[Crystal One: Dust]

  Arthen's Perspective

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  I didn’t know what memories Marcel pulled, but he was jittery when we handed over our crystals. We were momentarily dismissed and exited the courtroom while the Judges cast our memory crystals on themselves.

  DOOON!

  DOOON!

  DOOON!

  “How long do you think it will take them to dream-walk?” Marcel asked as we walked down the steps to the lobby. I learned from both him and Judge Modupe that Cosmarans usually didn’t distinguish between dreams and memories, particularly in reference to memory crystals.

  “I don’t know,” I admitted.

  “Should we run?”

  “We should wait for the verdict,” I reasoned, scratching near my prosthetic. “If we run right now, we’ll be caught and killed immediately.”

  “Well,” he sighed, “I’m out, anyway.”

  “Out?”

  “I’m going to find my sister and stay with her. I don’t want to die before I become her big brother. That mission made me realize that.”

  “I don’t follow. Being her big brother is a matter of timing and genetics. You’ve always been, and always will be, her big brother, even after you die.” Marcel shook his head.

  “You don’t understand. In my eleven, maybe twelve years here, I’ve only feared for my life twice. The first time was long ago. I hadn’t yet become ‘the Tiger Fang’ or whatever labels you’ve given me. I was weak.

  “But I can’t bear to see her cry and beg me to stay anymore. So I had her leave Snowcrest and promised to meet her in Mnemosyne. That’s where I’m going after this.”

  “I see,” I said plainly. I’d seen Maya at Olayemi’s tavern. She was perfectly safe. And if what I’d heard about what she did to Vek was even remotely accurate, she was a killer, too.

  But Tiger Fang couldn’t defect. Not yet.

  So, yes, I knew his sister was safe…

  But, of course, I wasn’t going to tell him that.

  At least, not yet.

  “You’re a good brother and a good man, Marcel,” I said to him. “I know better than anyone how much you suffer for her sake.” He smiled weakly.

  “You lie,” he said. “I’m… irredeemable. But it’s not too late for her.”

  ***

  Marcel and I were eating at the cafetorium, waiting until we were summoned back to the interrogation room. Marcel always burnt a portion of his food as an offering, which usually disconcerted those around him. Even I didn’t know why he did it.

  Eventually, a messenger discreetly nudged me on the shoulder. It was time for us to hear our ‘fate.’ If we weren’t killed today, then the Nemoniks would be eradicated. Maya and Marcel would have their home back.

  And the suffering I’d inflicted would finally be justified.

  “Firstly,” Judge Liz started as we took our seats, “would you like your verdict to be announced verbally, released as paperwork, or both?” I looked at Marcel, who shrugged indifferently. Good.

  “Announced,” I decided. Most of the Syndicate weren’t particularly literate, but further, I needed the immediate, visceral reaction implied by an announcement.

  “Alright then,” she said, then looked to her right. “Judge Modupe, would you do the honors?”

  “Of course!” She cleared her throat. “In the case of Hillcrest versus Marcel: the Syndicate tribunal finds you guilty.” Marcel opened his mouth, but said nothing. “In the case of Hillcrest versus Arthen: the Syndicate tribunal finds you guilty.”

  It’s over… I thought. I failed and got us both killed. The monsters would certainly make their way into Reminisce now. We were finished.

  “However,” she continued, “we acknowledge the unprecedented circumstances of this case and have chosen to lighten your sentences from death to expulsion from the Syndicate. Case concluded.”

  Marcel and I finally exhaled, and Judge Modupe excused herself.

  “My weapons?” he asked. “And the Snow Leopard?”

  “Oh,” Liz said. She left the room for a few moments before returning with his runestrike gear and swords, heaving them onto the table. Though I remembered him dropping them on the Citadel floor. These ones must’ve been new, then.

  “Here they are,” she huffed, exhausted. “And we will seek out the Snow Leopard. He’s currently on an undisclosed assassination mission, though. He should be back in about… three days’ time. He will surely be prosecuted, and, if guilty, put to death. Without exemption.” Marcel looked even more relieved.

