Dodge: Serial 64

Losha learns about the group working to change Henron before confronting the ambitious Doctor Sansat.

Serial 64: Death in winter

February 2nd, 33 S.D.     10:40     Navaran, Henron 

    “You mean to tell me,” Losha began. “That you tried to kill Heigon Henron himself?”

    “S-sa...” Alant replied slowly.

    “Interesting,” she replied. “But if this is the case, why are you not dead yet?”

    “Um... come again?”

    “If you tried to pull off something that outrageous, I would have expected a severe and immediate response. Instead, they are waiting.” Losha turned her head, casting a glance over at Liveta. “I guess it is true that Henron favor letting some of us rot before our final punishment.”

    Across the hall, the Core Lead spoke up. “I thought you did not intend to meet such an end...”

    “I do not,” Losha proclaimed as she stood up. Taking a rock in hand, she moved over to the left wall of her cell. Two lines had already been etched into the bricks. She dragged her tool up and down, carving out a third mark.

    “In 44 days, I do not plan on being here at all.”

    “Whatever you say, Wolf,” Liveta muttered as she leaned back, staring off into space.

    “Uurrk!” Alant sputtered.

    “Hey, Alant. Did you say something?” Losha asked. “Sa, I get the feeling you are not the talkative type, but if you are going to speak, be clear about it.”

    “N-no, it was nothing. I... I just thought I saw a spider. I hate those things...”

    “Odd. I imagined someone bold enough to commit one of the highest acts of treason would not be afraid of such tiny creatures.”

    “T-they do not bother you?” Alant wondered.

    “No. I do not like them, but they do not scare me either.”

    “Oh... I see... I guess we all have different fears... or something like that.”

    “Sa. Personally, I do not like - how to say this - big things, I suppose,” Losha admitted.

    “Big things?” Alant echoed.

    “Sa. I feel apprehensive around very large objects. Not as big as a horse or some other animal, but exceptionally tall things. Things that easily dwarf me. I have seen some of the cities they built in Gandia, pictures of course. They have massive buildings that rise meters into the air. I get a chill merely contemplating their size. I have been to a tower or two once before, and needless to say it was an unpleasant experience. I cannot tell you what it is, but looking up at something so huge and high, I find it a very unsettling matter.”

    “Sa... I would have n-never suspected you would... you know, have such concerns.”

    Losha laughed aloud. “I am the Wolf, sa? Rumor has it that I am as fearless as I am fierce. However, in all honesty, I am none of those.”

    “H-how do you deal with trees?” Alant asked. “Do they spook you too?”

    “Not in the least. Not anymore,” she explained. “I have actually spent most of my life in the Upper Vestel, far to the north. I was surrounded by forests and mountaintops, hence I stopped worrying about them at an early age. I cannot claim the same for other things.”

    “Are you two really going to discuss banalities all day like this?” Liveta sighed.

    “You seem to be getting depressed again,” Losha noted.

    “I am not in the best of spirits, no. If you two could at least keep it down...”

    “Perhaps i-it would be better to switch to Gandian, Losha?” Alant suggested, lowering his voice to a hush.

    “Ksh, if that keeps everyone happy,” Losha said in a whisper, swapping her language mid-sentence. Liveta didn’t seem to understand Gandian, so their discussion would appear to her as but a jumble of foreign syllables. Unfamiliar with these sounds, she would shut them out as background noise, especially since they were now speaking faintly.

    “I’m curious, Wolf, why do you think you can escape Navaran? No one’s ever done that.”

    “No one else has ever been me. Nothing inside Navaran is strong enough to keep me contained.”

    “Because you can still use your powers.”

    Losha paused for an instant. Though she could not see Alant next door, she pivoted sharply as if to face him. He hadn’t said that as a question; he was stating a fact. How could he have known? While she had adamantly declared her plot to escape, she’d never said exactly how she’d go about it. As far as she knew, none of the Henron yet suspected her of hiding her abilities. Even so, she saw no reason to abandon her act at the moment.

    “You are mistaken. Without free range of my arms, I cannot perform the art.”

    “That’s not what I heard.”

    “You heard incorrectly.”

    “I very much doubt that,” Alant said flatly.

    “Does it matter how much you doubt, if what I said is still true?”

    “Listen, I’m going to cut to the chase. I know you can break out of here at any moment, even without your hands. I know that’s not how serialization works.”

    “Your mannerisms have changed. You are no longer soft or slightly stuttering. Perhaps I could accuse you of putting up a facade as well.”

    “Hmm...” Alant mused. “I guess I fell out of character a bit too quickly. I don’t know how to sound ‘gentle’ or ‘weak’ in Gandian. I only presented myself like that so the guards wouldn’t assume too much about me, about my purpose.”

    “I mean you do look rather effeminate, so I reason they might view you as less threatening than you really are.”

