The Red Tenor was successfully moored at the top of G’s Chronos Tower, where it drifted about lightly in the calm winds as powdery snow slipped down the battle-charred envelope around its ballonets. Garder and Sasoire emerged in heavy outerwear and traversed down the gantry, looking at the City as they did so—the others onboard having already departed.
G was known as the gateway between West and East Onasia, and served as the continent’s commerce and trading hub. One of the largest in terms of land area, the City fused clean, modern architecture with its older, traditional and boldly colorful Scandinavian-inspired towers.
With so many wealthy citizens, the construction of a building like Chronos Tower centuries ago came as no surprise. The giant, illuminated clock with pure gold trimming at the top reminded the inhabitants that time was limited, and to do the absolute most with this Aurrian life. The original Latin inscription in the stone below the glass face, worn but still there, read “Hanc Vitam, Una Simul”; best translated, “This life, one time.”
There were other airships in the sky moored to towers, all of them bringing in more Angel troops and officers so they could have their own celebrations at other venues. In pre-war times, the platforms would host visiting labor union leaders, merchants, and company heads. All of that changed shortly after the Angels ceded H on Mightoria, and G’s leader suddenly pledged his support of the rebellion and had the local Guardsmen forcibly removed—an act that crippled Onasia’s economy, at least until the Angels managed to better manage money and somewhat stabilize things.
“I’m seriously, seriously fine with staying on the ship, Commander,” Garder told her and breathed into his exposed palms.
Ahead of him on the gantry, she looked back and shook her head. “You will reconnect with your friends and enjoy yourself. That’s an order.”
“I can’t promise that I’ll be able to succeed at such a task.”
They passed through the doors and transitioned to the marble floor and warm air of the top floor, where the security guards ran their checks. Once they were cleared, they were escorted to the gilded elevators.
“You held yourself together these past few weeks in D,” Sasoire noted as they descended. “Even if you only worked hard and helped train some new recruits to keep your mind off things.” She eyed the sword at his side, out of its sheath and playing more of a ceremonial role this evening. “I see that Braunwesh is as good as ever. I can’t tell that it was broken in half.”
“Hm, yeah… I was starting to miss this blade.”
At the bottom of the building was an exquisite bank lobby, the vault holding its Aurrian coins in plain sight behind the teller stations. After stepping outside, they had to wait at a small tram station with several other Christmas Eve party revelers for just a moment, before one of G’s many electric light rail trains arrived. Once they were inside and moving through the City’s intricate mass transit system, one of the older women onboard looked at Garder and Sasoire—whose outerwear hid her uniform.
Smiling from the seat across from them, the woman asked, “How are you two enjoying the evening? Spending time with your daughter this Christmas… How lovely it is to see the City this time of year together.”
Sasoire side-eyed Garder, who sighed. He wanted to question why she thought they were related, but it would only lengthen the conversation. Those aboard might have been used to Angel officers out and about, but they didn’t need to know one of the young commanders was among them.
“Merry Christmas,” Sasoire simply wished her, while Garder was still thinking about what to say. She then spoke into his mind, “Not every interaction with another person has to be some great conflict, you know.”
He audibly breathed out a frustrated groan.
They got off four stops later, where they crossed the barricaded street to arrive at a large civic building, made of marble and stone. Inside, the party was already going at full steam, with the joyous string melodies of a miniature orchestra just barely flowing out into the lamp-lit road outside.
“Premier Kavinst is probably going to want to meet you at some point,” Sasoire cautioned Garder. “Be… pleasant. He may be stuffy and excitable, but he’s one of the Angels’ largest financiers.”
“He’s only enthusiastic about us because the Guard was taking half of everything his City made. The rich just want to get richer.”
“Maybe. But he pays the bills. After you.”
Garder made sure his sword was still at his side, and then carefully went up the icy stairs, past security, and into the building. The two stopped in the antechamber to have their coats checked, taking a moment to look around at the hanging paintings and ancient sculptures. Once the building staff had opened the ornate wooden doors for them, they stepped into a vast dining hall with a checkerboard floor, grand fireplace and dining table, and an enormous decorated tree that reached halfway to the skylights.
The table was decorated with seasonal hors d’oeuvres, including several varieties of the staple Aurrian treats: candied yams, dried plums with powdered sugar, walnuts and jam. The main course was probably still being cooked; the meat synthetic of course, but any fruits and vegetables organic. The food was being mostly ignored for the moment, though, as hundreds of Angels and a few of their supporters mingled, laughed, shared stories, commiserated losses, or simply stood with drink in hand, watching the five-man orchestra on a small wooden stage.
After she reminded Garder again to enjoy himself, Sasoire left him and joined her gathered young officers talking away in a nearby lounge, all dressed particularly well, Daschel to the point of showing off. Garder looked around to find a place to go, and quickly noticed Milla a short walk away. It looked like she had just run into Pip and his cousins, the three of them probably never looking better—or cleaner—than they had in the last six months of fighting on the frontlines. He watched as Milla and Pip shared a hug that while hesitant at first, quickly became genuine.
Garder took a deep breath, then worked through the crowds and joined the four. Milla turned, saw him, and tried her best to smile.
“Garder, it’s been a while,” Pip said and they shook hands.
“Pip. Dak, Kyler,” he replied. “You three look rough.”
“Months of rations,” Dak said. “I swear, eating those things day in, day out, does more of a number on you than any battlefield.”
“Ah, but you’re the ones history will remember. That’s worth the bad food, right? I saw you in the D photograph from a few weeks back.”
“Ugh, that was a terrible photo,” Kyler groaned and did a quick readjustment of her red dress. “I mean, technically fine, but propaganda… I just hate the stuff. It’s not the truth, you know?”
Looking at Milla and Pip, Garder said, “You two seem… close.”
Her smile fading a little, Milla replied, “You missed a lot, Garder.”
Before she could go into detail, if she had planned to at all, a point of light appeared on the nearby wall, a few inches from one of the oil paintings. They watched as it expanded, ripping the space. Fearing the worst, Garder went for his sword. But Simon appeared before he raised it.
He was using a pair of claws to come in from Earth, where a winter dusk was turning a distant forest’s trees into shadows. He was about a foot below them, standing on an old road, and after double checking that no cars were coming, he quickly stepped up and inside. Once was back in Aurra and had closed the tear, he gave the claws to Milla, who put them in a small lockbox hanging at her side. Then he handed her a satellite phone.
“Thank you so much for that…” he said, looking quite grateful.
“What’s this all about?” Garder wondered.
“I gave a Christmas present to my parents.” He caught his breath and smiled. “I called them. We spoke for an hour. Whew, look at this party. It’s really picked up since I left.”
Feeling a bit of warmth in his chest, Garder asked, “Really? So how did that go? Can’t imagine trying to explain a seven-year disappearance.”
