Serial
57: Big Sister, Old Soul
January
24th, 33 S.D. 06:15 Belet, Northern Henron
Albolt came around the corner of one of Belet’s many dilapidated structures. From side-to-side, his eyes shifted about as a slight frown grew over his face. He was about to mumble in discontent when at last he stumbled upon Koter.
“There you are!” Albolt said as his expression became more relaxed. The officer was busy adjusting several bags on his horse. To Albolt, it appeared he was ready to move out. “Where are you going?” the old man asked.
“To get her,” the Velhast Hound replied.
“Hmm... you are as impetuous as they claim, Koter.”
The lad occupied himself with his work, neglecting to turn around to the elder. “You wanted to make the move as soon as possible. That is why you came to me just now.”
Albolt simply nodded. “Sa. True enough.”
“Perhaps I am impatient,” Koter remarked as he hoisted himself onto his horse. “Or maybe I am just one step ahead of everyone.” Grabbing the reins, he twirled around his steed to face Albolt. “Is there a problem with this?”
“No,” Albolt shook his head. “But I would prefer you not to charge off on your own. At the very least, a word to one of us would have been helpful. For a Field Lead, let alone a hound, you can be too much of a soloist.”
“I am just here to do a job.”
“I should hope this is more than just a job for you, though. This is about the future of our people.”
For a moment, Koter turned to the plains, staring out into the snowfields. “My concern is for the greater future...” Koter muttered lowly.
“What was that?”
“Nothing. I am not without goals, Albolt. I am not some mercenary whose skills can be handed over for coin. Rest assured, Henron will change.”
Albolt looked on at Koter for a while. “Just how exactly do you plan on seeing her?” he wondered. “Really, it should be me or Tibil reaching out...”
“We will meet just like we did last time: on the battlefield.”
Albolt’s forehead wrinkled up as he heard those words. “You are supposed to talk to her, not fight with her.”
“Between the two of us, those actions are one in the same.”
Albolt could but sigh; his weary shoulders sagged. “What good will that do? Did you not lose your first battle with her?”
Koter’s eyes quickly snapped upon Albolt; even so, he maintained a cool, respectful tone of voice. “That encounter was a draw.” His free hand suddenly twitched as it ran over the holster holding his special knife. Hovering over the leather covering, his fingers danced wildly, like a pianist flexing his digits before a performance.
“We still have unfinished business, me and her. She will come to Henron; that I shall see to. But not before we settle a certain matter.”
“Do not kill her, and do not get killed yourself.”
“Sa, understood.” With a swift tug, his horse neighed and snorted as it spun towards the wide horizon. “When I return, you will know.” After that, Koter sped away, rushing out of Belet and into the distance.
The town of Valia, like Totul and Leitis before it, stood empty and desolate by the time Losha reached it. Thankfully, the Sventa who called this place home had all fled south to another town called Vanse. In all of the chaos over the past few weeks, the army had only just then confirmed that information. The people hadn’t been captured or killed. Furthermore, the town itself remained seemingly untouched, undisturbed. With the natives not quite returned and the Henron nowhere to be found, the place proved eerily quiet as they entered.
At first, Delri harbored suspicions that the situation was a trap of some sort. Though on the surface it looked as if the Henron had retreated, she wanted every precaution taken. Losha confirmed that no one else but the First Division were in the vicinity; nevertheless, the Prime Lead organized search parties to spread across the area. She cared little for a repeat of Totul, where the enemy had left behind a nasty surprise. As the day faded into the afternoon, however, nothing turned up. Delri eventually called an end to their activities and instead redirected their focus to securing Valia as a temporary base. As easily as they had walked in, the Sventa had finally reclaimed their land. Despite this victory, the war technically continued, and on that note, Delri summoned WOLFWIND along with several other ranking members of the division.
An administrative building of some variety done in the traditional dome architecture of their people served as Delri’s command post. As Losha, Tami, Faima, and Yega came up to the doors, the two guards on duty quit their banter and crisply saluted the unit. Losha awkwardly returned the gesture before heading in. It wasn’t hard to locate Delri by the sound of her words alone. They echoed with authority, bouncing down the halls strongly. They came into a room and immediately saw the woman standing at the head with her arms crossed. With a sharp sideways glance, she immediately noted their presence and beckoned them.