    “E-effeminate...” Alant said, haltingly. “Hey, wait a- I have a wife you know.” He thrust his left hand out between the bars. A silver band encircled his wrist, the age-old Asten custom of marriage.

    “I was not implying otherwise,” Losha chuckled.

    “At any rate, you can stop pretending between the two of us. That’s why I was sent here. You were told I was coming after all. I’m the one Kasan spoke of.”

    Losha frowned to herself for a time. Alant’s words weren’t making any sense. She wondered for a second if the man were deluded in some regard. The way he went one about things that hadn’t happened struck her as strange; it could have been a sign of some erratic temperament. It would explain his sudden shift in tone...

    “Kasan?” she asked. “Who is that?”

    “Our contact with you. He was the one who told you to wait here, even though you could have escaped. One of our agents, just like me.”

    Losha shook her head as she furrowed her brow. “An agent...” she murmured. Had someone seen her while she was unconscious? If so, she didn’t recall anything. The first person she’d met here was that perverted guard, and after that Govan and Liveta.

    “Yeah, one of our guys, an insider. I didn’t know he’d already told you about the date. As far as I knew, it was just finalized yesterday, right before my capture.”

    “I do not remember ever having met this Kasan fellow, nor ever learning about the date from him.”

    “What?!” Alant breathed in swiftly. “Hey, don’t mess with me! The future of Henron is at stake here,” he said lowly. “And in turn, the fate of Sventa rests with it. This is no time for jokes like that.”

    Losha could only sigh longly. “I truly have no clue what you have been talking about.”

    “Then...” he said hastily, a bit loudly. He spoke quietly after stopping to correct himself. “Then how did you know about the date?”

    “What date?”

    “March 18th. 44 days from now. If you didn’t hear it from us, who told you?”

    “That? Well, it just seemed right to me. I saw it as I slept, in a vision, so I went with it.” She made no mention of the dead seer who had revealed everything to her, for who would believe that? Even Losha herself remained skeptical if Suvla had messaged her from beyond. Nevertheless, she began to feel there may have been some credit to that mysterious experience, whether or not it had been a simple dream.

    “Y-you saw it in your sleep...? And you accepted it? You Sventa are quite like your namesake, as free-flowing as the wind... Well, do you already know what will happen that day, the 18th of next month?”

    “Sa, I am escaping.”

    “Not just that. Not just that. That’s when the rest of us will be making our move.”

    “And just who are ‘the rest of us’?” Losha asked.

    “Right...” Alant said, taking a breath, forgetting for a moment that things hadn’t gone to plan. “What do you know?”

    “That I am not staying here in 44 days. After that, I figured an opportunity would come. If not, I would make one for myself.”

    “What kind of scheme is that? You’re going to get out, but you have no idea what comes next.”

    “Is there something wrong with charging straight towards your capital? That seems thorough enough to me.”

    “Listen to you,” Alant laughed.

    “If you have a more enlightened approach, now is the time to share.”

    “Geeze, I can’t believe Kasan never held up his part. I guess somethings don’t work out in practice. At any rate, it just means I have that much more to explain to you.”

    “It sounds like whoever sent you has some pretty big goals in mind.”

    “We do,” Alant confirmed. “We’re a revolutionary group working within Henron. Our objective is to usurp Heigon, end the war, and establish a new government. However, we don’t think we can do it, not without a strong ally. Not without you, Losha Holvate Sventa.”



    The next two days were relatively uneventful. Nothing much could happen in Navaran. Though Losha had initially considered herself wary of Alant, she saw no reason not to go with what he’d proposed. Even if he were lying, even if it were a trap of some sort, she had more than enough tools at her disposal to deal with him. She didn’t have to trust him because any betrayal was of no consequence. However, the more he described his people, the other would-be insurrectionists, the more she felt he was part of a genuine movement. The potential for putting this needless conflict to rest attracted her, and it would grant Henron a chance at stability and peace. It was what the Gandians called a “win-win” scenario.

    Alant spoke broadly of what was to happen in the weeks ahead. Govan would lead the Henron army on another assault. On the 18th of March, the rebels would incite a coup, taking advantage of the military factions who had waning loyalty to Heigon. Bolstered by their numbers, they would stage a blitz on the capital and assume control of the clan. Govan would come back from Sventa, weakened from the fighting there. Even if he tried to reinstate the old regime, Losha would be present to put down those ambitions. Obviously, once that day came, they’d both know more specifics, but for now all Alant could tell her were these basic details.

    This group of his seemed determined to make their daring plot a reality; it was going to be a massive showdown even if she chose not to participate. Without her, though, Henron would become embroiled in a bitter struggle amongst its people. She could imagine many Sventa doing nothing in her position. They’d let Henron maim themselves merely because the two sides were enemies. To Losha, however, she’d vowed to end these pointless battles, and by that she meant all of them. Until the given day arrived, however, her current plans remained the same. She would have to sit and wait.

