And I am back! Please be warned that the next chapter could be a while away - I have so many assignments, as well as study, which I have to get through, so I'll be quite distracted for the next few weeks!
RECAP:
- The bounty hunters and pirates are on Nyma and are quick approaching the rebel base. Colonel Jakolin (Slovenia) and Tino are accompanying them.
- Matthias is still injured, while Arthur suffers from a mysterious illness.
- Yao is still imprisoned, and Octavia is now in charge, which has caused dissent everywhere in the resistance. Vlad has figured out who Lukas and Emilia are. Matthew is concerned about what Octavia will do to their prisoners.
NAMES:
Ines Jakolin: Slovenia
Ayshe Kartal: Ottoman Empire (I am aware that Turkey is the Ottoman Empire in the anime, but here she's a separate person)
Cera Bannion: Celtic Empire
Gonzorig Khar: Mongol Empire
Ali Ghafoor: Afghanistan
Dalisay Mendoza: Philippines
If anyone has a major issue with any names, just mention it and I'll try to find a more appropriate one for that nation. Warning, though, I will not change the names of any Empires, since it is quite difficult to find 'ancient' names for them to use. Any modern countries, however, feel free to criticise if I have used a name from the wrong country or culture.
Again, this fic now has a tumblr! Join me as I post occasional updates and even, if you're lucky, a preview! (Please join me, I'm so lonely). Since I can't post a link in here, it's called 'huntingthestarsandetc' and is titled "The random shit I write" if you search for it it should show up.
Not far from Draak-Zafi Forra,
Nyma,
24th Maarch
Francis cursed as he stumbled again, wishing that he could rip the blindfold from his eyes and walk like a normal human being. Unfortunately, though, they were nearing the resistance base, and so had to be kept from learning their secrets. He swore loudly as he tripped again, hands flying out to keep his face from smashing into the ground. He felt someone grip his arm and tug him back into an upright position. Shrugging off their help, he shifted his feet, before sighing in defeat and moving forward again. This had already been a long and painful journey, but this last stretch was the longest and most painful of all.
They had stopped at a rebel outpost in the Gafadari Grasslands early that morning, and had promptly been blindfolded by the people they met there. Their two guides – Jakolin and the Lieutenant, had at least had the decency to shrug and grin guiltily before they helped restrain them. The Colonel spoke to them as they tripped and stumbled over the uneven ground, tone cheery and light. She seemed to get happier the longer they travelled.
"I promise that this should be a brief exchange. Your friends are of no use to us, but your money is. Since they haven't really done anything, we have no reason to detain them, or you for that matter." Her words were comforting, but a part of Francis was unsettled. They had worked so hard, overcome so many obstacles to get this far, but he found he could only feel that something was going to go wrong.
Francis cursed again, loudly this time, as his knees slammed into the ground once more. He heard Jakolin's low chuckle, before what he assumed was her hand closed around his arm and helped him up again.
"Sorry. It would be a lot easier if you weren't blindfolded, I know, but you must understand, security and all." Francis grunted again, sighing as he kept walking. Objectively, he did understand the necessity, but he was too annoyed to feel forgiving. He could hear the others continuing to walk, though the noises of scuffling and cursing were much clearer. At the very least, he wasn't the only one struggling.
He had just clambered to his feet again when he heard some sort of commotion behind him. Someone was talking loudly, and he heard a few alarmed shouts. He turned his head, despite being unable to see anything, wondering if someone was attacking them.
That thought was dispelled just a moment later, when he heard something like a pitying chuckle. "Poor bastard." He heard someone say. He was about to ask what was going on, when he heard the sound of someone retching and coughing. He grimaced, turning his head a little. The Colonel, still standing nearby, answered his unasked question.
"One of your friends is throwing up." she said, in the same, light conversational tone she had been using just a few moments before. Francis straightened up a little, frowning. "A lot." She muttered, now sounding a little worried, as the sounds of retching continued. He felt her hand on his arm. "You keep going, I'm going to check on him." He heard her footsteps retreating, and, curiosity balanced equally by his desire to stay away from vomiting people, hesitated a moment before continuing.
He only managed to get a few more metres – he wasn't really sure of distances anymore – when he slammed into someone's back. Francis stumbled a little, apologising, before a familiar voice met his ears.
"What's going on?" it was Alfred, he could tell. Francis frowned again.
"Someone's being sick, apparently." Alfred made a small, concerned noise.
"It's probably just heatstroke or something." Alfred said, though he didn't sound entirely convinced.
"Nope." Another voice – Louise's – said to Francis' right. "It's Arthur."
"Seriously? Is he okay?" Alfred asked, sounding rather more concerned than Francis was comfortable with. Louise made a non-committed noise.
"I wouldn't know. He has been looking pretty poorly the last few weeks, hasn't he?" she said. Francis frowned, gritting his teeth as he recalled Arthur's pale complexion the day they had left Rela.