“Sa, Losha, come and have a seat.” The other officers at the table nodded respectfully to Losha and her team, and one even tipped his hat.
“I suppose we can really get to the most important detail now,” Delri said. “As we can all see, both the order formerly under Ano Taksat’s command and the order currently under Liveta’s command have departed from our lands. Losha, we can thank you personally for this. Because of you, we have become an overwhelming force to the enemy. They have lost the will to fight, as evidenced by Liveta’s withdrawal before we ever came near her units. WOLFWIND, I was just informing the others that the Henron have officially been sighting making their exit.”
The Prime Lead stepped back and revealed a large map stretched out behind her. It was an enlarged image of the Sventa-Henron border. A series of red tacks were stuck together in a cluster over the Ganglan Pass.
“Our advance scouts have been cautiously monitoring their movements. As far as we have been able to tell, it seems they have all agreed to the terms established after the Battle of Totul. Which brings me to the point of this discussion: the war is winding down. However, we must decide how to close it. The Tabran have decided that a diplomatic approach may be quicker. Although I would have liked to stage another sortie myself, I suppose the circumstances may not allow for that...”
Briefly, her lone eye traveled off into a corner. “Digressing, we have shown Henron our power. By all measures we have won; there is no need to stomp into their capital to claim their defeat. It has been decided that we can negotiate with Henron and set things on our terms. This is where you play yet another crucial role, Losha.”
“Me?” Losha asked, curiously. “Where do I fit in with that? I have little experience in politics or in managing inter-clan affairs.”
“She is right,” Tami spoke up. “She can only beat people over the head. Not very diplomatic.”
“I would think laying waste to our foes is a splendid way of managing our relationship with Henron, though,” Faima said.
“On a more serious note, Losha is still Holvate,” Yega said. “No less from the Torom of Holvate. She is probably one of the most qualified people to speak to Henron. Not only is she a prominent figure within the military, she has familial influence second to none.”
The idea left her uncomfortable simply because it never really registered with her. Serialization felt real and tangible, but her membership in the highest Torom of the land seemed vague at best. Even the recognition she received from the army came off as surreal to her. Nevertheless, everyone had a point about her status. In light of various considerations, she was possibly one of the best people for the job. Hadn’t that been her entire aim though? To bring the war to an end? This was the final stretch, assuming everything went accordingly. That was getting ahead of the matter, however.
“This is officially a charge from the Tabran,” Delri continued. “However, both Boz and I fully know it is a choice you yourself shall make.” She leaned against the edge of the map for a few moments. “I would strongly recommend that you take part in this preliminary delegation. I can see that you are not exactly certain of everything, but I will only say this to you. Have as much confidence in yourself as a leader as you do a serialist.”
How many responsibilities did she really bare? As Losha thought about it all, from the fate of serialization to the destiny of her people, she had come to adopt much in the past few months. Perhaps this was what her life had always been heading towards.
“I will gladly attend these negotiations for peace. They are long overdue,” she answered. “When will they begin?”
“The sooner, the better, but for the moment, unknown,” Delri said. “The process has hardly started on our end. We first need to approach them.”
“And just how will that happen?”
Without even looking, Delri snapped her arm up and pointed to the map. “The Ganglan Pass is treacherous territory. It will take them at least another day and a half to fully pull out of Sventa. We have an opportunity to talk right now; all we have to do is catch up.”
“Wait a minute,” Yega said, holding up a hand. “If they see Losha coming up to them, would not they interpret that as aggression?”
“They would sooner run than fight; Valia is proof enough,” Delri smirked, folding her arms again. “At any rate, they would know better than to attack anyone carrying the Guarded Arms.”
“Guarded... Arms?” Losha asked aloud, looking around at the others for a hint.
