Rainwater pooled around her ankles. To this day, the drainage systems of the Seven-Day War Memorial had remained prone to ponding since the twenty-five years it was erected to honour those who had paid the ultimate price. Seven pillars for each of the seven states.
The dead will always be neglected it seems… Vera thought as she stood by on high alert, overlooking the mass funeral as rain rattled and slithered against her new ONI. Her waterproof boots and socks did their job nonetheless. Wet socks were the enemy of every soldier; past, present and future. Trench foot was still an issue in the twenty-third century.
Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled.
She jerked up for a moment as memories of the railgun strike on the GHQ’s chapel zapped into her brain—a war crime, even though there was no one within it. She was reprimanded for it by both the Allfather and the Queen of Prophets, but at the same time, Belladonna’s mother, the Lord Field Marshall, defended her judgement call. For if she had not done so, her daughter would have died at the hands of Lilith as well.
A religious building for the life of her daughter; a small price to pay.
Thanatos Heavy Industries offered to rebuild the GHQ Chapel and bear all costs.
Vera held her laugh in behind of her ONI when she heard that during the meeting. A megacorporation like THI would obviously count this as a donation—a tax write-off. They did not offer to bear the costs of the reconstruction around the GHQ caused by the shockwaves of the railgun strike. That, would be borne by the taxpayers.
“Vanguard, present arms!” Eva yelled, her helmet off for the sake of the cameras, the speakers echoing her orders across the memorial and into the crowded streets of southern Pixel. The firing contingent of nine helmeted white knights raised their rifles, their armour plinking loudly in the rain. “Ready! Aim! Fire! Ready! Aim! Fire! Safe!” A twenty-seven-gun salute to all that had passed, now encased in bronze urns. “Battalion, salute!”
Vera saw the tears in her eyes, hidden by the trickles of the rain.
“Goodbye, mother… I will do you proud…” Even though it was just a murmur, the microphones picked it up. The cameras zoomed in on Eva’s face, her red eyes apparent even on the large LED screens on the sides the buildings around the memorial.
The newly-Lorded Lieutenant Colonel Evangeline Alexandra saluted, followed by the Allfather, the Vanguard, and the sailors of the Pixel Armada. The Queen of Prophets and the priestesses pledged their hearts. Vera did her best and bowed her head, not having an extra arm available. Her right army was in a sling and cast. Her left was holding an umbrella over Lady Fiona. If any uninvited guests were to appear, she would have to ditch the umbrella and draw her usurper with her left hand. “If you want your beloved briefcase, you’re going to have to work with me, Veralisa Sindile…” Vera remembered her words and cursed her name.
Chrysah, the white lady—or now more affectionately known by people across Aarde as “Snow White”—could be anywhere, appear out of nowhere; waiting to strike with “Lilith”, or simply keeping a low profile, paying her respects with her idealistic way of life.
“Zero civilian deaths. A perfect surgical strike.” The fair maiden’s prophetic words shimmered in her mind. Her hands however trembled at the thought of facing a foe like Lilith again. She knew she had gotten lucky with Belladonna leading the duel, but if Belladonna were not around the second time, she definitely would not survive even a minute against her.
The Kanatan mainstream media repeated this line all over the internet.
“Zero civilian deaths in USSEA. A perfect surgical strike by the GRNA.”
Vera laughed at the clickbait headline as she laid in the hospital. It had gone viral and the world ate it up like the latest bubble tea flavour. Ussean media desperately tried to counter it. “Thousands of civilians wounded. Many military personnel killed-in-action.” But the thing about people is that many preferred to believe the lie versus the truth; fairytales always sold more than history books; and this ‘miracle’ was a PR disaster for the Ussean military. Especially after what it had done during the Seven-Day War—to win that war.
“Parapriestess? Walk with me now. I need to pay my respects.” Lady Fiona barked.
“Yes, Milady,” Vera said, focusing on the job at hand, carefully walking in pace with the Queen of Prophets, struggling to keep the umbrella upright against the monsoon’s howl. The Allfather soon joined them, stepping down from the stage, accompanied by four priestesses. One pushing a large cart with several baskets of the Vanda Miss Joaquim and the other with the boxes of the Ussean flag, folded neatly into a triangle.
The Allfather would give the flag to the fallen’s father.
The Queen of Prophets in turn, gave the national flower to the mother.
The remaining two priestesses would then present the urn to the siblings or the parents, if they were the only child. Usually, this would have been done by the Archpriestess and the Head Priestess, but they too had been killed-in-action in the GHQ attack.