“I don’t know if I did. But I tried. I didn’t lie about calling from somewhere in rural Moldova, though. At least they know I’m alive—they never stopped hoping. Said my apologies, got caught up…”
“Did you claim kidnapping, or isolated spiritual journey?”
Simon smiled again and gave Garder’s shoulder a pat. “Closer to the second.” He then looked toward Rayna, at the table with her parents and away from the rest of her team. “Did Louis and Phoebe decide if they wanted to call anyone? They must have people on Earth, too.”
Milla replied, “They chose not to. I think, at this point, they’ve kind of left their Earth lives behind, like Colt did. As long as they have Rayna…”
“Speaking of Colt, did he arrive yet? Wasn’t he planning to attend? Last I heard, he was just finishing with the Mezik L repairs.”
“Nope, hasn’t shown up, but…” Milla trailed off as Xavier and his team approached them, all wearing smiles and their best clothes.
“Hey, everyone,” Xavier greeted them. “What do you think of this, huh? We usually just had a dressed-up meal in the Tenor mess hall.”
“Yeah, this is quite an upgrade,” Bryant added.
“It’s kind of disgusting, honestly,” Garder complained, looking towards the boisterous Premier Kavinst across the room, schmoozing with several Angel officers and Rivia himself. “To throw something like this, when troops could be getting more resources instead.”
Sieger, a big man who looked out of place without armor, agreed with a nod but replied, “We’re here now, though. Might as well enjoy it.”
“We just came from one of the lounges,” Finx said. “Listened to the radio for a bit. Pope’s giving his annual Christmas address from A.”
Simon was mildly curious. “Oh, yeah? I sometimes forget Aurra has its own pope. He… rarely seems to have much influence on anything.”
“What’s he talking about from his safe perch in A’s big fortified cathedral?” Garder wondered. “Calling for peace again, like last year?”
Finx replied, “Yeah. I mean, sure, what else is he going to say, but I still can’t stop picturing him being directed by Guardsmen when he writes.”
Lechi, wandering from group to group, moved into the get-together. Her scars were fading away, but still apparent. She didn’t let lasting reminders ruin her night, and her brilliant red and gold traditional Chinese kimono made her one of the standouts among the guests.
Xavier spoke to her first, “Lechi, I never got to… After Verim…”
“It’s okay,” she told him, still trying to show a brave face about the entire incident. “I’ve come to realize that… if he hadn’t done what he did, things might be very different across Aurra right now.”
“We’ve tripled our eyes on the Tillethian division since then,” Milla told Xavier. “If Fordein and any of his followers survived, we should be able to pick up on any future plots like that one before they advance.”
“We couldn’t get anyone close to the tower remains, though,” Simon added. “All of U’s been on a tight lockdown since then. They’re still not entirely sure that it wasn’t some kind of Angel attack on them.”
“Ah. Great,” Xavier bemoaned. “And we had been trying to better our relationship with that City, too.”
“Don’t worry, Holden” Tabi’s voice piped as she approached with Poret. As always, she refused to wear a dress, but her borrowed amber and alabaster suit was almost as nice as the rairer rider’s regal ensemble. “We’ve been in talks with U’s leaders. I think we’re smoothing things out.”
“Poret!” Finx exclaimed and ran up to hug her older brother. “I was getting afraid you wouldn’t make it. It’s been forever.”
“No need to fret, Iz. You know I never miss a party.”
Lechi asked him, “How’s my girl Zala? Taking good care of her?”
“I still clean out her stable aboard the Blue Rosely myself,” he said reassuringly. “And she’s still thankful that you brought her to the surface.”
After studying the siblings for a moment, Milla inquired, “I’ve heard about you, Mr. Finx. Some of the stories about you and Zalatrya made it all the way to the burrow. You and your sister, if I’m remembering right… Raised in a noble family that was loyal to the Guard, was it?”
“Indeed,” Poret replied. “We even owned something of a chateau in V, with a vineyard. The Guard gave us everything and we were raised in privilege. And then… our father was ordered by Lontonkon to lead the assault on City I. Trinqit got his entire regiment killed, yet fled herself and never really let the truth get out on what happened.”
Upon hearing this, Garder felt a sudden tightness in his chest.
Finx continued, “Mother spoke against the Guard after that, and she… ended up in Z somewhere. We lost everything. I know it’s easy to be cynical about wealth, but being here at a party like this… reminds us of our childhood. Christmas felt special when our manor was filled with guests.”
Seeing Milla glance at him, Garder replied, “You never told me about your father, Izae. That… attempt on City I crippled the Guard.”
“You never asked. You… don’t know anything about it, right?”
He hesitated before shaking his head. “No, I only heard about it.”
“Tabi!” an excited voice called out from the orchestra audience.
She turned around and smiled vibrantly. “Mesette, there you are.”
Tabi’s girlfriend, with short black hair, big eyes, a kind disposition, and a stature not much higher than Shin’s, slipped through the crowd and shared a warm embrace and a quick kiss with someone able to spend maybe a few weeks out of the year with her. Milla watched the quick public display longingly, wishing she could have made things work with Pip.
“You must be the one Ms. Feretta writes letters to every night in her quarters,” Xavier said as he shook hands with her. “You’re… a medic with the Tillethian Angels… I believe?”
“Yes. Those I treat remind me every day how important my job is.”
Dak wondered, “Do you work on a hospital ship bringing aid to civilians caught in the crossfire, or are you more of a combat medic?”
“I’ve filled both roles, depending on the situation.”
Kyler took on a playful look of revulsion. “I would not enjoy being on a boat all of the time during this war. I don’t have sea legs.”
“Oh, and we’re constantly worried about mines, torpedoes, aerial attacks, running out of supplies…” Mesette prattled. “What’s not to like? To say nothing of my constant concern for Tabi. I completely understand the other paradigms and most officers, just… forsaking love in such times.”
“But we couldn’t do it,” Tabi replied, just as Izae Finx shot a quick glance at Garder, who was barely listening. “Risk of heartbreak aside, both of us have always been too damn needy. As in, we need someone.”
Her eyes shifting from both Pip to Mesette and Tabi, Milla said thoughtfully, “It is a shame what this war’s done to Aurrians. Maybe the Guard was oppressive, but we were still free to love each other. Now we’re all so caught up in a war, and the worry, and our jobs… I hope the damage done when all of this is over doesn’t last more than a generation.”
Garder let out one small laugh and replied, “Rivia was prepared to let this war last for generations, plural, remember?”
“He alone doesn’t dictate how long it will last,” Simon reminded.
“Yeah, yeah. I just wish it actually felt like we were making progress.”
Tabi, Mesette, the Montag cousins, and Xavier’s team parted ways, but Xavier himself hesitated to join his subordinates. He looked like he had more to say to just a few people, and didn’t know how to say it.
Milla asked him, “Xavier? Did you have to tell us something?”
As he struggled to find the words, Garder peered over at the eraser twins, who were standing in front of the tree and hadn’t taken their eyes off of Rayna in a while, who was still with her parents at the table.
