Hellloooooo! I am conscious that, as I am posting this, it is late at night or early in the morning for almost all of my readers, so sorry for not posting sooner!
RECAP:
- Riya shared her horrifying life story with Lukas.
- Inkar and Feliciano are on the move through Bibesti to get to the Citadel and ask for help from the Zephyrak.
- Uhh yeah idk that there's much else to recap for this one lol
WARNINGS:
- Some minor sexual references, nothing even remotely explicit though. Some offhand mentions of violence.
- This could actually be classified as a mild chapter okay damn
Please review! I'll love you forever!
Resistance Headquarters,
Draak-Zafi Forra, Nyma,
5th Juillat
Yao rubbed at his temples, gazing around in irritation at his subordinates. He respected a lot of the people in this room, but he couldn't really say that he liked a lot of them. The only people here who he found tolerable were Octavia and Mohammed, and they both looked just as worn down and sick of today as he did. It was a dire statement that they were all so fed up with the situation; they had only been here for an hour. He glanced at Octavia, who was writing notes down in a booklet, brow furrowed in what he guessed was concentration and frustration in equal measures. Mohammed was slumped back in his seat, expression vaguely displeased.
Yao sighed. Normally he could deal with meetings like these, as dull and infuriating as they could be at times, but today was proving more difficult than usual.
Is everyone here useless? He questioned silently. It was honestly starting to feel like he was one of the only people here who actually knew what they were doing. He groaned softly, the noise not going unnoticed by Octavia as he rubbed at his temples with more vigour. This whole debacle was giving him a headache.
It was a relief like none other when the meeting was finally called to a close. He didn't bother remaining to answer questions or discuss strategies with anyone like he normally did. Ignoring the shocked looks on Octavia and Mohammed's faces, he slipped out of the tent and marched off, shaking his head to dispel the low ringing that the meeting had left in his head. He wanted nothing more than to sleep the headache away, but his body was humming with energy. Besides, even with medication, sleeping was still proving a difficult task. He had found himself roused by more scratching and rustling noises, even though he had pulled up the plants nearest to his tent by the roots to prevent the sound. He had no clue what was causing it, or why he couldn't seem to get rid of it. He shook his head a little. He couldn't spend time worrying about all of that right now.
He turned to Octavia, who had been following him at a safe distance. He pointedly ignored the concern that lingered on her face. "Octavia, would you hunt down Captain Kirkland for me, please? I have a few queries to make." She looked puzzled by the request, but nodded, peeling away from his side to find the surly pirate.
He could feel Mohammed's eyes on the back of his neck, and shuddered slightly, before deciding to bite the bullet, turning to him.
"Did you need something, Mohammed?" the Vice-General shook his head, frowning at Yao slightly.
"There's something troubling you," he said gently, "what is it?" Yao frowned, feeling a spike of irritation despite his colleague's well-meant words.
"I'm fine, Mohammed. I don't need people questioning my capacity to lead." Mohammed blinked.
"I wasn't trying to question your capacities, Yao, I was merely saying-"
"I don't care what you were trying to say, Mohammed. You have duties to attend to, do you not?" he didn't miss the momentary shock on the Nymian man's face, but Mohammed kept his mouth shut, nodding neutrally before turning on his heel and marching away. Yao sighed. He had no clue why his temper was so short today, but he couldn't seem to keep his emotions in check like they should be.
Shaking his head a little more violently this time, he set off to the main meeting tent, brain buzzing over what he had to discuss with Arthur Kirkland. He had many plans laid out in his head, and it was time for some of them to come to fruition.
"So, can you explain why I've been dragged in here?" Arthur asked, tone dull and laced with frustration. He had actually been having a very good morning, until Octavia Papadopoulos had hunted him down and delivered the news that Yao wanted to see him.
First of all, he had woken up beside Alfred, which was proving to be a more delightful experience the more it happened, not least because they had managed to break down the final barrier of physical intimacy between them just the night before. Arthur still was slightly confounded by the fact that Alfred had been so embarrassed to admit that he had never slept with anyone before. As he had been very upfront in telling his boyfriend, what did it matter? In his own personal opinion, as long as you were comfortable and ready, it didn't matter if you lost your virginity at 15 or 50, or even if you lost it at all.
He had wasted no time in teasing Alfred's blushing over their shared nakedness that morning and laughing even more when Alfred's only response had been to make a flustered noise and sink underneath their sheets. Arthur had been quick to tug the sheets down and climb on top of him again, which had resulted in Alfred turning red again, though the cause was not embarrassment, in that instance. That had ended in them both being distracted by the other for close to an hour before Arthur had forced his kiss-bitten and thoroughly relaxed body out of bed and into the shower, insisting to a whining Alfred that no, they could not share to 'save water', given that he actually had things to do that day.
Even getting dressed and hunting down his gear had been a nicer experience than normal. Alfred's possessions had been slowly making their way into Arthur's room ever since they had gotten back from Xi Lan Ey, but it was only that morning that he had realised the split was almost 50/50. It was more accurate to call his room 'theirs' at this rate, and that thought, something which might have once made him scrunch his face up in discomfort, now only made him happy.