Urn after urn. Name after name. Rank after rank.
Row after row. Flower after flower. Flag after flag.
Vanguard Knight. Armada Sailor. Light infantry.
Crying family after crying family.
Soon, Vera was in autopilot mode once more. Drifting off. Blocking out the human wails—focusing on the white noise of the rain. They would hold a funeral for them… but not for Bakkanal… perhaps this is all for show…? Lost in her thoughts, she fell asleep on the job with her eyes wide open. Besides, she knew Belladonna was somewhere watching over them with a sniper rifle along with THI-PMC at the ready if things did go wrong.
“Parapriestess! I’m getting wet!” Lady Fiona barked, kicking her in the shin.
“Apologies, Milady!” Vera gasped, tilting the umbrella slightly against the wind.
“Pay attention now, let me introduce you to Head Priestess Annalyn Parke, in a year’s time, she will take her sister’s billet. Do consider establishing an acquittance with her. I know you have your grievances with the previous leadership in the Pixel Grand Church, but now is not the time for you—for us, to stand divided. We are at war with the GRNA.”
“If she is capable and reliable, I will comply, Milady.” Vera nodded to Lady Fiona and then to Annalyn, who’s mourning was masked by her silver veil. “My condolences, Lady Annalyn. I apologise, but I was not there in time to assist your sister. She was a hero.” Vera lied. Jessica-Lynn was a monster and died a monster. Good riddance to your sister…
“You should thank her too, Parapriestess Six. She is one of the few priestesses I can count on my hand who dropped everything to be with the Vanguard that night. She saved many lives, including yours; she kept you stable on the medivac to the Mount Alvernus.”
Vera bowed. “I am sorry you had to waste your skills on me, Lady Annalyn. In all honesty, you were better off helping Lady Fiona with Lord Vega’s resurrection.”
“Don’t say such things, Parapriestess. Her soul… had already long crossed over. She did not want to stay. You were simply the next critical casualty in-line.” Annalyn stretched out her hand awkwardly to shake Vera’s before retracting it back after remembering the cast on her arm. “To heal the true hero of Kingsworth, is a once in a life time honour…”
“Not now, Annalyn. There are ears everywhere.” Lady Fiona said, warning her.
“Indeed, Milady… my apologies for overstepping. I shall take my leave and join my parents. Please, excuse me.” Annalyn bowed and left, leaving the other priestesses to pray over the ceremony. Her parents were a hundred-and-twenty years old, thanks to the miraculous Elixir of Longevity impregnated into Ussea’s water supply. They were younger than Lady Fiona, but still they cried as though Jessalyn had just been born the day before.
“Let us move on, Parapriestess. We have a long day ahead of us.”
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“Yes, Milady.”
Vera returned to her “autopilot” state, moving from urn to urn and bowing in sync with the Queen of Prophets. Forgetful name after forgetful name passed once more. Death was a weird thing for her. Her parents died during the Seven-Day War. They were never identified. The church took her in amongst the tens of thousands that were orphaned. She had cried once for the dead long ago, but every anniversary thereafter, all she had to offer from then on was anger and curses. It was an eye for an eye; almost poetic. Ussea forgot about her fallen kin, and she in turn would not give a damn about her fallen kin.
Lady Fiona’s kick to her shin snapped her out for the last time.
They were at the last urn. The rain had stopped and the sun had set.
The white knight with golden hair and the ceremonial orange cape, stood before them.
“Lord Evangeline. You have my condolences. Your mother served us in the Seven-Day War to protect not just you, her daughter, but many others’ children as well. I apologise. I was not there in time. I’d trade places with Lady Meryl and Lady Jessalyn if I could, but perhaps it was not meant to be.” The Queen of Prophets bowed to the new and young lord, who was only two years older than Vera. An uncommon practice.
“Straighten yourself, Parapriestess. You did your best as well—as dangerous as it was, we pushed Lilith back. That fair maiden however, hmm… we need to talk about that, but not here. I’m sorry I broke rank that night. I… lost control of my emotions. If the three of us had stood our ground—things might not have turned out this way.” Eva nodded to Vera. “As the older—and highest ranking on that night, my mother’s death is my own fault.”
In breach of protocol, Vera placed her hand on Eva’s shoulder. “The church is as much to blame as well, Lord Evangeline, I came late and Lady Jessalyn and Lady Meryl could not hold their own despite all their talent and training. Don’t punish yourself.” Vera pulled her hand back and stepped back, nodding to Lady Fiona, apologising silently.