“It is the name of the flag most major clans use for clan-to-clan messengers,” Tami explained. “Although it is a very Gandian saying, ‘do not kill the messenger’ is something all Astens take seriously.”
“Sa, with that, you should at least be able to get their attention,” Delri noted. “Ideally, we would have to find Core Lead Liveta, given that she is the highest ranking Henron available. She chose to leave without a fight; she may be the most amendable person to engage at the moment. Even if she herself has no authority in whether her people quit their overall offensive, she can at least convey our intentions to the other Henron.”
“How likely is that to happen though, really?” Faima asked. “Considering what a b*****d Heigon Henron is, he might pull out but refuse to end the conflict. He could just wait and plot something else.”
“Heigon may be a fierce man, but even he is no idiot,” Delri huffed. “We have clearly demonstrated to him that no matter what he throws at us, we can handily turn things against him. If he fails to agree to cease the war, we will simply ensure he is no longer capable of threatening us.”
“Meaning we would crush them, on their own land,” Tami observed. “Or push them until all of their available soldiers surrender or give up the fight.”
“Precisely.”
“Let us hope then that they will see the matter clearly,” Losha said. “This has all gone on long enough, and it has proved quite senseless. They are no closer to seizing the Talimer Forest than before, all at the expense of numerous lives.”
“Losha, you and I will head out tomorrow as part of the diplomatic team,” the Prime Lead explained. “It is too late to move today. Just as well, there are certain preparations we need to attend to. Additionally, you will have some brainstorming to do.”
“For what?” Losha asked.
“The Tabran have seen how you handle the ones you defeat in combat. They want you to draft the conditions for the war’s closure.”
Later that same day, Losha found herself walking down a hall in another building the First Division had reclaimed. No one had told her about the place, but all the same, she knew the location. Inside, somewhere, was the seras frequency of the person she searched for. Although she could hear personnel moving around, fulfilling their jobs, she saw nary a soul as she made her way in. Coming past a corner, however, a second familiar seras frequency neared her. Looking up ahead, she saw Valo limping slightly. He stared blankly at the wall as he moved, peering into the doors he went by. It wasn’t until a few moments later that he glanced up and recognized Losha.
“Oh! Losha, there you are,” he said faintly, faltering a bit before pausing. “I suppose you came here to see him.”
“Sa. I gather that is why you are here as well.”
“Of course. Me and him, we actually go way back, even before we became military men. Even if I were not his second in command, I have a responsibility to him, as a friend.”
Losha nodded, but her eyes fell upon his wounded leg. “It appears you have not fully regained your mobility.”
“Well, thanks to you, I can at least walk on my own.”
“Allow me,” Losha said, taking a step forward. She raised her hand, poised to draw seras from her soul. Valo, however, held up his arms in protest.
“No, no,” he quickly insisted.
Losha drew back; her lips parted in wonder. “What is it?”
“I am fine,” Valo said. “Really. Just a few more days and I will be at my best again. Besides...” His hands slowly fell to his sides, and his gaze momentarily slid away from her. “Right now, someone else needs your art more than I do.”
Losha curled the left side of her mouth, contemplating whether she should have healed him anyway. Though it was a touching display of friendship, she didn’t see the point when she had the seras and time to spare. But perhaps leaving Valo as he was did in fact aid him in some regard. Perhaps he simply needed a trial of his own to overcome while another struggled through theirs. Maybe that eased his mind, a sense of pain to numb the remorse.
“It was not your fault,” Losha said, deciding to leave Valo alone after all.
“H-huh?” he stuttered as his head whipped up.
“You could not have predicted the bombing of Totul, and neither could you have done anything about Ano’s plan. What happened then is what happened. The circumstances did not favor us.”
“Sa...”
“But he lives, and for that we must be grateful. It gives us reason to fight for peace.”
Valo remained silent for a bit before shaking his head. “You know - how old are you again?” he asked.
“21,” she replied.
“Well, you certainly act a great deal older than that. For someone your age, you are pretty wise,” he smiled. “Took me years to get smart myself. Guess you are one of those ‘old souls’ as they say.”