After Alfred had insisted on passionately kissing him goodbye, he had been assigned to work in the munitions tent, which had proved entertaining and, dare he say it, fun, especially after a spunky demolitions expert, who had cheerfully introduced himself as Vladimir Popescu, had blown up half his workstation and walked away from the wreckage grinning like a maniac and babbling about improvements while a slight Iramese boy – Kristian, if Arthur remembered right – had doused the area with a fire extinguisher and thoroughly chewed the older boy out. It had made for an interesting morning shift.
After that, despite having missed lunch helping clean up the mess in the munitions tent, Mei and Leon had grabbed food for him, and he had been happy to sit slumped against the trunk with them munching away while Mei told him some more of the jokes that she had learnt from Gilbert and Leon also made a comment about helping the Fynknian princess with her knifework.
Once they had all finished eating, Arthur had been able to do a tour through his old ship, which, while under the custody of the resistance, was getting repairs and improvements made to it. It felt odd seeing the Mutiny under the control of others, but he couldn't deny that his ship was getting a much-needed upgrade. Overall, his day had been a pretty good one, at least until Octavia had come jogging up to him to explain that Yao wanted to talk to him.
He sighed, scratching at the back of his neck as he ran a cautious eye across Yao's face and body. The man was not relaxed, not even remotely. Though his face was oddly void of emotion, a blank slate peppered not even with the usual creases and inclinations that would otherwise indicate what the General was thinking and feeling, his body was tense, every muscle wound up tight enough to snap.
The Yanishman didn't seem to be faring too well, Arthur noted. His eyes were lacklustre and ringed with dark circles that indicated a severe lack of sleep. His skin seemed drawn just a little tighter over the bones of his face than it normally was. Octavia, who had moved to stand by his side, was frowning at him slightly, concern crossing her features before she smoothed her expression back into one of slick professionalism. Yao watched him carefully for a moment, eyes sharp and analytical as ever despite his appearance. He straightened up in his chair a little.
"You are a pirate, Captain Kirkland."
"Oh, well spotted." He snorted, raising an eyebrow. Yao paused, lips pressed together thinly. Arthur let his next jibe die in his throat. The man was clearly not in the mood to play around today.
"As a pirate," he continued after a moment of cold, heavy silence, "you have numerous connections with society's most detested undesirables." He leant forward in his chair slightly. "Other pirates, assassins, slavers and many more. Someone in your position of infamy would most certainly be able to reach out to a large number of acquaintances and connections, I would presume." Arthur shifted slightly, frowning but not denying the statement. It was no lie that his years as one of piracy's most well-known names had led to him establishing business and personal connections with a wide and diverse multitude of people.
"What of it?" he remarked, curious to get to the bottom of what Yao was getting at. Yao watched him for a moment.
"It wouldn't be especially hard for you to ask your contacts for help to locate a particularly hard-to-locate person, would it?" Arthur considered the statement.
"I suppose not, no. We are rather talented at finding wanted people, after all."
Yao nodded. "I see. Sit down, Mr Kirkland." Arthur raised an eyebrow, but complied. This was probably one of the oddest conversations he had had with Yao so far, and he couldn't say that he liked the change very much. Yao hummed softly under his breath before returning his attention to Arthur. "How well acquainted are your contacts with the slave industry?"
Arthur felt his stomach turn over. It had been years since he had had any definitive relationship with the slaving industry, and even then, it was a relationship borne of necessity rather than interest or support. Yet he felt guilty even thinking about the friends he had that actively contributed to the vile trade. The recent reminder of how Mei and Leon had come into his service only deepened the heavy feeling in his gut.
"That depends on what contacts you're inquiring about, but I do know some who are almost constantly involved with it." he answered. Yao nodded slowly, eyeing him before adjusting the cuffs of his gloves and folding his arms.
"Did you know, Mr Kirkland, that we receive about 400 messages a year from people in the slaving industry?" Arthur blinked in surprise and confusion, and Yao smiled sharply. "Not from slavers, of course. From the slaves themselves. We have lost count of how many slaves have come to us asking if a life of servitude and suffering can be exchanged for one of freedom." He looked up. "Every time, we tell them the same thing. Of course it can. It's not easy to free slaves, but it is possible, and we try to do so as much as possible. I grew up in the Union, so slavery was never something that seemed inherently alien to me, but it has never been a pleasant reality for me." He cocked his head a little. "As I understand it, this is reportedly something we can agree on."
Arthur closed his eyes briefly. He had no idea how the information about Mei and Leon had made it's way to Yao's ears so quickly, but he shouldn't have been surprised that it did. He opened them again and fixed them on Yao.
"I've never advocated the slave industry, though I will admit that I did work within it very briefly to afford treatment. I have to ask, what does this have to do with me?" Yao smiled.
"Have you ever heard of Hamide Boushab?" he asked. Arthur scrunched up his nose.
"I lived on Xexei for 4 years. I'm well aware of her, yes." Yao nodded, a small, callous laugh slipping from his lips.
"Ah, yes. Hamide is a nightmare to deal with even among the worst of slavers. She owns and trains in excess of 15,000 of them right now, if my estimates are correct. Do you know anything about her security measures?" sighing slightly, Arthur nodded. Anyone who had even heard of Hamide Boushab in passing knew how careful she was with keeping her wares locked away. "Well," Yao continued, "we received a plea from an anonymous slave who is currently under the jurisdiction of Boushab. Because of those security measures, we do not know their name, age, location or even what planet they are on. They were able to pass a few pieces of information along the lines about their former owners and auctions, but everything else was stringently removed by security censors."