  “You’ll have two days to gather your belongings and make yourselves scarce,” Judge Venoy added. Marcel and I nodded and left the interrogation room.

  ***

  “Two days…” Marcel said when we were out of earshot. “I don’t need that long. Not like I keep anything here anyway.”

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  “You keep your belongings at Olayemi’s, no?”

  “Yeah, and I’m heading there right now.”

  “You’re not going to watch the fallout?” I asked him.

  “Fallout?” he asked.

  “Think about who we are. The rest of the Syndicate isn’t going to take this quietly.”

  “I suppose not…”

  “There will be two power vacuums to fill, not to mention mass boycotts. And it’s a lose-lose situation for the judges. If they reverse the verdict, they lose all legitimacy. If they don’t—”

  “That has nothing to do with me,” he interrupted bluntly.

  “But it does! You don’t want to watch the destruction of the system that kept you from your sister? It might not feel like a victory right now, but it is revenge.” I prayed, for the sake of my plan, he would overlook that I’d been the one who recruited him in the first place.

  “You know what, Arthen?” he sighed, exasperated. “Fine. But no more delays after this.”

  ***

  It took a full day for the judges to build the courage to announce our verdict.

  And the aftermath…

  DOOON!

  FWOOOOSH!

  Fire runes consumed the Office. The Judges didn’t even have time to attempt reversing the verdict. They were all chased off the mountain or forced into hiding.

  All the food and rations were stolen within minutes, all the munins within hours.

  Most of the rioters didn’t have anything except the Syndicate, and they’d still rather be rootless and left adrift than tolerate ‘injustice.’

  But I wouldn’t leave them unmoored. I couldn’t.

  They already had a reason to unite; now they needed a target to destroy. An objective to achieve. And, for them, I had both.

  They would need special training to kill Nemoniks, especially at the scale I required. But a few of the Emblems were already equipped with a Nemonik’s anathema. Between vitriolic acid, psychological runes, and frost magic, they would be indispensable for the campaign.

  But I had to figure out how to entice them.

  Ibex, the acid spitter, had already been in my support during the riots. He didn’t need much convincing.

  Snow Leopard was far off, still on his assassination mission. But he couldn’t know that Marcel and I had thrown him under to save our skins. I would need to develop a plan to recruit him, but I had time, which was good.

  As for Marcel… his vendetta was mine. I’d viewed his crystal all those years ago—I couldn’t separate his hatred from mine. His fury from mine. I remembered what the Nemoniks had done just as vividly as he did. What they were capable of.

  They would consume millions.

  ***

  “So, is this your plan?” Marcel queried the next day. “Collapse the Syndicate and gain a personal army?”

  “Of course,” I said bluntly. “The moment Hillcrest came to me, I saw an opening. And I took it.” We were sitting across from each other in the Office’s lobby. I’d managed to catch him just before he left.

  “‘Saw an opening,’” he scoffed. “Opportunistic as usual.” I rolled my eyes.

  “I have to ask you, how did you feel about the Hillcrestian Nemonik?”

  “How did I feel?” He looked up and sighed heavily. “Scared. Truly scared. It spoke to me, you know.”

  “Spoke to you?”

  “In my mind. It asked me about its ‘little butterfly.’”

  “That’s creepy, but I—”

  “That’s Mimi. That’s what my parents used to call her.”

  “I… Oh,” I said, letting a little sympathy into my tone. “I see. But you crushed it, no? First one in generations to kill a Nemonik with a rune! You’ve made history!”

  “I don’t give a damn about any of that,” he said gruffly.

  “I know, but still—”

  “What are you getting at, Arthen?” He saw right through me.

  “Well,” I cleared my throat. Marcel was like Uncle Tommy: he did not like wasting time… at all. “Remember all those years ago, when I brought your crystal to parliament? We thought that perhaps they were just lazy. Complacent.” He stared at me.

  “So?”

  “But now, I think they may be complicit; Reminisce monitors any and all traffic, shipping, and foot traffic.”

  “And so?”

