Serial
43: Homefront
January
15th, 33 S.D. 13 :05 Sevia, Sventa
For the past month or so, Denze and Mesel had had very little to do. Though Losha had given them material to study in the meantime, her absence deprived them of any opportunity to really expand their skill set. Alone, they could only accomplish so much; they needed a mentor to properly develop as serialists. Denze had tried to think creatively and experiment with new series, however, he only ever made so much progress. Sure, he’d been the one to come up with the third-eye series, but for the current time being, he seemed flush out of inspiration. All the two of them could do was practice what they already knew. While he found it frustrating on one hand, he also knew the situation could not be helped. Losha had followed her call, and she was doing something of great importance. As things stood, Denze took this as a chance to pursue other things.
He’d long since decided that he and Mesel could not isolate themselves entirely while Losha participated in the war, so they made it a point to socialize with their hosts, the Holvate. During Losha’s initial disappearance, Denze had been careful to approach them, and he was more than cautious around them as they discovered her involvement with the military. Thankfully, neither anger nor mistrust were directed at him; he was never implicated in the matter. Losha herself, however, would have a lot to answer for upon her return.
At any rate, he and Mesel were still considered distinguished guests of the Holvate, both as Losha’s students and as family in a way. That afternoon, Denze and Mesel were returning to the Holvate residences, bringing back several items from the markets in Sevia. Lesia had insisted that they let Busama handle the task, or at the very least have the two of them drive to town. Denze politely declined, claiming that he’d been cooped up far too much that winter and needed the exercise. Being the mother she was, Lesia worried over Mesel’s sake; surely a boy his age shouldn’t be out trekking a kilometer back and forth in the snow. Denze assured her his friend had suffered worse: hiking up and down a mountain periodically in all kinds of weather.
They’d only picked up a few bits of clothing, so their travel was more refreshing than strenuous. Nearing the Holvate houses, Denze noted a carriage sitting along the road. Busama was in the process of taking the horses to their stable, but right away Denze recognized the distant vehicle.
“Sa, looks like the Sofos have come over again,” he said aloud. “It’s probably the Lady herself. Wonder if she brought her little Virel along,” Denze looked down at Mesel for a moment, long enough to see him frown slightly.
“Hah hah ha!” Denze jeered. “Don’t be like that. She just wants a playmate.”
Mesel turned his head away, staring across the other side of the road. “I don’t really want to be a ‘playmate’ to her...” Mesel mumbled. Though his mood hadn’t completely returned to normal since that night in Palostrol, he was at least responsive now, and his talking was a bonus.
“She’s just a kid. She likes you so lighten up. Just act like I do with you: be an older brother.”
“I’m not a kid, and I’m certainly not her brother...”
Denze simply chuckled as he shook his head. “You’re only correct on one account. Here in the Central Plains, the age of adulthood is 16, in most major clans. You’ll have to wait a bit longer before we can stop looking at you as a minor.”
“Whatever...”
As they neared the front doors, they waved to Busama. Even before they opened one door, they could hear Zumani and Galdon making a ruckus inside. Upon entering, they brushed the snow from their boots and began to take off their jackets. At the same time, Zumani and Galdon came rushing their way.
“Oh look! If it is not Mesel and Denze!” Zumani cried.
“Watch out Mesel! We have a mission outside! Snow-fort! Snow-fort! Snow-fort!”
“Sa, you want to join us then? Come now!”
“No thanks,” Mesel said, switching to Asten. Alone in Denze’s company, the two spoke Gandian, but Denze had pushed really hard for Mesel to learn Asten. By any measure it seemed like they’d both be in the Central Plains for quite a while, and there was no sense in not having the boy pick up the language. Denze didn’t believe Mesel knew enough to really understand what the brothers had asked him, but until his outlook improved, the lad didn’t seem very interested in making friends in any case.
“Aww, well you will be missing out then!” The pair hurriedly gathered their gear, suited up, and squealed as they raced outside.
“They were asking you if you wanted to play outside. ‘Tesilanha’ literally means ‘ice-fort’ or as we call it in Gandian, snow-forts.”
“I do not care,” Mesel answered flippantly in Asten.
“You know, you should enjoy yourself; once you get to a certain age, you just stop playing in snow. Loses all of its magic. You gotta enjoy it while it lasts.”
