"Mono/Dialogue"

'Inner thoughts'

Narration

[Message/communication apparatus]

Date: April 1087

Location: Somewhere in a quaint town of Bolivar, Coalition Government Controlled Territory.

POV: Narrator

A crowd of angry mob can be seen surrounding a group of malnourished infected. They keep their distance, but that doesn’t deter them from throwing a lot of objects such as rocks and blunt objects. The infected children are currently being shielded by a lone Sarkaz infected, the Sarkaz can only use herself to protect her infected wards. They’re all orphans of war, thus this is all they have.

“Damn, devil! It was your fault!”

“You shouldn’t have come here you filthy infected!”

“Get out of this town!”

“Take your filthy little shits with you!”

There are onlookers of course, but they kept a wide berth from them. Some of them show pity in their eyes, but no one regards the lone Sarkaz as a human anymore. Her kind was always despised as the devil, she wasn’t infected before, truthfully speaking.

The Sarkaz woman, who was once unnatural for being born without infection as a Sarkaz, had long since left Kazdel and her old life. The journey of leaving that blasted place made her travel quite a length, she wished to get away from there after all. Thus her final destination made her arrive in Bolivar. In this quaint little town, she even has a stable job of being a clerk, the pay was lower but at least she didn’t have to go hungry, the threat of mortar and grenades in her sleep, or the fact that despite being a war-torn region too, Bolivar had a semblance of security.

All of which went down the drain in just one night. She was only walking back home, well just a small flat really, but that is already a miracle for a Sarkaz to own in this war-torn land of Bolivar. She was only minding her own business when someone suddenly pinned her to the ground. What happened after that was hell…

The next day she found herself pretty much naked in the alley, along with an unsettling feeling that lingered on her bruised body that was left cold amidst the rain. She tried to look around for her key, only to find it missing. She immediately bolted back home, thankfully the world decided to take pity on her and the way home was scarce… but that’s all.

Her flat had been ransacked, and all the money she had saved was gone. What’s worse, however, after she checked around what was left of her flat, she found a small patch of black rock, starting to tear itself out on top of her forehead and that is the moment her fate was sealed. She can’t help her body which keeps on trembling. Not long after, she collapsed where she stood and cried silently…

From there she’s cast out, and everything turned into a blur… until she met these children. She tried to do whatever work was there in the slum, she didn’t understand why she even bothered to take care of them… but something in her told her that it was only right… thus her current predicament.

‘Why…? I only wanted to get some bread for them… why? I even paid for it…’ The Sarkaz woman can only cradle the smaller children in her arms, she is honestly so close to just ending it all. It is alright if they want to abuse her, but why the children too? They didn’t do anything wrong, the only sin they committed was being dealt with a bad hand!

‘… Damn it all…’ She starts to prepare to use her Arts, one last hell mary while running at the crowd… she can divide it to help the children and contaminate this accursed place with oripathy. See how they like being on her side… it would spell her doom for sure, but it is worth it if the children can escape from this lynching. Before she can enact her sacrificial plan, however, a sonorous voice suddenly cuts itself through the cacophonous voice of angry mobs.

“Excuse me, can I ask for direction?” The voice is that of a woman, she has her whole body is covered in a mix of a black t-shirt, a leather jacket with a hood, and white cargo pants. Her face is obscured by a mask, but that’s what makes it even more jarring, her voice is as clear as ever. She also has a piece of letter in her hand.

“What do you want?” One of the mob towered over the woman, such a visage should have caused anyone to flinch but the masked woman doesn’t seem to care. She only pulled a terminal and started reiterating her destination.

“I’m looking for a lady named Asheria Hermila, do you know wh-?”

“Get out of here outsider. Don’t try to act like a hero, I know your kind.” The man grinned mockingly, and his surroundings also laughed. They just met another hero wannabe, this is truly amusing to find around her after all.

Despite being laughed at, the woman didn’t even flinch if anything she just stared wholly unimpressed, and somehow can be felt like rolling her eyes beneath that mask. She then turned her eyes towards the Sarkaz woman who was shielding the infected children.

“Well, I tried to be diplomatic, man isn’t it hard? Make way.” She pushed the man down on his back, smashing him unconscious and just striding past the flabbergasted crowd. The woman just made her way past the angry mob that is now puzzled by her brazenness. She is wholly uncaring of the stares she garnered, and confidently walks towards the Sarkaz whose attention is focused solely on her, temporary, savior.

