Serial
26: Free agent
December,
18th 32 S.D. 19:00 Lake Lada, Central Plains
The Sventa returned to their base camp brimming with mirth. As great shouts rang high into the air, they marched back to their command center full of swagger. Boisterous, victorious, they yelled and clapped constantly, lifting cries of exhilaration above their heads. Losha found herself beset by so many of her fellow clan members on their return trip. They flocked to her by the dozens, praising her actions, thanking her heroism, or simply cheering her name. She could but awkwardly smile at all of this sudden attention; she said little and often shied away. Her aim was to create peace between Sventa and Henron, as quickly and non-lethally as possible. She had not once, however, considered that her accomplishments to that end would make her a figure of such regard. In hindsight, how could she not have anticipated the honor she would receive? Losha had, after all, routed the enemy single-handedly and completely turned the fate of the battle. Still, for a girl who had spent most of her life deep in study among remote mountains, the whole experience was very overwhelming.
As they neared Lake Lada, their jubilation took full charge of their emotions. A crowd surged around her, picking her off her feet. They raised Losha over their shoulders, carrying her as they moved along. Hoisting her up as their symbol of triumph, the soldiers burst out loudly into a chant.
“Sven-ta! Sven-ta! Sven-ta!” they called, alternating between “Lo-sha! Lo-sha! Lo-sha!” At one point or another, some started to howl like wolves, and soon the idea took root in others. Far and wide, towards even the distant horizon, their massive pack could be hear baying into the blackening night. Upon reaching their camp, the soldiers still seemed intent on parading Losha around, though a Core Lead managed to enforce some semblance of order in their ranks. He eventually succeeded in tempering their spirits, at least enough to set Losha down.
The Sventa, weary from the battle despite their show of excitement, readily set upon their dinner. Though Losha’s efforts had cut the fighting down to mere hours, the day had been a long one nevertheless. As they dug into their meals, much talk gathered around the highlights of the day. Losha, her mysterious powers, the might with which she’d smashed Henron, and every other detail of their encounter with the enemy was discussed in various circles. Long into the evening, the buzz of conversation droned on.
Chief among these topics, however, were the strange abilities Losha had displayed. Though nearly all had seen Losha’s series in action, none really understood exactly what she had done. Henron had, perhaps, been right to label her a witch, for her skills to a non-serialist simply seemed like magic. Nothing supernatural was at play, yet without an explanation, even her own soldiers could but see her as otherworldly. As such, they began to inundate her with questions on the matter as she sat down with her squad to eat.
She realized that so far she hadn’t bothered to give anyone a proper account of what serialization truly was. While that was fine given the heat of a moment or the grave haste of war, eventually she’d have to start educating people about the art. Her larger intent was still to carry on Master Eltin’s work and spread serialization after all, so she thought at least. Though she had frequently mulled over the precise time and place to begin her teaching, she saw no reason not to start now. The opportunity was perfectly set for it. Even if she couldn’t teach them how to be a serialist in a single night, she could introduce them to the basic principles of serialization.
As if it were merely another part of her nature, Losha assumed the role of teacher, all at once vividly demonstrating the primitives of the art. Lively, she talked and gestured, describing terms and phrases and going through the processes she had learned well over the years. The further she expounded on the many aspects of serialization, the more queries she took from those nearby, and thus the more she was reminded of her times as a mentor in Palostrol. Though that era felt as if it were a lifetime away, she rekindled a bit of that precious period as she enlightened her comrades.
At one point, she went through the three stages of making and applying a series, even going so far as to cast an orb of light before them. This display, greeted by numerous gasps, caused them all to lean back in wonder. By then, many others had joined her impromptu lecture. She was so busy informing and performing that she could barely finish her food. Losha went on to illustrate how she had used serialization against Henron. Though the theory behind her lightning and ice-making series was too complex for them to accurately follow, she tried her best to frame the subject in a way most could roughly understand.
She later threw a few small bolts into the air for a live example. Similarly, she pressed her hand into the ground, her fingers shrouded in blue light. As her hand pulled up, a piercing stalagmite of ice grew; its end chased after her palm until its height was deemed sufficient. Then, with a flick of her finger, she pinged the ice, spontaneously dissolving it back into liquid water. She would have pulled off yet more of these feats, but she was already too preoccupied handling all the questions that suddenly sprang up. One of them in particular launched a rather revealing conversation.
“Where exactly did you learn si-rial-ai-ze-shon?” A soldier asked, struggling to articulate the Gandian word. To Losha’s knowledge, the Asten vocabulary didn’t have anything that described what she had studied.
“I spent most of my youngest years on the slopes of Upper Vestel, far away from these lands. I was taught by my master in a school near Mount Anhel. I have only recently returned home, however.”
“Why have we never heard about this ‘art’ as you call it?” Yega asked. “One would think that such a fantastic and versatile thing would be widely spread. Is it that hard to learn?”
“I bet it probably has been kept a secret,” Tami quipped.
