Dodge: Serial 125

Losha discusses what happened in Kalon. Meanwhile, Duke sets his mysterious plans in motion.

Serial 125: Number Ten

July 2nd, 48 S.D.         20:14        Sieg Lowlands, Central Plains

    Virel walked out past the fence around Talostol, humming to herself as she stepped lively into the night. She carried two mugs in her hands as she moved towards the radio tower. Though the coffee was hot and fresh, the Sofos wasn’t exactly careful as she went on her way, bouncing back and forth to her tune. A quick kinetic series opened the door for her, and she quickly headed upstairs. As Virel came, she could hear the others deep in their continued conversation. They’d been at it for most of the day already.

    “So, you actually encountered the Zeroes?” Denze asked, pacing around before the boards. “All the way north, in Kalon?” he asked, stopping and looking at a map of where she’d been. He stroked his chin and tilted his head to the side.

    “Sa,” said Losha. “As I mentioned, it was just a lead that Liveta and Tibil advised. After some extensive digging, they showed up. It was not as if I went looking for them specifically, however. I was just trying to gather information about them before actually fighting them. Seems like I stuck my nose a little too deep in their business. They did not like it, so they confronted me...”

    “Damn, so soon?” Faima asked, leaning back on the rear legs of her chair, rocking slowly.

    “That was rather unexpected,” Mesel shook his head. “Perhaps they are very sensitive to any interference. It was not as if you came after them with an army.”

    “They were probably just overreacting, scared, a knee-jerk response. I doubt anyone has successfully come after them, ever. I likely forced their hand, and they played nervously,” Losha deduced. “That was the sense I got.”

    “I could understand anyone freaking out if they knew the Wolf was hunting them down, but you went about anonymously,” Denze said. “I do not think they could have known it was you at the time. Perhaps now they have an idea, but certainly not before that...” He scratched the side of his face as he returned to his seat.

    Virel shuffled onto the floor and went cheerfully over to the table. “These are for you two,” she said, sliding the cups towards Losha and Denze. “Did you want anything?” Virel asked to everyone else, but all refused, so with a shrug, she sat back down herself. Losha picked up the end of one of her cigarettes and smashed it into the nearby ashtray.

    “Losha, why not go over the finer details with us again?” Denze suggested.

    “Very well. I went to Kalon and tried to get any sort of information on the Zeroes. As we know, their neighbors, the Mepav, have been one of the most frequent victims of the Zeroes. Logically, it stood to reason Mepav was being targeted by its greatest rival, therefore Kalon should have been one of the Zeroes’ biggest clients. Needless to say, we were not wrong about that. At an outpost, I interrogated an officer, learned that Kalon used a particular person as a contact for these mercenaries. The info I gathered definitely proves they work through proxies to get their jobs. This one must have been quite valuable, or at least they wanted to make sure he was dealt with properly. The Zeroes took him when I tried capturing him. That is jumping ahead of the story though. Anyway, Kalon used a man named Black Jackal to communicate with the Zeroes.”

    “Black Jackal?” Denze blurted out, putting his mug down right as it was about to touch his lips.

    “Sa. He seemed like a shady fellow, and important to the Zeroes.”

    “Black Jackal... Where have I heard that name before...” Denze trailed on for a moment. “I will look into him, get a hold of someone for a favor.”

    “How exactly do you have all of these people with their ears on the ground, Denze?” Faima wondered.

    “Like I said earlier today, just a remnant of my life before Palostrol.”

    “Sa, but what does that mean?” she persisted.

    “We do not have to discuss that right now,” Losha shook her head. “For the time being, it is irrelevant. Our group is open and honest; we will know Denze’s methods when and as appropriate. Let us focus on the task at hand.”

    “Fine. Just curious...” Faima said.

    Denze, even after knowing Losha and Mesel for nearly 20 years, had not divulged much about his own history. They only knew he was from the Central Plains and was skilled in both the Asten and Gandian languages. His former experiences, upbringing, or anything of the sort remained a mystery. The Wolf did not pry. When they had left Palostrol, she’d told him none of that mattered. She put the matter in his hands, whether to speak or not. For 16 years, he’d remained silent. Perhaps only Master Eltin knew about Denze’s past when he picked him up and brought him back to Mount Anhel. At any rate, the choice was for Denze to make himself.

    “Digressing,” Losha began. “I kept going after people, gaining tidbits here and there as I made my way to a Kalon nobleman who supposedly had a close relationship with Black Jackal. I tracked both of them down to a villa, and there I made my move. I neutralized the guards and fought Black Jackal. My intention was to bring him with me, to extract as much information as we could out of him. Unfortunately, they showed up, a small sub-squad from the Zeroes. They managed to get him from me, and as soon as they did, they fled. I pursued, naturally, and we struggled against one another. I had to resort to serialization just to challenge them evenly.”