“Let me see your wound.”

“I-I don’t… p-please ju-”

“Shhh, it won’t take long.”

“HEY! Don’t ignore us you wench!” The mob starts to get angrier of course. To suddenly barge in and ignore them stoked their pack mentality even higher.

The masked woman only focused on patching up the wounded Sarkaz, her touch is warm and diligent. Then her hand brushed past the Sarkaz’s forehead, of which the Sarkaz braced herself to suddenly be shoved away… but nothing happened.

“Hmm… it appears your wound is not as severe as it looks. Still, this might take time to recover. Oripathy doesn’t spread from mere touch, besides I’m wearing gloves.”

‘She doesn’t care about my oripathy? She also assured me instead?’

“… W-Why?”

“Um… you’re wounded? What else?”

“B-But I’m… I’m… *sobs*” The woman starts to cry, she can’t hold her repressed emotion anymore. She was so close to death before, and it only hit her now how afraid she was of sacrificing herself… it got interrupted when one of the mobs threw a rock at the masked woman.

“She is helping the devil!”

“A devil sympathizer!”

“She’s probably an infected too!”

“…Hah…” The masked woman sighed before standing and pulling her mask up. Threads of ashen hair were seen cascading gently off from its bundled form. Her pink, amber-tinted, eyes gaze sharply towards the mob. Her form suddenly looks way bigger, monstrous even, and all she does is standing ramrod straight clutching her mask with a single hand.

Instantly silence enveloped them. A few start to stumble back, and their faces morph in unison of a singular emotion… Fear… The onlookers that have been watching with interest immediately recalled their former activities and hastily left the scene. The smarter one of the mobs who weren’t at the forefront, had seized the opportunity to simply and quietly make themselves scarce.

“Can I ask you to disperse? Please? Go to a nearby tavern if you’re looking for a brawl… I’m not in the mood to be nice for challengers at the moment…” Finally, with a simple request the mobs promptly disband themselves, quite a few of them can be seen to be pretty much running away from the scene. She is having a hard time comprehending this turn of events.

“Cowards… all of them…” The ashen-haired lady huffed in annoyance. It happened every time her face was seen, to the point that even her supposed client was afraid more than a few times, thus the mask was used to at least preserve their speech ability.

“Perhaps Zofia is right, I look less like a mailwoman and more like a hitman on my day off at the barest minimum. Tch, well at least I can skip stupid exchanges…” The Ashen-haired woman’s eyes now turned to the gob-smacked Sarkaz lady.

 “G-Grey S-S-Serpent…” The Sarkaz woman's voice is a mix of awe and unabated fear, this ashen-haired woman in front of her is none other than Nyx, one of Terra’s deadliest mercenaries. Her exploits and cruelty are known to be a morbid fascination within mercenary circles.

“Yes, that’s what people call me.”

“T-thank you… Um…” She glanced back at the children behind her, they were peeking from her shoulder and their curiosity superseded their fear.

“Please… can you help…” She looks behind her, the children are still sobbing quietly. They did so because adults kept beating them when they made a racket, thus this is the only reprieve they can have.

“Help the children? Sure. In exchange I want your help to guide me around here, having quite the haul this time around.”

“G-Gladly! … Wait, what haul?” Nyx motioned them to follow her.

“This.” Nyx showed her a whole bag of letters and small packages. Only then did the Sarkaz lady realize something, her eyes also darted upon Nyx’s armband.

“… You work for Catastrophe Messenger?”

“Yes, I work for them. Yes, I’m not a mercenary anymore. Yes, I work all over Terra, eventually, to deliver letters. Yes, you can go to the nearest CM office to get my contact. Yes, I worked 24 / 7 but my service isn’t cheap for express delivery. And anything else you want to ask of me?”

“… N-No… thank you.”

“Can you fulfill your promise now?”

“A-Ah, yes. Please just tell me the address… I’ll do my best to guide you.”

“Good.”

During their walk, the surrounding people gave a wide berth to this particular group. The Sarkaz starts to get nervous under such heavy scrutiny, but she is resolute to guide her savior to where she is expected to.

Nyx can feel her nervousness and decides to strike up a conversation, and the Sarkaz lady notices that the deadly CM courier voice is somehow… so… so… soothing?