He referred to some Asten folklore that usually involved child prodigies. The fables went along the lines that the kid in question was in fact an ancient and experienced person who had simply been reborn into a more youthful body. Losha scratched the back of her neck and laughed.
“Sa, well, I think I have simply learned a lot in my life.”
“I have to get back to the others in the Special Operations Corps. I will see you later then,” Valo said as he walked past her. His gait was a little steadier than previously as he went down the end of the hall. Losha watched him shortly before turning around and proceeding.
After several more doors, she came upon the one she wanted. Inside, Range Lead Aslo lied on his back in a bed. The majority of his body had medical wraps tightly bound over his skin. As if under an armor, even his extremities had bandages rolled over them, from individual fingers down to his toes. She could only imagine the effort it took to put him in such a careful state. Except for his eyes and mouth, Losha really couldn’t make out any part of him. At first she thought him to be sleeping, but his eyes popped open, suddenly alert.
“Ah, Losha...” he rasped.
“Aslo,” she said. “How are you doing today?”
“Not dead...” he said, his voice scarcely above a whisper. “Sick of all this...” Aslo held up an arm, looking at the layers guarding his flesh. He sighed as he pressed his head back into the pillow.
“Not dead, you say? Splendid. Let us keep it that way,” Losha said. He grinned slightly, almost painfully. She didn’t believe he was in any way comfortable at the moment. Who could be in his position? But his was a matter of health; he could not avoid these unsettling conditions. She could, however, speed up his recovery.
“I have come again to give you another session of raw seras. It seems the doctors agree with the theory I have formulated. Even though you are not a serialist, infusing your body with large amounts of seras seems to positively affect your status. I am told that we have successfully reversed most of the burns you suffered. All of your lacerations and punctures have closed; shrapnel has been pushed out too, like a bad splinter. To no surprise, you have also beaten a serious infections.”
Aslo merely shook his head as he stared up at the ceiling. “Should not be alive... my men, they...”
Right away, Losha frowned deeply as she held up her hand. “No, stop that,” she said, sighing thereafter. “You will not blame yourself for what happened. What is it the Gandians call it? Playing ‘what if?’ While I am here, I will have none of that. We were challenged by an underhanded fool who set fire to his own soldiers. We all did our jobs that day.”
Aslo looked at her sideways before closing his eyes with a long groan. “Even so, I... I lead them there, to that mess. I should still be with them...”
Losha moved towards the bed, standing over the officer, her arms folded. “Ksh. Do you honestly think that would make them happy, if they could see you dead? Would dying somehow make everything right?”
“N-no, it would not, but-”
“No is no. The matter is settled. If you had died, you would have just been another casualty, another body for the bonfire. But you lived. It is now you duty, your burden to carry out the hopes and desires of those who perished. Does not every soldier believe that, if they fall in battle, their comrades will take up their fight? Is this not the point of an army, to ensure no one is alone in their cause? Aslo, I know you regret what was done to us on that day. You feel the guilt of your own survival. I too grieve over my inability to save more than just you, that for all the strength people attribute to me, I was powerless in a critical moment. But this you must recognize: those that live are inheritors of the values their brothers and sisters left at the grave. Your soldiers may be gone, but death has not extinguished their courage, their honor, nor their wish to see these lands at peace. While there is breath in us both, we must continue; it is the only way to bring meaning to their suffering, their sacrifice.”
She hadn’t meant to give him such a big speech, but seeing him in such despair had been more than she could handle. Both Valo and Aslo needed some firm words to shape themselves up. Aslo remained still for a while. Eventually though, he began nodding up and down, pinching his lips in.
“Thank you...” he mouthed as he turned away from her and faced the wall. She could yet clearly see a series of tears sliding across his cheeks.
“I... know a thing or about taking up the legacy of our loved ones,” she said as she pulled up a chair. “This will be just like last time, alright? All you have to do is stay there. I will start pumping some of my raw seras into you, and you should feel better after a while.” She held up both hands as a bright blue aura surrounded them. “I must warn you though, I cannot tend to all wounds. Some only you can cure.”
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