“Are you of this age then?”
“Me? I’m a shrieking kid at heart. Growing up sucks.”
Just then, Saima - Zumani and Galdon’s mother - came down the hall. “Would that my boys were your age,” she said with a weary smile. “Sometimes I really do treasure their childhood, but at others, things just get out of hand.”
“Ver Saima, you know I am always available to look after them,” Denze offered. “As the Gandians say, I can keep an eye on them, well, I have only one eye anyway.” He gestured to the black cloth wrapped around his head covering his left eye. She sighed as she finished tucking her hair into a bun.
“I appreciate it, I honestly do, but a mother must not shirk her duties, not for her children, anyone but them.” She buttoned herself up slowly as she moved towards the door. “Are those what Teiva asked for?” Saima queried, looking at the woven bags they carried.
“Sa, nothing much mind you, just a quick trip to Sevia proper and back.”
“Goodness,” she remarked. “You two must be sturdy folk. The cold gets to me something terrible. Alas, I shall have to endure, if only for this afternoon with my boys. I suppose you can give them to Lesia; she will take care of things.”
“Is Ver Teiva unavailable?” Denze asked.
“Sa. The Lady of Sofos has come today. She and her daughters are both here. Marila has come to speak with Mavont. I believe it is that business again, in which case I rather prefer being outside.”
“Hmm... I understand then.”
After the stunt Losha had pulled and the complicit role Marila had played, it was an understatement to say that relations between the Sofos and the Sventa were strained. Though Losha had taken full responsibility for her choices, Mavont still viewed Marila as an enabling factor in the whole plot. No matter what blame Losha tried to burden herself, Marila was still a conspirator and had deliberately and directly lied to everyone. Denze could empathize with the woman’s position, for he too had deceived Losha’s family in remaining silent, though no one suspected him on any involvement yet.
Regardless, the two clans had a long history with one another. They were basically married to one another; the case was literally true with Teiva and Harle. Something like this affair was a bump, but one that had to be smoothed out. Denze couldn’t blame Saima for not wanting to be around at this time. Familial and intra-clan politics were tiresome topics, something the frail mother knew all too well when she and her late husband had been the Torom of Holvate.
“Do remember to drink something hot when you return, Ver Saima. It will do you good.”
“Thank you Denze, I will be sure to do so,” she smiled as she left out the front doors.
“Now to get these to Losha’s mother,” Denze said, looking about the empty foyer. “I guess she is down there,” he noted, pinpointing her seras frequency.
“Virel is with her...” Denze said offhandedly as Mesel frowned once more. “Too bad. We have to see her. Now stop moping. It looks bad.”
“Sa...” Mesel said, not really trying to do as he was told.
“Hmm... Well, come one...”
They walked through the large dome-like house, eventually coming into a living room where they found Lesia sitting down next to a window. Across from her, a woman about Losha’s age was talking to her, gesturing in an animated fashion from her chair as she leaned over one side slightly. Virel looked out from another window, standing on her toes as she gazed into the snowfall. As if she could sense their arrival, Virel turned around before either of the women noticed the serialists.
“Mesel!” she cried, spinning around excitedly. She hopped over to them as they entered.
“Sorry to interrupt, but we got the things Ver Teiva wanted. Mesel...” Denze muttered below his breath.
“Hello, Virel,” Mesel said plainly. It certainly wasn’t an enthusiastic reply, but at least he wasn’t being rude.
“Denze, Mesel,” Lesia said, looking up at both of them. “You are back sooner than I thought. I hope neither of you were cold. You really should have taken a carriage, the one Busama always uses.”
“It was no trouble, honestly.”
“Sa, let me put those away,” Lesia said, standing up. “Pardon me, Savi. I will only be a moment or two.” She took possession of their items and soon swept herself out of the room.
“Sa, Mesel, shall we play a game? I will show you a new one,” Virel said as she leaned back and forth, teetering on her toes, then on her heels.
“I...” Mesel began, searching for the correct words in Asten.
“Sure he would,” Denze smiled as he slapped him on the back. The impact startled Mesel for a moment; he looked back up at Denze with an expression of veiled annoyance.
“Do you Mesel? Virel asked, cocking her head in inquiry.
“Sa...” he responded at last.
“He only hesistates because he loses so often at games,” Denze explained.
