by Yi Zhu
“I can draw it from memory,” Zed replied, and let out a long sigh. “This was the technology that allowed the alchemists to enslave the South. Without the ability to transport Fye, the North couldn’t have sent down their most powerful weapons. This single design made my people suffer for hundreds of years.”
“Oh,” Vince said softly.
“The same technology that killed my parents,” Zed added, as an afterthought.
“Oh,” Vince repeated, even softer.
“You look flustered. What happened?” Zed asked.
“I saw the prince alone, just staring at the stars,” Vince said.
To Vince’s surprise, Zed didn’t seem impressed by the information. The Southerner picked up another book, and began flipping through the pages.
“Isn’t it at least a little bit curious?” Vince said, slightly offended by his friend’s apathy.
“Nothing strange about it. It is lonely at the top.”
“Oh.” Vince nodded, and sifted through his pockets for a pen.
“No need,” Zed interrupted. “Keep that notebook. I remember it all.”
Vince began to stand up, but Zed grabbed his hands, and pulled him back down into the chair.
“No,” Zed said, and shut the book in his hand before handing it to Vince. “Since you are here, study. The Elites’ children are all educated since birth by teams of qualified tutors. You have a lot of catching up to do.”
Damn it, Vince whined to himself.
The stars look brilliant, Darius thought, as he tried to count them one by one. His uncle always told him that the sky was much brighter in the South, and promised to take him one day. But Darius didn’t want to go. His home was here, and whatever he saw here was what was beautiful. In the prince’s mind, he knew that Triton would disapprove of him loitering about instead of studying, but his father wasn’t there to see him.
All day long, the other children sucked up to him and sought every excuse to strike up conversations. Everyone wanted to befriend the prince, but no one truly cared about Darius, the boy thought bitterly. Part of him yearned to be surrounded, to be loved, but the rest of him regarded such thoughts as signs of weakness. As the future ruler of the nation, it was part of his duty to reveal no weakness to the world.
And so, he chose this spot to be alone, to ponder, and have these doubts. Everyone wants something from me. Darius took a deep breath, and let it out gently. Except, apparently, the boy with the wrinkled uniform.
After a few more moments of consideration, Darius reached a decision. The prince, making a mental note of this particularly relaxing spot, then headed toward the instructors’ quarters. He was tired of the petty politics and hidden agendas, and as prince, there was something that could be done about it all. In the entire Academy, there were now two people who weren’t impressed by his station, two people he could grow to trust. Having them assigned to my lab group would be a nice change of pace. And unlike his feelings toward Katherine, Darius might not hate the Lowborn.
Chapter 10: Manus
“To my dearest friend, Vince,
Please get a haircut.
Sincerely,
Zed the handsome stallion.
P.S.- This notebook contains the blueprints for many of my inventions (If you want to use them, go ahead, just don’t butcher my designs okay?), along with cheat sheets for all the basics of chemistry, physics, and mathematics. You might need them to help you get through the first year.
P.P.S.- You will definitely need them to get you through the first year. I am going to give you this notebook as a present soon.
P.P.P.S. - Never mind about the haircut, you look fine. There are still hundreds of blank pages left in here, don’t waste them.”
-Page 1, Journal of V41
Manus stood alone in the Academy spires, and looked down through the large windows. He was finally alone now, without his spymasters bothering him with reports, nor his envoy hovering nearby, and most importantly, no assassins around every corner. After all these years, he finally felt … free.
And I kind of hate it.
The former Shadow paced around the empty circular room impatiently, his hands shaking with boredom. He was not made for the simpler life, Manus was sure of it. But even his stubborn mind had to admit the stress of the old job was too rough on an aging body.
Where is she? he wondered, and looked down at his time dial. There was still plenty of time before they were supposed to meet, but he couldn’t help but come early.
Struck with an urge to be active, the old man scanned the room, and noted with satisfaction that there was an abundance of space. He took a deep breath and seized Fye. With practiced efficiency, Manus began a combat dance.
To his pleasure, the movements felt smoother than usual. Now that he retired from the post, any attempt on his life became a task with extreme implications yet minimal reward. And without concealed body armor weighing him down after decades of wear, his joints were way more flexible. Although, he sometimes felt naked without the protection, as if any breeze could just whisk him away without the extra weight.
Manus turned toward the center of the room, and made an upward slicing motion. A wall of liquid formed in the air, concentrated from the condensation all around. He clamped his fist shut, and the water turned to ice.
He had done this same move hundreds, if not thousands, of times, and on most days, this exact maneuver saved his life.
Today he did it just because. From the surface of the ice wall, his reflection smiled back. Manus walked closer, and noted with amusement that there were spots of gray in his hair. With his right hand, he pulled out the most noticeable strands. After going at it for a few minutes, he nodded with satisfaction at a job well done, though his casual outfit looked absolutely ridiculous.
Who in their right mind would tailor a bright blue suit?
“Finally out of your uniform, I see,” Emelia said with amusement, as she entered through the stairway spiraling through the center of the room. “And you wore my present, how thoughtful.”