"Let's just keep going." Francis said sharply. "I'm sure he'll survive." As if on cue, he felt a hand wrap around his upper arm and tug him gently.
"Come on now," Colonel Jakolin's voice called out, "we still have a lot of ground to cover, remember. The longer we take to get there, the longer you'll have to wait to free your friends."
"Is Arthur okay?" Alfred asked the moment she was finished talking. Francis could hear a definitive note of panic in his voice, and he had to struggle to not curl his lip. As if Kirkland hadn't twisted around enough things in Francis' life. Now he was apparently managing to woo Alfred, as well? "He's going to be alright, isn't he?" the younger man continued.
"He's collapsed, so we'll carry him the rest of the way." she said, still managing to sound casual, even as Francis felt himself stiffen unconsciously. Alfred made a small, disparaged noise. "Do any of you know what's wrong with him?" Jakolin continued. Francis frowned, and shook his head, while he heard the others murmur their dissent.
"I thought he had heatstroke?" Louise said, tone bemused. Francis heard Jakolin sigh.
"Whatever he has, it definitely isn't heatstroke." She remarked, before pushing Francis gently. "Come on, your friend will be okay. The faster we get to our base, the faster we can get one of our medics to take a look at him, yeah?" Francis nodded mutely, and continued forward.
If that idiot is on something, then his condition is his own fault, Francis thought furiously. I don't care what happens to him.
But no matter how many times he muttered those words to himself, he couldn't quite bring himself to believe them.
Resistance Headquarters,
Draak-Zafi Forra, Nyma,
24th Maarch
Elizabeta glared at nothing in particular as she crossed the wide clearing space. She could feel eyes on her, but ignored them. Ever since Yao had been imprisoned, she had been regarded with more suspicion. The fact that she was a well-respected, long-serving member of the resistance didn't matter. She was stalwart and outspoken about her loyalty to Yao, even now, and that made her untrustworthy in the eyes of some. She shot death glares at those who she knew to be most devoted of Octavia's supporters, and strode fearlessly towards the main tent, where a meeting of the highest-ranked officers in the resistance was soon due to start.
She was bitter, but unsurprised, to find her path blocked.
"Move, Dalisay." The Lysi woman titled her chin upwards.
"This meeting has already begun. It can't be interrupted now." She said simply.
"On whose orders?" Elizabeta spat.
"Vice-General Papadopoulos'." Dalisay said calmly. Elizabeta felt her lip curl.
"That's never been a rule before." she said, measured tone underlined with anger and frustration. Dalisay raised an eyebrow.
"Vice-General Papadopoulos was very clear." The woman continued. "She didn't want any interruptions."
"You mean she doesn't want anyone who is loyal to Yao in there." Elizabeta growled. "Or anyone with a real brain. The two are interchangeable, really." Dalisay levelled an impressive glare at her.
"Orders are orders. If you wish to take up a complaint with someone, speak to Major Batbayaryn. He proposed the new measure, to safeguard the security of meetings from potential espionage." Elizabeta hated how Dalisay's eyes landed on her and narrowed as she spoke the last few words.
Still scowling fiercely, Elizabeta whirled around and stalked off, silently fuming. She couldn't be bothered to seek out Zev right now, so she supposed she would sit this meeting out. Her vilified thoughts were swept away, however, when she spotted a familiar figure standing not too far away, conversing with a newer recruit. Her eyes widened, and she felt a smile cross her face as she ran toward them.
"Ayshe!" she called out. The woman turned, her beautiful face splitting into an equally beautiful smile. Elizabeta hugged her, laughing with delight. "It's been so long!" she said as they pulled apart. The other woman grinned.
"Don't I know it!" she laughed. "Everything here is different, now!"
Ayshe Kartal was well known as one of the greatest fighters that the resistance had ever known. She was a remarkably brave woman, and had completed so many dangerous and high-stakes missions successfully that, despite her young age – she was only 31 – she had risen to the rank of Admiral already. She was half Nymian, half Jhobrasian, and her parents had blessed her with smooth caramel skin, long, dark hair which she normally wore in some sort of braided updo, eyes so dark they looked almost black, and a slender, lithe figure which helped her move with such great agility. She had been a member of the rebels' infantry forces initially, before she discovered her own aptitude for all things relating to ships and aviation, and had become a member of their navy instead.
Ayshe had led missions discarded by everyone else as insane and impossible. She was in the battlefield constantly, and led with intelligence and poise. Despite the immense difficulties which her job brought her, she remained light-hearted, kind and compassionate to everyone she met. There was more than one person in the resistance who had fallen for her. Even Elizabeta recalled having regarded her with hero-worship when she was younger. If someone were to ask her if she had ever had a crush on Admiral Kartal, she would simply shrug and say 'of course, who hasn't?'. Even Kristian, who had crushed on Vlad since the day he first saw him, and never shown any interest in any girl, had adored Ayshe.
