Dodge: Serial 67

Sansat journeys into the Lost Grounds in search of power. What he finds, however, leaves him puzzled.

Serial 67: Dux Tenebris

February 12th, 33 S.D.     09:12        Binfort, Henron

    It had been some time since Govan had summoned his highest officers for a joint meeting. With the war at a current lull, however, they’d recently had several lengthy conferences. This one in particular would stretch into the evening. Since they were in no shape to attack Sventa, and since their enemy had lost their most prized fighter, all both sides could do at this point was plan. Though it proved tedious work, Govan and his team meticulously hashed out every detail of their comeback. With his Core Leads Ano, Lisk, and Vitna present, they continually devised and revised strategies for the spring offensive. By now, Govan felt they had an excellent map of the path ahead, so that night he turned their attentions to other matters no less important. Seated at a long table, the officers looked at Govan at the head as he brought up a new topic.

    “Any further disturbances in Navaran?” the Prime Lead asked.

    “None that we know of,” Ano replied with a smile. “No one escapes Navaran, not alive anyway.”

    Govan frowned. “Do not make light of the Wolf,” he warned. “Even supposedly restrained she can do much harm.”

    “As a certain doctor found out recently,” Vitna murmured.

    “You all overrate her. She is not invincible, despite those powers of hers,” Ano said.

    “And yet she near single-handedly wiped out your order and mine,” Vitna responded.

    “Hmmph! Yet how she was single-handedly captured.” The old Core Lead flashed his teeth widely. Vitna rolled his eyes, body language Ano was too prideful to even notice.

    “When is she going to be executed?” Lisk demanded. “She is still dangerous as long as she breathes. We should not be content to hold her for more than a few days. The quicker we dispose of her, the safer we will be. Why risk having her around at all? All it takes is another incident and she is on the loose. If we do not take this opportunity now, she will haunt us later, believe me.”

    Govan could only shake his head. “That decision rests with Heigon alone. He wants to wait until we win the war, to make a demonstration of her. Unless you or I wish to defy his will, those are the terms we will abide by. Barring any extenuating circumstances, we let her stay where she is, as she is.”

    “Well, what about the others? Liveta and that assassin?” Lisk asked. The subject of Liveta remained a tender issue with Govan. They’d known each other for the better part of their lives. Even so, his discipline as a soldier required composure.

    “Their cases are the same. Heigon decides the day of their deaths,” the Prime Lead answered with a face of stone. “Most likely, it will be the day Losha is executed as well.”

    “Speaking of traitors,” Ano began. “Where on the Continent did Tibil escape to? Have we found Heigon’s b*****d child yet?”

    “He is legitimate, Ano,” Vita corrected.

    “No, no. B*****d as in ‘vansel’. You know what I mean, boy!”

    “To answer your question,” Govan said loudly at first, keeping Ano in check. “We have failed to turn up any trace of Heigon’s son. We think he has fled Henron altogether. In any case, he never presented much of a threat at all. Whatever plans he had will not even dent his father’s rule. I can personally guarantee this too you. We need not concern ourselves with him.”

    “If he is in other territory,” wondered Lisk. “What if he begins agitating some other clan to war with us? All he would have to do is make them big promises if he gets to take Heigon’s place. That would be one way to raise an army. We really cannot afford another front either. A third-party would greatly complicate our present situation.”

    “We have good ears abroad,” Govan contended. “At the merest sign of trouble, we dispatch select agents to make a hit.”

    “We did that last time, and he still eluded us in our own backyard,” Vitna said. “Maybe if it were up to TRIBLADE I would not doubt you. What is the status of that unit anyway?”

    “Suvla the Olta Fox was killed in action some time ago. Avil the Noven Hawk has been captured by the Sventa, but his whereabouts and general condition remain unknown. Koter the Velhast Hound is our only workable operative. He is currently training a special combat squad in preparation for next month.”

    “Ksh. So the infamous TRIBLADE is effectively ruined...” Ano said. “Well, what can you expect? It only ever had three members. That is hardly a lot.”

    “What? Do you want to magically make more soldiers with comparable abilities? Do you want the Prime Lead to take up the unit again to increase their numbers?” Vitna quipped.

    Govan folded his arms and sighed. “Even I must admit, I do not have the same battle prowess I once possessed. The Barul Lion is no more; I abandoned that name once I assumed my duties as Prime Lead. Nevertheless, we may not need TRIBLADE to close the war, or any other conflicts that follow.”

    All eyes fell swiftly upon Govan. “What do you mean to say, Prime Lead? What have you got to pull out of your pocket now?” Lisk asked as Govan leaned back in his seat.”

    “It is not my pocket, but Sansat’s”

    “Sansat Romos?” Vitna said, raising an eyebrow.

    “Who?” Ano huffed.