“Oh, you know me, I—” Manus turned to face Emelia, but the sight of her azure dress made his jaws drop and his mouth close up. He cleared his throat loudly, and with his concentration broken, the ice wall cracked, then melted into the ground.
“Flatterer,” Emelia said with a grin as she walked closer.
“I didn’t say anything,” Manus protested, half-heartedly.
Emelia reached out and took his hand. The two of them walked over next to the window.
“Do you remember when we used to sneak up here? Well, when you used to take me up here?” she asked.
Manus scratched his head. “No,” he replied apologetically.
“You are still not a smooth talker.”
“At least I knew how to have fun as a kid,” Manus countered.
“Actually,” Emelia said as she turned to smile at him, “it was really lame. I just didn’t have the heart to tell you.”
Manus looked into Emelia’s green eyes, and saw his own wrinkled features. Standing next to her, he felt unacceptably plain, with nothing to offer. Not with her smooth crimson hair, the strong, proud stance, and the subtle wrinkles around her eyes that attested to her plentiful wisdom.
I’m just an old retiree who eats like a savage.
“Are you blushing?” Emelia said with a delighted chuckle, and snapped Manus out of his daydream.
Uncertain of how to answer, he stood there awkwardly. A peaceful silence filled the room as Emelia ran her fingers through his graying hair.
“What are you afraid of, Manus?” she asked. When he didn’t reply, she continued. “Are you afraid of me?”
Manus shook his head.
“Let’s elope together,” Emelia said suddenly, and caught him by surprise. “Let’s go to the South, and explore past the Rift, where no one can bother us. There will be no alchemy, no responsibilities, just an old couple living out the rest of our lives.”
“But—”
“No more secrets,” she whispered. “No more burdens; we all did terrible things in the name of the empire. As long as we remain here, there will always be more missions, we will always be dragged into the politics. Let’s leave it to the new generation. Let’s be selfish, finally. Now all you have to do is tell me if you love me.”
Love? Why am I so scared?
“I … The Shad—”
“You are not the Shadow anymore; you are a man who already sacrificed more than anyone could ever ask of you. Four decades of living in fear, of denying yourself what you desire.” Emelia wrapped her arms around him. “I don’t even remember the last time I saw you cry.”
Sure enough, tears were flowing down his cheeks, even though he didn’t notice it at first. Manus looked back at her, and the reality finally hit him full force: he was free.
Emelia kissed him firmly on the lips, and unpinned the Ivy Sigil from her chest. Without any regard to what it symbolized, she tossed the metal onto the ground.
Part of Manus told him it was sacrilegious, but, as the pin bounced on the floor, all he could think of was the clear Southern sky, the open fields of green, and lying next to the woman before him.
I’m not the Shadow anymore. I can leave my demons behind.
“I love you,” he replied, finally.
The second Ivy Sigil skidded across the room.
Chapter 11: S1
Nineteen years earlier, in Zone S1:
Manus looked up at the clear sky, and closed his eyes to enjoy the fresh air. The unwieldy gas tank on his back did little to dampen his mood. With the rebellion soon to be over, the bloodshed could finally stop.
Upon arriving there two days earlier, the royal family commandeered the only four-story building in the zone to serve as temporary headquarters. As every entrance was heavily secured, Manus allowed himself a little break. Two blocks away, thousands of Southern farmers gathered together in protest, but thus far, there had been no sign of violence.
Agents of the Empire had been dispatched across this zone, with reliable information that the leaders of the insurgency were hiding among the populace. Soon, they would isolate the root of the problem and make a public example.
Manus shook his head as he sat upon the rooftop. Though the Southerners would be horrified by this solution, it was the path of least bloodshed. By rooting out the seed of dissent, the situation could be contained before it got any worse.
Voices from the house gates drew his attention. He stood up and quickly shook the dust off his uniform. But by the time he looked down, the visitor had already gone past, into the building itself.
Emelia is in the war camp, and most of the council refused to leave the comforts of the Capital. Who else could have the clearance? Curious, Manus opened the rooftop hatch, and dropped down into the top floor.
Everything seemed completely normal as he walked down the hallway toward the stairwell. His instinct, however, urged him toward the room on the third floor, where the royal family rested. As Manus was about to exit the stairwell, his ears picked up a muffled cry that was quickly cut short.
“TO ARMS!” he cried out at the top of his lungs, and unsheathed his swords. As Manus trampled down the corridor, he spotted the bodies of two Royal Guards collapsed on the floor. Neither of them appeared to have put up a fight; likely, whoever attacked was allowed to pass.
Without waiting for backup, Manus kicked down the door to find his charge leaning back on a chair with a long slender blade lodged inside his guts and a gag inside his mouth. Emperor Triton stared toward the ground, and didn’t even register Manus’s presence.
Horrified, Manus followed Triton’s gaze. Empress Cynthia was sprawled out on the floor, a dagger sticking out of her back. Her lifeless hands clutched the handle of a shattered kettle as tea mixed with the blood from her wound.
Where was the assassin? Manus barely had the time to wonder before a knife pressed against his throat.
I got outplayed.