Elizabeta had not heard about all of Ayshe's exploits, but she, like most people, had adored to learn about the most famous. Recalling one routine of conversation which they used to constantly exchange, she drew away a little more, and gently flicked Ayshe on the arm.
"Tell me about Operation Parasite." She said, pitching her voice higher and making her tone whiny. Ayshe laughed, wagging a finger reprimandingly.
"You're too young, Liz." Elizabeta couldn't help but giggle. For years, she had wanted nothing more than to hear about the operation which had made Ayshe famous among the resistance. For years, Ayshe had denied her. Elizabeta knew that the details of the mission were still technically confidential, to protect those involved who were now living under protections, but given her position now, she would be permitted to look through the mission files. But a part of her wanted to hear the details from Ayshe. She had been the one to plan and lead the whole thing. The success had been because of her and her alone. Ayshe threw an arm around her shoulders as they started to walk together. "Do you actually know any of the details?" Ayshe asked, looking amused. Elizabeta shrugged.
"None. I know the mission name, but that's about it." Ayshe stopped, staring at her with wide eyes.
"Seriously? You don't even know what the objective was or anything?"
Elizabeta grinned sheepishly. Ayshe shook her head at her fondly, throwing her arm around Elizabeta's shoulders again.
"I'll find the time to explain it later." She said, winking. "How have things been around here?"
The smile dropped from Elizabeta's face, and she ducked her head slightly. "Not so good, in all honesty, given what's happened with Yao and everything." Ayshe drew away, and Elizabeta could see her frowning. But nothing could have prepared her for the words which left her mouth next.
"What do you mean? What happened?"
Elizabeta made a noise halfway between a spluttering child and a beached whale, rearing her head back and staring at her. "No-one told you." She murmured, shock still coursing through her system. Ayshe blinked owlishly.
"What happened?" she repeated. Elizabeta gulped. She had never envied those who had to tell Ayshe bad news, and for good reason.
"Well…"
Octavia nearly broke her own nose with the force that she threw herself to the ground. She gritted her teeth as she saw a box of metal pellets fly past Ehsan, who looked as confused and vaguely frightened as she herself felt. Cursing whoever had decided that keeping Admiral Kartal updated was a good idea, she cautiously raised her head above the edge of the desk. Ayshe spotted her and hurled the next thing within reach of her long arms – a silencer for a pistol.
Octavia dodged it and straightened up fully, holding her arms up in a gesture of surrender.
"Ayshe, please calm down!" she shouted. The other woman glared at her.
"How fucking dare you throw him in prison!" she yelled. "He is no spy! As you should know!" she yelled. The Admiral moved to find something else to throw, before Mohammed, who until then had avoided having nearby objects thrown at him, grabbed her wrist and pulled her body towards his. Ayshe bared her teeth in an almost animal-like manner, struggling.
"Calm down." He said, some of his first words of the day. Ayshe continued to struggle for a few moments, before she stopped, shoulders slumping. When she spoke next, her angry tone had vanished.
"Why do you think it's him?" she asked quietly. Octavia frowned sympathetically. Ayshe was not so much loyal to Yao, due to the fact that her position was almost equal to his, as she was an old and devoted friend. They had become firm friends sometime after Ayshe's popularity had been catapaulted upwards by the success of Operation Parasite. She had been frequently sought after by everyone from top generals to newcomers and grunts, and had found refuge, by her own admission, by spending time with Yao Wang.
The first few years of his tenure at the resistance, before he was elected as their leader, had been filled with isolation and distrust on Yao's part. He hadn't been a 'people person', and had tended to keep to himself and do his job. Many people had speculated that he was bitter about his treatment from the first time he had been at the rebel base. He had stayed at their old base on Apollomina for three months, reportedly, and in that time, had been treated appallingly by almost everyone. The idea made Octavia angry. She disagreed with Yao, yes, but it was on more of an ideological level than anything else. She suspected him of being a spy because there was potential evidence to suggest that it might be the case, not because he was Yanish.
At the time, however, Yao had been the first real Union defector. People had joined them from the ranks of planets under Union control before, of course, but he was the first case of someone raised in the heart of the empire who had chosen to act against it. Many people hadn't trusted him, and though no-one would admit it, almost all of their distrust was racially-based. Even Mohammed had performed such profiling. The only ones who had abstained from such practices had been their many refugees from the Free Courts – as sufferers of racism, they were hardly keen to then inflict it – and a few officials like Helena and Yaretzi Chapula.
Octavia had been assigned to outposts before 4506, and so she didn't know much about the atmosphere of the resistance in the last years of Arshad Teymouri's life other than what she had heard. She hadn't even laid eyes on Yao Wang until the mission which resulted in her sister's death, and back then, she had felt predisposed to like him because of what he had done for her sister. Octavia was ashamed of how she was basing her suspicions of Yao on his past as a civilian in the Union, but could at least say she wasn't doing it for his ethnicity.