“This is my first time in Bolivar, a nice-looking place if I disregard the corpses along the way.” Despite the topic being a morbid one, she can’t help but feel at ease. Her mind is in stupor but what alarmed her is the fact of how calm she is at the moment.

“U-Um… yes… it truly is…”

“Say, since I’m here, can you tell me about this Asheria Hermila?”

“Well… um…”

“It’s alright, just tell me what you know.”

“Then… excuse me… um… Asheria Hermila is the mayor of this town, she is… quite an eccentric Perro researcher. To the point that the actual governing was left to her steward instead, or so I was told. Asheria was an ex-Singas supporter, but I don’t know why she folds with the Colum- I mean Coalition Government.” Without realizing it, she starts to speak fluently without stuttering whatsoever. Her heartbeat had also died down to a normal level.

“Hmm? You’re quite chatty there, nice to see that you can still be so upbeat despite what happened to you.”

“… Thanks?”

“So, anything else you can tell me?”

Their chat continues with myriads of topics to discuss. The whole thing felt surreal for the Sarkaz woman, in one moment she was in hell along with her wards, and now she was conversing with one of the most dangerous people in Terra. They keep on conversing while Nyx is just doing her job of delivering letters.

Strangely she doesn’t go anywhere near the expected destination, the town hall, if anything she’s going further and further away from it…

POV: Nyx

‘Hmm… that went better than expected.’ Dad truly has some really good sources of information, most likely because of who he was for this piece of information… still…

‘Not song, not words, not even sounds… the answer was language’ abstracts. Yet said abstract needs a vessel. The image failed, mental engraving failed... but memories of how people act work, yet not just anyone can be used huh…?’ I hate a paradoxical thing like this…

The thing about how people act and then use it as a template to smooth out situations is great and all…

‘Yet the people I had been acquainted with upon my old lives are orphans, soldiers, mercenaries, scums, lawbreakers, night workers, and some aristocrats or high-ranking soldiers… Eleana was probably one of the few civilian friends that I ever had.’

Which is why I had a hard time connecting my Arts with this Sarkaz woman. She has the bearing of an ex-merc, yet my Arts only really connected itself when I spliced my memories about Eleana on her… What did Dad tell me again? I recalled back my conversation with him, safe to say that he still has a lot of favors to throw around…

Flashback

“I was mistaken?” Sitting on one of the chairs while overlooking the orphaned children, I'm conversing with him regarding my Arts and its unnecessarily complicated and costly usage. He said that he found a lead for it, and the source was that drunken poet acquaintance of his.

“Not mistaken, it is just that your mind is in a state of complete chaos beneath notice, according to what she said to me anyway.” Now that I looked at him closely, if we disregard his messy beard, he still looks relatively young. Like somewhere in his 40s but I don’t believe it, especially after reading notes concerning how Arts can affect someone’s lifespan.

“… I’m starting to be afraid now.” I can’t help but immediately frown on the implication.

“Naturally, but you have no cause to worry since she never takes promise lightly.” He sighed before moving on, his expression was that of nostalgia and weariness.

“That woman was never lackadaisical and enervated while going on her pace, not to mention when in regards with meaning she was never wrong.”

“So what is it then?”

“It’s an abstraction but also a model of image.”

“Abstraction and model of an image?”

‘Uh… this is… um… what people called linguistics stuff right? The one with pragmatics and… uh… fuck.’

“Yes, you had already nailed down the fact that word has meanings because of us giving it one. Yet regarding Arts, there are still some rules to follow. One such rule is the fact that the mind must be synchronized both ways, whether it has to be conscious effort or otherwise is unknown however.” Oh, so it's pragmatics? Starting to hate my less-than-favorable education tracks.

“Let us take normal conversation as an example. The first foundation is naturally that of interaction, you can’t converse with yourself after all.” I listened intently while sipping on an apple juice.

“The second is that of a topic, what needs to be discussed about. Third is natural feedback from your listener, there is a catch, however… can you guess it now?”

“Yeah… predictability for constructing a feedback… but won’t that be extremely disadvantageous for me?”

“That might be so, but do you remember what’s the difference between that time you sang alone, sang in the stadium, and sang for the Silverlance? What were your images between those three?”

“… first is alone and experimentation, the second is distraction and entertainment, and third was unbridled anger…”

“And what are the differences they have?”

“An audience, flows of words and feedback… and target!? Does my Arts has something to do with crowd control?”

