands. They entered the top floor with haste, the Golem's warning of an incoming army fresh on their minds. The top floor was different to the others, if for no other reason than it was empty. Everyone had obviously left when the alarm, a series of massive bells, was raised (probably all lying dead on the floors below), but aside from that, the room was also empty of objects.

In its centre was a blinding pillar of white light, presumably let in by a window in the roof for sunlight to be magnified through in some manner. Along the walls were terminals of glass or precious rocks? Gem wasn't entirely sure. Other than that, there was almost nothing. Even the researchers didn't seem to have left anything behind. That wasn't to say everything was 'normal'.

There was a warm, hazy feeling to the place, possibly because of the sunlight pouring in. Further there was an odd taste to the air, a faint oxide to it.

"You feel it too?" Aardig asked after a moment.

"Yup, looks like this place is definitely 'magical' and probably the source of the 'weapon'."

At the mention of weapon, the small man Gem had been dragging about suddenly became lively again. Speaking for the first time in the same language as his captors;

"W-we-Weapon! No, no, no. No Weapon! Danger, Dangerous!"

Gem's eyebrows rose a fraction, "So you're finally awake? And yes, dangerous is the general idea of giant cannons that turn armies into smouldering craters. Hey Princess, you want to check out these panel things while I have a little 'chat' with our friend here?"

Aardig nodded her approval, and the two set to work.

****

"Well, you get all that?" Gem asked while gesturing his head towards the now unconscious and somewhat more bruised prisoner.

"Summarize," Aardig said back.

Gem sighed, "Alright. From what I could gather, this is the cannon's 'control room'. I think it takes two magi to fire, one standing like a lemon in the column of light - The other has to focus their mind, imagining the place they want to shoot at. And bam, you got yourself a new lake on the map. Doesn't explain how it works or where its shots come from. Maybe this place is connected to heaven or something?

The blast that comes down is from the Gods, maybe? Makes as much sense as anything," Gem finished, unenthused.

"Gem, you are not religious," Aardig, in what might have been a taunt, said back.

"Princess, you really shouldn't say that out loud. You're a ‘saint', remember?"

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Said saint shrugged, "Magi Amplification."

"You gonna' explain that a bit more?" Aardig shrugged again, and Gem sighed once more, "Welp, don't matter to me how it works. Let's just get it going eh? I'll hop in the light here and yo--"

A grip like iron took hold of Gem's wrist.

"He said it was dangerous."

Gem grinned - 'So you were listening?' - "He was just trying to stop us using it on his mates. Anyway, you're the one with the perfect memory, right? You can fire this thing close enough to the Alliance's main army without hitting them.

If I or one of the others were the one to fire it, we would probably end up blowing up some small town by accident!"

Gem freed his wrist and stepped forward again, only for Aardig to lay a hand on his shoulder.

"Use him?" She said, looking at their captured researcher.

Gem politely removed her hand a second time, "He ain't a magi, of all people you would sense it if he was."

"One of the others." - It wasn't a question.

"Excuse me?" Gem said back, his voice growing harsher.

"I can sense one coming, 60 seconds,"

Aardig proclaimed completely causally.

"That ‘one’ of my subordinates, you mean? Princess, I ain't about to throw some kid into this thing, you hear? I'm your bodyguard; it’s my job to do the risky stuff - I don't need you to protect me!"

Aardig's face took on a faint hint of frustration; "Irrational, your value nets higher than your subordinates."

Gem's face flushed with anger, "How dare you talk like that about our troops!

Some of those guys have been on multiple campaigns with us, crossed entire contents beside you and me! They aren't units on a board. Can't you talk like a human for just a friggin second?!"

Aardig cast her gaze down to her feet, not saying a word in a gesture rather unfitting for the so-called 'Empress of the World'.

Gem rubbed loosely at his scalp; "Sorry, that was... sorry. Look, we will be fine, ok? Only you can safely fire this thing, and even if the researchers were afraid of the light, that doesn't make it deadly, or they would have put up like, I don't know, a 'Do Not Cross This Line' sign, ya know?"

Gem leaned over and took Aardig's head in his arms, unable to remember the last time they had touched one another like this. A gasp from her confirmed she was thinking much the same thing; "I haven't been a very good friend, have I? When we get back, let's, my dear Sola, lets talk properly, when we get back. Once we have this cannon, we're done right? No one else in the world can oppose your Empire. Even this magic of the Ancients didn't stop us!

So we can talk properly about all these things when this is done, ok? And I'm sorry for leaving you alone for so long, for not knowing what to say. Right now, let me do this much for you at least."

And like that, he rapidly pulled away and jumped into the pillar of light before Aardig could grab him a third time. He could have sworn he saw her mouth the words; "But you're already the one who's always been here for me, I'm--" before the blinding white obscured his vision.

****

'Gem, or no, is it Pierre?' - Floated in a seemingly borderless, white corridor.

'What was I doing? Right, Aardig, helping... Maka? Wasn't I with? No, the void, the white pillar, the Ancient's cannon!  

I stepped in, and then it all went... To Fireworks? Maka or Aardig? Wait, aren't they the same? No, they are different, I'm sure of that, right? Red Eyes.