Part of everyone's reasons for avoiding Yao back then had been very much so based on his ethnicity. Ayshe, having been desperate for any place free of her scores of new admirers, and having already been friends with Yao, had sought him out. And, rather than everyone overcoming their prejudices to still spend time with Ayshe, the brave woman had been ignored as long as she was with Yao, which had resulted in the two essentially being attached at the hip for about six months. The whole situation had helped to soften Yao a little, though, and they had remained close friends ever since. Octavia couldn't blame the Admiral for her anger.
Slowly, and falteringly, Octavia laid out her several reasons for suspecting Yao. Ayshe listened in silence, despondent gaze locked onto the floor. When Octavia was finally finished, she nodded jerkingly.
"I can see how such things would make you suspect him, anyway." She muttered. "You're wrong, about some things, anyway, but I understand your thinking." Octavia inclined her head at Ayshe a little.
"I know you two are close friends," she said, forcing herself to ignore Ehsan's eye-roll, "but how do you know I'm wrong?" she said it gently, hoping not to provoke the Admiral too much. Ayshe sighed.
"I know his reasons for the long clothing and gloves. It certainly isn't for espionage purposes. I won't make comment on everything else. Your other concerns seem valid enough." Octavia's eyebrows shot upwards.
"You know why he wears them?" she asked. Ayshe nodded.
"Of course, most of you didn't hang around the base much back at the time. Anyone who did and is still alive now knows why." She shrugged.
"If it isn't some big secret, then why does he wear them?" Octavia asked. Ayshe levelled a stare at her, before turning on her heel to leave.
"Ask him yourself. That seems to be something that not many people are brave enough to do."
"His trial is on the 29th. He can tell us his reasons there" Octavia added as Ayshe slipped through the tent flaps. She saw the other woman stiffen, but give a brief nod as she walked away.
Arthur frowned, drawing in a small breath as he forced his eyes open. He almost immediately slammed them shut again, as sunlight poured through, making his head spin again.
Wait…sunlight?
He slowly opened them again, blinking in wonder as he saw that his blindfold had finally been removed. He turned his head slowly, knowing that moving too fast would only further exacerbate his vicious headache. He could see the vibrant blue of the sky above him. His brow furrowed in confusion. What the hell was going on?
The last thing he remembered...well, he'd been sick. His face burned with humiliation as he remembered. As if the others weren't already touchy enough around his health. He groaned softly as he thought of how overbearing Mei and Leon would be now. His groan was evidently heard by someone, as he heard approaching footsteps, before the glare of the sun vanished, and he found himself looking up at the concealed face of the evasive Lieutenant whom they'd been travelling with.
"Ah, you're awake. Good. We really have to keep going." Arthur felt a spike of apprehension go through him as he imagined the hours which they still had to stumble through the desert. The Lieutenant must have seen the reluctance in his face, and laughed shortly. "We don't have much further to go, don't worry. Not even an hour."
Arthur's eyebrows rocketed up his face. Less than an hour of travel? How long exactly had he been unconscious? He wasn't afforded time to ask, however, as the Lieutenant swiftly took his arm and pulled him to his feet. Arthur blinked, throwing his arms out to steady himself as his vision spun slightly. To his relief, it calmed down after a moment, and the Lieutenant released his grip when Arthur was no longer in danger of falling on his face.
Evidently, Colonel Jakolin had decided to make some concessions for Arthur, given his poor physical condition. His hands weren't bound like they had been before, though he did have a tether looped around his right wrist nonetheless. His blindfold was also much less restrictive, obviously made of a lighter material and not tied so tightly. He could just barely see out the bottom of it, which aided him greatly in moving over the terrain. The Lieutenant had obviously been tasked with watching over him, and Arthur could sense his presence very close to him. It was slightly unnerving, given the Lieutenant's behaviour, but he was simultaneously grateful that there would be someone to drag him back to his feet if he collapsed again.
Even thinking about the whole situation made his face burn again. He forced it out of his mind. There was nothing that he could do about it now. He forced himself onward, dismissing the pain in his temple and weakness in his knees. The Lieutenant had said that they weren't far away, and he intended to stay upright until they had arrived there.
The minutes dragged on as he staggered over the uneven terrain, silence broken only by Arthur's occasional cursing and heavy breathing. He was just starting to get dizzy and shaky again, when the Lieutenant grabbed him and hauled him forward. His blindfold was stripped off again, and he blinked at the bright light.
"Ah, he lives." A voice, dry with sarcasm, spoke to his left. He turned, face morphing into a scowl as he spotted Francis. "Have a nice sleep?" the other man continued, tone mocking. He didn't even bother to reply, ignoring even Alfred's much more positive response to seeing him awake and standing again.