    “The head of Weapons Development,” Govan continued. “He has shown me research that looks promising, a way for us to use serialization.”

    “W-what?” Lisk sputtered. “You joke, of course?”

    “Not with matters like this. I was given a demo of a device he and his team created. We think it can be harnessed correctly and eventually give us powers on par with the Wolf.”

    “Or perhaps even greater strength, sa?” Ano grinned, intrigued by all that he heard.

    “Reserve your thoughts on it until we see his results firsthand,” the Prime Lead cautioned them. “It could take weeks, months, even years before his efforts bear fruit. We must not depend on it as we develop strategies here. I just want you to know this is something being looked into.”

    “But still,” Ano insisted. “Imagine the possibilities this would open up for us. It is not hard to envision what we could achieve, given all we have had to suffer at Losha’s hands.”

    “I agree with you on that,” Vitna chimed in. “Yet it all seems so hopeful. We were only just introduced to serialization some months ago, and now we might be able to perform it ourselves?” The young Core Lead shook his head.

    “We will wait and see,” Govan said. “Think of any experimental success as a bonus.”

    “An understandable sentiment,” Lisk acknowledged. “Even so, something that incredible, that full of potential... I gather the doctor is being supplied with all the funding he needs?”

    “We are in the middle of a war,” the Prime Lead reminded them. “Despite the rewards his research could yield, his budget is the same as ever. Our economy is in no shape to carry any more burdens from this military. Furthermore, he has given us no indication that he cannot make do with what he has. Sansat only ever asked for two things: an audience with the Wolf and permission to enter the Lost Grounds. He has already seen Losha Holvate, as you all are aware.”

    “The Lost Grounds?” Ano repeated, stroking the very tip of his chin. “Whatever does he hope to find there?”

    “That is something he will know very soon,” Govan said.



    The following day, Sansat Romos at last held himself before the forbidden lands of Henron. Ahead of him, a dense forest sprawled out widely. Thick with trees, the woods darkened within meters. Even in winter, the Lost Grounds were a lightless realm. He could only imagine how black it would become once the seasons changed. Had such an ominous impression formed the basis of the superstition surrounding this place? How odd that Henron would spill blood for some far off resources in the Talimer Forest when there were perfectly good materials here. Sansat supposed that old beliefs were simply too hard to kill.

    Only a handful of soldiers patrolled the Lost Grounds, mostly misfits who couldn’t make it anywhere else in the army. From what the doctor had heard, it was a dull way to waste one’s career. Their tasks amounted to walking around for a few hours and logging that no one had tried to enter the area. It was repetitive and redundant work at best. For all of that, however, they seemed to get by unaffected. The soldiers spent a great deal of time with themselves, fostering a sort of sense of family. At least half of them were playing a card game in their outpost as Sansat and two of his engineers approached on horseback. They put aside their diversions and stepped out of their little hut to meet the visitors.

    “Hey,” said one soldier, pointing and smiling. “I know you. That doctor from Binfort, sa?”

    “Correct,” Sansat said, waving at the fellow as both sides came to a halt.

    “It has been months. Back for more studies today?”

    “Sa.”

    “Oh, what happened to your arm there?”

    “This?” Sansat’s right arm was restricted in a white sling, a momento from his last encounter with Losha. “Accidents happen to us all.”

    “Sorry to hear that Doctor... Romsat was it? Anyway, are you just looking around like last time?”

    “Not exactly,” Sansat said, shaking his head. “We are to journey inside the Lost Grounds.”

    The soldier looked at Sansat curiously, turning around briefly to his comrades. “Inside?”

    “Sa. We have the paperwork signed by Heigon Henron himself.” Sansat pulled out an ornate and stylized document bearing all sorts of official watermarks.

    “Well,” the soldier began as he examined the parchment. “It is not as if I have ever seen an official order of this sort, so fake or real, I guess you get to go in. Wow. This certainly has to be a first.”

    “Sa, history in the making. Hopefully, what we discover here is equally as groundbreaking.”

    “Sa, sa. Let a few of us guide you,” the soldier offered. “While none of us has explored the entirety of the Lost Grounds, collectively we know the exterior regions quite well. Not so much the interior, however. Do you know where you want to go?”

    “We will know when we stumble upon it.”

    “Sa.” The soldier looked back and motioned at his men. “Gear up you guys. We have guests to show around.”

    Despite the unprecedented nature of this occurrence, the soldiers at the outpost quickly assembled a small group to accompany Sansat. The horses, as the doctor was told, would best stay put on the perimeter. Though it did not appear so from outside, the Lost Grounds had exceptionally rugged terrain. On foot, their expedition counted eight members. Promptly, Sansat and the others made their way into the forest.