Where am I? Aardig? That isn't even her name, is it? Not really. Maka Umit...What does that name mean to me now?'

A car horn blares. Finally reality flooded back to Pierre. The horn was so familiar, an old Ford Van.

'Right, I stepped in, and the next thing I knew, I was in the middle of a London street being yelled at by a van driver - But that was thirty years ago, and that memory - How could I have forgotten it, or had I?'

Pierre rubbed his forehead, trying to get his bearings. He was splayed out on the park bench. Around him, there were just streetlights and in the distance, the sound of car horns, the very thing that had woken him.

"I fell asleep? Damn, I really am getting old, napping on a date."

He grumbled, standing up and stretching his arms awkwardly, "Maka? Maka you around here? She hardly left for home without me?"

The words said just before sleep had claimed him suddenly rang through his head; "Thank you Pierre Havelock, thank you so very much -- Goodbye, Gem Havler."

"Maka, MAKA!!" He was running now, he wasn't sure when he’d started running but had no intention of stopping.

Unlike the park, the rest of town was busy with Valentine's couples on their way to a late dinner or heading home for the evening. Some even pointed at Pierre, recognising him from interviews and such-like on his books.

Through the alleys and past the shops they had frequented every day for two long weeks. Two fun weeks of banter and quibbling and endless questions. Two glorious weeks he hadn't known he needed so badly.

He rounded the final corner into his street, the long, broad place of expensive three-story townhouses. And there in front of his own house... A squad car with two young police officers standing by his front door, one talking into his radio receiver as though asking for backup.

'The fireworks! Damn, they got here fast, or was I asleep for that long?'

Pierre only dwelled on this inconvenience a moment. He edged along the house to one of the many tall windows of the first floor - One he deliberately left unlocked for if he forgot his keys or if the front door stuck-closed.

Carefully closing it behind him, he found himself inside the parlour and there on the coffee table lay a note, a letter really. Pierre's heart sank. He shakily picked it up, reading it in the dim glow of one of the streetlights shining through the window.

It was long and written in a somewhat scribbled way, indicative of a rush. Pierre traced his finger along the words, skipping between paragraphs:

"...apologies for putting you to sleep like that, but all going well you have now remembered our final moments together..."

"...You were right about those 'Aztecs'. They didn't just build similar temples to our world 'Ancients': the two are one and the same. The ancients disappeared one day, the entire race, to Earth…

...I'm sorry it took so long. I used the Empire, the one we built - Found people from all across it to research the temple, to find a way to get you back! But there simply isn't one Gem.... No Magite….. on Earth. It's impossible. They got stuck, just like you..."

"...Eventually we learned...the temple’s...original purpose, not as a gun or a teleporter but a looking-glass!... a way to look out at distant stars and worlds like Earth. In a way... A very primitive……. version of the NTME…

...Two weeks, that's all that can be done now. There isn't enough magic left here. For every Magite sword I bring here, I gain perhaps a second or two's worth more time with you....."

“...Using my own magic, I was able to get two weeks out of what's left, but after that, the portal may never open again…

...You must understand, Maka is me, and I am her. She is simply a side of me I never got to show you back then. An idealised version not from your head but mine. She is the way I wish I could have looked, how I desired to talk with you.

She is a projection of me that the temple gave life..."

"...I must return now - It will not do to leave my Empire unattended any longer, even if it's for you..."

"...Oh, and don't hold it against young Maka. She honestly knew nothing. Like you, she had dreams, hints of my real memories but...really believed herself to be a younger me - One from before things got so complicated…

...My consciousness has awoken now, hence my writing this letter. Do not mourn her...she will always be within me, in fact she insists...We visit her– my favourite place one last time. She'll wait until you enter the house and then leave..."

"My reasons, Gem, for all this, are simple ones, selfish ones, really. I have spent years fearing what happened to you, hoping against hope you were not dead…. but also hoping that you moved on…

...My last request of you is therefore, that you don't let this be the end. Take what Maka showed you and live your life my old friend!

Go out there and find someone… My wish, dear Gem, is that if this temple still has any power left… That in one year's time I can look in at you… on a Valentine's date, that I can know you won't spend the rest of your days alone because of me…

...I hope you understand. I hope this experience was ultimately for the best, that the good Maka did will outweigh the hurt I know you must be feeling now...”

"To prove once and for all this is me, I shall sign with my true name rather than as St. Aardig.

Dear Gem, please live well and long - All my love, Sola."

Pierre's voice caught as he read the final lines. He wiped the tears from his eyes, scrunched up the note and stormed over to the fireplace.

“You damn idiot!" He roared as he slammed his fist against the mantelpiece.

----

A faint click sounded as the heavy impact landed, and the fireplace wall slid slowly back. Pierre reached up into this hidden compartment, retrieving two old and tarnished steel shoulder pieces, a worn leather breastplate and a scabbarded sword.

"You’re not going anywhere that easy," he muttered as he put on the gear for the first time in decades. With that he charged over to the front door and swung it open with the determination to bring - 'Aardig, Sola, Maka or whatever damn name she's going by, back this very instance.'

The door opened. At the bottom of the steps, the now eight police officers (four of whom looked suspiciously like they were armed police) stared up at Pierre.

Pierre closed the door.

"Ah, right..... Bollocks.”

****