“Truly now? Mesel, I shall be easy with you since you are unfamiliar with this one.”
“Thanks,” Mesel said through a false grin.
“Sa, we should go over here.” Virel grabbed him by the arm and lead him our into another room down the hall. Before he left though, Mesel managed to throw a quick glare at Denze, not that the older lad seemed too concerned about it. That left Savi and Denze alone for the time being. Denze sighed aloud as he shook his head.
“That kid needs a lot of work...”
“I hope you do not speak of my sister,” Savi said. Denze looked up quickly, realizing how vocal his thoughts had just become.
“Wait, what? Oh, no! Not her. She is fine, energetic, the way kids should be. It is my younger companion I was talking about.”
“I insist that you relax,” Savi said, chuckling. “It was only a jest.”
“Sa, I see... Still, I did not want to offend someone I have yet to be introduced to, Ver...?”
“I much prefer to be called without honorifics. I am Savi Sofos.”
“Oh, Marila’s eldest daughter?”
“Sa. You must be Losha’s student, Denze...” She paused as if waiting for a surname, however Denze artfully ignored it.
“Correct. Losha is my master. It is a pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise,” Savi nodded. “It seems my sister is very attached to Mesel. I understand that she wants to be around others her age, but she appears particularly drawn to him. I thought it was simply the case that Zumani and Galdon played too roughly for her tastes, but I think it may be something else.”
“Something else?” Denze echoed. “You mean like, hmm... infatuation?”
Savi laughed for a bit. “Well, she certainly is infatuated with someone, however, Mesel is not the person I speak of. I think she is somehow attracted to serialists.”
“Serialists?” Denze raised a brow.
“Sa. She only met Losha for a little while, but the dear girl talks about her everyday. Even before we knew what Losha could do, Virel seemed quite, what word is proper? Enamored? Sa, that seems right. When the accounts of Losha’s exploits came from the front back to us, she only thought all the more of her. Virel has not said anything of the nature just yet, however, I suspect she wants to learn this art of yours.”
“Is that so?” Denze then frowned for a moment. “She shows no interest in me though,” he said, folding his arms. “And I am well versed in the ways of serialization...”
“I would not take it as a personal matter. My sister is rather hard to explain at times.” Denze simply shrugged at this as he made his way over to a table where he sat down. “I think she may be trying to get Mesel to teach her serialization, at least something of it. That is merely my suspicion though.”
Denze had never probed into the time Mesel and Virel spent together. If what Savi said indeed were right, Mesel had certainly never spoken up about it. Though if Virel were constantly pushing him for even tidbits about serialization, Denze could easily see how Mesel disliked the girl.
“She will have to wait until Losha returns. She does intend to start a school here in the Central Plains after all. When that time comes, I am sure we will gladly have her as a student.”
“Why not instruct her now? Do you or Mesel not qualify as teachers?”
Denze’s eye looked up as he pulled a distant artifact from his memory. “No, it is not that. Serialization is... a very powerful tool. Its use must not be taken lightly. I believe Losha said she wanted to be very careful about how she passed on this knowledge. I think it is her right as a master herself to decide the course of serialization. I do not want to interfere with her judgment. Do not interpret this wrongly; I think Virel will make a good serialist. The authority to teach the art merely does not rest with us, not until we are ranked as masters ourselves.”
“Sa, so that is it.”
“However, if one is merely curious, I do not suppose there is any real harm in showing people serialization. I mean, Losha right now is doing as much herself.”
“I do not intend to pry,” Savi began. “But I must admit that I am indeed interested in just what Losha managed to master. The reports are one thing, but to see it with your eyes... It is simply beyond my imagination. I have known Losha since we were little, I cannot fully comprehend just what sort of power they say she possesses.”
“Well,” Denze said, leaning on the table with his elbows. “That makes two of us. I studied serialization with her for three full years, but we never learned any of what we hear she has done to fight Henron. All of those things are her creation, something neither Mesel nor myself know much if anything about. Ours was not an art of war after all. However, according to time and circumstance, things... change.”
Savi frowned slightly for a moment. “To tell you the truth, I was rather shocked when I found out she had left for the battlefield, and even further taken aback once I knew she had done so right under my own watch. I still do not fathom her reasoning, nor why my mother consented to the whole scheme.” She shook her head. “We may had been close friends some time ago, but 13 years is not a trivial length of separation. I do not think I share an insight into her thinking anymore. Do you have anything to say that would make the matter any clearer? You have known her more recently than I.”