“Indeed, but Arts are never equal, and its pros or cons even more so. I had a friend whose Arts can only be used to melt mold from metal… but was that all? Sadly he passed away due to Arts overuse, where his mind was pretty much welded into his skull…”

“…” That’s harsh as fuck, what the actual hell? Then again my Arts melted my skin, made me bleed, and all that stuff… then where did this abnormal regeneration come from?

‘Can’t I get something simple!? Like calling a meteor, winds manipulation, or hell… even a simple heat vision would be great! But noooo… I got this incomprehensibly niche Arts that seems to exist only to fuck with me… ugh, it did save my life… Whatever… Hah… I don’t have much in regards to formal education in the old worlds... would have been great if more of my old lives’s education were beyond high-school level or something like that… wait… I can do calculation and ballistics just fine… are these leftover from my homunculus and or synthetic lifeforms? So many questions, so few answers… If that’s the case then, where the hell is my sorcerous knowledge at!?’

“Nyx?” Ah crap, I had gone quiet for too long.

“U-uh yeah, dad?”

“… Hah…” He looked disappointed but didn’t push for it.

‘He knows that something is amiss… God, hopefully, he doesn’t know that I’m practically an alien…and… How should I word it nicely that I had fought an Emperor’s Blade and almost died if not worse?’ You know what? Screw it. Change of topic always works to divert the problem for later.

“Umm… something like this had a price tag added to it… What did you pay for this information with?”

“… Surprisingly not a costly one, courtesy of the-you-know-how art of dealing and negotiation, but she did withhold the complete answer.”

“… Ugh… I know where this is going, when is her invitation valid?”

“She perceives time differently, yet she says that there is no cause to worry and can you recall what I had said back then?”

“Anyone you considered family is always welcome… that’s what you said, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. She has yet to stake her price, but knowing her… you might want to bring along an alcoholic drink.”

“Where is this person at then?”

“Hmm… it is a bit hard since she spoke in riddles and even then she would just vanish as she likes to travel around, but for a general direction? Yan.”

“… Fucking great…”

“Language, young lady.”

“Sorry.”

‘Guess I need to work for some time first and accumulate paid vacation… wait… does a Catastrophe Messenger even have one?’ I need to look over the fine print once more…

End of flashback

‘I do have a paid vacation, but in the form of posting in the tourism sphere… Hah, my work is never done… wait, why am I complaining about myself!?’ Pfft- whatever, I can slack off here and there as long as I take care not to overdo it. Regarding that poet…

‘Yan… Another dealing with a nation and this one is pretty much Terra’s superpower… well at least it’s better than to deal with a hermit that lived in a crack of dimension or something.’ I can’t help but snort mirthlessly at that possibility, please just don’t. I already have my fill of encountering that damned eldritch jar, stupidly wasteful Leithanien monstrosity, and whatnot. I’m not in a hurry to meet something of that nature again.

I’ll put that travel for somewhere in the future and the situation being amenable, now I’ll try to keep experimenting on my own. I discretely glanced at my Sarkaz guide. She recovers quickly, and despite her body screaming in pain, her breathing is normal and her countenance turns for the better. The hidden needle in my hand work, damn that Vampire knows how to make a medicine.

‘Kinda feel bad for using that clueless not-so-ex-merc as a guinea pig for both medicine and Arts… Then again Arkell said that he also needed a messenger for his employment… she has nothing to lose here and conversely, it would be easier to coax her.’ Since my job is done, time to strike while the iron is hot.

“Hey.”

“Y-yes!?” Oh great, she is back to being worried about it when I stop speaking and infusing my words with Artsa, and with the image being broken, after I consciously stop splicing Eleana in her place, she is back to her timid self.

“Calm down, I won’t shank you or something.” I stopped in my tracks and she did too, the children were positioned between us to keep them safe. I had, discretely, killed several thugs in the alleyway, well Conrad did, but I called the shots.

“Tell you what, my friend asked me to find a helping hand so are you interested in a job?”

“… A-A job? What kind?”

“Personal Messenger, infected or not is of no bother.”

“I… uh… I don’t think th-”

“Look around you.” after I said so, the Sarkaz woman looked around her wearily and her eyes were gazing towards a particular alley. There are those mobs before, no doubt will finally make her life a living hell.