“That’s… creepy,” he commented. “Even for those two.”
Milla looked at them, telling Garder, “Oh, yeah. They mentioned that they were worried about Rayna, and then that, well… Now might be a good time to ‘monitor’ her, during a big, warm, ‘joyous event’ like this.”
“Monitor? As in, her mind? You know, it doesn’t matter if they took care of us when we were small things—I really don’t like them.”
“The synthid ship never arrived,” Xavier suddenly blurted.
Milla was the first to respond, “What? What ship?”
“One of the two from S. It was intercepted—they don’t know where—a week or so after we took it. The one Tess and Hekens wanted is safe and in hiding, but the shipments for the troops never arrived.”
“What the hell?” Garder said in a livid grunt. “Who are they?”
“Your father, and General Rivia… I think they’re the only ones that really know. I’m sorry. They didn’t want it to get out before D was retaken—and maybe before this get-together, as well. The shipment would have arrived in a few days, and when it doesn’t, one of them will probably announce it. I’m still Rivia’s bodyguard, at least when he’s close by, and I overheard him speaking to Commander Nolland about it.”
“Xavier!” Lechi was also angry, though not nearly as much as Garder. “The Angels needed those synthids! Didn’t they fight like they did for D because they thought a full supply shipment was on the way?”
“Unbelievable…” Garder had to keep himself from slamming his fist against the nearby wall. “Tess and Hekens have to split their reserve.”
Xavier looked out towards the two of them at the table, not far from Rayna. Temki was there as well, sharing a meal with his grandmother.
“They’re not going to go for that,” Xavier sighed. “They’re saving them for some big last resort that I’m not supposed to talk about, either.”
“That’s true…” Simon added, knowing he shouldn’t go into detail with Lechi and Garder nearby, who weren’t privy to such plans.
Garder muttered, “Yeah? Maybe I could have a chat with them, share a few horror stories of what happens when the men on the ground run out of food and bullets, or when their weapons start breaking down.”
“Garder, you can’t,” Milla argued. “No one can know that we know. Xavier’s only telling us in advance out of courtesy, as a friend.”
“Son of a…” Garder tried to calm himself, but only partially succeeded. “Milla, I think you, Tabi, Sasoire, and Viktor have been the only leaders I’ve known these past seven years who haven’t actually let me down yet. I’m really getting sick and tired of… Gah, I can’t even talk about it.”
“Please, calm down,” Lechi asked. “Let it go. Try to enjoy…”
“Screw it,” he proclaimed and stomped off towards those from I.
“Damn it,” Milla grumbled as she, Lechi, and Xavier took off after him. “He just can’t let anything go.”
Garder slowed down when he was halfway there, watching as Rayna approached Temki and Tess to give them her holiday wishes. She and Temki seemed like good friends—something he hadn’t realized.
“Yeah, it’s weird…” Rayna told them and looked at the giant tree again. “I remember more Aurrian Christmases than Earth ones. I couldn’t care less about getting presents. It’s nice just seeing everyone together.”
“And being out of C, don’t forget,” Temki added.
“That, too… Ms. Rachester, how are your cats?”
Tess smiled and replied, “Just fine, locked up in my apartment. But I don’t get to see them very often. I’ve been so busy.”
Milla got alongside Garder, on the opposite side of the table, and whispered, “Do you really think Tess deserves to get yelled at right now?”
“I… I wasn’t going to yell at her. Maybe just Hekens.”
“If you have to be mad, just show it later, when it’s announced.”
“Oh, Mayor Hekens…” Rayna looked at him despondently. “Did Jeremi not make it this year, either? I feel bad for you.”
He tried his best to smile. “You’re very thoughtful, Ms. Carthy. No, I’m afraid not. We still aren’t exactly on speaking terms.”
Rayna huffed. “He isn’t being considerate. It’s Christmas.”
“I understand how you feel, but I won’t force him to come here. I am trying to reconnect, but… ever since I told him about his mother, he…”
“Gregory,” Tess said empathetically, “please don’t upset yourself.”
“Y-yes… I just… I hope he can forgive me.”
As if planned, all four of them then turned and looked at Garder and the other three. Tess, Rayna, and Temki all looked glad to see them.
“Uh, um…” Garder exhaled. “Merry… Christmas.”
“You, too,” they replied in unison.
As Milla, Xavier and Lechi began chatting with them, Garder left to be on his own, having returned to a non-confrontational mood. He quickly found the bar, figured it was as good a time as any, and joined the night’s drinking buddies who were still asking for fresh rounds.
Wendell, Viktor, and Harken taking up stools was not at all a surprising sight, and they were all thoroughly sloshed already. Harken always turned into something of a drunken pirate when he got into a bottle deep enough, delightfully recalling his past conquests in battle.
Shin, however, did make for an unexpected visitor. Hiding in Wendell’s shadow, she was lost in thought but taking things more lightly, and only had two overturned empty glasses of sake in front of her. The last available seat was next to Corus, more interested in circling the rim of his whiskey with his finger than actually drinking it. He too seemed agitated.
He looked at Garder as he pulled up near him and grumbled, “Hey, fellow eyepatch. Here for the hard stuff, Nolland? Best way to celebrate.”
“Gin and tonic,” Garder told the bartender. “Are you celebrating?”
“Fifth shot, actually. Just doing some thinking while still lucid.”
“So, drinking to forget. Yeah, I never go that far.”
“Guess hanging onto regrets works for people, too.”
“Eh, all I’m saying…” Viktor said loudly and took another gulp of his stout. “I’m not worried about Mightoria. No pressure, no worries about being in the thick of it. I just want a land campaign. Horses, tanks, artillery, the works. The months of trench warfare outside H? Best days of my war.”
“Give me an air drop any day,” Wendell replied.
“You get plenty in Onasia! What with its mountains… no anti-air defense grid… Not like Mightoria. More towers than people, feels like. Air here, land over there. And Tillethy gets the boats. It’s… It’s going to happen, Celin. We’re going to take K, then everything changes. Mightoria’s next.”
“Holy hell, they never shut up…” Corus said under his breath. The eraser twins then walked by the bar, too slowly for his liking. “Hey, you two. Keep away from my mind while my faculties are… inhibited.”
“We’ve studied it enough,” Vadaka replied after they stopped at the bar. “There isn’t much of interest going on up there.”
“Yeah, great. Like I didn’t get enough of that from the folks in Z.”
“How did you two get out, anyway?” Garder wondered. “I didn’t stick around in C to hear the story.”
“Ah, so now you’re interested in our lives,” Bired replied. “And I had assumed you didn’t shed a tear when we were picked up in K.”
“I couldn’t not be interested in hearing about the first escape from the big prison. You’re the ones that chose to seek clientele in some Guard-infested City while a war was starting. You could’ve just stayed in C.”