    “That means they know your seras frequency,” Mesel noted. “They know who you are, at least on a seratic level.”

    “And I know at least some of their frequencies. If I encounter them again, I will know just who I am dealing with. Regardless, it could not have been helped that night. The Zeroes took off using speed-steps; I had to use equal measures to give chase. These guys, they were not newcomers to the art. They had servai of their own. They were advanced.”

    “Servai?” Denze repeated out loud. “Shrieks, that is a disturbing development,” he frowned.

    “They were not bad in combat either,” Losha said with a sigh. “I could not land any hits on them with my servai. We crossed blades, but when I hit their armor, I was repelled.”

    “Being repelled, that sounds like serastone,” Faima observed.

    “My thoughts precisely,” Losha continued. “But I never detected serastone around them.”

    “Serastone has its own seras frequency, but unlike humans, its frequency is generally abnormally low,” Mesel explained as he leaned an elbow on the table. “To you Losha, there should have been more seras frequencies present than there were actual people, if they were in fact using serastone. You are certain you only detected four?”

    “Positive. I never felt anymore than that when they came. I kept a thorough count on all of the villa’s staff. Serastone is their trademark when they go out on a job. Maybe this time they did not use it. Maybe this was not one of their usual missions. That still does not explain how they deflected my servai though. Perhaps it was a series they invented and cast on themselves before our battle.”

    “Whatever the truth is,” Denze started, “it all sounds like bad news. This level of sophistication shows we are dealing with an extensively more dangerous organization than we thought. They have to be stopped, and it looks like WOLFPACK is the only option.”

    “After I fought with them, they escaped,” Losha said. “There was this weird, black mist that appeared out of nowhere. It blocked out my vision and for whatever reason, it blocked out all the seras frequencies of the Zeroes. The same thing happened right before they appeared. Now that I think about it, they probably used that as cover. Whatever that fog was stopped me from sensing them until it was too late. But... that is not the strangest part. I kept seeing a face in the darkness, a woman’s”

    “A face in the darkness? What do you think it means?” Denze asked. “Was it an enemy?”

    “I do not know. I did not get a seras frequency from her.”

    “Maybe it was a ghost,” Virel suggested.

    “Ain’t no such things as ghosts, hon,” Brigitte laughed. “Coulda been a fancy illusion. Serialization can do that, right?”

    “Sa,” Losha answered. “But if it were the work of someone’s series, I would have sensed that woman’s seras frequency too, but nothing came up. That fog... Something was real about it. I was not sure, but it reminded me of raw seras. When it engulfed me after the chase, I passed out. When I came to, Virel had tracked me down.”

    “So, you were vulnerable for a time, and the Zeroes just left you alone?” Denze questioned. “Why not take you down then and there? You had certainly caused them a great deal of trouble. Why let you live?”

    Losha simply shrugged. “Getting away from the villa appeared to be their top priority. They did not seem to want to battle me at all, like it was their last option. The Zeroes only drew their servai when I charged at them.”

    “It could have been strict orders then,” Mesel speculated. “It really does seem like getting the Black Jackal in their custody was their primary concern.”

    “We lost a lot of essential information with that guy,” Losha shook her head. “We could have found out where the Zeroes are based. They have to be working somewhere in the Central Plains, we just need to pinpoint the exact location. For now, we only know a little more than before, but that is better than nothing, I suppose. We should use this time to gather further intelligence. Just as well, we should get a plan together on solving the issue of the clans. Our next move will be calculated to drive these lands closer to unification. It sounds basic enough, but actually doing it will be quite difficult.”

    “How would we even start on something like that?” Denze asked. “What did you have in mind?”

    “The clans have always had some reason to fight. As romanticized as war is, it is not the product of passion or emotion. There is always a single, specific reason behind the hate. It can start off small and insignificant, or be instantly large and offensive. In any case, feelings only amplify the effects, but feelings themselves are not the cause. We must look for the cause of violence, discover the origin of our discord and animosity, then tackle it. We will start clan-by-clan, doing what we can to reduce tensions, and hopefully bring ourselves that much nearer to peace. As I said, we will be interventionists. We will step into other people’s business and halt any hostilities. From there, we will do what is key to truly ending any conflict: get all sides to understand one another.”

    “That will put us at odds with the entire Central Plains,” Denze said. “Are we ready to fight them?”