"Boushab is talented at shutting her slaves up." Arthur muttered. Yao nodded.
"Indeed. Now, I would say that this makes it impossible for us to extract this slave and free them, were it not for the fact that most of the auctions they mentioned were attended by pirates. I know that you do not engage with the slave industry except to undermine it's integrity, which I do admire, but many people you know do engage, and frequently enough that they may be able to lend us aid in finding this slave. If we have a location, we can free them."
"So how do I play into this?" Arthur inquired. Yao leant forward again, eyes glittering with that odd, frantic energy that he had been displaying recently.
"Simple. I want you to find contacts of yours who would be able to narrow down this slave's identifier, and by extension, their current owner and where they are being kept. I want you, for at least a while, to really be a pirate again." Arthur frowned a little and leant back in his chair.
"So, what would this entail, exactly?" Yao shrugged.
"Most likely, it would involve finding a contact or two, contacting them and meeting up to ask them to search for this slave, and proposing payment in return." Arthur drummed his fingers on the arms of the chair he had settled into.
"Fine, I'll do it. I make no promises that any of my old acquaintances would be able to find this slave, though." Yao shrugged.
"I won't hold it against you if that is the case. Thank you for your cooperation, Mr Kirkland. I will allow you some time to consider it, but do you have any contacts that come to mind at the present moment?"
Arthur didn't even have to think about it. "Barkhado Dirie. She's dealt with the slave industry for years now. She goes to almost every auction there is and sacks cities whenever the opportunity is presented. It would be easy for her to track down a slave like the one you're looking for."
Yao nodded thoughtfully, processing the information. "Do you have any way of contacting her?"
Arthur shrugged. "She usually liked to dance around with me. She was never direct with anyone but Jack. I could make contact with some connections of mine and see when she's next expected to anchor her ship, but there's no point in trying to hunt her down while she's on the move. Her fleet is one of the fastest in the Galaxy. There's a reason she's managed to evade law enforcement for so long. She expects to be swarmed by people whenever she stops somewhere, so she might not be too averse to speaking with me." That was an understatement if Arthur had ever made one. Barkhado had long had an odd interest in him, going out of her way to attempt seduction and friendship in equal measure.
Yao nodded. "I see. Try to find when and where she is next expected to make a stop and report back to me. I will start considering who may make a worthwhile match to go with you." Arthur nodded and stood.
"Is that all, sir?" he asked. Yao nodded.
"It is, though, I must say, formalities don't suit you, do they?" Arthur allowed himself a wry grin. It was true that he tended to screw his face up a little when forced to defer to others. Yao smiled softly, shaking his head. "If we are to be on tolerable terms, just Yao will do." Arthur nodded. Yao's grin widened. "And given that in the circumstances, I am your superior, I will permit myself to simply call you 'Arthur'. Constantly saying 'Mr Kirkland' is getting rather exhausting, I must say." Arthur rolled his eyes, but in a good-natured way. He didn't really care what the man called him, and he was just glad to not have to simper anymore. Yao dismissed him and he marched from the tent feeling a little less drained than he usually did after talks with the General.
He hadn't spoken to Barkhado in a while, but, as mad as she could be, a part of him was eager to reconnect with the industry that had kept him alive for the last six years. His friends were inherently bad people, but he was hardly better than they were. It would be nice to catch up with someone of his own moral standing for once. He cared about Alfred, he really did, but the boy really was too kind for him.
Ta Cïtadel twrali Tapsiris Jel (Citadel for the Order of the Wind)
Tamyir District, Bibesti, Rela,
6th Juillat
Every second she spent with Feliciano Vargas was tense and heavy with the distrust and resentment that the prince felt towards her, and she wished that she could find a reason to fault his feelings. The truth was, though, Inkar didn't think that she had the right to consider the boy to be in the wrong anymore. She had done irrevocable damage; that was why she had sworn to help him reclaim his captured brother in the first place.
Inkar regretted ever taking an interest in the pair, and regretted even further her decision to seek them out. Even in the earlier days of her search, she had made mistakes that had lead the brothers closer and closer to danger. It was shortly after Lovino Vargas had been plucked from the street that one of her brothers-in-arms, Nizyan, had admitted to sharing information with Union soldiers that she had mentioned in Maarch. She had sensed the burning fire that dwelled within them both while on Incanda, and mentioned it to him not long after. He had gone to the Union authorities who were concerned by such matters, and not even a week later, the profiles of all five royal heirs to the Free Court thrones had seen a 10-billion-mark increase each in their going rate.
It made her sick to her stomach. Even when her mission had been concerned with helping rather than harming, she had brought pain and anxiety to the pair. She didn't have the strength to admit to Feliciano that this indiscretion, too, was her fault. She had aggrieved him too extenstively already.
The prince kept his face carefully blank and seemed more concerned with the concealment of his vibrant hair than he did addressing what horrors his brother might be suffering, but Inkar knew better than to be deceived by all his outward appearances. He was suffering, mourning as if his brother were already dead. And it made sense to her that he should. They were, from what brief glimpses she had caught into their relationship, extraordinarily close. Had it not been for the context and history on which their bond was built, and the body language they had used with one another, Inkar may have in another situation misconstrued the relationship as an inappropriate and sexual one. It wasn't obviously, but their familiarity was extensive enough that one might make such a mistake.