“Angels don’t want to forget,” Vadaka argued. “There was little money to be earned there. Basic economics, Garder.”
“Anyway…” Bired said with a sigh after declining a drink offer from the bartender. “When we were in Block 4, we found an old access corridor down to the Administration ruins below. All it took to get inside was some mental manipulation of a dimwitted guard to unlock the way in.”
“I thought Z had alchemagi suppression,” Garder replied.
“It does. It’s quite strong—but not impenetrable. After all, their modern inquisitors still need to use their own perversive mental invasion techniques, and powerful mind adepts are known to bypass suppression.”
Vadaka continued, “We thought there was a way out somewhere in those lightless subterranean ruins, where suppression was diminished and we could use iron and earth alchemagi to create and ignite thermite to see. After months of nightly exploring, we discovered our only solution.”
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
“There’s a fibrocator station under Block 9,” Bired said. “We didn’t find it right away—first, we found a security hallway, separated from the rest of the ruins by sturdy bars that we’d never break through”
“Yet the switch to open the elevator doors to Block 9 and the gate to the fibrocator were on our side of the ruins. We were able to reroute the power and open both… but couldn’t actually access the hallway unless we were coming from Block 9’s access corridor.”
“But you had no idea what was at the end of the hall?” Garder asked. “Why the hell would there even be a fibrocator there…?”
“We aren’t sure,” Bired continued. “Prisoner transfer to someplace even worse? Emergency escape for the guards in case of an unstoppable riot? Maybe… a secret channel for bringing in people who wanted some ‘personal time’ with a prisoner. Could be the current staff of Z aren’t even aware of its existence. And no, we didn’t know it was there, either.”
“Still…” Vadaka took in a deep breath. “We had to find out, so we misbehaved until we were tossed into the even deeper hell of Block 9, did our usual mind tricks under great duress, waited for the right moment, and made our escape with Klayson and our new friend Corus here.”
Corus finished the tale for them, “Problem is, after we got down there, we realized we were trapped. Only way forward was to use the fibrocator, but it was unpowered. Took three days of repairs in the dark pit to get it working again. Just about dead, we grabbed the station’s available lamps, hopped in without knowing its end point, and… wound up in one of Lontonkon’s old, isolated manors. Didn’t have a sunsphere anymore, so haze was everywhere. If it wasn’t for us finding a usable scroll locked up in a wall safe, we would’ve died there with the king’s ghost laughing at us.”
“Good story!” Viktor shouted after a big swig of his beer. “Even better the second time. You four truly made history, yes.”
“Yes, well… It isn’t often I’m thankful to be alive,” Bired said.
“And you?” Garder asked Corus. “What’s your story? Been hearing murmurs about you since you came to C, but I hadn’t heard of you before.”
Corus waited for the erasers to pass on by. He then looked over at Brim, eating dinner with his father, and replied, “I don’t talk about myself.”
“Then I’ll just ask my dad and have him tell me everything.”
“I don’t know how close you two are, but I wouldn’t trust him to get the story right. He’d embellish it, make me out to be something other than an idiot. My… apprentice was happy to see me, yeah, but I’m sure he’s surpassed me by now. Hell, I’m not sure what good I am at all.”
“Yeah, I used to feel sorry for myself, too, sometimes. Then I stopped caring and wasting the time. Probably better to feel anything as little as possible in a war, stop worrying about survival.”
“Huh, well… Not really, kid.”
Garder shrugged. “It’s worked for me. Helped me kill a bunch of pretorians that thought they could break me with fear tactics.”
“So I’ve heard. Hey… is that eye gone, or just blinded?”
Garder adjusted his patch and replied simply, “Gone. Yours?”
“Drides ripped it right out of me. Then he laughed about it.”
“Because you didn’t give any credence to the rumors and shot him in the head, didn’t you? I’ve learned that much already.”
After a long sigh, Corus finished his drink and replied, “I’m an iron adept, a sniper, who uses an Earthen bolt action rifle.”
“Huh. That’s… unique. How do you keep the slug from being deflected or destroyed by alchemagi?”
“Earthen firearms are still more effective, lighter, and accurate than Aurrian variants. The fact that maybe an expert alchemagist will react in time to deal with the bullet doesn’t take all that much away from those benefits. I cover those flaws by manipulating the fired slug, changing its trajectory when I need to, maybe doubling its velocity…”
“Impressive. Gutsy. But you still made a bad mistake.”
“Think I haven’t learned that? I was scouting a pretorian meeting in K from a bell tower. Connarth was introducing Phisa to someone in a secluded plaza restricted to Guardsmen. Girl scares me. But I didn’t expect it to be Drides himself who had come to see her. I saw my chance, ignored the warnings about him, and shot the bastard shortly after they met. Phisa and Connarth were right there, too, and saw what I did… I couldn’t believe it. He just… reformed, right where I had dropped him. He glared at me, and then came right up to say hi in a burst of light. Thought for sure I was dead. But it was worse. He smiled, looked down, and just said… ‘nice shot.’ I swear. Cocky bastard. Then he relinquished me of my shooting eye and had me tossed in Z. He had no fear. I was just an insect to him.”
“Well…” Garder crossed his arms and sat up. “Far as I know, you’re only the second person to have killed him, for what it’s worth. But I still don’t know who you are.”
“I served the Guard for a long, long time. I even tried to be one of the good ones for a few lives. When I saw that I wasn’t changing anything, I became one of the first people brought into the burrow. I didn’t stay there very often, though, since I was usually on the field. That’s really all there is to tell. Now let me drink and enjoy my freedom. All I’m good for now.”
“I know a way to get that eye fixed.”
“You mean offing myself on Earth and meeting that ‘Queen of Hold’ lady? Nothing doing, kid. The way I understand it, you’re reborn in your assigned City. Mine was X this time; punishment for trying to expose corruption in the Guard last go around. I’m wanted and would never make it out of that hellhole.”
“Can’t you just switch hands, scope with your other eye?”
Corus studied Garder’s face and asked, “Is that what you did?”
“Yes. I even had one of my alchestones moved to my left wrist.”
“That’s a risky surgery.”
Hearing their voices among the crowd, Garder turned and watched Braunwesh talking to Vlad and Kerchief, who now did all of their forging and pebble work in G. “They know what they’re doing. It took me about a year to retrain, but now I’m ambidextrous with both blade and alchemagi and stronger for it. I’m sure you could fire a rifle from your left.”
“My son’s got a point,” Leovyn said as he came over and placed a hand on Corus’ shoulder. “Keep making excuses, and you’re going to make me have the burrow engineer some kind of periscope that goes from your left eye to your gun on your right. Whatever gets you a straight shot.”
“It’s not that easy, Leovyn. If I can’t get a clean kill on the field, I just become a liability. A sniper needs to be perfect, not hobbled.”
In no mood to hear another argument, Garder changed the subject, “How much did you see at Z, just before that prison riot and your escape?”