    “Fighting them will only get us so far. We have to defeat them not with our weapons, but with our wisdom. We are powerful. If any army approaches, serialization allows us to subdue them without any harm, to us or to them. Take away their ability to raise their arms against you, and then they can do nothing. They will be forced to hear us out, and listen to their neighbors for once. That is how I freed the Shansala in Besnol. Not a single injury. Of course, even this way will not be enough to win over all hearts and minds. In that case, sa, we will be standing against entire clans.”

    “Ksh. Taking on the entire world,” Faima said. “Well, it is not like it did not have it coming anyway. Though you have to admit, taking on anyone and everyone sounds like something I used to think about when I was young.”

    “This is not some teenage rebellion,” Denze pointed out. “Without our skills as serialists, it is possible.”

    “All of this is just vague talk for now. Eventually, we will get down to specifics. I have my eye on a particular place to begin, but we will have to wait a while as we gather more information about the situation. For now, let us continue operating the school normally for a while. The students are seeing a lot of changes going on. We have to redevelop an atmosphere of normalcy though, for their sake. In that time, I will oversee the resettlement of the Shansala.”

    “Sa, it sure is getting late,” Denze said, glancing over at the clock on the wall.

    “Shrieks, have we been at this all day?” Faima asked suddenly.

    “Practically,” the Wolf answered. “Alright everyone, I think we have covered enough ground for one meeting. We will save the remaining subjects for other days. Remember, we still have a school to run, so get some rest.”



    Whereas Nabel Viska, the original creator of serialization, spent his days far to the west in the Palace of Shais, the man who was much like his shadow stayed hidden in the east, in Gandia. Duke held a private and secluded manor just above the cliffs on the southern coast. To any one side, the boundless ocean spread, and to the other, thick forests surrounded him. There were no roads or paths here, and except from certain angles in the choppy waters, it could scarcely be seen by anyone. Here he resided in the absence of all other souls, abandoned to his own lonesome self. This suited Duke just fine, for aside from a select few individuals, he preferred to be near no one else. He had no need for connections, save for when it furthered his goals. And how grand his goals were.

    Once again draped in his black, flowing cloak, Duke crossed a threshold that led into a vast, open room. As his feet gathered puffs of dust beneath him, only then did it strike him that he hadn’t used this part of the manor in years. The air was stale and stagnant, stiff with a musty scent. He could see particles floating about, suspended in beams of light from the windows. Perhaps, in certain places, there was even mold taking root. Despite the disrepair in this wing, it did not bother Duke.

    “Hmph,” he said, stopping shortly to look at everything before walking onward. Briefly, his body glowed a golden yellow as he cast a series. Instantly, swirling around, all the filth and grime nearby was torn away, swept up by a complex, kinetic storm. As he walked, the ground, the walls, furniture and fixtures alike were wiped clean in tandem with his steps. By the time he reached the end of the room and stood before a pair of closed double doors, everything was spotless in his presence. The doors flew open at once by themselves thanks to his serialization.

    Here, Duke entered into a wide and tall room that spread out in a great semi-circle. At the end, a series of windows that stretched from floor to ceiling offered a full, expansive view of a seemingly infinite body of water. He would have seen the blue horizon, but currently the curtains were dropped. Only the middle window was up. The sun’s luminous rays fell through the glass like a spotlight, brightening the dark room with a single stream. Caught in that light was a high-backed, decorated, wooden chair, a sort of throne really. It faced the windows rigidly.

    As Duke approached, his series continually cleaned up everything in his wake, thus, by the time he came up to the chair, the chamber was utterly immaculate. Positioning himself for a moment, he sat down slowly. The curtains rose without him ever lifting a finger thanks to his prowess with the art. He settled down, putting his arms up on the rests, tilting his head back.

    “How nostalgic,” he said, closing his eyes for a while, absorbing the sense of familiarity. It had been ages since he contemplated things in his old manner. But his plans were at last growing. He opened his eyes again and looked out into the distance. Nothing but waves could be seen until it all vanished at some point.

    “I know you are over there, Nabel Viska, my old friend. Across the oceans, as the world wraps around, on the other side of the Continent. I wonder if you too sit upon your throne sometimes and gaze out as I do. It would not surprise me, for we are so very much alike, you and I. But we do differ on one key idea... How long have you been standing there?” Duke asked, detecting another person in his midst behind him near the doors.

    “I know you live by yourself these days, Duke,” said another man who kept to the shadows and dared not enter. “I hope you don’t do many monologs though. That’s far too cliched for someone of your caliber. Leave that stuff to King.”

    “You have grown quite adept at masking yourself, lad. To slip past even me is no small feat,” Duke mused, deciding not to turn around.

    “I am a hunter, after all. It wouldn’t do to let others know my movements.”

    “Is that why you came to see me in person, rather than use the telephone like last time? Be careful not to get so bold, boy. Overconfidence is no match for the slightest suspicion.”

