XXX.

Soldier

"These are our barracks. This is where you'll be staying." Lezat snorted.

Faunia shifted her lips uncomfortably as she stared into the unlit chamber, with beds stacked along every wall and every other place they could fit them. It was cramped, dark, and smelled of sweat and rot. An abominable excuse for quarters.

"It's a broom closet." was the only remark she could muster.

Lezat nodded. "This is what remains of The Hunters."

Then her expression turned to surprise.

He was grim as he continued, "These are the ones that I managed to save. You'll recognize a few, I think. Especially that one… what's his name, Eson?"

"Not Eson…" She shook her head.

"They're sleeping now. Find one of the empty beds, that'll be your stay. There's a chest beneath it for any of your belongs, and keep your sword close. It's not quite what you're used to, but… there's no elegance here. We wear silver, but we are silver knights no more. They call us the Orphan Legion, now. It's..."

"Horrendous. We're more akin to slaves than soldiers."

"You won't be happy to hear about the pay then, either."

She gave a sigh. Then she filed into the room, and carefully crept over creaking floorboards, past the sleeping soldiers. There was barely any room to maneuver as she squeaked around the corner into the next alley of beds, and went all the way to the furthest crevice where a bed on the bottom bunk was left open. The thin blanket was stained with blood.

"That was Levas' bed." a man said.

She ran her fingers atop it. "Levas…"

Then the figure who spoke shifted. He was on the bed across from that one, pressed up against the wall, and right up against another bed where they'd built a wall of pillows to muster some solitude.

A messily black-haired man. Square jawed, his appearance almost reminded her of a kinder and younger Kogar, though the lines and dark shadows beneath his eyes showed stress beyond Kogar's capabilities.

"Eson!" she gasped.

"Faunia. I'm… shocked to see you alive. You made it on your own out there?"

"I went to Calamon. Not alone, but… I didn't know any of the Hunters had survived."

"Lezat squeezed some of us into a boat once Akvum had been declared a traitor. Ivalié helmed a search for him, and vanished just as well. You look… good."

"It's dark." He can't see the bruises. Nor the scars.

"You still look good."

She sat down on her own bed with a great sigh.

"I can't imagine what compelled you to fall under Lezat's ranks again." he muttered.

"I don't think I had a choice."

Tirolith is gone. Dead, or…

"Well," He shuffled back into his bed, "Get yourself some rest. There are big days ahead. It's... good to have you back."

She nodded, and soon followed his lead.

When she arose the next morning, the barracks were still dark. There were no windows in the basement closet they'd been allowed. No daylight to welcome the start of their day.

But then, it seemed that the day had long since started — the other bunks were all empty.

More comfortable than a mat, less comfortable than…

She thought of the last bed she'd had. In that small village outside of Calamon. With Cedric and Marisol around, Tirolith, and… Well, Serkukan was never the greatest company.

She pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them. For a moment, she thought Tirolith might lean her head on her shoulder again.

But when Tirolith never arrived, her tears began.

"ESON! BACK!" Lezat shouted, waving his baton around.

Faunia had entered the courtyard just in time to watch a near-beating from the old man as Eson stepped forward out of line, then quickly stumbled back into his upright stance.

They were all wearing that familiar silver armor, all lined up with their blades at their hips and their helms shining in the jungle sunlight.

Lezat wiped sweat off his brow, a luxury none of the other soldiers had.

The courtyard was sweltering and huge, surrounded on all sides by thick wooden walls typical of azarian construction. They could see the tall trees all around as well, with different treehouses uplifted on many of them. Smoke rose from some of their chimneys. Faunia winced.

The ground was as flattened as they could manage, but not quite flat enough, and it seemed that they couldn't prevent the trees that had sprung up all over and beside the large pond and even in the running track, in the way of the soldiers rounding the yard. Though, Freiyan Hunters scarcely had the luxury of flat ground either.

"We're moving on to the sparring exercise, now." he said to them. "I'll pick two, Eson, and…"

"I'll go." Faunia said as she finally reached them.

His eyes bulged as he turned. "Faunia! You should be resting, your wounds—"

"I'm fine. I want to spar, not sit around twiddling my thumbs."

He glanced between her and his unit with concern.

"I'll call it off if anything is wrong, of course. At least let me try."

Finally, he grumbled out in agreement, and waved Eson out into the field.

"Alright! You two remember the rules of sparring. I don't need to refresh you, do I?"

Faunia nodded. She took the baton from his hand.

Lezat pulled another baton from his belt and handed it off to Eson, who was already stripping his armor down into the sweaty white plainclothes he was wearing beneath, matching what Faunia had been provided.

Stolen story; please report.

"Right. Right." he mumbled again, and walked by Eson. He whispered something as he passed.

Eson, go easy on her. Right?

Her eyes narrowed. Her grip tightened around the baton.

Eson gave a sigh and took his stance.

Faunia took the same lightweight stance, her baton held forward.

"Go!"

Eson gave a battle cry and rushed her. He telegraphed a swing for her head.

She ducked underneath and rammed her left shoulder into his gut. Her baton swung hard into his ribs as she sidestepped away.

Eson took a breath to rub his rib. "Damn, that hurt! You haven't lost it after all!"

He stepped forward.

Faunia lunged. The tip of her baton cracked against the opposite ribs. She grabbed his extended swordarm and stuck her own up high.

"Aagh!" she cried out. A wound on her right shoulder had reopened. But she winced through it, and pulled the baton down.

Eson stepped away from the swing and swept his grappled arm.

She lost her balance and stumbled past him. He swung as she went, and their batons clashed with a dull thud. The batons thudded twice more as she backpedaled, and then again when she attempted a counter.

Eson smirked. He raised his baton over his head.

She rose to parry — "Augh!"