    Although it was not a parameter of his mission, Alant exchanged a great deal of personal information with her. The two frequently conversed in subdued speech, always in Gandian. This disturbed Liveta the least, and it kept all other ears out of the discussion. It soon proved one of the more effective ways to pass the time, far better than counting cracks. Alant had never intended to fulfill the role of a spy, but after the death of his child last year, an innocent infant, he saw how negligent the Henron state had become.

    The small town he’d lived in suffered a brutal winter, and on that account, they’d requested aid from the capital’s food reserves. Heigon himself rejected the application, apparently to spite the mayor who’d spoken negatively about the way Henron was handling foreign affairs. Forced to seek for themselves, Alant and a few others braved the cold to travel to another town, one occupied by a minor clan. There they bought food at a significant price, yet when he’d arrived, the damage had been done. He found his wife on the edge starvation; their little girl had already succumbed to that fate.

    “You know the worst thing about death in winter?” he’d asked Losha. “You can’t bury the body. Ground’s frozen. We had to put her in the communal cellar, the same empty one that denied her food and denied her life. For all of those months, she just sat there, shut up in a tiny box. From cradle to coffin, that’s the short story of my daughter. That’s why I’m working against Heigon.”

    He hadn’t actually tried to assassinate Heigon though. An “investigation” manufactured by other insiders of the resistance had only made it appear as if he were on the verge of committing the crime, that he’d been caught before he could carry out the deed. The ploy in turn lead authorities to classify him as highly dangerous and thus worthy of a cell in Navaran. Little had they known that they played right into the opposition’s hand. Alant had taken many risks for the cause he followed. He could easily have been executed if anything went awry. Nevertheless, Losha sensed that Alant somehow didn’t mind the hazards, that he were willing to do even more.

    On that afternoon, their little chat was abruptly cut off. As the imposing door to the hallway dragged across the floor, the two of them fell silent. When others came in, Alant reverted to his assumed persona, that of a meek and feeble captive. The one time she’d seen him, he certainly did not appear threatening in the least. His fellow Henron had no inkling of his true aim. Though he’d supposedly attempted to kill Heigon, the guards only saw Alant as an incompetent weakling. They openly jeered and sneered at him as they served his meals, mocking his emasculate form. With Losha, however, they barely made eye-contact, let alone did they say a single word.

    It wasn’t time for dinner, so the only reason for this unusual visit would be yet another new prisoner coming. Something was odd though; Losha detected eleven unique seras frequencies down by the entrance. Why that many? A storm of footsteps crowded down the passage as she soon found nearly a dozen men before her cell. All of them except one were heavily armored guards. They bore red metallic armbands on their right, perhaps denoting some elite status of theirs. Each bore a pistol in hand while a sword hung at their hips, ready to draw. Behind black face masks, their features remained hidden. The man at the forefront stood in contrast with the rest. Sansat draped himself in a large gray coat; his gloved fingers delicately balanced the bulbous end of his pipe. He smiled as he stopped and peered into her compartment.

    “Are you here to let me out?” she asked.

    “Do not be silly,” Sansat chuckled. “You are staying right th-”

    “No? Alright. We have nothing more to say between us.” She turned away, lying on the bed with her back to them. Sansat glared at her for a moment.

    “You hardly allowed me to finish my sente-”

    “I do not have to.”

    “Come now, Ver Holvate, no need for rudeness.”

    “Rude?” she repeated. “You all forced me to use that thing to relive myself.” Losha pointed to a dingy hole in the corner of the cell. They gave her a bucket of water three times a day to flush it. “Come again and talk about ‘rude’ when you learn what it means.”

    Sansat bit into the mouthpiece of his pipe, gnashing slightly at it. “I am not inclined to lose my head. Your release would mean my death.”

    “Not my problem...”

    “Ksh...” he said under his breath. “I am here to-”

    “I really do not care,” she interrupted.

    “But you have not even heard what I had to say,” he protested.

    “If you were not going to say something to the effect of ‘you are free to go’, I shall kindly thank you to stop wasting my time and begone.”  Sansat groaned as he closed his eyes for a moment. Losha around some, throwing her head over her shoulder. “Sa, still here I see. You know, if you happen to be lost, I am sure these gentlemen would be happy to show you the way out. Although, when I asked, they were not especially helpful in that capacity...”

    “I came here to speak with you, Wolf of Sventa.”

    “And you have done just that. You can go now.” She set her head back down on the pillow as she faced the wall. Sansat mumbled something unintelligible as he tightly gripped his pipe.

    “Ver Romos,” said one of the guards, leaning into the doctor’s ear. “I think now would be a bad time for interrogation. We could try at another time.”

