Mavin had been juggling with a lot of things. From the deal with the Webman Company. The web of schemes of the ebony market, and finally, the matter regarding Rene and Kristine. A soon-to-be Imperator was living with him, the appearance of Rose, and his involvement with Stan and Baroness Sophia. Prince Kaleb was one of his headaches.

"Tiresome," Mavin said finally. He had to vocalize his thoughts. The raven and the crow had reminded him of something. A phrase that they like to say back in Dinia.

They had this fascinating thought about crows and ravens in Dinia. She's right, Mavin admitted to himself. If I continue like this, I'd be a raven.

Mavin stared at his calloused hand.  The war was over, he thought. I should have no concern about their affairs now. The revolutionaries are dead, and the only problem that I have to deal with is Null. 

When did he start thinking that he could do more than this? The doubt settled inside Mavin's head. It was annoying to the point that the weight of what he had been doing started to get to him. Some days, he would think like this. It was over. There was no need to bother about the problems regarding Rene and Kristine.

They were Mavin's friends. 

He didn't want to give up on their well-being. He knew he was a meddler.

He was a fool who intrude on other's life. However, he couldn't stop himself from doing what he can to help them through the storm. Many didn't want his help. Some people had seen his desire to help as mockery. They had thought that what he was doing was nothing more than his selfish desire to feel good about himself.

Mavin stopped moving. He looked at the curtain with eyes staring distantly without a light on it. He yanks a pistol from his holster. Place it below his chin and wrapped a finger around the trigger. He rolled his eyes up and stayed like this.

He heard artillery fire booming across a place far away. There was a sickly stench of blood mixed with gunpowder and the smell of feces floating in thick mud. A man moaned on the ground, tears spilling out of his eyes, guts spreading.

Gunfire coming from the north of the trench whizzed past by him. Then he faced the mud with some of it entering his mouth. He could hear his labored breathing. The ground exploded, and he found himself pulling on the bolt of his rifle and feeling the shudder of his rifle.

He got closer to the trench line. The rage and screams of the people beside and behind turned into a manifestation of anger. There was an anger that he could not explain. He partakes in the fury that boiled in him as well.

He threw himself on the trench, bayonets stabbing through uniform, webbing, and flesh. When he pulled the rifle's barrel off a young man, he hurriedly caught a man's wrist and snatched a saber from him. Mavin tripped the officer and slit the officer's throat.

It becomes a haze of flickering memories that ends up with him half-collapse on the ground, listening to the artillery, gunfire, and tucked in cover, refusing to move away.

Mavin straightened his eyes to look at the curtains. He removed the barrel of the gun away from his chin. He placed the pistol on the bed and then raised his hands to cover his ears.

He took deep breathes and tried to suppress the shaking of his chin. There was a dullness in his eyes that showed how confused he was. He had the face of a person who did not understand why he was shaking.

Cold sweat poured from his forehead. He clutched his chest and squeezed his eyes, trying to find his mind. The shaking of his chin, the shuddering of his shoulders, and his crumpled face started to become cold. His shoulder sagged, and he placed his hands on his thighs.

He reached out for his pistol and stared at the markings on the side. He got this pistol on the first days of the war. Even with all the boons that he could acquire, the war threw him to the side. He was sure that he would bleed to death on that day. A person called Robert dragged him away from the field, seeing that he was breathing. Mavin knew of only two memories inside his head that he treasured during the war.

The first memory was when he got pulled out of a pit by a person named Robert. The first memory was finding Kohl in the shell-hole alive and breathing.

Mavin didn't know him. Robert pulled him out despite the machinegun that was butchering the men from the Empire. The pistol belonged to Robert. He could remember how he took care of the charging enemies and how he had thrown him out of the way.

There was no reason for him to do that other than to help a fallen brother. If there was a person that he could say was a hero. Then, Robert was the only person he could say was a hero.

"She's right. I'll be a raven if this continues. There's just no way I could continue this without being too involved. The Webman Company will have to deal with the Holmian and the Nobles from now on. I can trust Old Fred to handle the problems that will come with the dead, the transfer of technology, and the people that will interfere."

To be raven was to be associated with death and omen. To become a crow means that you can still change. Mavin Tomas survived the war. He found that beyond the predetermined path that they should be taking, there was more. Kohl made him realize that after letting him see Maria. When the war that he feared would continue was prevented because of those who wished for it.

"But what am I doing right now?"

Mavin stopped himself. Something was nagging him. This time a dry laugh came out of his mouth. 

He ran his finger on the carvings of his pistol before holstering it. He crawled on his bed and laid flat on his back.

"Nonetheless, there should be no reason for the deal to stop. The Webman will have to deal with the nobles. Rose can handle the ebony market with Old Fred. But should I look for Null?"

He then covered his ears with his palms again.

"Things have changed. But it had become harder to find a way to make it go my way now. I know it was going to happen sooner or later. But what if, in the end, it goes the same path?"

He reached out for the ceiling, grabbing nothing but air.

"What will happen if none of the 'memories' are useful anymore?"

Mavin Tomas sat upright. Finally, as if finding the reason he was feeling strange. "I guess you do bother me. I don't understand you at all."

Mavin despicably thought how it would have been far easier if Natalya Wilde remained the same as his 'memories' told him. Her words bother her, and she speaks words that trouble him.

"Why aren't you acting like how you should be?" Mavin asked. It was an unreasonable demand from him. It was easier to understand the Imperator that he knew in the 'memories.'

Mavin had affirmed once again that he didn't know how to deal with what she was right now.

karsev

With this chapter I have released the chapters that I had stocked.
And so the end of this arc.
I'll be updating once or twice a week now.
Thank you for reading so far!