“Not much. I know the stories say they were there for Vermer, and Drides killed the warden. But I think there’s more going on. I saw them passing by from my cell door window—the apostle, with Camryde and Trinqit. His… fan club. I’ve been wondering why he didn’t take Renek or Anneise, who might’ve gotten what Drides wanted with some diplomacy.”
“The pretorians have been split down the middle since they were all but wiped out years back and, ah… rebuilt,” Leovyn reminded him.
“I know. But Drides purposely brought the two with him that always would’ve ended a confrontation with the warden in violence, if he didn’t give the apostle what he wanted. Did you hear about Phisa?”
“Only that she got high marks and uses a scythe.”
“I found out she also came to Z some time ago and nearly beat a prisoner to death. It happens, but she’s younger than the usual clientele. And cunning, intelligent. I’d worry about that mix.”
“Doesn’t Trinqit already fill the role of crazy sadist?” Garder asked.
“Thing is, Jenera’s always been the kind of person that enjoys it, and has emotions that cloud her judgment. Phisa, maybe not so much. I get the feeling that she’s that rare sort that’s brutal, efficient, and clear-minded.”
“So… she’s dangerous,” Leovyn surmised.
Corus finished his last drink of the night, got to his feet after a few wobbles, and replied, “She has a lot of potential.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Garder said and finally downed his first drink. “Find her for me, and I’ll take her out like all the others I’ve dealt with.”
“Careful with that attitude, kid. Underestimation can be deadly.”
The engines of the old aircraft strained under the frigid winds that permeated a northern and dark Aurrian sky. As the lights of a City locked in snow and ice approached, another of the large squadrons’ planes, its wings already frozen over, began to break apart as its engines gave out. With a death groan, it fell behind the others and went down.
The loss barely mattered to the grand plan. Once the dying bomber was a safe distance away, a ring of explosives went off, separating its tail section from the rest. This caused the rest of the aircraft to dip sharply, and all those aboard, including the pilots, bailed out. The remnants of the plane were then destroyed by more bombs, breaking it apart so that no large pieces would crash below and alert the Angels on the ground further ahead.
Following a brief drop, everyone who had bailed out triggered their buzzers, which deployed from their compacted state in their backpacks. The small personal fliers, little more than a pair of rotors, wouldn’t find enough air at such a high altitude to really work—but they could still slow down the descent and were less noticeable than parachutes.
“That’s the fifth one so far,” one of the Phisa’s lieutenants said from her side, his face behind a breathing mask.
Phisa tugged at her uncomfortable jump suit again and replied through her own mask, “Doesn’t matter. All these century-old bombers are being sacrificed. If the cold doesn’t kill ‘em, they’ll crash into the ocean.”
“I’m aware, ma’am, but we’re still a distance from our drop zone. I’m worried it’ll take too long for all of us to regroup.”
One of the engines sputtered violently once more, rocking the old bomber and bumping about the few dozen men inside waiting to jump out.
“The engines are dying,” the pilot’s voice told everyone on their headsets. “The radio tower is still a few klicks out, but I recommend getting off here. The rudder’s already iced over; if we lose one engine before the other, we’ll turn and go off course.”
“Copy,” Phisa replied. “Open the doors.”
Four of her men went to their exits, unlocked them, and used their weight to push open the doors, flooding the interior with cold wind and ice.
“Ma’am, I still must insist that you equip a buzzer,” another officer argued and went to grab one of the spare packs for her.
“Just extra weight,” she told him. “I feel burdened enough in this suit. Meet me down there—I’ll be waiting.”
“Ms. Camryde—” he fretted, but she had already leapt right out.
She enjoyed the night air and the freedom of full movement, for just a moment before taking up a dive-bomb posture. Phisa let herself come down like a meteor, using her alchemagi to warm up her jumpsuit and stop it from icing over. Below was an unprepared City, at rest for Christmas.
Garder was keeping to himself on the dark second floor of the building, which was little more than bookshelves and a wooden walkway overlooking the floor below. The big tree itself encroached into the floor’s open space, the crystal star on top reaching the height of the railings. He ignored the first dance of the night going on under him, the orchestra playing a waltzy tune for the guests. Up here, he only shared space with two others: Klayson and his personal nurse, both of them silently looking out one of the windows at the snow, the same as he was doing.
The song changed, and Garder’s curiosity was briefly piqued. He turned and looked down, spotting Milla in locked arms with Pip, the two of them dancing to the tempo. Elsewhere on the packed dance floor, Rivia was in a gentlemanly lockstep with Tabi, as Mesette quietly cheered them on by the fire. As Garder’s eye moved back upward, it spotted someone approaching. When their eyes met, Izae Finx stopped mid-step, startled.
“Something you wanted, Finx?” Garder asked coldly.
She worked up a smile and approached him warmly. “I… I was just wondering what you were doing up here, and if you’d maybe like to dance?”
It took all of Garder’s willpower to keep from letting out a chortle, after which he replied, “Sounds like fraternizing to me, corporal.”
“N-no, I mean… Everyone’s taking turns down there, regardless of rank. It’s a thing they apparently do every year… And this year is kind of special, right? What with all of us here now…”
“I don’t. Dance. You’re better off asking Xavier,” he said as he watched him down below for a moment, currently paired with Kyler.
“O-oh… we were matched already. He’s got two left feet, but you… You’re agile, never clumsy on the battlefield. I bet you’ll learn fast.”
“Izae…” he sighed. “Please don’t waste your time on me. I’m glad everyone down there can get lost in the night, but I have too many things on my mind right now. Go be with someone actually enjoying themself.”
Her shoulders dropped and she replied, “I miss Verim, too… I wish he could be here with us. He always really lit up on Christmas Eve.”
Garder turned back towards the window and said nothing.
“Hey, come on. Ah, sir. You can still forget your worries for a day. I mean… I’m not trying to be too forward here, but… Lieutenant?”
She could see that his focus was outside, somewhere above the street. He was trying to find something in the night’s snow. Klayson and his nurse noticed it as well, but like Garder, remained quiet about it. Seeing that she wouldn’t get any verbal answers, Finx approached to look for herself.
“There’s something flying around out there…” Garder murmured.
“I hear an engine,” Finx replied.
She watched as Garder, always assuming the worst, and always prepared for a fight, touched the hilt of Viveri’s old blade.
Spotlights suddenly rained down from above, and the low rumble of aircraft engines rattled the glass. Garder squeezed the grip—and then loosened his fist as they watched the repaired Mezik L descend onto the closed off street in front of the municipal building.
Finx exhaled. “That must be Colt. Finally.”
A pair of guards approached the shuttle as its side doors opened, and escorted two heavily dressed figures inside. Garder and Finx moved back to the railing and looked down to see Colt come inside and be greeted by Milla. He also happened to have a surprise date this evening. Security Chief Xidona, in a black and white gown, had come with him.