He glanced around. They were standing just below the rise of a small hill. The sky above was melting into a gentle indigo shade. Clearly, it was later than he had initially thought. His thought process was interrupted as he felt himself being shoved forward. He fought the urge to snap at whoever was shoving him, and dragged himself up the hill. It was harder than he had expected or wanted it to be, and he found his breathing came ragged and weak. He could feel his stomach rolling and pitching like a boat in a storm, and his vision had started to spin again.
Arthur staggered slightly, legs shaking slightly. He could feel himself starting to fall, but long before his knees ever hit the ground, someone's arm hooked itself underneath his arms and hauled him upwards. He found himself slumping slightly against someone else's chest, and blinked in surprise, just barely managing to move his legs as whoever had a hold of him tugged Arthur along with them. He turned his head, shock coursing through his system when he saw that it was Francis who had caught him.
"Move." Francis snapped at him. The stern expression on the other's face wavered when he made eye contact with Arthur. "Come on, we're nearly there, anyway. Just move your feet, I'll hold you up." Arthur nodded blearily, trying his best to do what Francis said. He felt like his entire centre of balance had been thrown off, not least by the fact that of all people, Francis was the one helping him.
By some miracle, they made it to the top of the hill. Arthur would have pitched face-first into the dirt had it not been for Francis' iron grip. Alfred, who had made it up the hill before them, turned, evidently to say something to them. His eyes widened, and he rushed over when he saw Arthur's fatigued posture, quickly looping his arm around the pirate as well. Alfred nodded to Francis.
"I got him." He said quietly. The other blond merely nodded, slipping his arm free and drawing upright before stalking away. Arthur sighed, resting his head against Alfred's shoulder as the taller man helped him walk further toward the edge of the hill. "Hey," he felt Alfred nudge him very gently, "look. We're finally here." Drawing in a breath, Arthur forced his eyes open again, mouth falling open in shock as he gazed at the scene before them.
A vast forest filled his vision, composed of some of the most bizarre trees he had ever seen in his life. They had pale, smooth trunks, with branches which sprouted out near the top and formed a canopy of dark leaves that was almost perfectly level on top. He blinked in shock, twisting his head to take more of it in, exhaustion forgotten. Tents and small buildings had been built in the shade of the massive trees, which he could now see had massive roots that splayed across the landscape. He shielded his eyes from the brightness of the sun, which was on its way to begin sinking below the horizon, and gawked at the rebel base. The entire area hummed with activity. The Union had long claimed that the resistance was little more than a hapless group of 'terrorists' armed with rudimentary weapons; small in number and having almost no impact.
But, judging from what he saw here, that was clearly a lie. If this place was what the Union called 'rudimentary', they likely were in need of some sort of dictionary. The rebels escorting them along called for them to keep moving, and Alfred adjusted his grip on Arthur before he continued to help him along. Colonel Jakolin took the lead, gesturing for them to speed up as they wandered between tents and what looked like small workshops. Arthur swore he spotted one young man crafting a nail bomb at a blackened table. They garnered a great deal of stares as they walked past, with some people even stopping in their tracks to gawk at them. Arthur tried his best to ignore them, trying to keep his focus on walking in a straight line and not accidentally falling and pulling Alfred down with him.
Blessedly, everything in the rebel base seemed to be relatively close together, and they were ushered into a tent soon enough. One of the rebels inside, a young man with dark hair and eyes, took one look at Arthur and surrendered his seat. He collapsed into it gratefully, nodding at both the rebel and Alfred in thanks. The rebel shrugged and disappeared from the tent, and Alfred grinned at him. Flushing slightly, Arthur looked away.
Now, he supposed, all they had to do was wait.
Tino and Ines stared at Elizabeta in disbelief.
"Octavia's in charge?" Tino spluttered, mouth gaping open in shock. The woman nodded, expression drawn and pale. "Since when?"
"Since about two days ago. It happened not long after you guys set off for the Sulig Mountains." Tino groaned in dismay, burying his face in his hands. Ines seemed just as shocked.
"She honestly suspects Yao, though? How? He's been our leader for years, and a damn good one at that." Elizabeta nodded.
"I know, but she suspects him nonetheless. And she had the backing of almost all other high-ranked officers here, so she also had that advantage. She took him by surprise. There was nothing that any of us could do to stop it." Ines was shaking her head slowly.
"What reasons did she even give? For suspecting him?" Elizabeta sighed,
"It was all that bullshit about him wearing clothes with long sleeves and high necks, and gloves and that. She thinks he wears those sorts of clothes to hide an audio recorder." Ines scoffed at Elizabeta's words.
"You have got to be kidding me. That isn't even remotely close to why he wears them." Ines said, tone scathing. Elizabeta and Tino both blinked at her.
"Wait…you know why he wears them, then?" Elizabeta asked. Ines looked at her, blinking in confusion before understanding came to her face.
"I do, yes. I'm one of the few left here who remembers back then." She eyed Elizabeta. "You wouldn't have been in a real position to know him at the time, so it makes sense that you don't know. Tino, you weren't even part of the resistance back then, so you'd have no idea." Elizabeta thought for a moment.
