First Interlude: The Kafras
Kafra Corp. Headquarters, Al de Baran:
An old man of his late sixties slouched back a little as he slowly puffed away
smoke from his pipe. The dark room was slowly being filled with haze from the
smoke, which had nowhere to go.
The door slowly opened. Light coming in from the crack cast a beam into the
face of the man behind the fine-grained desk on the far side of the office. He
had a scar in one of the cheeks of his bloated face and his lips were both
thick and protruding. His hair was made of wig and his monacle showed off his
social status.
The old man removed the pipe from his mouth.
"So? Have you caught the deserter of the Mjolnir exercise?" said the man in a
weak yet determined voice. Thick smoke from the pipe escaped his mouth whenever
he opened it.
A feminine figure in yellow Kafra attire entered the dark room. "Not yet,
Proprietor Callus. Informers have last reported her running through the fields
of west Mjolnir," said the woman.
"I never imagined that the day a kafra would desert her roles would ever comeā¦"
said Callus in a sad tone. "Where have I gone wrong?"
"Hers is a unique case. The rest of the Kafra Elite are ready and willing to
follow your orders," said the Kafra lady in a dainty voice.
The old man sighed. "Thank you for the reassurance, my dear daughter."
"Her squadmates have been interrogated successfully; they have revealed that
she is indeed heading to the Glastheimspiel. As you have expected," said the
Kafra.
The proprietor swung his chair away from the door and faced a painting of Al de
Baran's clocktower behind his desk. "As much as I would hate seeing one of my
children leave this earth at such an early age, we cannot let the secret
weapons of the Kafra Corp run around without a leash."
"Shall I terminate her contract before she reaches Glastheim then?" asked the
Kafra.
The old man replied, "She wants to destroy our great corporation with the prize
of the contest. However, I never prevent people from trying once."
The Kafra pulled out a long katana from under her apron. "What are your orders
then, Proprietor?"
"I shall arrange for your entry in the tournament. Make sure she doesn't win,
Sampaguita. Return her Kafra band to me."
"As you wish Mr. Callus," said the Kafra. She then turned away, walked slowly
and closed the door as she went out of the dark room.
The old man once more put the pipe in his mouth and puffed away. The embers of
the burning weed in the pipe were the only light that the room now had.
My dear Vinca, running won't do you much good. Not even the great walls of
Glastheim can protect you from my reach.