“So? Braving catastrophe for a chance to see the next day or…” I just made a gesture of slitting my own throat… instead of being afraid, the woman just chuckled. I can feel the hate and anger in that chuckle like a volcano that is about to erupt, but she stops just as abruptly as it started.

“What an absurd choice…”

“Well? The clock is ticking, Miss Guide.”

“… I can’t leave them.” She cast her eyes towards the children who are close to bursting into tears.

“You can bring them along and I know the place to drop them off safely.”

“…” She is eyeing me warily, and I can’t blame her. Infected people are just so oppressed, casting a veil of suspicion on a genuine offer for help. Said helps are few and far in-between…

“Look, either you take my offer or become a fertilizer on a good day, or become some cabron plaything. Believe me, you would not want to know how creative they are against an infected. Then if that is not enough, think about what will happen with these cinnamon rolls.”

She looks conflicted, her eyes are darting between her wards and those scums at the alley. I can see that her hands are trembling, but never did it shake away the little ones who are clinging to her.

“… I’ll hold on to your word.”

“Welcome aboard, I can temporarily assign you as my assistant… Oh yeah, do you have a name? I forgot to ask since Sarkaz whom I had met rarely had one… I don’t mean to offend you.”

“That’s alright… um I do have a name… given by my ma…”

“Mm-hm, tell me.”

“My name is Elea- Uh… that’s not right… Sorry, my name is Vaskiela.” Welp, there are side-effects from that little experiment… Congratulations, I just reinforced myself as a hypocrite… I should give her 100,000 LMD just in case…

“Glad to be working with you then.” Yeah, I need to make stealth reparation for that…

Date: December 1087

Location: ???

POV: ???

“How was it?” I inquired an associate of mine all the while looking at an old comrade painting of mine, the very same one that had become my worst political foe. This is a strange time indeed, the throne has been vacant for too long.

The battle between dukes had been worsening beneath the veneer of civility. Well, at least we understand what civilization truly meant unlike the dastardly wolves of Siracusano or the opportunistic Columbian vultures that eschewed civility altogether in the name of progress.

“We had found them, only 2 survivors. The loyalist and opportunist had moved faster than us, but not fast enough.”

“Were Their Highnesses escorted to safety?”

“Their Highnesses are now safe.”

“Then it is of no matter… hah… tell me, old friend… What is Tara to you?”

“Tara is our birthright and identity, something that was stolen from us.”

“That may be… that may be…”

“Aslan’s menace is more or less tamed now. The only heiress would, or most likely perhaps, have been too fearful by now. It should be a matter of time before she left for ordinary life… however…”

“Continue.”

“She had done nothing wrong, but her mere existence is still too dangerous to be left at large. I had mustered some trustworthy people to hunt her down.”

“Most astute and wise point of view… however, dialed it down a bit.”

“Milord?”

“We must be careful, damage mitigation must be of utmost priority.”

“Understood.”

“Now, elaborate more about that mercenary situation to me.”

“The mercenary had shown an immense expertise for warfare. Her prowess would have been equal to that of a division, I dare say she is too strong. Fortunately, she is now under the leash of Catastrophe Messenger. Thus her meddling had been amply reduced.”

“Her current predisposition?”

“She had been more or less tamed, but naysayers that her true self was merely being masked and could be roused just as easily. I had inquired Catastrophe Messenger in regards to her status, and she has been slanted as Contingency Contract Liaison.”

“…That’s very disappointing.”

“Indeed, it was most likely due to her tenure as a lone contractor who keeps on herself most of the time. That assessment needs revision however, it is clear that she is still quite cautious with her surroundings. In all honesty, the other Dukes, barring that of Windermere, show genuine surprise at her adaptability.”

“Keep me posted, now let me be for a while unless an emergency occurs.”

“Understood Milord.”

With that he left the room, letting me deliberate more on my musing. She is dangerous and would have made a perfect assassin. If that was the path she had taken, we’d face an opportune moment and cast further conundrum upon the other Grand Dukes.

‘Nyx… suddenly spotted in 1071 at an unremarkable village in Kazimierz… just who or, even better, what are you?’

People always say that one person would have very little influence, but that’s wrong. I know a few people who could turn Terra upside down… one of them was The Ageless…

‘What a headache this whole debacle had become, but I won’t deny that it is an opportunity like no other…’

Victoria is entering a period of utter destabilization… a period where freedom and independence might be achieved from the foreign usurper. For centuries we, the people of Tara, have been waiting, and waiting, and waiting for the return of our rightful ruler of both this land and its people.