"What year exactly are we talking about? How long ago was this?"
"Oh, 4504CC. Not that long ago, really, but because our casualty rates were so high back then, most people from the time who would have known what happened would be dead." Elizabeta blinked in surprise. In 4504, she was 17 years old, and had already held an officer's rank in the resistance. She'd been stationed primarily in outposts, though, so it made sense that she had no clue what Ines was talking about.
"What exactly happened?" Elizabeta respected Yao's privacy, of course she did, but this was something which had intrigued her for a long time. And it evidently wasn't as private as she'd thought, if so many people had reportedly known about it.
Ines shrugged, "Operation Parasite." Elizabeta gave a shifty smile. She still didn't know the details of the mission. Ines sighed. "You still don't know about it? Given how close you and Ayshe are, I thought you would have just asked her." Elizabeta shrugged.
"I was going to, but I made the mistake of telling her about Yao getting imprisoned before I could ask. She got side-tracked." Ines nodded, grinning slightly. Ayshe's temper was famous. Tino shrugged.
"I don't have the security clearance." He said. "Restricted to Captains and above." Ines smiled sympathetically.
"Well, I'll grant you temporary clearance, just for tonight." Ines said, winking at him. He grinned back at her. Ines' expression turned solemn, as she seemed to recall their topic of conversation.
"Operation Parasite…was a manifest success. Unprecedented. It was only because of the people sent on the mission that it worked. No one expected anything but devastating failure." She leant back against the tent pole behind her. "Ayshe Kartal, Ali Ghafoor, Gonzorig Khar and Cera Bannion. Four of the finest fighters who had ever graced the resistance's doorstep." She sighed. "To understand why they risked it, you really need to get the context of the time." Ines scuffed her shoe on the ground as she continued.
"In late 4503, a spy leaked the location of our base on Apollomina. Our forces stationed there were slaughtered. Hundreds of thousands of people wiped out by the Union. It was the most devastating blow to our resistance efforts in over a hundred years. After it happened, there was a universal sense of anger. Everyone wanted to get back at the Union, show them that we hadn't been beaten down completely. We were weaker than we'd ever been, but people began to plan and scheme. They aimed for smaller plans which would affect the Union, but not require a huge amount of man-power. Ayshe came up with an idea." Ines looked up. "She came up with the idea to completely immerse herself into the Union security system, over the course of months, until she could get into a position where she could wreak havoc."
"She was successful, and after several months spent living as workers in the Union, she and the others hacked into the system and changed their assignments to have themselves placed on a secret ship in the Union's arsenal. They had heard only the name. Most of the concrete information about it was restricted to the top rebel officials. The ship was called the SS Arbiter." A shudder went through Ines' body as she spoke the name. Elizabeta frowned.
"Wait…I swear I've heard that name before." Ines nodded.
"I would be surprised if you hadn't." she said. "It's a ship used by the Union to contain, interrogate, torture and execute their most high-profile enemies. The public doesn't know about it, for good reason. For anyone ever held prisoner by the Union, it's been used as an effective threat."
"Yikes." Tino muttered. Ines nodded in agreement.
"They successfully infiltrated the ship, and posed as security guards on board. After several more weeks of infiltration, they launched an escape effort. They got more than 30 prisoners out alive." She bit her lip. "The Arbiter's become famous since Operation Parasite, mostly because almost none of those held onboard who escaped ever recovered." Elizabeta's eyebrows rocketed skywards.
"They were in such bad physical conditions?" she said, appalled. Ines flinched.
"Well, yes, but I meant more their physical state. An experience on the Arbiter leaves most people insane, deranged, or so disillusioned they don't acknowledge any part of their surroundings." She looked up at them, sadness carved deep into her features. "It's horrifying, but true. For those who did retain their sanity, well, they're immediately recognisable. The sorts of injuries received on the Arbiter are quite unique."
"How so?" Tino asked, looking confused.
"While on board, they get a mark carved into the right side of their neck. It's the Yanish word for 'punished' or something like that." Elizabeta felt sick upon hearing that, and scrunched up her face, placing a hand on her stomach.
"So how does Yao tie into all of this?" She asked, eager for Ines' tale to end.
"He was one of the prisoners they freed from the Arbiter." She said simply. "I saw him once, about a month after he was freed. He was confined to the infirmary, and I was doing a shift there. He's scarred beyond belief. People could hardly look at him without feeling sick. He started wearing long sleeves to stop people from staring at him in horror." Elizabeta frowned.
"But we have tonnes of people around here who have bad scarring. I mean, Sakia has bad burns down half her body, but she doesn't hide it!" Ines made a clicking noise with her tongue.
"There's a big difference between receiving scarring in an accident like Sakia did, and receiving them from continuous, systematic torture. His scars have a lot more meaning behind them. Not to mention, I doubt Yao himself likes them very much, just due to what memories they would bring back. Plus, Yao's scars are a different sort of horrible. Their placement, what they look like…well, it's pretty horrible, anyway, and I only caught a glimpse. He was on there for a hell of a long time, so he has a lot of them."
