“Z-” Z gave Celine a glance, and she looked down sheepishly. “Sorry. It’s your choice.”
“Thank you, Celine. Well, I got into an accident some time ago and lost all of my memory. Z, and a few hazy recollections are all that I’ve managed to remember.” He looked as if struggling with words. “I’m here to make a change, as cliché as that is. I also get to shine in the few things that I dabble in.”
“And what exactly do you dabble in?” Jan was cold, colder than before, which was peculiar since Jax had thought that Jan was on friendlier terms with Z. What happened?
“Some engineering, mechanics, the works. I have a bit of a hobby with architecture, but nothing serious.”
“He’s the best mechanic in all of NNR,” Jax cut in to say, blunt and straight-forward. The impulsive part of him was acting up again, immediately rushing to Z’s defence.
“You dabble in more than you let on,” Jan let out a sigh, remorseful and heavy, before continuing. “I don’t want to explain myself, but a useful skill that I’ve picked up over the years might make up for it. I am a walking lie detector.”
Paris let out a short bark of laughter. “You’re lying.”
Jan cut her a cold glance, but the girl paid no attention.
“That’s ironic,” muttered Wes, but the guard didn’t bother to add much more to the conversation.
“My middle name is Cassiopeia,” Xan volunteered, looking at January with curiosity. The boy scrunched up his eyes, focused on her words, and after 3 seconds that passed too-slow, Jan spoke up, confidence ringing through his words.
“True. Though you’re lying if you say that it’s your only middle name; I’m guessing that you have another?”
“Xanthene Zoirda Cassiopeia Holland. Quite the mouthful,” she added, though her words were defocused. She just stared at Jan in amazement, mouth left ajar. “And I thought I was a good liar.”
He shrugged, though Jax could’ve sworn he saw a bit of pride on Jan’s face. “I have to concentrate. And sometimes technicalities can through me off,” January said.
“How does it work?” Jax felt the words fly out of his mouth, faster than he could comprehend them, to which January gave him a cold stare.
“You have your secrets. I’ll keep mine.”
Jax gave him a nod, though even he had to admit, Jan’s behaviour was ruffling his feathers. He never wanted to be treated with formalities, or with any particular preference, but he wasn’t used to being brushed off so easily. You asked for that one, Jax.
“I’m handy with weapons,” Wesley piped up, interrupting the analysis Jax was giving January. “And I’m here because I was asked, although I’m still curious as to why everyone’s here in the first place.”
“What kinds of weapons, Hunter?” Jax asked.
Upon hearing his name, Wes straightened with guard-precision, eyes alert, and cast away from the king. “I prefer a broad-sword, however Second-Era that may seem. I also can work a multitude of guns, crossbow, whip, and on occasion, battering ram.”
Z let out a low whistle. “Okay; you’re running some heavy guarding here, King Jaxcon.”
“Indeed, I am,” said Jax, eyes not leaving Wes’ face. “Battering ram? When did you ever have to use that?”
Wesley turned a colour to rival Blare’s hair. “Captain Dugan likes rather exotic forms of defence.”
Jax chuckled, agreeing with Wesley's description of the man. Captain Dugan was different, to say the least, and although he didn't have much tact, Dugan was a skillful man and a fierce friend.
“Of course,” Despite his belief on the subject, Jax chose to raise his eyebrows at Wes, who turned an even deeper red.
“I’m here, because—well—god knows! You all are aware of how I joined, so I have no idea what the hell we need these qualifications for anyway. Unless, of course, you need public disturbances and theft; then I can most certainly help out,” Blare explained, fast and fiery, her brogue becoming more apparent as her words grew in passion and speed.
“We can keep you around for your quick tongue. Quite endearing, you see,” Z said, causing Blare to shoot him an endearing stink eye. “Okay, okay. The girl has a glare, that I will admit.”
“Do you always flirt so superficially?” Z gave Celine a light chuckle and a smirk.