Inkar shook her head. She had hoped that proximity with the younger Vargas brother may slowly blunt his resentment of her, but their days of slow travel through the ravaged lower districts had been plagued by silence and more coldness than she had expected a boy made of flames to be capable of. She did not deserve his kindness or consideration, this she knew, but his continued detestment of her had served as a useful tool to continually beat down what self-regard she had. In her mission to protect Rela, she had inexcuseably harmed members of the family that had once been family in all but blood to her ancestors. It was criminal.
She was pulled from her thoughts as they turned down another corner and onto a wider street. They had entered the Tamyir District yesterday, which, though still sacked by the pirates, had not been as extensively ruined as Szwicza, Kirkos and Calmas had. Tamyir sat almost at the very centre of Bibesti, and was a district of almost perfect middle ground. It held neither the high houses and wealthy politicians of districts like Veroda, Sinnë and Dalk, but also was not plagued by the rife murder, rape and assault characteristic of Szwicza and Kirkos. It was a district of labourers and honest people, and best represented the average demographics of Rela. It was for this, and it's central position, that it had been chosen as the home of the Zephyrak.
She and Feliciano had been attracting more and more attention the deeper they went into the district, and the closer they came to the Citadel. Well, Feliciano had been attracting attention. He tended to trail after her a little, close enough to keep her in his line of sight and follow her path to their shared goal, but not so close that it was immediately identifiable that they were travelling together. He had a much rougher appearance than those of Tamyir, and it was clear that he didn't belong. Normally, the people here would not make comments, no matter how dirty or disparaged a person appeared, but the sole exception to that was Szwiczans. They spoke a different way, walked a different way, even surveyed the terrain in a different way to everyone else in Bibesti, and everyone here knew what that looked like.
He drew unease and alarm from the people he passed, less for the dirt on his face and the knife strapped to his belt than for the dark look on his features, and the sharp readiness in his stance. He was a fighter, and everyone could see it. Most fighters in this city came from one place.
Inkar glanced over her shoulder at him just as someone standing on the side of the road stepped up to him and grasped his arm. She came to a complete halt, immediately turning as Feliciano reflexively tried to yank his arm free of the stranger's grip. The man tightened his grip, and Inkar watched in baffled horror as several others stepped closer to him, frowning.
"You aren't from here, are you?" the man asked. Feliciano frowned, tugging his arm more insistently. The prince was fierce enough, despite his gentle temperament, to have pulled free on a normal day, but Inkar knew he was not at his best. He was tired of walking, weak from a lack of food and worn down by anxiety over his brother. She shook herself and marched forward.
"Yeah? Sue me." Feliciano said, though the phrase came out as more defensive than angry due to the wide, worried set of his eyes.
"We don't welcome criminals here. You violence-mongers can stay back in Szwicza. Our district is healing right now. We don't need anyone to slow that process down." Feliciano stared at the man, something like anger flickering briefly over his face before he resumed his efforts at freeing his arm.
"Sér." She said, stepping closer to him. "Unhand him." The man swivelled, and, upon sighting her uniform, immediately released Feliciano.
"Apologies, my viscount." He said, bowing his head in deference. "I only wished to safeguard Tamyir from further damage." Inkar tilted her chin up a little.
"You make many assumptions about him, Sér. He is here because I inflicted damage upon his own person and the person of his brother. He is here by my will and invitation, so I may correct a wrong of my own doing. He holds no fault." Feliciano blinked at her. The man looked a little surprised, but bowed his head again.
"I see. Forgive me for my rashness, my viscount." He turned to Feliciano, and bowed again. "Forgive my harshness and prejudiced mind, stranger. I did not mean any personal harm or offence." Feliciano looked a little taken off guard, but just shook his head and murmured an acceptance of the apology. The man stepped away, bowed again and slipped back through the crowd. Inkar watched him until he had disappeared into the crowd, then pivoted and continued to move in the direction of the Citadel.
"You really have sway with them." Feliciano murmured, stepping up to walk beside her for once. Inkar shrugged.
"We safeguard them. They show us respect for our service to them, though we ask no reward in return." Feliciano hummed.
"You and your comrades being the descendants of Rela's old royals probably doesn't hurt their view of you either." She inclined her head, but didn't respond verbally to the statement. They continued to walk, until the street widened out further, finally exposing a vast building. The Citadel. Inkar felt some of the tension in her bones easing, and cast a look towards Feliciano to see his reaction. He looked impressed. Regardless of his well-warranted ill-will towards her, the Citadel was one of Rela's most striking sites for a reason.
It was huge, built of massives swathes of white chalcedony and coastally-harvested sandstone. The Citadel's main structure, a gargantuan, circular building, was surrounded by smaller, circular rooms with blue domed roofs. Massive towers constructed of sandstone were dotted around the premises, each of them standing higher than the lower buildings of the Citadel.
She strode across the busy marketplace sprawled over the open dais in front of the Citadel, not slowing her step as she and Feliciano moved towards the entrance. The massive doors, constructed she knew of a dark red teak wood, swung open of their own volition as she stepped up to them. A gentle breeze from within lifted the loose hairs from her face and brushed some of the dust from her uniform. Smiling for the first time in days, she led the prince inside.