“Xidona?” Finx exclaimed. “Uh, I don’t want to gossip, but do you think she and Colt, like… might’ve hit it off?”
Without speaking, Garder headed downstairs with vigor in his step, eager to see both Colt and Xidona—purely for professional reasons.
Once he was back on the first floor, he passed by Rhys and Hilden, the burrow’s den mother sharing a few stories about her Christmases on Earth to help him better understand the holiday.
“Garder!” Colt said as soon as he saw him nearby. “Hey, I can’t believe we made it in time for dinner. I just told Milla that I’ve only been in G a few times across my lives… Only place I could remember clearly for the Mezik L was that garish clock tower. Got a little lost on my way down.”
Garder huffed, “Do you really think it’s a good idea to just… keep her outside on the cold street like that? What if she freezes up?”
“It… it’s okay. I have the heat running, she’s got fuel. I know how to take care of my birds, Mr. Nolland. Right up until they get shot down.”
Noticing that Milla was giving him the really? look again, Garder tried to change his tone and replied, “Sorry. I know how much she means to you, and the repairs took so long. I didn’t want something to happen.”
“It’s fine, I get it.”
“And you were about to tell me about Ms. Xidona?” Milla asked.
“Yes, of course,” Colt said and stepped aside as if to ‘reveal’ the security chief, who was already a bit taller and more noticeable than he’d ever be. “She’s a genius, I’m telling you! Knew more about aircraft than anyone in C, aside from Michael and myself. She really helped out.”
“I repaired fighter planes my last Earth run,” Xidona explained.
“Oh, yeah?” Milla replied. “What kind? If… I may ask.”
“Well… they were stukas.”
“Now that’s interesting. You must’ve been among the very few women in Germany who did that kind of work.”
“I fought on that side, too,” Garder empathized. “Sort of. Died in a stupid accident before I saw any of the war.”
“Probably just as well…” Xidona said plaintively. “I lived long enough to do a few things I’m not proud of. I’ve tried to make up for it with my commitments to W’s people.”
Rhys, noticing that Xidona was close by, left his seat, approached, and said, “Security Chief, um, hi—since you’re here, I was wondering…”
“Your siblings are doing well,” she assured him. “The Guard just finished their investigation and never found any of them.”
“Wait, Xidona, should you even be here?” Milla worried. “You’re not with the Angels, but if the Guard found out you came tonight…”
Colt answered, “W wasn’t even able to plan or have their own official party this year because of the Guard inquiry. But she helped me so much that I wanted to repay the favor, so I invited her. Don’t worry… I’ll get her home soon. In and out, maybe an hour total, tops.”
Finx rejoined them, but before she could say anything, Premier Kavinst, Rivia, and Leovyn took the front stage, just as the quintet finished the Aurrian rendition of Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy.
“Hello! Angels and supporters!” Kavinst, dressed as always like a wealthy businessman with his pocket watch gold chain showing, said loudly with drink in hand. “This is our most festive celebration yet. Let’s give a special warm welcome to our friends from the frontline Angel divisions, joining us for the first time.” After a smattering of applause, he continued, “This year, we commemorate in particular our investment in technology. Who would’ve ever expected to see something like this…” he took out his pager and held it high, “… in Aurra? Instantaneous connectivity like this is revolutionizing how we operate and garner further support. It’s no wonder the Guard has long inhibited and restricted progress in telecommunication. We owe Mr. Nolland and his R&D division in C our gratitude.”
Leovyn, never one to enjoy the spotlight or grandeur, tepidly waved in response to the applause. Kavinst then signaled for Rivia, who came to the microphone to give a brief speech of his own.
“As we head into 2013, we expect great progress in the war, and the potential end of several stalemates in key Cities. By the end of the next year, it is very possible that we will secure all of Onasia, and all without needing an Angel presence in every City. Even J may soon expel the Guard there and join us on their own accord. Tonight, I leave you with these goals and hopes, to be kept in mind for the following battles. For now, please enjoy yourselves, and above all, take this moment to cherish your friends.”
Kavinst took over again, going into a typical rallying cry sort of speech purely for the financiers in attendance. Garder gladly tuned him out.
Many miles away, a pair of Angel sentries occupied the cold roof of a concrete tower. It was surrounded by many badly damaged buildings, only a few of which still had running electricity. Past them were frozen, bombed out quarries, mines, and the stripped sides of iron-rich hills.
This was E, now Aurra’s northernmost functioning City, if just barely. Isolated on an island of tundra, the once-wealthy metropolis had been reduced to near-ruin during the early era of the war until it was taken and held by the Angels, who used its refined metal to create weaponry and what few brand-new war machines they had. It was still undergoing a long, slow recovery, as the supply routes were limited both seasonally and by geography. But it also hadn’t seen warfare in four years.
“Hey,” an older Angel on watch said to his younger counterpart, all bundled up and taking it easy on an armchair, a cloudy night sky above him. “Take it. Fresh soup, the good stuff,” and he nudged him with a thermos.
“Thanks, man,” he replied and took his dinner.
“What’s on now?” his partner wondered as he took the seat next to him, in regard to the small radio on their metal table. “Pope still talking?”
“Nah, sounds like it went into some old Christmas Carol radio play.”
“The classics always make it to Aurra somehow.”
Behind and above them, a cloaked pretorian blasted out a shock wave of wind as an airbrake to slow her descent. She did it twice more before gracefully flipping herself around so her feet were below her, at which point she let out a final burst to use as a cushion. With barely a sound, she landed on the roof just a few dozen feet away.
“I made it,” Phisa reported into her headset and stepped up to the side of the building to look at the radio tower and Angel command building several blocks away. “I was able to cover some distance. I can make it on foot from here. Ten, fifteen minutes tops. Hold on…”
She turned and noticed the two sentries, their backs towards her. The bombers were too high up for them to hear their engines, but she knew that the buzzer rotors would be in earshot soon, and that taking care of the two might buy the Guard a few more seconds until some other pair of watchmen out there tonight could report in and sound the alarm.
She tossed away her breathing mask, adorned her plague doctor face, and summoned her scythe. The golden glow it took on from the energy to matter process was enough to attract attention, and both sentries turned in their chairs to see the visage of death that shared the rooftop with them. The older of the two quickly reached for their transponder.
“Lovely night…” Phisa’s distorted voice greeted them, before she charged forward and sliced them both in half with her blade in one stroke.
“Hello?” a voice came through on the radio unit, the wired transponder now left dangling off the side of the table. “Repeat that last message—I didn’t get the end of it… Are you there?”
Phisa took a glove from the remains of one of the uniforms, and stuck the transponder inside to keep its button pressed. She then placed it near the civilian radio and turned its volume all the way up, giving anyone listening on the other end some Charles Dickens to listen to. There was no particular reason for doing it; she simply found it mildly amusing.