  “You don’t understand! If a Nemonik made its way to Hillcrest, which is in Reminisce, then parliament had to have known!”

  “...I see,” he replied, annoyingly dismissive.

  “The government knew there was a Nemonik in Hillcrest and sent a Vanguard unit there. You don’t think that’s suspicious?”

  “No.”

  “Then let me put it like this: the reason parliament ignored your crystal all those years ago, the reason they sent the Vanguard to Hillcrest in a top-secret covert mission, is because they’re working with the Nemoniks! That’s the only explanation! The Old War never ended, we didn’t drive them out! We just forced a tactical retreat!”

  “What does any of this have to do with me and Mimi?”

  “Because you’ll help me wipe them out. You have personal stakes in the matter. Existential, cultural—everything stakes in the matter! You’re a major part of the plan’s success.”

  “Sorry, Arthen,” Marcel shook his head wistfully, “I can’t come with you. I need to find my sister. and gods know where she is right now.”

  “She’s in Mnemosyne with Olayemi,” I assured him. “I saw her on my way here.”

  “Really?” His eyes widened. “She’s well? What did she say?”

  “Well, she was… off-put by me, to say the least. She doesn’t remember me.”

  “Tsssk, àyàà,” he said sympathetically, “she was too young—”

  “Don’t go believing your own lies, now,” I told him. “She doesn’t remember me, or anything about her heritage, because you removed her memory crystals.” He bit the inside of his cheek.

  “She would never have grown up properly if she had to deal with those memories from a young age,” he said defensively. “I still have the crystals. They’re at Olayemi’s. She’ll find them.”

  “That’s beside the point. Maya is safe, and, knowing Olayemi, she’ll be safe for a while. We need you in the unit, Marcel. You know how to kill Nemoniks, you can teach others how to.”

  “I can’t,” he shook his head. “I made a promise.”

  “Promise? Let me tell you something, Marcel, and this is not to threaten you. I’ve seen and memorized every decision you make, and I know exactly why you make those decisions. I’ve known you twelve years, I know exactly what makes you tick. When I first invited you to the Syndicate, you told me you wanted to join because you wanted power. Strength. You wanted to be able to protect your little sister against anything and anyone. You wanted, and still want, to be her hero. That much is obvious. It’s commendable. You brutalize your enemies on the battlefield and justify it by telling yourself that it’s just one less person who can hurt your sister, one more person you can defend her from.

  “But let me tell you what it’s really about. It’s not about defending your sister, it’s not about venting your pent-up anger, or being chronically misunderstood. Those are only tangential to your real source of motivation. It’s not about ‘being strong’ or ‘being stronger.’ It’s very simple:

  “It’s about winning. You want to win so desperately it causes you to commit heinous atrocities. And you don’t just want to win, you want to prove that victory is inevitable, because if you always win, then you never face loss. Never lose your family, your country, your heritage. And you want to compile so much evidence that no one who sees you will ever try to take any of those things from you again. In that way, your swords are your shield.

  “Now I’m not gonna sit here and tell you why it’s right or wrong, but I will say this:

  “Last time I made you a promise, I promised you strength. Now, you’re indomitable. This time, I’m promising you victory. Vengeance. A chance to visit Hel upon the monsters who took your home from you, and a chance to rebuild from Cosmara’s ashes. You could create a life where you and your sister will never have to suffer discrimination or violence again. You’ll finally be able to put your swords down, and say, ‘Sorry that I took so long, Mimi, but look at what I built for us.’ All of that is possible, but it needs to come from you.”

  He didn’t say anything at first, only glowering at me. I hated to twist his arm like this. His sister certainly needed him. She was certainly missing him. I didn’t want to imagine how crushed she would feel to be abandoned by her brother again.

  But… her feelings are secondary to her safety. And tertiary to humanity.

  “You know what, Arthen?” Marcel conceded, finally, “Fine.”

  Good. Now all that was left was to build up enough firepower.

  Hillcrest Citadel had been destroyed, but their jurisdiction was alive.

  They were next.

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