The entrance hall was as impressive as ever; a huge, circular room with an extravagantly tiled floor and walls adorned with alcoves. The ceiling, high and domed, was decorated with vivid paintings of Rela's history. She saw Feliciano looking up at the ceiling in her peripheral vision, and she braced herself as the gentle breeze dancing across her skin fell still and stagnant.
"Inkar." A cool voice echoed out. "You bring a visitor." She frowned a little. Of all the people who could have come to greet her at the gates, Zubaira would not have been her first choice. Her sister-in-arms was frowning, her too-pretty face filled with displeasure as she surveyed Feliciano. Zubaira tossed her head back a little, her short hair shifting slightly with the movement. She eyed Inkar. "Do explain yourself, sister, before I have Mother Aimira called down here." Inkar bristled a little.
"I made a mistake, one which has dearly cost this young man. I aim only to live by the principles preached by our forefathers, and lend assistance where possible in order to amend my idiocy." Zubaira hesitated, and Inkar could see that she had caught the other girl's attention. The older Zephyrak examined Feliciano again.
"Normally, sister, lending aid does not extend to allowing a basqa inside our most sacred space." Inkar stiffened slightly, Basqa. Other. Zubaira knew that Feliciano wasn't Relusian. She levelled a look at her sister.
"These are extenuating circumstances." She said. Zubaira frowned, then twitched her fingers slightly. A sharp, cold wind whipped through Inkar's hair, and she heard it rattle through the alcoves, producing a low, hollow sound. Inkar gritted her teeth. Zubaira shrugged apologetically.
"Mother Aimira should be informed of this." She said by way of explanation.
Inkar sighed as Feliciano shot her a bewildered look. She should have known it was coming. She herself had been taught to always call upon the Zephyrak Supreme if anything seemed amiss. Zubaira was only doing her sworn duty. Luckily for them, Mother Aimira was hardly known for her tardiness. Within three minutes of Zubaira summoning her, the intimidating woman was entering the entrance hall from one of the side doors, expression furrowed as she approached.
"Ahh, Zubaira, Inkar. I see why I was summoned." She cast a curious look at Feliciano, but turned back to her underlings. "Kindly explain the situation." Inkar gave her essentially the same spiel she had just given Zubaira. Mother Aimira hummed, looking over Feliciano with a small frown on her face. "I will say, child. We do not appreciate coverings meant to conceal unless they are worn for personal or religious reasons. If that cap is not so firmly attached to your scalp for either reason, kindly remove it." Feliciano narrowed his eyes, before glancing at Inkar. She nodded gently, and he pulled the dark wool beanie off, exposing the vibrant red of his hair.
Zubaira sucked in a breath behind her, and Mother Aimira nodded slightly. "I see. There is a little more to this situation that you initially made clear. In what way did you wrong this boy?" Inkar hung her head slightly.
"My actions resulted in his brother being captured by some of the pirates sacking the city, Mother Aimira. They were the only company that the other had in the whole world. I seek to help him find his brother and amend the separation that I forced upon them." Mother Aimira scrutinised Feliciano as she continued speaking to Inkar.
"Whatever possessed you to act in such a way that he and his brother were separated?" she inquired, glancing briefly at Inkar before continuing her examination of Feliciano. Inkar flinched.
"I believed that they may pose a threat to the safety of Rela and her people. I attempted to exterminate them after they refused to leave the planet." She said. "I was incorrect and deeply misguided, and I apologise for such foolishness." Mother Aimira turned her gaze back on Inkar.
"The fact of his ethnicity makes this whole situation a lot harder to swallow. Normally, I would be wholeheartedly in favour of your practising the values of the Citadel, and lending him aid, however, such an action would put you at great risk. Syhvvanians are not looked upon kindly in many parts of the Galaxy." Inkar bowed her head.
"I know, Mother Aimira. I am aware of the risks, but I am prepared to take them."
Mother Aimira shook her head. "I don't know if I can allow you to do this to yourself, Inkar. You are among our very best. I would hate to see such talent and skill squandered." Inkar bristled.
"Squandered? Mother Aimira, were Syhvvanians not once our brothers and sisters through the bond shared by our ruling houses? It was the same bond that Daerna, Syhvva and Fynkn still share and I refuse to believe that I should not at the very least owe the same duty to them as I do to Rela's own people." Mother Aimira sighed.
"Times have changed, Inkar. The Free Courts are not the same as they were 200, 50 or even 10 years ago. Rela is not the same either." Inkar felt desperation bubbling up in her chest. She silently cast a look at Feliciano, wordlessly asking him a question. The easing of the crease between his brows answered the unspoken question for her, and she stepped forward and took Mother Aimira's hand.
"Please, Mother Aimira. He is deserving of my aid. I cannot in good conscience turn my back on him." Mother Aimira shook her head and pulled her hand free of Inkar's hold. She stepped forward, towards Feliciano, with an apologetic look on her face.
"I'm sorry, young man, but I will not risk one of the Ahkmetov family's most powerful descendants for a cause so dangerous." She turned to go, but as she did, Feliciano reached out and grabbed her wrist.