“It’s called a pleasing and amiable personality, Hollingsworth. You should try it out sometime.”
Celine let out a good-natured laugh. “Fair play, Z. Well, I’m here because I believe strongly for the rights of the Razed, and I think that we’re neglecting them. I want to do something, and this is my only chance. What I bring to the table, is my own opinions, which I think are worth your time.”
Xan whistled a whistle that was much too like Z’s. “You always have been a strong, reckless person, haven’t you?”
“I’ll let you be the judge of that,” Celine shot back, her voice more serious than needed. “So why are we sharing intimate details of our life?”
“And what are we even doing this for?” Wes added, his mouth still creased in confusion.
Jax readied himself with a deep exhale through his mouth, trying to think with his mind. He was purely intuitional-based, something that his father warned him would bring trouble. His mom, when he asked what impulsive meant when he was 8, answered with a warm smile.
“It means that you don’t think with that noggin of yours,” she said, gently knocking on his small head. Young Jax pouted, surprised, and rather hurt, at his mother’s words.
“Is that why father tells me to avoid my im-pul-ses?” He asked, breaking down the words into syllables. His mother laughed, which only heightened his dissatisfaction.
“No, Jax. He’s jealous, because you and I, we’re both impulsive. Rather than thinking with our brains, we feel with our hearts,” her hand was resting on his chest, and it was just as warm as her smile. “And you stay impulsive. You are my son, and I will proud to have a king that feels rather than thinks on the throne of the world,”
She died the next summer.
Jax snapped himself out his reminiscent and painful reverie to smile brightly at the candidates in front of him. “Well, I have you all assembled here because I need an elite team who can show me that they can and will change the New Nations of Resistance, NNR, for the better. We need to rebuild and reform everything that’s been destroyed in WWIII. It’s going to take some time, but I’m positive that with the right people, we can start something. That’s why I need people who I know will fight, because this isn’t an easy battle, even with the king on your side. I need people who believe in this, and whom I can trust. These questionings have been the first part of your trials, but phase two starts tomorrow. So rest up; the rest of the evening is yours. I’ll meet you for dinner in the dining room. Thank you.”
And with a brief sweeping bow, he left, not wanting to know what their reactions to this sudden overload of information would be.
Nine
JAX set down his pen for the last time that night, sighing in relief. He stretched his arms above his head, cracking his tired bones. Rubbing his eyes, he managed to stand without crashing into furniture, which was a feat, considering how exhausted the young king was.
While it was by no means extremely late, it was not a time that Jax would like to be doing royal paperwork at. Even with the grooming he received to become king since the age of 6, he had never liked this side of the politics. He had preferred public relations, the more social side to things, while May was always talen-
Jax pressed the heel of his palm into his eyes again, though whether it was to push sleep from his eyes of Mayble from his mind, he didn’t know.
After deciding against his sanity, Jax collected the remaining papers spread over his desk and placed it into a file that he would trust only Areya to handle, so she could send it to his room later. Right now, was sleep time.
He gave the guards outside of his room a quick nod as he stepped out, stifling yawn after yawn. He had somewhat of an idea of w
hat kinds of rumours were undoubtedly circulating the palace. The young prince has lost any of his remaining sanity since his coronation. Inviting strangers to run around and staying up until questionable hours. Jax let out a chuckle at the thought, but a guard who was unfortunately passing by that moment gave his king a puzzled glance. And he also starts laughing out of nowhere as well.
He took the elevator, which was moving at a snail-like pace, but luckily didn’t stop half-way through. I should tell Z about this, perhaps on my way to Areya’s office. He might be willing to look into it. Jax knew that Areya would still be in her office which they hadn’t got to moving out of the guest corridors since King Calix’s Scorchen developments; the girl overworked herself. He could drop by Z’s room if the mechanic was awake or available, on the way there.