‘The Artoriuses…’ I’m privy to anecdotes about His Highness Edward, who was known for his distaste for the cutthroat nature of Victorian politics. There are rumors that he was spotted somewhere in the east, but I have no means to verify it.

It is truly a shame that we have to put Dublin on the throne, those 2 are, in all honesty, and likelihood, know little about their royalties to the Victorian throne… or perhaps one of them does? My spy had told me that the elder sister had taken over their guardian’s house… just before those loyalists, dissenters, and traitors started causing trouble…

“I’m getting too old for this, but it is precisely because I’m old that I must lead forward on the path for our people. Independence will soon be achieved…”

In another location.

POV: Narrator

An Old Lupo can be seen working in his study. Dozens of documents, mountains of papers, and even several MoUs that need his attention are stacked neatly for his processing. The man's eyes are a mix of weariness and determination, the shadow war between the squabbling Grand Dukes and their ilk had intensified.

He sighs before looking towards a certain frame, there is a lone young Lupo with her determined gaze that seems to be boring a hole into his soul. The man can still remember the day it happened…

Flashback 3 years ago…

“Why have you never done anything!? Have you no care about the people!?” A young Lupo girl, well in her teenage years, shouted towards a Lupo man, he only gazed at her with a stoic face however.

Her golden locks of hair that shimmered like the brightest of gold, glistened under the light, soft and yet emanating raw emotion of disappointment laced with anger. Draped in the finest of finery but with a noticeably more progressive style, she stood tall against the man.

Her tone is ill-fitting for a noblewoman, but this house had never paid much attention to it. For they’re the king’s very own steadfast supporter and martial might is their specialty, not pretty and flattering language.

But the king is dead and some start questioning their standing, this young lady is one of them. This is truly a dark time for Victoria, tensions are mounting and the people are suffering while the nobles are drunk with delusions of grandeur.

“We had already discussed this very matter.”

“The people suffered! And you… You! By doing nothing, let the situation worsen!”

The man's gaze turned into disappointment and pity, for the young girl seemed to be very naïve at how the world works. It is an easy thing to just point fingers and shift blame then whatnot, often missing the point of accusation altogether.

People nowadays just don’t understand that there are only bad choices available, a leader has to choose the bad from several worse choices. Of course, even when presented with an argument that there is no better choice, there will be dissatisfaction. This young lady in front of him is the culmination of that dissatisfaction.

“Oh truly now? Do pray to tell what’s on your mind?”

“You have the power to prevent it, you could have saved them. You turned us into mere spectators of inconsequential existence! Your influence could’ve been used to shelter the king, you have the power to enforce the status quo! You are the lord of this house, but your inaction is just deplorable and our people are left without a guiding hand!”

“Is it honor that yo-”

“To hell with that empty word! Honor won’t be enough when those vultures engorge themselves upon Victoria’s carcasses. What’s more? Turns out that they’re the demons themselves.”

“…”

“I care not a single whit about honor, glory, and the like. Only that the people suffered due to your inaction and the king died without anyone behind him!”

“Our involvement would only worsen the situation, more would have suffered if we were throwing our hat into the ring.”

“You betrayed the thro-”

“Silence!” The man silenced her with an audible growl of displeasure, to have this young lady throw around that word carelessly is beyond the limit of his patience. He starts walking towards the Lupo girl while making his anger known. Her body trembles, her fear is palpable… and despite all that, her determination shines brighter to chase away her fear into the corner.

“What do you ever know on how to protect the people?” The young lady felt the pressures bearing down on her, yet she stood defiantly. The man then stops merely a few steps from where she’s standing.

“On what power are you going to help the people? Your swordsmanship and tactical ingenuity, as polished and praised by your instructors as they are, are undoubtedly immature and ignorant in regards to the very weight and responsibility of using it as intended, practically and succinctly sufficient to avoid unnecessary casualties.”

“… Well… I…”

“The only power you have was a feat of arms of but one girl, one person with little she had gained on her own. Pray tell, enlighten me, what can a single person do? Wave your sword until you get what you want and trade the price with a bloodied blade? Use it to stab someone in the back? Or walked the path of carnage, manipulating virtuos people to commit atrocities in the name of so-called justice and delusions to enforce change on the world to make it bend on your whims? Worse yet, you would wish to plunge our people into mass hysteria so they are easy to control and being thrown into a sea of blood?”