    The way forward soon became gnarled with roots overrunning the earth like wooden pipes. Trunks of immense size seemed to crowd around one another, blocking paths and even creating dead-ends. Though the snow was thin, ice covered large swathes of the floor. Leafless bushes packed tightly together, cutting off routes like a spike trap. On top of it all, a great number of branches dangled lowly, forcing them to creep and crawl along.  The soldier had not lied; the Lost Grounds were treacherous. Progress, as a result, remained markedly slow. In only an hour, they’d barely covered a kilometer. Even more telling, they had to rest soon. The soldiers were used to the hike, but Sansat and his assistants were not the physical types. Pausing to catch their breaths, they sat and leaned against one particularly broad tree.

    “So, tell me,” began the soldier that had greeted Sansat earlier. “What precisely are you looking for? Perhaps we can help, since we are familiar with this region. Or is that classified?”

    Sansat reached into a sack, extracting the black rock. “We found this last time. Now we need more of it, the source. Let us say it is a valuable resource for Henron, a potent fuel if you want to think of it that way.”

    The soldier squinted, examining the specimen. He was about to say something when a large shadow swept over him. Rapidly, he glanced up at the sky, as did several others. “What was that?” the soldier asked, standing up. He swore to himself that he’d seen something moving above the canopy.

    “What is the matter?” a colleague asked.

    “Not sure. Thought I saw something-”

    Suddenly, to their right, branches began to rattle and snap viciously overhead. Though there was no breeze, the trees swayed back and forth as if the air were billowing around them. Everyone stood up now; the soldiers drew their swords, but against what they did not know.

    “What is that?”

    “Shrieks, I hear it everywhere now.”

    “Hey, you... you think it is that beast they say sleeps here?”

    “Do not be so foolish,” Sansat snarled. “That is just a tale. Every story has a measure of truth behind it, yet is is always something explainable, understandable.”

    “Yeah, like, you know, an actual monster.”

    “This world has no monsters,” Sansat countered.

    The disturbances intensified as if the entire forest were shaking, then, for a single instant, it stopped completely. Not long after this, however, there was an explosion before them. Limbs and splinters crashed to the ground as something breached the treetops. They saw a man floating down with a casual sort of ease. The figure wore a thin, long, black coat, the kind fashionable in many Gandian countries; the rest of his attire seemed equally dark. He bore lengthy, wavy hair the color of midnight complemented by a subtle goatee. His eyes flashed at them like two silver coins as he landed gently and turned around.

    “The hell is he?”

    “Hey, what are you?”

    The soldiers raised their swords; at the same time the stranger lifted his hand. His fingers spread and curled as his palm flexed open. A yellow light enveloped his body for but a mere second.

    “Ugh... W-what is this?!”

    “I-I cannot move!”

    The soldiers were paralyzed on the spot, frozen by unseen bonds.

    “So quick to turn to violence,” the mysterious man said in a low, raspy voice. Sansat’s eyes widened all at once.

    “You! That was serialization.”  The man looked at Sansat directly as his arm fell to his side; leisurely he stuffed his hands deep into his pockets

    “Ah, Sansat Romos. We finally meet,” he smiled. The doctor’s face hardened.

    “Are you with Nabel Viska? Are you one of his subordinates?”

    “Me?” the man asked aloud before laughing slightly. “One of Nabel’s serialists? No. He and I... are worlds apart. Unlike us, Sansat. We share a similar vision.”

    “Doctor,” the lead soldier interrupted. “W-what is this all about?”

    “Quiet! Just some business I am involved with...” Sansat trained his gaze upon the man. “Who are you? How do I know this is not a trap set up by Nabel?”

    The man looked back at the sky, peering through the hole he’d torn for himself. “I suppose,” he said as light filtered down upon him. “If that man goes by the name of King, you can call me Duke.”

    “Alright, Duke, what are you here for? What purpose have you at these Lost Grounds?”

    “As I stated previously, our aims are the same. I want to see a world filled with serialization.” In Duke’s last sentence, he switched tongues, speaking perfectly in Gandian. The rest of the Henron were none the wiser, but Sansat understood these words well. He opened his mouth but slightly in wonder.

    “Hmm... perhaps I was mistaken about your intent after all,” Duke said, mockingly hanging his head for a moment. “And here I came all this way to help.”

    “H-help me? How?”

    “The object you are looking for happens to be something I know quite intimately. I can show you everything you wish to find.”

    Sansat halted for a while, considering his options. In the end, his desire for answers trumped all else. “What do you have to show me?” he asked.

    “Come with me,” Duke commanded, turning to the north and walking along. All at once, the invisible force restricting their movements left, freeing their bodies. Sansat followed immediately while his counterparts trailed behind more cautiously.

    “However,” Duke spoke. “Only you, Sansat, may join me.” A wall of raw dirt sprang up in front of the soldiers and engineers, rising to block them off completely.