Trying to minimize the sound of his footsteps, as to not disturb any possible sleepers, he softly knocked on the door that he hoped was Z’s. Before he could convince himself that this was overstepping any lines, he heard a soft shuffle, before a wide-awake Z answering the door, voice low.
“Why in the name of blazing hell- King Jaxcon?” Jax quirked his lips up at Z’s sudden change of tone.
“Yeah, would you mind if I-?” Jax trailed off, unaware of how to word his words. Maybe this was a bad idea…
“If you came into one of your own rooms? Of course, welcome to your own humble abode,” Jax took the invitation rather awkwardly, and Z looked amused at the king’s discomfort. “Don’t worry, it’s neat. Ish.”
“That’s comforting, but messes don’t disturb me much. You’ll realize that if you visit my personal quarters,” Jax froze when he revised the sentence in his head, “No, wait. That sounded-”
Z laughed, closing the door behind them. “You’re the king of the world, relax. So, are you always this awkward in one-to-one company, or does this only happen at,” he stole a look at the clock on the wall across from him, “12:23 AM?”
Jax was slightly alarmed at the time; did he really spend all that time reading and signing his name on documents? “I’m sorry for disturbing you so late at night,” Z waved it off, and if it helped Jax’s conscience, he looked quite awake anyway. “One-to-one, though? What made you say that specifically?”
Now it was Z’s turn to look flustered. “Well, when we were at our meetings today, you seemed confident with what you were doing.”
“Did I?”
“It’s true that you don’t talk much, but that doesn’t make you unapproachable. That’s just the king-of-NNR part. But you seemed to be calm and collected, and in your own skin.” Z muttered under his breath, “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with the king.”
“It’s weird, isn’t it? It is, at least, for me. I never had anyone around my age here, but now it’s like one of those sleepovers that kids have when they’re younger.”
“Have you ever been to one?”
“I’m sure my father would intimidate anyone within 5 feet of the gates. So, no, being a prince doesn’t attract many friends, contrary to popular belief.”
“Did you come here to muse about confidence, or were you just looking for an excuse to speak with me? I know I’m quite charming, but you’re rather out of my league.”
“I’m heartbroken, Z,” The mechanic laughed, and the sounds made Jax relax a bit more. “I had a question—or rather, favour—to ask of you. Feel free to say no.”
“Alright.”
“Could you look at the elevators? Maybe put that genius mind of yours to, I don’t know, redesigning-” Jax watched as Z’s eyebrow furrowed, and he immediately started to look for a way to change the topic. He had clearly over-stepped. “Forgive me; that was a bad idea. Uh, what are you doing at this hour anyway? —you seem to be quite awake.”
“What would you say if,” Z started, pulling a sheet from the small desk in his room, “the reason I was up so late, was making designs for said elevator?”
“You already started?”
Z’s eyes shone with excitement, and he started to wave his hands around, haphazardly. “Well, I was in it earlier today with Areya, and she told me how the elevator’s shutting down has happened on several occasions. And that got me thinking; if we could replace a few cables, clean it up a bit, it could help the overall atmosphere, and make the rider, well-”
“Feel like they’re not riding to their death?”
“Exactly! Of course, I did a few budgeting runs, and I think I can-”
“Don’t worry about costs, I can handle that. It’s great, that you’re thinking of it, though,” Z was still smiling, though his hand jitters were ceasing, which relived Jax to a certain extent. “What are the rest of these?”
“Just sketches. I can’t go to sleep that well, and something about putting my energy into these ideas, help me get there.”
“These are fascinating,” Jax mused, looking through the numerous pages, filled with rough strokes of lead. “You really have a talent.”
“Thank you,” The mechanic’s words were heavy, filled with genuine thanks, and the sound made Jax turn around to give Z a quick smile.
“And what you said about your past, I know couldn’t have been easy. I would offer my condolences and such, but that feels rather forced and insincere. They don’t really help, so I guess I’m going to offer you my help, should you ever need it. I’m ready to listen; I could even start an exchange program. I could tell some of my life too.”