“Sa, about that,” Denze began. “I reckon she wants to bring the war to an end, quick and clean. We went through some rough times prior to leaving our old school, so to come home only to find violence looming nearby... She was very upset about the entire situation. For her, all of this fighting is pointless. In fact, I think she is rather fed up with the way most people live in the Central Plains. To that effect, she feels that she can use the art to stop the current hostilities.”
“But, can one person do all of that?”
“A doubter, sa? Perhaps I really should show you just what fantastic things serialization can achieve.” Denze smiled as he stood up, pushing himself from the table. He was about to demonstrate to her; nothing over the top, just a few basic examples of the art. Before he could do so, however, a large crash sounded at the entrance of the residence. All at once alarmed, Savi too stood up and glanced towards the source.
“What on earth?” They soon heard frantic footsteps bounding down the hall.
“It is Busama,” Denze said, taking note of the man’s seras frequency.
“What is he making such a fuss for?” The two of them went to the edge of the room and peered out into the hallway. Busama hurriedly charged down the path; his face was stern and harried as he sped along. He’d not bothered to wipe his boots free of snow, thus a trail of wet footsteps were left in his hasty wake.
“Busama?” Savi called out. “Whatever is the matter?”
“A message by air,” he said tersely. He stopped before them but shortly as his eyes wildly searched around. “Where is Mavont and your mother?”
“In his study,” Savi pointed down the hall. “What is wrong?”
“I have to see them first. Excuse me.” He rapidly moved away, and thereafter knocked upon Mavont’s door. Without waiting for a reply, he opened and entered, and act tantamount to storming in. “Forgive me you three, but this is urgent news.” Soon thereafter, the door was shut.
“I wonder what all that was about. It sounds like a state matter, probably about the war,” Savi said.
“Care to find out then?” Denze asked, walking back into the room. Savi pulled her head out of the hallway and looked at Denze with some disbelief, as if he were making a jest.
“And how would we do such a thing?” she questioned.
“I still have to show you a bit about the art, sa? This would be a perfect chance.”
“I do not follow...”
Denze continued walking until he reached the room’s wall that was closest to Mavont’s office. “To start, serialization is always carried out in a process with a defined start, end, and result. These acts are called ‘series’. I have come up with a series that can allow one to see or hear distant things, even indirectly.”
“That is astounding to say the least. By what mechanism does it work?”
“Well, to keep things short, seras is basically the energy of the soul. Serialists manipulate seras to create different series. The first step of this series is to create a sort of screen, like so.” Denze held up his hand close to the wall and cast his third-eye series, though in this case he wouldn’t be using it to look at anything. The edge of his hand glowed. As he created the screen, he made that glow too so Savi could see it. As the lights came to life, her eyes widened as she found herself stripped of all speech. She could but touch the corner of her open mouth.
“Now, sounds works as vibrations through the air. Our ears are not sensitive enough to discern what is being said in that office. To us, they are all mumbling. But this screen is especially sensitive to sound. We can pick up the vibrations here...” With his other hand, Denze held up the index and middle fingers together; their very tips began to brighten intensely as well. “... and turn them back into vibrations we can understand.” The ends of Denze’s fingers actually produced sound waves themselves, essentially translating the faraway discussion for them where they stood. At that time, Marila’s voice came through.
“Shrieks...” she breathed.
“Can that really be true?” Teiva asked. But before they could hear anymore, Savi cupped her hands around his fingers, essentially silencing the series.
“That is a private conversation. We are eavesdropping on something we have no privilege to hear.”
“Sa, really?” Denze asked. “I am pretty sure it relates to the war, and if that much is true, Losha is certainly involved. As her friends, I think that is reason enough to listen. We can always forget it if we want.”
Savi frowned a bit, but in the end she removed her hand. Busama’s voice rang before them.
“... and Valia have already fallen.”
“And reports of survivors?” Mavont asked.
“The second round of missives I expect before nightfall, but if these indications are correct, I would say few if any.”
“Damn it!” Mavont growled hoarsely. “It is official then. The Ganglan Pass is overrun and Henron has already set siege to three of our towns. They have invaded Sventa in full.”
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