"That's awful." Tino said, voice quiet. Ines nodded. Elizabeta furrowed her brow.
"Ines, you said that almost everyone rescued from the Arbiter was completely, if not nearly, insane. How did Yao stay sane, if he was on there so long?" Ines looked at her sadly.
"Oh, Elizabeta…he didn't stay sane." Before Elizabeta could even react to that statement, Ines was continuing. "He was unreachable for months, a total head-case. He would try and attack nurses because he thought they were there to hurt him. He screamed in his sleep, and at other points for no real reason at all. He talked to himself and would start crying for no reason. He yelled out nonsense half the time. It took him months to get better. The only reason he did is because Ayshe was relentless in helping him."
Elizabeta felt sick to her stomach. She opened her mouth to speak, but decided against it when she felt her stomach rolling and twisting. She shook her head, almost too horrified to process the idea. Yao….
She turned on her heel and ran.
By the time that someone bothered to come around and talk to them, Alfred was ready to pitch over and fall asleep. He wouldn't dare to ask Arthur to sit down, though. The other man was still pale and very sick-looking, and had been leaning forward with his hands wrapped around his stomach for close to half an hour. They had hoped that they would be able to get their friends back and pay off the rebels fairly quickly, but punctuality clearly wasn't their strong suit. By the time the tent flaps opened again, the sky outside was dark.
They all jolted upright as three people entered, many of them rubbing at their eyes or yawning. Alfred wanted nothing more than to curl up and go to sleep, but they needed to get their friends back, as soon as possible, so they could finally get off this dust-bowl of a planet. He looked at the trio who had entered. They were led by a tall woman clearly of Daernic heritage. She looked to be in her early 30s or so, and had dark brown hair pulled upwards into an updo. Her eyes were the bright green-gold which denoted her as Daernic, and she wore a simple, brown military uniform. Despite the severe expression on her face, she was quite pretty.
Behind her was a man who seemed to be of Jhobrasian heritage – he looked rather bored of the whole situation, and another young Daernic woman. He also tripped over his own feet when he realised that the second woman was in fact the pesky prisoner who had started this mess. She looked a lot better than she had on the pirate's ship – it was hardly surprising that he hadn't recognised her, though she did look a little pale.
"Good evening." The woman leading the trio said. "I'm sorry for the delay. You are here, as I understand it, to retrieve your friends?" they all nodded, relieved that they would finally be able to get out soon. The second woman was frowning at Arthur.
"You look a little poorly, Kirkland." She said, tone flat. She didn't seem to be openly resentful of his having imprisoned her, but Alfred was wary nonetheless. He pointedly ignored her, tightening his own grip on his stomach. The woman seemed to note this, and rummaged for something underneath the table in front of them. She emerged with a bucket, and thrust it at Arthur before stepping back. He accepted it and wrapped his arms around as he drew it into his lap. Alfred frowned. The guy seriously did look like he was about to be violently sick.
"We have set a bail for your friends." The older woman said. "100,000 marks in total for all four of them." Matthias, wearing his mask of a fearsome bounty hunter, held up a hand, beckoning her to stop.
"How do we know for certain you even have our friends?" he said. "For all we know, they could be on the other side of the Universe." The woman seemed to consider this for a moment, before nodding to the man beside her.
"Fetch one of them, if you will, Ehsan." He executed a short nod, before disappearing out the tent flaps.
Matthias was staring the woman down threateningly, though she seemed supremely unimpressed by his efforts.
"Have our friends been treated well while in your custody?" Matthias asked, tone measured and professional, though Alfred could see the danger lurking in his eyes. The woman rolled her eyes.
"They have been treated as well as such a band of criminals deserves." She said icily. Matthias stiffened, looking ready to confront her if necessary. Before the tall blond could open his mouth, however, the other woman spoke up.
"They have been treated humanely, and are in fairly good physical condition. They received a few injuries during the scuffle on your ship, but they have been seen to by a medic. None of them is in danger of dying, I promise." The older woman glared at her, but Matthias relaxed at her words, nodding to her. There were a few more moments of silence, before they heard noise from outside. Someone shouted, and tent flaps opened, revealing the man from before – Ehsan – hauling Feliks along by his arm.
Alfred felt his entire body relaxing when he saw that the other man was okay. He had only been able to think about the bullet wounds he'd seen on him when he'd first been kidnapped. To see that their group's second-in-command was still fighting fit was a relief like none other. Feliks didn't seem very pleased to be getting dragged along by the man, though his entire expression transformed when he saw them.
"Guys!" he cried out, a grin stretching across his face. "You crazy bastards. You actually came all this way for us?" Matthias was grinning almost uncontrollably.