“Thank you, Jax. I would like that, and I would offer my condolences and such on King Calix’s death, but that feels rather forced and insincere. They-” Jax smiled good-naturedly, and gave Z a light punch to his shoulder, causing the mechanic to laugh loudly, and it once more struck Jax how late it was, and how he should probably get going.
As he moved to exit, however, a metallic object caught his eye. It was a lighter, nestled carefully in cloth on the mahogany desk, and it struck Jax as odd as for why such a trivial object was so obviously cared for.
“I don’t mean to pry, Z, but that lighter? What is it?”
“Other than a lighter, did you mean?” Z jokingly asked, though Jax could tell that something was up. His eyes were dark and reminiscent. “It’s my grounding device. Whenever my nightmares come, or I get flashes, or whatever, seeing the flame brings me back and helps me work through everything. It reminds me of where I am and that my nightmares aren’t my reality.”
Jax furrowed his brow, staring intently at the small thing. How could something so insignificant do such an important thing?
“I won’t pretend that I can understand that, but I can respect it. I’m glad you found something that can do that for you, Z.”
Z smiled, warm but sad, and Jax was struck by how similar he and the mechanic were. Eyes darting over to the clock, Jax reminded himself that it was late and that Z needed rest. “Get some sleep. I wasn’t joking about that next trial.”
Jax was almost at the door when Z called out: “Did you even know if this was my room?”
“Areya might have shown me the room plans yesterday. And I might have forgotten. Just maybe.”
“The young king, not paying attention?” Z tsked, shaking his head disapprovingly, though his smile gave him away.
“Just don’t tell my old tutors. They’ll have my head,” Jax replied, smirking as he closed the door behind him.
Now to talk with Areya, and finally get some sleep.
Ten
BLARE realized she had the faulty tank a little too late.
It all started off alright. After breakfast, Jax informed them of their next challenge; they would all be dropped in Submerged London together, and they would have to find a new way out of the water. The only catch? —one of their oxygen tanks was a malfunctioning tank. And coming up for air was automatic elimination if it wasn’t before finding the way out.
There had been nervous glances across the room, unsaid good lucks, left wordlessly in the air, which oddly felt quite normal. Blare was figuring that her definition of normal—Z’s
horribly-timed comedic endeavors (“as much as I love you guys, I hope that one of you have the malfunctioning tanks instead of me,”), the king ensuring death wasn’t in the cards (“-at least, I hope not,”), deep-sea diving with Wes Hunter, and a casual possible life-or-death situation—was rapidly expanding by the day.
Blare had been the 2nd one out of the 7 to pick her tank, her hands trembling the entire time. Be brave. Be strong. What’s the worst that can happen?
I could drown. Hit my head on a rock and pass out. The medics on-site could be too inexperienced. Th- pushing back her doubts purposefully, Blare adjusted her wetsuit one last time, before joining in on a lively conversation with Z, hoping that her smile met her eyes. What’s the worst that could happen?
…
Yeah, this wasn’t good. At. All.
Blare was quite composed, so she wasn’t the problem. But being stuck next to a hyperventilating guard was not fun. They were all standing at the back of a re-vamped truck, the pot-hole-filled road shaking them side to side. Blare was unfortunately wedged between a wall of the truck and Wes, who had decided that now was a good time to announce that he had a fear of depths.
“You what?”
“I have a fear of deep things; including water,” Wes explained, and Blare restrained herself from rolling her eyes.
“We’re going deep-sea diving, which is comprised exclusively of deep water.”
“Which is why I’m hyperventilating.” Blare tensed up her jaw, counting to ten. This was the guard who had turned her in, prepared to let her take years in jail. And now he was telling her about his fears? No thanks.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I’m saying something right now, aren’t I?” Wes immediately recoiled from his words, but the damage was done. Before he could correct himself, Blare let out a frustrated sigh, and turned away, focusing her line of vision out of the window, ignoring Wes’ frantic corrections pointedly.
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