She returned to the side of the building, but before she could dive down to the street below, she suddenly heard a loud crash from a nearby rooftop. It sounded like machinery crumpling and dead weight slamming into concrete. Looking up, she watched as two more of her men fell from the sky, no doubt alerting someone else out on watch.
Speaking into her headset, she asked, “What the hell’s going on?”
“Commander, some of the buzzers are failing or freezing up in this cold. We have hundreds of safe landings, but… thirty so far didn’t make it.”
“Damn it. We may have to punish a few engineers.”
“Those that landed are already heading to the command center.”
Searchlights suddenly shot up into the clouds, and old, mostly ineffective anti-aircraft flak cannons began to fire into the sky.
“I’ll be there shortly,” Phisa replied and activated her goggle lights.
With the City lighting up around her, she jumped off, softened her landing, and charged ahead on the narrow and dark streets. Gunshots and the sounds of clashing swords and alchemagi spells began to fill up the night as E’s Angels realized they were under attack.
Doing her best to avoid civilians—most of whom were milling about outside of pubs and other venues hosting parties—Phisa otherwise cut through dozens of hapless uniformed Angels on the way to her destination. Anyone else that could react in time to dodge or parry a lethal blow from her blade, she was forced to contend with for a bit longer; a few seconds at most. She could use her alchemagi to set her enemies ablaze, or rely on the rest of her swift and powerful moves, including using her scythe to vault herself forward and bring them to the ground with a powerful kick.
Her only regret was that she didn’t have the time to bring out her full arsenal; without the fear tactics that relied on her digitized threatening voice, she felt like she was fighting less than optimally. But she was still able to leave behind a wake of empty uniforms and civilians screaming in terror.
“I’m a block away. I hear the weapon fire,” Phisa reported after melting a flurry of arrows with a wall of flame. As she got close enough to strike down the archers fortified behind a perimeter barricade, she ordered, “All men, hold position. I’ll clear us a path.”
The command center, a reinforced stronghold that was long ago the City’s capitol building, was protected by tall fences and a barricaded front entrance around its main gate. Tonight, only three heavily armored, rifle-equipped Angel guards were on watch at the gate, but together they had managed to keep the invaders back without suffering a scratch. The Guardsmen were to their left and right, taking cover behind the corners of buildings as a seemingly endless supply of rifle shells came their way. Ahead of the gate was also a perpendicular road that offered no cover.
“Are you hearing this, sir?” an Angel guard asked the senior officer on scene, his helmet muffling his voice. After firing two more shots, he listened to a few more sentences on his headset and continued, “These reports… I think that scythe-wielding pretorian is leading the enemy.”
“She’s not here yet, so just focus on these guys!” the lieutenant ordered. He then yelled out at the enemy, “Come on out, you cowards!”
“Sir, they must be waiting for her to show up.”
“Every Angel in E is about to converge on this point, corporal. We just have to hold out a little longer. What’s she gonna do, attempt a frontal assault alone? We have enough firepower to hold this position all night!”
Smoke bombs suddenly detonated on the empty street ahead, filling the easy kill zone with a thick fog.
“Keep on the side streets,” the lieutenant ordered and took aim at the smoke plume. “The pretorian’s mine.”
Seconds passed, and other than the suppressing fire, everything was quiet and the lieutenant picked up no moving shadows in the veil. At the exact moment he let down his guard ever so slightly, the smoke barrier suddenly ignited into a bright inferno. Phisa moved through the dancing flames, using their shapes to disguise her own. After several wild shots just barely missed her, she calculated a throw and hurled her scythe out of the fire, its blade also aflame and leaving behind a trail of smoke. The last thing the lieutenant saw before the large, sharp weapon pierced his armor and impaled him were the two glowing red eyes of a plague doctor mask.
“Sir!” one of the men yelled, but couldn’t shift his fire—having just seen one of the invading Guardsmen poke their head out from the corner.
Phisa charged ahead at full speed unimpeded, until one of the men finally panicked and began shooting at her instead. She dropped and rolled onto the ground, skidding to a halt on the other side of a barricade. From the left, Guardsmen moved in and pelted her attacker’s armor with gunfire. She propelled herself over the barricade with an airburst, twisted around, pulled her scythe out of the empty set of armor, landed, and with a wide slash, cut straight through the Angel officer’s already shredded armor.
“Command!” the lone survivor shouted into his headset.
He had backed up to the gate as Phisa and fifty or so Guardsmen advanced towards him, his ammunition having been expended.
“I do feel a bit sorry for all of you,” Phisa’s filtered voice told the young man. “Up here, in this cold, miserable City, just trying to enjoy a nice Christmas Eve… It’s not fair that we attacked you, is it? But E never belonged to you. We’re allowed to take it back whenever we want.”
“Command! We couldn’t stop them! I need help—”
She hit him, hard, with the blunt end of her scythe, nearly knocking him out. After studying the gate’s bars for a moment and seeing that they were coated in alchemagi sealant, she popped a sphere into her blade’s fuel compartment, fired up the rocket, and slashed twice to cut apart the bars, lock, and inner frames. She then blew the two segments of the gate inward with a fiery burst, all while the dazed, helpless armored Angel watched.
The moment the gates had fully opened, two posted machine gunners on the roof of the building opened fire. Fortunately for Phisa, her men expected the defenses and, ready to protect their commander, two of them had picked up the fallen sentries’ shields. They stepped in front of her to absorb the gunfire, which would chew through the plates of metal in seconds—but that was enough time for her to tap into her alchemagi and create a pair of fireballs in the air above. She threw them into the machine gun nests, and while they had no combustible source to give them any meaningful strength, the ignited air alone was still enough to set ablaze the gunners and the cache of ammunition around them.
After multiple small explosions went off on the roof, the injured Angel guard looked up at Phisa from the ground and muttered something. Her rocket on an idle burn, she knelt down and pried his helmet off.
“What’d you just say?” her distorted voice asked him.
“You pretorians are all monsters…” he groaned. “This is why we hate you. All the Guardsmen… centuries of just killing anyone you want…”
“We want peace,” she argued. “Your people are in the way of it.”
“Ours is a fight of… justice… Since the very… beginning…”
She was surprised to then see him suddenly die.
“I must’ve hit him harder than I thought,” Phisa surmised. “Come on. We need to storm and reinforce this place before we’re surrounded.”
Leading her men past the small courtyard, she approached the metal doors of the compound and knocked with her scythe, listening to the sound to get an idea of how much was placed against it to keep it shut.
Before her fuel ran out, she cut into and across the steel, ripping open a large tear. There were men on the other side, and thinking they could get an easy kill, one of them stuck a spear through, barely missing her. She reacted by grabbing it and pulling it out of the wielder’s grasp.
More spears came out of the fissure, so she leapt backwards to get some space from the door, gesturing to her men to keep their distance. She took out another fuel sphere, bit into it to crack it, and tossed it at the door. Just as it hit the steel, she summoned a spark to detonate it, making it explode with the power of several sticks of dynamite. The door broke into large pieces and blew away everyone directly behind it.