"Wait, please-" he murmured, eyes pained. Mother Aimira stopped dead in her tracks, shifting her arm so that she and Feliciano were gripping one another's wrists. Her grip tightened, and her eyes widened. She stared at him, maintaining eye contact for a long moment before abruptly releasing him. She was silent for a moment.
"Very well. Inkar, you may lend him any aid you see fit, and provide whatever services the Citadel has dominion over to aid you." Zubaira blinked in shock as Inkar bowed deeply.
"Thank you, Mother Aimira." She said, gratitude painting her words. Zubaira straightened up, looking bewildered.
"Mother Aimira, you cannot just-" she started, only to be cut off.
"Rela has broken faith with Syhvva's people in the past, many times. We stood by idly as they were invaded and pillaged during the Expansion, it is true. We have neglected the common people of Syhvva many a time and shall do it consistently into the future, I suspect. But let it never be said that we have neglected those who were once our brothers." She turned and eyed Feliciano, Inkar and Zubaira. "The common man on Syhvva is not our brother or sister, Inkar. I shall break faith with them. But the House of Ahkmetov held a bond forged over three millennia with their royal family. I shall never allow it to be said that I have neglected the needs of the Vargas family." She made eye contact with Feliciano. "The resources of the Citadel are yours to use as necessary, your majesty. Knowledge of your presence shall not become known outside these walls, that I can promise you. Inkar, serve him well." Without another word on the matter, Mother Aimira turned and marched back through the way she had come, leaving three people in varying states of astonishment behind her.
Resistance Headquarters,
Draak-Zafi Forra, Nyma,
8th Juillat
Feliks watched the ladybug carefully make it's way over his leg, navigating a tricky route over a twisting scar that skirted around his knee, and slowly make it's way up to his thigh. He gently placed his thumb in it's path and watched it pause, consider whether or not to climb his finger, and eventually decide against it, turning around to move the other way. He watched it absently crawl back down his leg, navigating the forest of hairs before it scuttled onto his bare feet. It tickled a little, but he willed himself to be still. He had been watching it flitter around the room and explore his leg for over two hours now. If that wasn't a testament to his complete and utter boredom, he really didn't know what was.
Vash had joined in his absent observation of the ladybug, looking equally as despondent and vaguely suicidal as Feliks felt. They exchanged a glance as the ladybug departed Feliks' foot and landed on the windowsill. Feliks would have laughed at the utterly deadened look in Vash's eyes if he didn't feel – and probably look – exactly the same way. He sighed, tipping his head back against the wall. Entertainment was hard to come by nowadays in their little prison, and their previously steady but subtle descent into depression had taken a nosedive. Francis didn't even bother getting out of bed most days, and even Antonio's seemingly endless cheer and good spirit had been ravaged by months of incarceration. Feliks shook his head. They would have more to do if they were just in a regular prison, and he couldn't say that he wouldn't welcome the change.
The sound of footsteps down the hall had them all sitting up and blinking in awareness. The only thing that was able to rouse them all from their fatigued states was visitors. Whether it was one of the rebels stopping by to deliver recent intergalactic news or one of their friends giving them an update on their new endeavours, anyone whose face Feliks didn't spend endless hours staring at was welcome. A part of him wished that it was Tori coming to visit. Her presence was always the one that managed to brighten his day the most, and who kept him from falling back into his depressed funk for the longest. She had stopped by just two days ago, though, and he knew he couldn't be so lucky as to expect her back so soon.
His deduction was correct, and though it wasn't the feisty Daernic princess he had grown so fond of, he still grinned like a maniac. Gilbert's face would always be welcome. It seemed odd to think back on how frequently they used to fight and bicker amongst themselves. Feliks usually found himself missing the obnoxious albino's presence in the cell with them. He missed the jokes and the casual way that he managed to flirt with and insult people in the same sentence. He had become hyper-aware of people in the last few months, and so it only took Feliks a few seconds to notice the bandage wrapped around one of Gilbert's hands. He raised an eyebrow after returning the Incandan's greeting.
"What happened to your hand?" he inquired. Gilbert blinked, grinning sheepishly as he glanced at his hand.
"Oh, yeah, I was trying to fix an engine with a fucked up cooling system, and I accidentally brushed up against part of it that was red-fucking-hot, so yeah, burns ensued." Feliks winced in sympathy, ignoring Antonio and Francis' simultaneous snorts of derision. Gilbert rolled his eyes. "My hand was bandaged the last time I was here, too, you know. You're all just unobservant dumbasses." Feliks laughed.
"In our defence, the last time you were here, things got very dramatic very quickly." Feliks noted Francis' wince in the corner of his eye. Gilbert gave a shrewd grin, also evidently recalling Leon's angry tirade and the very unwelcome revelation that he and Mei used to be slaves. Feliks decided to steer the conversation away from the topic. Francis hated the slave industry with a passion unlike that which Feliks had ever seen. Knowing that he had accused a former slave of supporting a slave driver was probably a bitter pill for him.
"Have they had you excused from work ever since, then?" Feliks asked, nodding to his hand. Gilbert laughed, shaking his head.
"Ugh, I wish. Nah, they've given me a break from working on ships for the next few weeks, though. I've been working on some more finnicky projects since then." Feliks knew the shine in Gilbert's eyes very well; it appeared whenever the albino stumbled upon something of interest to him, something he saw as worthy of consuming his attention for a considerable amount of time.