Lady Fiona sighed and shook her head, and nodded to the priestesses holding the final cylinder containing the late Lord General Vega Alexandra’s cremated remains. They stepped forward, bowed and passed it on to her. Lady Fiona stepped forward with the orchid, and then the Allfather with the flag. A whistle was blown under the moonlight and finally everyone present faced the flag as it was lowered to half-mast.
Rest in peace, General… Vera nodded her head slightly.
“All next-of-kin, guests and press, this concludes the ceremony, you may disperse. As per DEFCON-One wartime regulations, all active military and national guard personnel are to RTB and resume defence manning postures immediately with your assigned transport groups…” The announcer boomed on the loudhailer.
The crowd took up their urns and left for the buses, train stations and car parks.
“Parapriestess, you’re coming with us. We have unfinished business.” Lady Fiona held Vera by her shoulder and pointed the way with her gaze.
A Black Mynah transport helicopter with the white bold lettering of: “THANATOS PMC” on its tail beam, purred and bounced as its landing gear squished on the giant white letter H painted temporarily on the memorial grounds marked by neon yellow light sticks.
“What, am I PMC now?” Vera watched as the Allfather got into the co-pilot’s seat of the bird, speaking to the pilot while pointing at the map on the liquid crystal display.
“Your responsibilities have been adjusted to Ussea’s current predicament, Parapriestess.” Lady Fiona snapped back, glaring at her subordinate’s reluctance.
Goddammit… Vera cursed in her mind, hesitant to go forward. Her arm was still recovering and she was unwilling to be involved with a war that seemed too big for a small person like her. “Don’t we have Head Priestesses and Archpriestesses to deal with this?”
“Come on, Parapriestess Number Six,” Belladonna gestured her to get on. “You will have the finest of dinners Thanatos can offer you. I still owe you for that night—and that other night, seven years ago. Refusing a member of the Thanatos Clan would be rude and also very detrimental to your career.” Belladonna stepped forward and nudged Vera into the helo as the rotor wash whipped her midnight black hair back and forth.
“Tch, as a friend or a co-worker?” Vera hissed and boarded the Black Mynah reluctantly as the doors slid shut. All she could do now was hope she was not being sent to Northland to sit on a trench overlooking No Man's Land on the 68W Line.
“It’s more of the former than the latter this time.” Don slid the door shut.
“Helmet off, Veralisa. Everyone here knows who you are one way or another.” Lady Fiona sighed as she got a pack of cigarettes out, making Vera raise a brow. “What? This is a private flight. Don’t give me that look—you’ve seen me smoke before.”
“Veralisa Sindile? Didn’t we bury your urn in Kingsworth back in 2242?” Vera looked at the lone pilot who nodded back with a sarcastic smile. It was the Thanatos family’s Head Combat Butler, Sebastian Steiner—a walking enigma—but an excellent cook par none. “The young mistress wept for you up to the point of cremation—then she said: you don’t smell like that all… I hope you had a very good reason for making her cry like that.”
“I had my orders, Mister Sebastian…” Vera said bluntly.
“And what were your orders, Vera…?” Eva asked, hugging her mother’s urn.
“I am sworn to secrecy, Lord—Eva…” Vera replied, not looking her in the eye.
“By me and the Allfather, of course…” Lady Fiona interjected. “Gabriel? Shall I?”
“Well, Aunt Fiona, they’re gonna be working together again for good this time, so we might as well clear things up before we set the Wheels of Fate in motion. Go ahead. They’re all grown up anyway. I doubt we can keep our mouths shut on this one indefinitely.”
Lady Fiona huffed and puffed, and sighed.
“Veralisa was hired by your mothers to be your bodyguard during your time in the Vanguard—I recommended her despite objections from both Lord Isabella and Lord Vega.”
“Bodyguard? Whatever for? The Vanguard is the safest place in the UDF. Everyone there are children of the Upper Strata; the most loyal and hardworking of all.” Eva said.
“—Until the Kingsworth Insurgency.” Vera countered, shaking her head.
Lady Fiona huffed and puffed. “Gabriel thought both you were naïve. Spoiled by your pristine upbringings. He believed that if you mixed around with people like Vera, eventually you would come to better—and faster—understand Ussea for what it was—what it is—and what it meant to one day lead this nation when we depart from this mortal realm. She was also to report regularly on your behaviours, good and bad, as she does with other priestesses.”