    “Do not be ridiculous,” he hissed. “This is priority research. I will be damned if anything or anyone delays it. Now,” he said, turning back to Losha. “If Ver Holvate will refuse to answer, she can just lie there and listen.”

    “I politely asked you to leave. Now I am telling you. Go the hell away.” She flipped over, sitting forward, glowering at their lot. The guards all notably took a half-step backwards. Sansat looked at them, his mouth curling to one side in disgust.

    “You fearful fools,” he grinned a moment later. “The Wolf is caged, stripped on her fangs no less. She is harmless to us as she currently is. And we, Losha, are the ones in command. Bark and howl all you want; you cannot bite any one of us.”

    Losha started laughing, almost maniacally. The guards collectively tensed up as they looked to one another. Suddenly, with a blur, Losha leaped at the bars, rattling the bounds of her cell as she grabbed hold of them. The guards shook once as they nervously gripped their guns. Even Sansat was startled enough to drop his pipe.

    “Ooooh. You do not believe I am a threat?” she asked with a sickening smile, cocking her head.

    “No...” Sansat frowned, though his voice held a different conviction. He stooped to the ground to pick up the pipe, however, Losha’s foot pressed upon it. Sansat yanked himself upright in response.

    “Tell me, Roman, Rotos, or whatever your name was. Tell me, if I am so powerless, why do you cower? Why is there hesitation and trepidation coursing through the air?”

    “You are in no position to-”

    “I see none of you are pointing your pistols at me. You hold them, but direct them at the ground. Come! Raise them! Let us see what happens...”

    “You little b***h...” Sansat fumed.

    All at once, laughter broke out behind them, laughter of a lighter sort. Liveta clutched her sides as she could scarcely control herself. Sansat and his men looked on at the woman curiously.

    “Sa, Sansat. You are such an idiot,” she gasped before lapsing into another fit. “You get it, sa? She is messing with you, and you keep falling for it. Ah...” she breathed deeply, trying to calm herself, but a few snickers managed to escape.

    “Ksh, what do I care for the remarks of a traitor?”

    “Hey, leave me alone. I am going to die, so I might as well enjoy this spectacle.”

    The Core Lead had been correct however. Losha’s very nature avoided arrogance and antagonism by any means. However, much like Alant adopted behaviors contrary to who he was, so too had Losha. If they really feared her as the Wolf of Sventa, it might play to her advantage. For the time being though, Losha would become a new woman. It wasn’t that difficult; all she had to do was channel a bit of Faima’s spirit into herself. And as Liveta had pointed out, it was entertaining. The Henron couldn’t tell if Losha were acting or not, and none seemed willing enough to find out. All in all, it made for a great game. Unfortunately, one participant was not having fun.

    “All we need you to do is answer a few questions I have,” Sansat said as he looked back at Losha, snarling ever so slightly. She kicked his pipe across the floor, sliding it down the hall.

    “Allow me to save you some time. Everything you want to know goes like ‘No,’ ‘Hell no,’, or ‘Shove off.’ Take your pick. Satisfied?”

    “Hardly!” Sansat huffed. He stared at her for a while; his brow narrowed as he breathed heavily. The doctor pulled himself from the brink of rage, however. “You are fairly insolent for one such as yourself. You probably think yourself something special, simply because of your powers. But let us be clear on this: one day we shall all be serialists, and you will no longer be as ‘strong’ as you are today.”

    He turned to the side as he looked up at one guard. “Field Lead, I believe we cannot go about this without some alterations to the plan.”

    “Understood, doctor. Clear out, all of you. Shut this place down. We pop it in 20.”

    “Sa!” the others nodded in chorus.

    “Sa, please leave. This is my house, and you are all uninvited pests,” Losha mouthed off.

    “Not without leaving you with this trinket,” Sansat said as he pulled out a small orb the size of his fist. He tossed it into her cell as he and the guards hurried out. The doctor made sure to pick up his pipe before exiting. At first the ball just sat there. The moment the hallway’s door shut, however, it began spewing clouds of white smoke from several slits.

    “Well, shrieks...” Losha said as a thick haze poured into her quarters.

 

Author's Note

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In the reaches of Aste, deep within the grasslands of the Central Plains, 14 warring clans mount constant warfare against one another. Through endless bloodshed, the people are forever rooted in a cycle of conflict. Returning to the place she once called home, Losha leaves Palostrol to go back to her family. Yet in their embrace she finds a world teetering on the brink of devestation. As King's words echo through her mind, she must decide if serialization holds the answers to peace. But are the consequences of failure are worth it? The path of the Continent's greatest struggle has only just begun. The Age of Serialization starts now.

The next installment comes April 1, 2015. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.

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* Losha has a form of megalophobia, a fear of big things. It seems pretty random and inconsequential as a tidbit, but it actually relates to several major plot points, both in the past and future.

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Any feedback is welcome. Just writing because I like it. Always wanted to make a weekly series, so I'm doing it.