As if on cue to begin the attack, one of the Guard bombers was shot down and slammed into a building just two blocks away.
“Proceed,” Phisa ordered and loaded more rocket fuel.
She let her men take charge this time, following behind to provide alchemagi support and finish off the wounded. Past the doors was a grand foyer, where a second floor full of Angels shot at them and a few watairre alchemagists worked to extinguish anyone she set ablaze.
Watching in disbelief as the pretorian cut through three armored men at once with her rocket-powered weapon below them, two Angels in a fortified position at the top of the stairs tried to maintain communications with those in the rest of the building, having to shout into their headsets to make their voices audible over the shouting and bloodshed in the foyer.
“I don’t care if he wants to stay!” the sergeant exclaimed as he took down two fighting Guardsmen with his crossbow. “We can’t lose Major Shiloh! Get him and the other senior officers down to the trains! We have maybe a minute before we’re overrun. Take the emergency elevator, get him on a train to G. It’s only a matter of time before they get shut down.”
“What do you mean something’s jamming us?” his lieutenant questioned. “We have to get a message out—G needs to know. Switch to the auxiliary message system. Dedicate all of our power to a lower bandwidth broadcast and overpower the blocked frequency. Yes, now. Do it!”
The lamps in the foyer flickered and died, and the emergency lighting took over. The only other systems that would remain online were in the radio tower control room, and the elevator that could bring the senior officers elsewhere in the building to the old Administrator facilities below.
The two ranking officers on the main floor watched their casualties mount, with no more than ten of the Guardsmen falling in turn. Such an attack was unexpected, and they were poorly prepared. But to lose grip on E within hours was devastating nonetheless.
As the last of their men fell, with most of the second floor now an inferno set by Phisa, the pair watched as she turned her attention to them, her goggles’ lights giving her mask a red glow in the dim, hellish room.
“Don’t be afraid,” she told them, deploying a plasma shield in front of her to vaporize their arrows. “You’ll soon leave this darkness for light.”
The long wooden tables were filled with food, including several dozen synthesized geese, turkeys, and ham roasts. As everyone partook in their grand meals, Garder, sitting near Milla and across from Norria and the Xin cousins, was anxious about meeting Kavinst. The premier was the only man in the room walking around, greeting people one by one. He would be upon Garder shortly, and he worried just what he would want to talk about.
“Yes, our clan was an offshoot of the very first house of lightning from ancient times,” Shin told an inquisitive Norria. “The house died off about a thousand years ago before our clan was… wiped out.”
“But surely you could revive it…” Norria replied. “You still have your written history and genealogy records, don’t you?”
“Lontonkon didn’t get to those,” Masayuki said. “The archives are in a vault somewhere. But, honestly, even if we did gather distant cousins and attempt to rebuild… It may be better to try and integrate ourselves into another existing clan and simply try to preserve our history.”
“Our physical selves come and go,” Shin stated. “Even centuries of genetic cultivation seem… almost trivial compared to the relationships that also blossomed. Someday, in another generation, it would be nice to simply reunite with all of our extended family.”
“Did either of you have any siblings?” Norria wondered.
“I had an older brother,” Masayuki replied. “He was next in line to lead us. He did so for all of five or six minutes after Lontonkon murdered my father… which he used to save the two of us. Then I became next.”
“I had two younger sisters and an older brother,” Shin added. “It still… hurts even just to think about them. I don’t speak of them often.”
“I’m sorry,” Norria said. “I shouldn’t pry so much…”
“It’s all right. This is always a holiday where some time should be spent thinking about those no longer with us.”
While they spoke and Garder slowly worked through his food, he had watched as Rivia stood from the end of one of the tables, just after a messenger of some sort had whispered into his ear. Garder then followed the general with his eyes as he went to Osk, sitting with his son at the other table behind him. After they shared a few words and nods, Rivia spoke to the young commanders, sitting together farther down, and then to Tess and Leovyn. Garder realized that he was gathering up his war council.
“Ms. Nolland, I’m sorry, but can you come with me?” Rivia soon asked her. “Mr. and Ms. Xin, I need you two as well. Garder, you may also want to hear this, but… it’s up to you.”
Garder stayed in his seat for a moment more, as the others eating curiously watched the war council depart for the antechamber. But with Kavinst still approaching him, he made what seemed the better choice.
“Rivia, what’s wrong?” Tess was the first to ask once he had closed the antechamber’s doors and asked the guards to give them the room.
He didn’t hesitate to answer, “We received a message.” He took out a small piece of ticker tape from his suit’s front pocket and read verbatim, “E has fallen. Bombers from north. Scythe pretorian leading. Senior officers evacuating.” He sighed. “We believe this to be genuine.”
“That’s it?” Sasoire replied. “On Christmas Eve of all nights…”
Yvell, cradling a hot chocolate in her hands, stared off into space for a moment before murmuring, “Uncle Earnst…”
“Shiloh?” Garder replied. “Major Shiloh is your uncle?”
She nodded. “He was posted there just a week ago…”
Daschel tried to reassure her, “Nym, I’m sure he made it out.”
“Phisa finally made her move to impress the pretorians,” Viktor muttered. “I never would have suspected something like this. It said the bombers came in from the north? A polar route? H has an airbase.”
“But in the winter?” Tabi replied in disbelief. “The engines would freeze up. So would the troops, either on the way down or on the ground.”
Leovyn said thoughtfully, “This does have echoes of gambits like Stalin’s winter campaign, or the Ardennes counteroffensive that itself peaked on Christmas Eve… A key difference being they took place across miles of frozen landscape. Far north as E is, once the Guardsmen secure it and can keep warm, we’re the only ones with a disadvantage in trying to take it back… Hm. I wonder what their bigger plan is.”
“This is more than them just saying they still have a presence in Onasia,” Jaraphim replied. “They aren’t simply trying to encroach.”
“D is still far from being re-established,” Rivia said. “I’m not going to lose the City again. I need to leave for there immediately.”
“Then I guess the festivities are over,” Garder muttered. “With Colt back, the Mezik L is your fastest way there.”
“To D, then,” Viktor stated. “The Guard can’t win in a straight, fair fight, General. But they won’t sneak up on us out there.”
Simon said, “Milla. We need to go to C and tell Pangs about this.”
“Right…” She breathed out. “Damn it… Always another delay.”
“We’ll stop them from taking the mainland,” Leovyn promised her. “And Ms. Yvell, E’s train connects to D. I’m sure your uncle is onboard.”
She collected herself and replied, “Then that’s where I should be.”
“What about you, Garder?” Sasoire asked him. “Where do you want to be? The Red Tenor needs about thirty hours to get to D.”
“You’re giving me a choice?” Garder only needed a moment to think about it. “I’ll go straight there with Rivia. D was Verim’s home…” He looked at Shin. “So… I’ll fight for it. For him.”