Her shoulder had turned red by then. Blood trickled down her arm. All he had to do to finish the fight was tightly grab her swordarm's wrist and tap her gently on the shoulder with his own baton. Faunia pulled away from him harshly, and stumbled back.

"Win, Eson! But you left yourself open the whole damn time. Faunia was on the defensive, plainly, but had many opportunities to strike you in your unabashed frenzy. If not for her wound, that would plainly have been a win for Faunia, thus do I declare stalemate."

"Damn." Eson panted. "It's this heat, I swear. I'll never acclimate. You're alright?"

"I'm fine." she said. She still silently hoped for Tirolith to arrive, to mend her shoulder.

Lezat shouted, "Eson, armor up and fall back into line. Faunia, get that wound checked up on; I'd have you join us the rest of the day if you're fit. Good to see you're still—"

His voice trailed off as two azars approached. He turned to them, and began what was evidently a heated argument across whispered hisses. He held the bridge of his nose, and punctuated their conversation with a wave of his hand, walking back toward the soldiers.

"Change of plans. All remove your armor. We're being reequipped."

"Reequipped?" asked a soldier.

There was a sudden bugle call over the walls. Birds of all colors and sizes fluttered away from the yard.

Lezat nodded. "We're being deployed. Lyros has begun his invasion."

X

The Calamoni bathhouses were different than anything Cedric had ever known. Even besides the mystical races that flooded the marble walled pools in every golden-arched corridor, he had only ever known the experience of public bathing in the company of Sylvet. He had only ever known bathing to be a necessity after a harrowing battle, a way to scrape the black dirt and soot and dark blood off of his skin, out from under his nails, out of his hair.

But now they'd spent months here, and the bathhouse had quickly become his preferred way to wash off a battle, or a long day. In fact, it had nigh become his favorite place in Calamon overall. And it was a shock that it had stayed open amidst the ongoing conflict — even through the windows, he could see the black sky, the absence of light all around their city. The absence, he had discovered, of all natural ley.

He slipped two golden coins to the tired-smiled woman waiting outside one of the curtained rooms at the end of the hall — a woman with translucent, glossy blue skin, and a head that grew bulbously wide in the back. Fins protruded from where her ears should have been, speckled in orange blots that got smaller as they approached the gills on her torso, exposed only where her swimwear did not cover.

She accepted the coins graciously, and opened the curtain that he could enter one of the smaller rounded baths.

A Freyan girl. People who live in water. The Alisars are ever… unique.

But then, what classifies an Alisar? Are dragonmen and the ratmen I've seen around certain districts of this diverse city not the same? Where do they draw the line?

He lowered his tattooed body into the hot water with a deep sigh. His wounds were already scars from Tirolith, but they felt all the better against the water. He watched the steam rise off of himself, then shut his eyes for a long moment.

Nothing better for the mind than a hot bath.

"Mind if I join?" asked a man's voice. Something moved in the water opposite him.

Cedric's eyes opened, half expecting Rithi.

It was a very tan-skinned man who now sat across from him, with the rough face of a warrior. Someone who had taken thousands of lives. Someone who did not know peace. His eyebrows were jagged like daggers. His chin and face were square and pristine of imperfection, much like the appearance that Kogar put on. Even the man's body was covered in rippling, impressive muscle that far surpassed anything Cedric had seen in Kylinstrom.

He already knew. Serkukan.

"Your horns...? Where've they..."

"I've said before that your mind has ever been a contaminant for my own. For all of the rage I inherited from that star, I am… in control."

Cedric shifted his lips.

"Such a thing has never been possible."

"Are you thanking me?"

Serkukan did not reply. He only stared back. He was unflinching, and unmoving. Like an exquisite statue.

"Make room for me, too!" came another voice.

A fully-armored Tirolith fell from the sky, right into the center of the pool, splashing hot water all around.

"Oi!" Cedric protested. "You're made of ice, you idiot."

When her head and shoulders emerged from the water again, her armor had already melted, and she gave a great big smile.

Ithlo, Okella, don't you dare follow her lead.

I have no such intentions.

Tirolith was still smiling when she floated to the wall between Serkukan and Cedric, but soon her smile faded and the young girl appeared somber, almost like she'd inherited something from Okella.

"You alright?" Cedric asked.

"Faunia is still in Alisa. I hope she's…"

"Has she even arrived yet in our timeline?"

She lit up. "If she hasn't, we can stop her! We can—"

"We cannot." said Ithlo'vatis, manifested in his white coat, stood in the small room's corner beside the curtained door. "We must maintain the parts of the timeline which have already existed. Doing otherwise could shatter the hierarchy altogether."

Tirolith's pout returned. She sank into the water to hide her mouth.

Cedric asked, "What day did you arrive to Alisa? And more importantly, what happened there?"

Tirolith looked away. She lifted her head again to speak. "We arrived on the Twentieth of Savus."

"That gives us… nineteen days before our timelines add up."

"Etherian timelines rarely do add up with those of men." said Ithlo.

"Right. But that's how long we'll have until…?" He looked to Tirolith again, asking for the rest of the story.

"We had just arrived. Someone at the gate, they blew a horn… the men encircled us, and... and then..."

"It's okay, Tirolith. Don't worry about it for now; you've at least given us a timetable we can work with, should we decide to pursue her."

Ithlo asked, "Are you not currently considering this course of action?"

Cedric shook his head. "We have to enter Haketh. With those schematics, we'll have no trouble stopping Tartys and Kogar."

"There's something else I need to tell you." Tirolith interjected.

They all turned to her. The air suddenly became heavy when they saw how her lip quivered, and how her brow was tensed up, low to her eyes.

She recounted to them the events that transpired along the Alisan Way, and the daemon of crimson ice she had become...