“In other words, she was sent to spy on us?” Eva said.
Lady Fiona continued on, ignoring Evangeline. “She was to spend five years with you two in the Vanguard, but the Kingsworth Insurgency soiled this plan—” She sighed. “—after you three dealt with Lady Lunamaria’s lieutenants, she was ordered to go into hiding, and so we gave you—Evangeline, Belladonna—the credit; the medals. An archpriestess like herself would never risk her position on high to make a move against the daughters of two of Ussea’s great war heroes. But Vera isn’t, so we used someone else’s body and burned it in her place.”
“Lunamaria, she’s the ringleader? Victor’s stepmother… she shook my hand that day?!” Don remarked. “—thanked me for my service! That snake! Does my mom know?”
“Yes, she does. We have the evidence, but we cannot make a play; cannot risk a civil war. If we strike Lunamaria down, half of the Archipelago will mourn for her— and half the Armada will avenge her… and the United States of South Eastern Asiatica will end…”
“But then the GRNA moved, and now she has to play along…?” Vera interjected.
“For now, yes. I’m sorry, Veralisa—Miss Sindile. I truly am.” Lady Fiona apologised.
The Allfather, Gabriel Milagros, got up from the co-pilot’s seat and stood in the middle of the cabin, looking down at the four who were seated. “This is an assassination order on the GRNA Captain, codenamed: ‘HVT-Lilith’. You three have been specifically chosen because you faced her head on during the Mermaid Bay Raid and all other professionals have already deployed to Northland for the war effort. Vera, while you will still serve under the façade of the Church of Special Intelligence, for this op, you will fall under my direct command and officially lead Fireteam Seraphim as you did unofficially during the Kingsworth Insurgency.” From a large pouch on his chest, he fished out a red envelope and handed it to Vera. “These are your orders in handwriting; no duplicates, non-electronic, magic-supressed—completely untraceable. Once read, burn it. Vera, the reward for this mission is disclosed specifically for you—by blood oath. Please do consider it.”
“She’s leading the team?” Eva said, slightly hurt, offended even.
“Where you three are headed, she knows the most—for better or for worse. Try not to see this as a reprimand, Evangeline. You will understand when you get there. No training in on Aarde will prepare you for this.” Lady Fiona said, reassuring Eva.
Vera took the envelope and ripped the side open, pulling the neatly folded letter. She unfolded it and saw a single bloodied thumbprint. Reading through the letter thoroughly, a line in the orders threw her off balance, and so she read it out loud in the Mynah for all to hear: “Negotiate with the wand user if possible? Refrain from killing at any cost.” Vera looked at the Allfather scanning his eyes for a twitch. “That night… she knew you both, and you knew her. She also knew me by another name—the name I prefer not to use anymore.”
“You of all people should know that wars are not always black and white. There are always grey areas. This is a grey area we failed to address in time.” The Allfather said. “And people paid the ultimate price because of my inability to negotiate with her.”
“And now, your mistakes are mine to correct. Just another day on this godforsaken job—” Vera sighed, before gasping at the reward. “This reward? Bakkanal Church?”
“Yes, it’s time you came home, Vera.” The Allfather stepping back into the co-pilot’s seat. “Take us in Mister Sebastian. Let’s get this show on the road.”
“Aye aye, Your Supremacy.” Sebastian said, flicking some switches as the Black Mynah began to descend, purring over the hundreds of houses in the suburbs.
Vera folded the letter and slipped it into her pocket, getting up from her seat. Standing in-between both pilots, she saw the faint silhouette of the old place; not the place of her birth, but that of her childhood that was almost a distant blurry murmur now.
“Why…?” Vera asked, not the Allfather nor the Queen of Prophets, but herself.
“The Prophetess Chrysah asked specifically for the Demon of Bakkanal, Vera. Not Veralisa Sindile, not Parapriestess Six. She called for the real you—and you must answer. I am still going to investigate why you tried to fly off to Kanata, but the lives of innocents are in your hands once more, and I beg you to make the right choice for us—for Ussea.”
The Black Mynah bobbed softly as the engines hummed and spun to zero.
The doors slid open and the smell of apples fresh and rotten flooded the cabin.
Vera sighed and hissed, trying her best to control her anger. It was unwise to yell on hallowed ground and awake those who were in eternal rest. “The right choice… you’re a goddamned hypocrite, Lady Fiona… you and this entire country… all of you…”
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