"Anything interesting in particular?" Gilbert jumped at the opportunity to elaborate.
"Hell yeah! One of the mechanics works almost exclusively on bionic and mechanical prosthetics, and she's been showing me how they work! She's trying to refine their nerve-allocation models right now, but they're still really upmarket; more refined and effective than most other ones you could get." Feliks nodded, looking at Gilbert with interest.
"Nerve-allocation models? What the hell are those?" Antonio piped up, looking legitimately curious. Gilbert's grin widened even more, and he looked like he was legitimately trying to stop himself from bouncing up and down.
"They link the receptors in the bionic model into your actual nerve endings in whatever limb got severed. They respond to the electrical impulses and move like a regular arm or leg would. You can't feel it, of course, but you can control it as well as a normal limb. They're ridiculously expensive on the normal markets, but here they're made for anyone who wants them and was unfortunate enough to lose a limb." Feliks blinked in surprise. He didn't know much about bionic limbs, but he could assume that it was an arduous and complex process to make them, especially the specific models that Gilbert was so enamoured. To give them out for free was a surprising move, but he supposed that it only made sense that the resistance would want to keep their most capable fighters battle-ready, even if they had lost a limb.
"Damn," Francis let out a low whistle, "that's impressive." Gilbert nodded enthusiastically.
"Mhmm. And the bionic engineers told me that I can start learning how to make them soon, if I'm interested in it. It's a real delicate process, but since I know both biology and technology, they think I could have a talent for it." Feliks smiled, glad to hear that his friend was having his skills recognised properly by the rebels.
"Well, if I ever get one of my limbs ripped off, I'll come to you for a replacement." Feliks quipped. Gilbert grinned.
"Yeah, you do that. Anyway, enough about that," Gilbert said, moving off the topic even though it was clear he could have gone on about it all day, "how are you guys doing?"
Feliks shrugged. "Well, Vash and I watched a ladybug crawl over my leg for two hours, so."
Gilbert looked like he didn't know what to do with that statement. Vash elaborated for him.
"We're dying of boredom and I'm just about ready to slit my wrists." The assassin said, tone dull and gaze flat. Gilbert flinched at that, his cheerfulness evaporated. Feliks would have cursed the loss of his friend's happiness, but it was the truth. It would have been blatantly false to imply that they were all doing fine and enjoying themselves in here.
"You know I wish that I could do something, but…"
"But that power rests with that asshole Yao, I know." Feliks sighed. "Don't worry about it, Gilbert, there isn't much you can do for us right now."
"That is true, but I can, so perhaps stop insulting my boss." A voice said from behind Gilbert. They all jumped in surprise as Tino Väinämoïnen materialised from behind the albino, looking mildly amused at their expressions of surprise, shock and confusion. The sniper gave them a lopsided but charming grin, and moved forward to join Gilbert in front of the bars of their cell. He crouched down to be on their level.
"What do you mean?" Roderich inquired, eyeing the blond distrustfully. Väinämoïnen grinned.
"Well, Yao has recognised that being cooped up for some long with no reprieve is taking a serious toll on you all, so he's decided that, for two hours a day, if you so choose, you will be allowed outside. Of course," he held up a hand as some of them leapt to their feet in shock and excitement, "you are going to make yourselves useful. You can act as sparring partners for some of our younger and more inexperienced trainees, and against each other, if you so wish."
They all stared at him silently, wondering if the offer was really good enough to be true. Väinämoïnen cocked his head to the side. "So? You want in or not?"
They all nodded enthusiastically. The sniper nodded once to himself, looking satisfied. "Good. Now, we know it's been a long time since you were out of your cell," that was an understatement, "but we can't in good faith let you all out at once. We don't know if you're going to be well behaved enough to manage. Five of you can come today, and the other five can go tomorrow. You can decide among yourselves who gets to go first." He stood up straight. "Do hurry up. I'll give you a few minutes but I don't like waiting too long."
Feliks turned to the others, all of whom looked a little shocked and surprised. Only five of them would be allowed to go this afternoon. He sighed, feeling his stomach sink. He was willing to stay in this hell of a prison for another day if it meant his friends could experience sun on their skin and fresh air quicker.
Talking seemed to erupt between them all at the exact same moment, before being cut short a moment later when someone shouted over the rest of them.
"Everyone shut the fuck up!" Natalya shouted, looking pleased when everyone slammed their mouths shut and turned to face her. "We are not going to argue like children about who gets to go out first. In my opinion, it's obvious." She surveyed them all. "There are people in here who have suffered far more from being stuck inside so long than others. Take that into account instead of your own selfishness." She tilted her chin up. "I don't give a shit who the other two are, but in my opinion, Feliks, Vash and Francis should all go." The three she mentioned stared at her. She shrugged standoffishly. "It bothers you three a lot, being stuck in here. It's fucking obvious."
No-one really wanted to fight Natalya, so a series of low murmurs of agreement filtered through the room. Feliks' weak protests were shot down viciously by Natalya's glare, and he sat back, silent and willing to accept his fate.