“…”

“Nothing? Well, then tell me, what manner of influence do you have then? You have nothing at the moment unless I let you use my name. The world of politics, not to mention that Victorian politics is on its level of treachery would have you squashed underneath posthaste. You will, without a shred of mercy, be broken down into a mere husk. Something I tried so desperately to prevent…”

“…” The young lady bit her lip in frustration. He is right, she has nothing at the moment… but she is not confronting him without anything in mind. She might not be the best in planning intricate webs of intrigue, but she at least learned how to answer and stood on her conviction.

“Tell me, share your thoughts and ideas, what manner of wisdom, allegedly, and not tomfoolery, hopefully, did you bring to me?”

“The Royal Guards Academy.”

The man’s eyes widened briefly before he sighed ruefully… this young girl is always so stubborn.

“Royal Guards Academy is different than private instructors and lecturers, think carefully. You would live a life different than what you used to. No one would be looking out for you better than yourself. Not to mention that the admission exam itself is harsh.”

The Old Lupo sighs tiredly before glaring at the young Lupo, he is testing her will. No way in 9 layers of hell is he going to let this young lady, someone he cherished more than the world, go irresponsibly… yet his younger self keeps howling at him to let her go, let her carve her path, just like their ancestor, the Venerable Lucia Skamandros, had done…

“Then if, if, I have you disowned, what would you do? Would you crawl back here and beg to be let inside once more? To be obedient and swear upon Skamandros’ name to never defy me and my choice? To promise yourself to be a good lady and not cause more trouble?”

“For your first inquiry, already done so, and I stand by my choice. For the second one, even if you disown me, I’ll show to you that I can and will prove that my existence is not merely a decoration and finery of the aristocratic world. There are other things I can do for myself after all.”

The young girl turned her back to the man, her steps were resolute and her heart was always true to her conviction. She doesn’t care if it would cost her this current of her life where splendor and every wish and whim are granted like flicking her finger.

Carving her path would be her own and no one else’s rights.

“…”

The man watched on without a word. The young Lupo is slipping away from his protection, one part of him wanted nothing more than to tell the guards to seize her… yet the other part gave his whole support, even if she were to die… at least she would be free to stay true to herself and what she believes, like what this family always should have been…

The girl is about to leave the study, but she stops at the doorway and looks at the man. He can see that his daughter is also conflicted between her love for her family and love for her people… she chooses the latter…

“Farewell… Father… I pray that… you can finally see me, the true me, for what I have become…”

With that, she left the study, and her journey to Victoria’s capital had started. A journey that would define who she is and what she is…

“Farewell… Rita, My daughter…”

Her father answered softly when she had gone far enough from the study.

Flashback End

The man sighed, his daughter had been doing well on her own, but doesn’t change the fact that his spies informed him of about her periodically.

‘Hah… it is good to be young, isn’t it? So foolish, naïve, and innocent… but undoubtedly still free from the burden of commanding and leading… still free from the saccharine choice of who must die and live…’

His daughter had turned out to be a real firebrand of her own regards, challenging and proving herself while keeping herself as far away as possible from any potential contact with those affiliated with The House of Skamandros. Rita’s desire to join the Victorian Army naturally made its way to him.

He stands up and gazes outside, his soldiers and men are always ready for the upcoming conflict. Yet he stands here doing nothing than to observe, it might cowardice but the moment he ordered them to march… war of apocalyptic proportion that is tied with the Nation’s survival will break out.

“… Times like this I sincerely hoped that Nyx is available… I had yet to lose the waiting game, but no matter what…” He turned his eyes toward the direction of Londinium, his displeasure and disgust visible to the naked eye.

“… What has Victoria come to be?”

Author’s Note:

Yo there, this is me, myself, and I, the author who has… uh… screw it.

I’m in the process of making an original story, which might or might not be released with different formatting (i.e. 1 whole volume immediately or something.)

That’s enough of that and in this chapter, we can see Nyx finally doing some more mundane job, and look at how much can be done with hiding her face! It is a tad unbelievable I know, but Arknights has some really interesting disguise moments. Ursus soldiers blend in with reunion, Saria sneaking as prison guard despite her being a pretty popular figure, and even that one time Doctor slipped by with the Paleroche.

So yeah…

That’s all really and update as usual.

Ciao