Sankt Jeder, Federal Republic of Giad

March 11th, Stellar Year 2146

Shin's first reaction was stunned, insensate silence. In an instant every thought withered in his brain.

His brother had been missing for four years, ever since the day his unit was routed in battle. Ever since the day he'd fled, the Nouzen Marquis had made a point of telling him. "Fled like a coward. Fitting for a miserable half-breed." After those four years, the Marquis' words were the closest thing Shin had left to a memory of Shourei; all else had been lost, and the hole left by that absence was as deep and bloody as a gunshot wound.

And Kiriya said they'd found him.

Shin's first cogent thought was, I really wish Frederika hadn't heard that. The first chance she got she'd be opening her 'eyes.'

"Zimmerman knows the details," Kiriya said. "He's in his office. You should go to him."

"Not coming with me?"

Not that Shin wanted Kiriya to accompany him exactly. The older boy just had an incessant habit of acting like his shadow sometimes, albeit a very loud, pestering shadow with an irritating love for pointless regulations.

"He's your brother, not mine. If I would learn anything about him, it should be from your mouth."

Kiriya had no right to sound so sincere. It was almost annoying how touching that was.

"Alright. Thanks."

In making his way to Ernst's office he ended up tracing the same path he and Frederika took while fleeing from Kiriya's lecturing. And speaking of Frederika - he barely even got ten paces past the door before he felt that characteristic eyes-on-the-back-of-his-head sensation. She was watching him through her bloodline ability.

'Shameless brat,' he mouthed at the air. The feeling went away, though Shin knew she'd try it again sooner or later.

He came to the door of Ernst's office and found himself hesitant. Except it was more than just hesitation. His fingers felt stuck. Like there was an invisible, solid thickness between his brain and the nerves that would let him turn the doorknob. Why? He asked himself, and found no answer. For years now, hadn't he wanted to learn about his brother? Hadn't he always wanted to fill that bleeding hole in his heart?

Apparently not, if he was this anxious. Shin stood there, saying and doing nothing. But his world was far from silent. His thoughts were so loud they might as well have been thunder.

The last words anyone had ever said about his brother were to call him a coward and a weakling - to claim that even his mother who was a full-blooded Maika (and all the more despicable for it) at least had the dignity to die in battle. Shin had shed off those claims. They wouldn't know the real Shourei. They were wrong. And if he could just refill those holes in his memory, then he'd be able to prove they were wrong as well, if only to himself.

But if that was the case, then why wasn't his hand turning the handle?

"Come in, Shin," came Ernst's voice from behind the door. Amicable as always. "I'm not busy with anything, as I'm sure you're aware."

It helped to be given the order. Shin shrugged off his thoughts and stepped inside. "Excuse me," he said, and took a seat in front of the desk.

Ernst Zimmerman did not look like a revolutionary. He was a middle-aged man with warm eyes and short black hair shot through with gray, and he almost always had the same gentle, easy smile on his face. Almost always. There were times where that smile would harden into something altogether different, and the warmth in his eyes would give way to pure ice, and Shin would be reminded that this was the man whose armies had killed his mother and father.

"How have you been doing, Shin?" Ernst steeped his fingers and leaned back in his chair, still smiling in his usual way.

The question was more complicated to answer than it should have been. Ernst had been his guardian and legal father for about two years, and the events that had changed the two of them from literal blood-sworn enemies to (ostensibly) family members had left deeply-printed repercussions. The least of which being that Ernst had forced him into peace, a state that felt deeply uncomfortable for him. Like putting on an outfit a size too small.

If Shin were better at understanding himself, he would say that he felt, in a word, wrong. He would say that even if he didn't see the past when he closed his eyes, he still found his hands often slipping under his scarf to worry at the scar on his throat, created by the pass of a shrapnel shard when he was four years younger. He would say that when he found his hands there his thoughts were never focused on the exquisite pain he'd felt that day, or the disgusting coldness that had seeped through his whole body while he bled rapidly to death on the floor of the throne room. That instead his thoughts had turned to his mother and father who had died in battle, and how glad he had been, so very glad to have the opportunity to share their fate. On how disappointed he had been when he woke up a month later to find that fate stolen from him. On how subtly empty he'd felt ever since, like his destiny had fallen from its rightful track onto a warped, broken one, and he had no idea how he could ever put it back into place.

"Kiriya said you found my brother," Shin said.

Ernst's smile diminished by degrees. There was a brief pause before he nodded. "Yes. His Para-RAID signal. But we haven't managed to communicate with him, only to pinpoint his location."

At some point Shin's mouth had turned incredibly, uncomfortably dry.

"Where is he?"

"700 kilometers west of the old Empire's borders. Approximately the same location as the Republic of San Magnolia, assuming it still stands." Ernst rested his elbows on his desk, turning his head down toward the oakwood surface, now bare given that Frederika still had all his paperwork. "We're unsure why his signal is appearing now. We haven't put up any new receiving towers in that direction, nor have we updated the Para-RAID technology in years. Frankly, we can only guess."