    “I can assure you, Duke, King has no idea what I am really up to. Here’s the thing, the beauty of it all. He believes I’m working as a mole for him, that I’ve worked my way into your organization. He doesn’t realize that we’re partners, and that I’m actually spying on him for you. King trusts me, given our extensive past.”

    “And I trust you, Number Ten,” Duke said.

    The number was a reference to King’s innermost group of serialists, his devoted disciples that executed his will. Sambur Eltin had once been among those ranks, until he fled and started his own school. The man present with Duke carried Eltin’s former number, for he was the late master’s replacement. Ten paused for a bit, considering the meaning of Duke’s words.

    “I hope you would never suspect anything treacherous in me, Duke. Let’s not forget, I played a pivotal role in the Sventa-Henron war you so carefully set up. I won’t betray you.”

    “Hmph. Even if you did, it would serve no purpose. Though our hands move blackly, unseen in the background, truly we are on Nabel’s side,” Duke smiled widely with his teeth. “After all, our objectives are the same: harmony at last, after the world has endured so much pain. It is only our methodology that differs. He would reduce everything to ash and start over again. He would deny the art he gave birth to. He gave us serialization, then took it away, burning what he himself had built, in hopes that somehow things would work out if he merely tried again. Yet, even he does not honestly wish for Losha to fail in her trials. He knows the truth; the world will always flow towards serialization. And there will always be corruption. It is only a matter of time until serialization poisons everything once more. People are too weak for its power. Time and circumstance will not change that, no matter how many eras come to pass. The real solution is to have power above man, something absolute and unwavering. Control is the answer I offered him all those years ago, but he did not see it yet. We will make him see now.”

    “You’re doing the whole monolog thing again,” Ten said.

    “I merely need to hear my thoughts aloud sometimes. It has been far too quiet around here these days, but this will not be so, soon. How is the Wolf doing?”

    “She just recently rescued the Shansala, a minor clan. She encountered our friends up north too. They don’t know anything about her yet, but I expect they’ll figure her out.”

    “The Shansala, eh?” Duke chuckled. “A Wolf protecting sheep... At least she now has a flock. That is important. That is good. And now she and the Zeroes have met. Perfect.”

    “What do we do from here?” Ten asked.

    “Escalation. Now is the proper moment. The gears of my plan must finally turn. The Wolf, the Zeroes, and the Central Plains: all three must be drawn together. All the players are in their places, except for you.”

    “You want me on the ground?”

    “Just like before. See that everything runs smoothly. Proceed how you see fit, but remember the outcome we need. Maintain your usual air of secrecy.”

    “This is it then? Once the doctors finish their work, there is no turning back things.”

    “Everything is in order, Number Ten. Just like with the war, all we need is a little push. What we started in Henron and Angali will now bear us fruit. The pieces shall fall according to my will.”

Author's Note

15 years ago, Losha Holvate Sventa fought to bring peace between Sventa and Henron. Though calm has been established between these two major clans, the larger situation has not been resolved. Time has passed, but the Central Plains are still a violent place, seething with anger and hatred. All it takes is a simple scratch, and everything will come rushing to the top. From the shadows, one underground group aims to do just that using the strength of serialization. Now an abandoned hero, Losha must once more rise to save these lands from the destructive power of the art. Yet as the actions of her past confront the Wolf, can she find the will to stand against the one behind it all, her very own son?

The next installment comes June 1st, 2016. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.

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* Again with the lateness... :(

* Obviously, the most intriguing part of the serial is that is reveals more details about our hidden actors. On one hand, we have the mysterious Duke, a powerful serialist who is said to rival King in his abilities. Not much is known about him, save for that he has a strong history with Nabel Viska. Previously, he has meddled with heavily with the affairs in the Central Plains. He directly presented Doctor Sansat with serastone and escalated the war. He also impersonated Heigon Henron (presumably with serialization) for nearly a year to start a war with Sventa. His goals remain unknown, save for that he has plans for Losha. Indeed, here he even hints that he was involved in what happened in Angali 10 years ago. For this story arc, he can be considered the pupper-master of everyone's actions. But what is his final aim?

* Then we enter Number Ten. He was mentioned earlier in Serial 81, after Einer and Laven lost their fight to Duke. Not much is said about him, only that at the time, he was working for King and was involved with Losha. There are several strong hints as to his identity in previous serials, but at the very least, I will say he was the one that had the telephone conversation Serial 101. Number Ten is a sneaky one, able to play both sides of those he works for, be it Henron, Sventa, Duke or King. Who does he really follow? He is one of King's most trusted serialists, and yet he's been working with Duke since the war 15 years ago. Is he really helping Duke at all? We'll find out more as this arc progresses.

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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.