In the end, it was somehow worked out that Feliks, Vash, Francis, Louise and Berwald would all go first, with Natalya, Antonio, Roderich, Yael and Eduard going tomorrow. Antonio didn't seem upset by not leaving at the same time as the rest of his crew, and just shrugged, wishing them well as they were herded out of the cell by Väinämoïnen and another two rebels they recognised – Kari and Nelia were their names, Feliks was pretty sure.
Feliks hadn't spent too much time on his feet recently, and he winced as his knees and ankles cracked unsettlingly as he walked. He rolled his shoulders as he was ushered towards the exit. He felt his heartrate accelerate a little as, for the first time in three months, he was able to step outside.
It was afternoon, so the ground wasn't scorching hot like it would have been in the morning. His toes dug into the hard-packed red dirt a little, and he took in a deep breath, inhaling sharply as fresh air filtered through his mouth and lungs. A gentle breeze was sweeping across the plains where the rebel camp was, and Feliks could have sobbed for how good it felt on his skin. The sky was a deep, blue-mauve colour, and though it wasn't like the skies of Pyndaph and Reycass that he was more used to, it still made his mouth stretch into a wide smile. The warmth on his skin made his breath stutter. Sunlight hadn't touched his skin properly in months. He saw Väinämoïnen shake his head a little.
"I know it's nice to finally be outside again, but come on, you need to move." The gentle pressure of the sniper's hand on his back finally forced his legs into motion. They followed the blond through the camp, looking around in curiosity and amazement at the rebels at work. Eventually, they came to a large, seemingly circular wall made of brick and wood. It was about twenty metres high, with a large set of doors to enter. The rebels ushered them inside. Feliks blinked in surprise. It was an arena, clearly designed to act as a training ground which could also provide a measure of privacy. They weren't the only ones there; he could see a group of people standing a fair way away, talking amongst themselves. The restraints that the rebels had tied loosely around his wrists was removed, and he rubbed the raw spots as he glanced around. Before his head even had time to snap to the right, however, he found the barrel of a gun pressed against his throat.
Glancing sideways in sharp panic, he froze when he saw the cold Yanishman – Yao – standing there calmly, rifle in his hands and finger brushing gently along the trigger. The other four had noticed his situation and fallen silent, all looking frightened and wary. Francis looked ready to pounce on the man and attack him. Feliks swallowed. Yao smiled.
"Keep in mind that you are here out of our good will. We are making the decision to trust you with giving you some free time outside. If you step out of line, you will pay for it, understand?" they all nodded, albeit Feliks did so very cautiously. Yao nodded, then lowered his rifle and slung it across his back, waving a hand. "Good. Enjoy yourselves." He said, marching out of the arena. Feliks gently massaged the place that the gun had been pressing into his skin, sharing a bewildered look with the others before turning to look at the people that they would apparently be helping to train.
He spotted one of the people from before rushing over to them, but as they got closer, his lingering anxiety vanished. Even with the very recent threat on his life hanging over his head, Feliks could do little but grin as Tori ran towards him and jumped up, wrapping her arms around him in a proper hug. He huffed out a laugh and reciprocated the gesture, praying that his weary body would not betray exactly how touch-starved he had become in the last few months. Tori bounced backwards, throwing him a dazzling smile before moving to hug the others. He smiled again, looking at the others of the group. Arthur, Mei, Leon, Elizabeta and Emilia Bondevik seemed to be the ones who they were being put up against. He raised an eyebrow. None of them exactly struck him as being inexperienced or in need or extra training.
"I demand a rematch." He heard Väinämoïnen say behind him. He turned to see the sniper jabbing a long staff at Berwald, eyes narrowed. Berwald looked perplexed by this.
"But you won." The blond smiled sinisterly.
"Yes, but you got a good hit in, which never happens. Come on, rematch big guy." Berwald still looked confused, but followed him anyway. Feliks grinned. That would surely be an interesting match. He saw Arthur eye Francis sharply for a moment before turning to Vash and asking if he would like to spar. Mei skipped over to Francis just a moment later to ask if he would like to fight with her. Leon had paired up with Emilia Bondevik, and looked a little cowed at the idea of fighting the fierce-seeming Fynknian. A tap on his shoulder made him turn. Tori grinned at him.
"I hope you aren't too rusty?" Feliks grinned, winking at her.
"I'm still good enough to give you a real fight." He challenged, mimicking her as she shifted into a combat stance.
"Admittedly, I was not expecting this to be your first move." Octavia said as she and Yao watched the pairs fight. Yao shrugged, eyes roving over the group, lingering pointedly on their captives.
"The game I'm playing with them is a very delicate one, Octavia." He said. "If I move too quickly, they'll realise what my motive is and turn away, but if I give them liberties, bit by bit, integrate them gradually enough that it seems natural all the while fostering sympathy for our cause among them…"
"You may be able to recruit them all instead of killing them." Octavia finished. "It's a bold move, Yao, and a very risky one at that."
"Dear Octavia, everything we do here is bold and risky. I'd rather not execute ten innocent people but I will do so if I am unsuccessful. But it would be rather defeatist to not even try to get them on our side, don't you think?"
Octavia hummed. "I suppose so. You are the boss, so if you're willing to try, then I'll follow you."
Yao nodded, smiling slightly. "I'm glad to hear that I'll have your support. This won't be an easy endeavour, but I feel like this group could be useful to us."
"Let's hope that you're right."