“That speculation is partially true,” Losha began. “For some years, only a few individuals knew about serialization. My master, however, decided to bring a select number of students under his tutelage. We were the first real generation to know the workings of serialization outside of that original group. We were barely versed enough ourselves to begin widespread teaching. I am the only one to have donned the rank of master among my former classmates. Naturally, no one knows about the things we dedicated out lives to. Serialization has just yet to be recognized. This battle we fought today, it is history of a sort. That was likely the first time that such series have been used so extensively before so many witnesses.”
“Are you going to teach anyone yourself?”
“Sa, let me learn!”
“I could use something like that...”
“We all could use serialization.”
The thought of getting to grips with the very same powers Losha had channeled generated quite a bit of noise about her audience. She had to wait for them to settle down before she could effectively respond.
“Sa, I intend to help spread the art of serialization by instructing as many as I can. Unfortunately, I am the only advanced serialist left from that school. My master passed away shortly before my leave. The rest of his pupils... have gone missing. I have but two students at the moment. However, once this war is over, I want to start a school of my own. I think the world deserves to be taught serialization. I know I hardly provided a strong precedent today, but I believe it is possible to use serialization for peaceable purposes.”
“Peaceable purposes?” asked someone from afar. He spoke deeply, clearly; his voice emanated over them like an echo. Everyone suddenly became whisper-quiet, their tones dropping into silence. A pair of boots could be heard crunching through the snow steadily. Some glanced behind them, and scant instants later they stood up swiftly, stiffening into crisp salutes. Some leaped up when they saw the man, forgetting their plates and letting food spill onto the ground. Losha too looked up but did not know who approached.
In the darkness of the night, she perceived a middle-aged man, perhaps in his early forties. He had pale amber eyes, no facial hair, and nothing on his head either. Though he looked to have balded some, he appeared with his scalp bare and shaved. She noted the armband that defined his rank as an officer, yet Losha could tell little about his exact status; it was some position she’d never seen before. Regardless, she decided to stand up along with the others. He had one hand in his pocket; the other idly played with a medallion of a sort.
“Admirable aspirations indeed,” he smiled, walking towards Losha. “Though, if Sventa were ever to need you after Henron is defeated, I should hope that you will join us to defend our land. At ease people.”
Everyone quit their statuesque salutes as he began to speak again.
“That was some fine work on the battlefield, Ver Holvate. Words do not even come close to capturing what you achieved.” He stopped about a meter before Losha and gave a short bow. “Boz Delte Sventa, Special Tactics Operator,” he introduced himself. The family name struck her as familiar. She remembered that Delte was the second-most influential group in Sventa right after her own, the Holvate. She had, however, never heard of a Special Tactics Operator, yet she deduced he must have been quite established and notable within their military. One thing that remained unfathomable, however, were the gestures of respect he’d shown her so far. Boz began to talk again before she could ask him anything.
“Serialization, sa? What an incredible tool. Just imagine how easily this war would be won with it. It is like something from the legends of old,” he laughed then said “only, more real of course.”
Losha nodded, a bit rigidly. “Sa, but serialization was not designed with war in mind.”
“And still how facile it is for one to use the ‘art’ as if it were so.”
Losha restrained herself from frowning, but there was no helping the sense of disdain that brewed within her. That didn’t make Boz’s observation any less truthful. The fact he had brought up nonetheless disturbed her. With only a bit of creative adjustment, she’d been able to cast devastating series from simple, ordinary ones she’d learned as a child. A very thin line scarcely separated what could have killed or not. She herself had spent no significant time at all training in martial affairs, but how easily had she bested hundreds of soldiers in battle? Although Losha had no ounce of love for the likes of warfare, in reality she had proved all to adapt at waging it. Out of nowhere, dimly, vague words started to reverberate across her mind.
“Our world will suffer for the worst,” she heard; a voice stretched back to her from so many nights ago. Losha blinked harshly, wondering why she remembered him all of a sudden. She shook her head and replied to Boz.
“And we need not make it any more facile. We have a responsibility to ensure it is not misused.”
“As with any new technology or study,” Boz agreed. “For the time being, Ver Holvate, your people and I, we must ask you to continue using serialization in such a manner that you have shown us.”
“That is why I have come here. I knew I could use the art to bring this conflict to a quick close, with as few deaths as possible to either side.”
“Sa, on the matter of your leaving to join us,” he smiled, pocketing the medallion in his hand. “I had heard about the shocking disappearance of Malvont’s recently returned daughter,” Boz said.
For a bit, her heart pumped quickly; a wave of sweat flashed down her body. She had wholly set aside any thoughts about her family or how they might have been coping with the mess she had left behind. She wanted to avert her eyes as the subject arose, but now that it had already surfaced, she could but face it. The situation, after all, was of her own doing.
“How... are they doing? My family I mean?”
Boz grinned as he answered her. “About as well as you can imagine. By this, I mean horribly. They have managed, but not without worry.” Losha sighed aloud, turning from side-to-side as she put her hand to her head. “Malvont has become irate with the Lady of Sofos, understandably enough. He blames her for losing track of you while under her charge and care. He has threatened to censure the Sofos publicly come the next meeting of the Tabran.”
Losha shifted about, contemplating this all before she inquired further. “Surely though, he knows that I have gone here, to the frontlines, sa?”