Triton was kept barely alive as the perfect distraction, and even if Manus wanted to fight back, it was already too late. Footsteps echoed through the building as the guards rushed up to answer the alarm. The knife shook, but didn’t slice through his throat.
Who could get access to the royal family, be invited in, and catch them by—
“No …” Manus cried out in disbelief. “No!”
How did I not see this coming? How could I fail them like this…?
“No,” Manus whimpered, his heart broken.
Royal guards rushed out from the staircase, and the knife disappeared. Manus whipped his head around, and saw the assassin about to escape out of the window. He flipped the switch on his gas tank, and Fye quickly coursed through his body. The Shadow raised his hand toward the fleeing figure, ready to strike her down, but no matter how hard he tried, the alchemy refused his call.
Caroline …
A flood of people rushed past Manus into the room. Guards quickly removed Triton’s gag, and medics began setting up to treat their emperor.
Manus turned around, and looked into Triton’s eyes. But the man he saw was a stranger, twisted by grief and corrupted by hate.
“Kill the rebels,” Triton decreed with much effort, and shifted his gaze back onto the floor.
“We haven’t found where they are hiding,” Manus answered, his voice wavering.
“Then kill them all,” Triton said coldly, his eyes fixated on the fallen empress.
“Brother …” Manus pleaded.
“You have failed as my brother,” the emperor snapped. “Now perform your duty as my Shadow!”
“So bored,” Highlord Neal complained with a yawn. Next to him, Emelia shook her head disapprovingly.
“Why are you even here, then?” she asked, and punched him on the side. Though she didn’t bother to hold back, his sturdy, muscular frame absorbed the impact, and Neal maintained his footing.
Although it does hurt like hell, Neal thought, using all of his willpower to keep from acknowledging the pain. Just my luck, being stuck with her in this campaign.
“Rude,” Neal whined, but his voice was drowned out by the thousands of rebels gathered only two blocks away. “All I meant, was that the farmers can’t do any real damage, not against our alchemists. So we should both just relax.”
A signal flare exploded above the headquarters behind the duo, and Emelia took off running, to receive her new orders. Instead of joining her, Neal scaled a three-story building nearby, to gain a better vantage point. With the help of his grapple, the Highlord made short work of ascending the walls, and landed soundly on the top.
From this new height, he was able to watch the entire sea of people gathered in the Zone square. His eyes wandered to a balcony nearby, and a little girl looked back at him with curiosity, undoubtedly amazed by a lone man standing on a roof. As she lifted her hand to point at him, an adult swept the girl up and carried her back inside.
Precious, Neal thought with a smile.
Despite the many attempts at fathering a child, none of Neal’s lovers had managed to conceive. It was then the family doctor came up with the most radical explanation: that the Fye in Neal’s body somehow made him infertile.
It was a rather farfetched theory, but Neal was desperate. Since I asked for a post in the South, I need to get used to it. All that was left to do was to clear up the uprising at hand.
The imperial troops below suddenly parted in the middle, and two dozen Elites marched forward, led by the supreme general herself. Against such power, the rebellion would soon end.
Hundreds of Southerners will die, but such is the price of treason. I shall transform this place into something wonderful.
The rebels rushed forward, oblivious to the dangers they faced, and without mercy, the alchemists opened fire. A massive wave of flame crashed forward, decimating hundreds within seconds, and burnt away the rebellion’s fighting spirit.
It’s over, Neal thought, relieved. His eyes wandered over to Emelia, and saw the look of
distress on her face. It was a peculiar sight to behold, as Neal always remembered her to be excited in battle. The rebels were now in full retreat, and the order would be restored, once the spies returned with more information.
Emelia lifted her hand, and signaled for an all-out attack.
What?
At her command, thousands of soldiers surged forward, to carry out the order. The Technogears made short work of the fleeing rebels as Neal watched the carnage in shock. Then, all of a sudden, the Imperial troops dispersed, and the sounds of doors breaking echoed across the whole district.
The window Neal had observed earlier burst open, and smoke gushed out as a woman tried to escape carrying the crying child in her arms. Before she could climb through the window, her body began shaking violently, then, in seconds, she collapsed. Though Neal couldn’t see inside the room, from the abrupt end to the crying, he knew the child also perished.
What is happening? The horrifying reality crept up on Neal as his body trembled.
“Steel yourself,” Emelia suddenly whispered beside him, her grapples still retracting from climbing the building. “It is no way for an Elite to act. This is for the good of the Empire.” Through her calm facade, the crack in her voice was apparent.
It was one thing to kill rebels, but to massacre the civilians as well…
“For the good of the Empire,” Neal forced out.
Chapter 12: Memories
I’m sorry, my friend. I’m sorry for stopping you. I’m sorry that you refused to hear reason.
If I had the luxury to choose, I would always choose you. But there was only one way for it to end. I won’t run away from my sins; I won’t claim that it was you who forced me into it.
I know you truly believed it was what you wanted, but I know better. I will make your real dreams come true. I will pay the same price as you have one day to see it through. Because what your heart truly desired, is my dream too.