"Of course we did! What would I do without my second?" he gestured to the rest of them. "These guys are hopeless." Alfred sent him a mock-glare, though he couldn't maintain it for more than a moment before his smile returned full-force. "Are the others okay?" Matthias continued. Feliks nodded, and Alfred felt anxiety tumble off his shoulders.
"In that case," Matthias said, "we'll pay you. 100,000, was it?" the woman nodded. The man, Ehsan, untied Feliks, and shoved him forward, looking disgruntled. Matthias didn't even hesitate to hug him, and Alfred was right behind him. It had been six weeks since they'd seen them. Feliks' wounds seemed to have healed okay since then, which was another relief. Alfred started chatting to Feliks, asking about what had happened after they'd been taken. Feliks had been halfway through explaining what had happened on Galee when a beeping noise caught their attention. The transfer of money from Matthias' accounts into those of the rebels had finished, but Alfred's attention was caught by the expression on the woman's face. Matthias turned away, to make some remark to Berwald behind him. Alfred saw the woman raise her hand and gesture to someone behind them.
He had no time to react, before he found himself being seized from behind. He struggled, but went completely still when he felt the cold metal of a gun barrel press into his temple. The woman nodded in satisfaction.
"What the hell are you doing?" Matthias yelled, struggling against his captor despite the shotgun aimed at his neck. The woman glanced at him, smiling slightly.
"Business. Things could turn out a lot more profitable for us if you stay here for a little while. Not to mention, you are yet to pay for the crime of kidnapping and imprisoning one of our fighters." Alfred turned, expecting to see the younger woman triumphant. He was verifiably stunned to see a look of profound horror on the woman's face as she whirled to face the older woman.
"What? Octavia, no! You promised you would let them go! They haven't done anything! Besides," she sent a pointed look at Arthur, "they look like they've suffered enough just getting here." the woman, Octavia, paid her no mind.
"Put them in a cell. They can stay together, I suppose. Use the large cell in the block." Alfred could hear the other woman's continued protests, but they went unacknowledged as they were dragged from the tent. He struggled fiercely, but his captor was much stronger than he was. Arthur wasn't even trying to fight, just letting himself be dragged along.
Alfred felt hopelessness sink into his bones as they were dragged into a prison block. He heard distant shouting, before the clanking of metal met his ears as he was thrown into a cell. Mei landed directly on his back. Slightly winded, he just managed to move away before Antonio could land on them, too. He pressed his back against the cold stone wall, shuddering. The others were all groaning as they disentangled themselves from other another. The door slammed shut, and he let out a noise resembling a whimper.
Everyone seemed to be in shock, like it hadn't sunk in yet. Alfred buried his face in his hands.
"Oh god. They're never going to let us go. We'll be their prisoners forever."
"Hey, I'm sure it won't be that bad." Antonio said, clearly trying to diffuse the situation. "Didn't they say they'd put us on trial or something?"
"What the fuck do you think is the likelihood that they'll find us innocent?" he said despondently. The walls felt like they were closing in on him. Back when he lived in the orphanage, after his parents' meagre sum of love for him had run dry, they used to lock children in small rooms just like this cell when they were bad. Alfred, being as vivacious a child as he was, had often been locked in one. Abruptly, the crushing sensation vanished. He looked up.
Arthur, face almost grey in colour, and looking sicker than he had this entire journey, was gripping Alfred's hand like a vice.
"We'll be fine," he said, voice grating like stone, "if they try anything we can fight our way out. That's what we've all been doing for years, isn't it?" Alfred blinked, slowly nodding. He felt Arthur loosening his grip on his hand, and he abruptly grabbed it again. Arthur looked at him briefly, glancing around at the others. Now that Alfred had calmed down, their attention was elsewhere. Arthur looked back at him, and slowly intertwined their fingers, moving their clasped hands down, where the others couldn't see. Alfred felt himself calming down. He relaxed, and slumped against the wall, angling his body slightly towards Arthur. He felt the pirate squeeze his hand.
They were all quiet for a while, until Feliks spoke up.
"Some of the rebels around here are quite decent, you know. The ones who kidnapped us are among the nicest ones. They wouldn't let anything bad happen." He leant against the wall, crossing his legs. "We just have to hope that Matthew or one of the others hears about this."
Francis frowned. "Is that one of the rebels?" Feliks nodded.
"Yeah, he's…" Feliks glanced over at Alfred, hesitating.
"…he's one of the rebels." The blond finished, rolling his shoulders. "He'll make sure they don't hurt us."
They all nodded, one by one. They almost unanimously agreed that nothing would get better if they didn't all sleep first, and they spread themselves out on the ground, most falling into a restless, nightmare-ridden sleep. Alfred was fast to fall asleep, mentally and emotionally exhausted by the day's events.
He was surprised, when he woke up the next morning, to find that he was still holding Arthur's hand. He wasn't surprised that he was still holding onto the other, but at the fact that the pirate hadn't let go, either.