    “Shrieks! What is this?!”

    “Stay where you are!” Sansat bellowed back. “We will return soon enough!”

    Duke’s eyes briefly shifted back to the doctor before looking on straight ahead. Sansat caught up with Duke as they traveled side-by-side.

    “You seek the black stone, do you not?” Duke asked, speaking exclusively in Gandian.

    “Yes. I suppose the reasons are obvious.”

    “What you are after is called serastone. It is a material that had been deeply infused with seras, to the point where it retains all that energy. Just like a battery.”

    “A battery you say...”

    Further and further they delved into the center of the Lost Grounds. The landscape was already barren due to the season, but the path here was littered with withered trees long since dead. The ground was polluted with an abundance of leaves that slowly decayed into a soft, brown mulch.

    “Where did serastone come from? And why is it here of all places?”

    Duke continued on without saying anything for a while. “This place is very much a tomb,” he said, glancing off to his right. “Here a great many souls were extinguished, vanquished. They left nothing behind but testaments of the last world. Though they are gone, proof of their being remains, buried in sleep.”

    Sansat frowned slightly. “That didn’t directly answer my question...”

    “There is little time for me to do so. A hint is all you get. If you wish to know more of the true history of serialization, you must keep searching.”

    “True history?” Sansat grumbled. “I already know that. Nabel Viska, 150 years ago in the Central Plains, the incident with the Viska and Besnol clans, all of that stuff.

    Duke merely smiled. “Oh? I see... Even you cannot remember what has come before...”

    “Excuse me?”

    “If you limit your understanding based on that timeline, Sansat, you’ll never grasp the full depth of serialization.”

    “Instead of messing around with serastone and mucking about the wilderness, why not teach me proper serialization? You yourself seem to be an exceptional serialist.”

    “You already have all the pieces. You need only brush away the amnesia that seems to plague us all. As Losha rebuffed you, so will I.”

    “How did you know she...?”

    “Come. This way.” Duke disappeared in a blitz, leaving only a rustle of air in his wake. Though confounded, the doctor went forward. Eventually, he came upon an area that sloped down for several meters. A clearing emerged at the bottom, except a dark, hulking object jutted crookedly from the earth. It was ragged and chaotic in appearance, however, Sansat recognized the massive pillar for what it was.

    “This is all serastone?” he wondered, tilting his head back to see its very top. Duke was already there as Sansat approached. He touched the ruined monument with one hand, looking up its towering form.

    “This serastone is from an era before these lands, far before our memories. It stands as a record of all that once existed. Even millenniums past, still the seras of the ancients dwell within these shards.”

    “So, you’re telling me that this serastone is, what, hundreds of years old? That implies serialization was around back then. That’s totally incongruous with historical timelines.”

    Duke balled his fingers together, save for the index. Slowly, he started tracing a circle; a yellow, glowing trail of light closely chased the curve he drew. “Perhaps your timeline is broken, or more likely, simply incomplete. However, if you want to know the reality behind this world, you have to grasp the answers with your own mind. After all, what you want to know already rests within you. You merely have to call upon your deepest recollections.”

    Once the circle was complete, a sudden hissing filled their ears. A perfect cylinder of serastone had been cut away by Duke’s series, popping out with a breath of steam.

    “I give you this, Sansat, so that serialization may flourish once again.”

    “Once again? Nabel made sure no serialist survived when he left 150 years ago, and he’s kept a tight watch over it all of these years, until he decided Losha should spread it. Prior to that, it’s never even seen the light of day.”

    “Not in this world. Well, we will meet again if you uncover what we’ve all forgotten...” Duke placed the serastone into Sansat’s hand before turning away.

    “Hey, wait! I-” Yet before the doctor could do anything, Duke whipped away, his image tearing off like the wind. Sansat was left to frown at the hunk of rock he’d been given. What a cryptic man, just like the books he’d been studying all these years. He wasn’t entirely certain about trusting such an enigmatic stranger, especially given the kinds of things he’d said. Even so, would he let that prevent him from taking the next step towards his goal? The key was literally within his grasp. Sansat shook his head as he looked up into gray overcast. In any case, he’d obtained exactly what he’d needed.

Author's Note

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 22, 2015. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.

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* Dux Tenebris -> Prince of darkness

* Here we see the entrance of another mysterious character, Duke. He seems opposed to King's agenda, but his own remains sketchy at best. Though he claims to be on Sansat's side, is he really? Although he and King both seem to work behind the scenes, Duke's entrance is hardly as dramatic as King's (and far less bloody).

* There is a reoccurring theme present within Dodge, echoed by Duke, the presence of serialization used before even Nabel's time. What Rikta recounted to Siersus in Serial 13 (Rex Historia) may not be the whole story. There is also a theme of memory being brought up constantly.

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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.