“Undoubtedly. For you see, your father actually ordered that you be rooted out. While a thorough sweep did occur in the first and third divisions, the second division has yet to conduct theirs. Levias told me he had yet to receive such a directive... However, given that man’s nature, he most likely just ignored it.” What a comforting thought to have, that the Prime Lead could select which higher authority he ultimately held himself accountable to. Losha mumbled uncomfortably though, as she considered that her own actions had not been quite so different.
“Even so, it was imperative that I come here,” she said, folding her arms. “If I had not sneaked onto the battlefield by stealth, I simply would have openly marched there myself. No amount of objections from any one would have stopped me... This is merely something I have to do.”
Boz reached out and patted her shoulder. “And I do not think anyone here would regret your decision. Henron, though is another story,” he chuckled.
Losha looked at Boz directly in the eye as she asked him point blank about a certain matter. “So, will you be taking me back to Sevia, per my father’s orders?”
A slight frown curled in the corner of Boz’s mouth while he shook his head negatively. “Although his influence in Sventa is practically unmatched, I have to look at several issues. The first is that as a member of the Holvate Torom, you have a societal rank that is legally on par with Malvont’s. Additionally, you are not a minor. Outside of the domain of our military, I have no power to compel you to do anything.”
“But,” Losha began. “Am I not under our army’s jurisdiction?”
“You would be, if in fact you were Dansha Sofos.”
“I see...”
“Furthermore, I cannot in good conscience ask you to leave us. Having a - what was the word you used? A serialist? Sa, a serialist would only be a boon to the cause of our people, the cause of Sventa.”
Though he seemed genuine enough, to Losha, Boz gave off the faint signs of the sort of patriotism that had plunged so many clans into gruesome wars. What ‘cause’ was there to speak of? They were fighting over a forest. Perhaps he was simply misguided, but at least he didn’t appear to be the zealous type. Either way, she had no plans of doing anything other than seeing this petty dispute put to rest.
“Since you are not technically under the command of an army officer, and since your family had forbidden your enlistment, we cannot actually cooperate with you. We are not allowed to provide you with any intelligence about the enemy, we can give you neither weapons nor armor, and we are not even supposed to be feeding you at the moment. This is but a legal distinction keeping civilians and soldiers separate citizens in times of war.”
“So, you want my support, but you want me to act alone?”
“Not exactly,” Boz said. “Sventa has occasionally relied on what we call ‘irregular agents’, those not governed by the more stringent rules of our military Though they were historically mercenaries from foreign countries or minor clans, nothing in our law actually stops one of our own people from falling into this category. In becoming an irregular agent, you can continue on as you are and still receive our support. However, you would have to answer to me in that case. Irregulars are my territory. Nevertheless, you will find that I can grant you much leeway.”
Losha thought about the offer as a pause in their conversation came. She could not see any obvious downsides to the proposition. From what she understood, Boz might even allow her the latitude to end the Sventa-Henron conflict quicker than if she stayed in the second division. She might get access to the actions of the rest of the army and the status of hostilities across the lands. If halting the war were a priority, there was no better way to do it than this.
“I shall agree to that arrangement, however, I have a few conditions.”
“Conditions?” Boz asked slowly.
“Honestly, they are more akin to favors. Firstly, please ensure that my father knows Marila Sofos had no part in my disappearance. Secondly, please explain to my family that they have no reason to fear for my safety. I am sure they will regardless, but perhaps I can allay such feelings.”
“They will certainly rest better knowing no harm has come to you, and more so once told of your impressive win. If I might ask, Ver Holvate, if serialization is such a potent force, why have you hidden it until just today? If your powers had been known beforehand, surely you would have been allowed to participate in the war effort. Such abilities would have gained you unquestionable permission, no matter how strongly your family objected.”
“The art of serialization is a very fragile tool. On one hand, it could lead the Continent to new heights. On the other, it may well herald its very doom. As the one most qualified to spread it, I wanted to make sure its introduction was very controlled and careful.”
“You know,” Boz said. “There is an old Asten phrase. It goes ‘the best way to test a weapon is to wage a war’.”
Losha bristled at his statement. “Make no mistake, serialization is no tool of war. Its role here is to disable the enemy.”
“Sa, of course, pardon me. I understood you perfectly clear the first time. I was only ironically referring to our new guns,” he said with a general sweeping gesture around them. “We had thought them to be our answer, but Henron has already adapted. Also, we are low on ammunition, so soon too. Only a war has taught us how effective they can or cannot be in various circumstances. We now know the battle capacities of our firearms, though it was a hard lesson. For Henron, they now know your capacity. Sventa must rely on you, Ver Holvate. I know you view the violence of the Central Plains with much distaste, but know that we will be shown aggression whether we are the instigators or not. Our lands we shall defend, yes, but protecting people is how we do that.”
Boz looked around for a bit before smiling at everyone.
“Sa! I am disturbing a well deserved meal for all. Go on, eat and enjoy yourselves. Carry on with what you were doing.” The bustle of so many soldiers gradually resumed as plates and forks clattered noisily against each other.
“One more thing, Ver Holvate, please report to me at 1200 hours tomorrow. There will be a great deal to discuss.”
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