Shin possessed an unspeakable, unknowable anxiety around everything to do with the brother he couldn't remember, and it only grew stronger with these new details, as if every piece of evidence that Shourei had even existed at all was fuel for it. Regardless, this was Shin's goal. Or at least the closest thing he could have to one.

"Shin," Ernst said, and his voice had dropped. His eyes were still downcast, as if his desk were the only thing in the room. "You still haven't adjusted to peace yet, have you?"

Shin nodded.

"When was it that they first put you on the battlefield?"

Shin closed his eyes. He didn't try to remember anything. In fact, he tried to shut the memories out - but they were, as always, relentless.

"You are not responsible for what you are, Shinei." It was the Marquis of the Nouzen clan, a hard-faced middle-aged man with eyes the color of burnt steel who had said this to him, just a few days after his brother was placed into the cramped cockpit of a Vanagandr. "You did not ask to be born, let alone to be born a tainted child. But that is what you are, and no one can change that."

And then he'd held out his cold, callused hand. "But I can offer you redemption."

At eight years old Shin was trained to be an informant. Both a precocious child and a lonely, confused child, he was quick to learn and eager to please. Before too long, he was sent out of the clan's stronghold under the pretense that he'd been banished (in truth, he had been banished, and would not be accepted back unless he returned with certain vital information) with the intention of attracting the eye of the rebel forces, who might see an opportunity in an ostensibly helpless young boy who'd once lived inside the Nouzen compound.

Looking back, Shin wasn't so sure Ernst's soldiers had been so blatantly opportunistic. But whether they had or hadn't, they still took him in. For two years he lived among the rebels, eating their food, sleeping in their beds, playing with their children. He made friends. They taught him full literacy. His mother and father had taught him the basics of reading, writing, and math, but they'd gone on ahead before they could have the chance to teach him the more important aspects. It was the newly-formed Federacy of Giad that had completed his education - the Nouzen clan would never have considered giving him that gift.

They did so much for him over those two years. And in exchange he'd stolen their secrets and sold them for his clan's acceptance.

Lie to them if you want, but don't lie to yourself. What you did was worse. Infinitely worse.

Eventually Shin opened his eyes again, and when he did his cold red gaze was level and in control.

"I was ten. I was assigned to be the gunner for a Nouzen warrior whose partner had died."

They had to design a new chair for him. One with a boosted platform akin to a toddler's car-seat, so he'd be able to reach all the controls.

Ernst grimaced, his hands clenching down on one another.

"And you still haven't found peace here, have you?" he asked. There was pain in his voice.

Shin shook his head. "Their voices are difficult to listen to. They all want to pass on. They're begging for my help."

.:I want to go home:. .:It hurts:. .:Help me:.

The worst part of hearing their wishes was knowing he had the power to grant them. Shin had been in a Feldress almost every single day between the ages of ten and twelve, and even after Ernst had taken him into his home, he still regularly attended the training fields to keep his skills sharp, much to his guardian's dismay. He was talented, to say the least. He knew he'd be useful if they returned him to the frontlines. And he knew he wouldn't be missed if he went there.

He was a tainted child, after all.

Ernst spent a long time in that pose, his fingers clenched and tented, his head down, eyes staring either at the ground or at the coffee-stains on the surface of his desk. His mouth was a firmly pressed line, pressed so hard it flattened his lips into a pale, narrow scar.

"If I told you not to go after your brother, would you listen?"

Shin thought on that. He thought on that for a long time that, in the tense silence of the office, felt like minutes but was probably just a few seconds.

"Yes," he said, and meant it.

Ernst nodded.

"And do you want to go?" he asked.

There was no hesitation at all for this answer.

"Yes."

Ernst nodded again, but this time it was a jerky, brutal motion like the downward swing of an executioner's ax. He breathed once in and once out, and it was the only sound that filled the office. The only sound in the entire mansion, even. Shin knew Frederika was watching their exchange, but was glad she couldn't hear the contents. She'd throw a fit if she learned any of this.

"I don't like this, Shin. The thought of sending a child into Legion territory sickens me. It spits on all the ideals I fought for when I founded this nation.

"But I can see that staying here is not of help to you. What you went through… what they put you through… only you can truly know how to make peace with it. I wish, so very much, that you could find your solution here in the safety of Sankt Jeder. But I've tried all I can think of these last two years, and nothing has succeeded so far."

Once again every word seemed to hurt him. When Ernst finally did look up, his eyes had leached into the cold black shade he sometimes wore, and that coldness had sapped into every aspect of his expression, as if his face itself had frozen over into this haunted grimace. Shin took note of the grief that had overcome every aspect of his adoptive father's bearing, and the only thought he had - the only thought he could have - was that he didn't deserve any of it.

"If you can't find your peace here, then I will pray that you find it on the battlefield."

There was a pause, and in it some light seemed to return to Ernst's eyes.

"But I will not let you find it alone."

His voice took on an edge of hardened resolve.

"Lieutenant-Colonel Grethe Wenzel is a woman in the military council. She used to be part of the recently-disbanded airforce, and is deeply involved in the Feldress R&D Departments. She's been working on a new design that emphasizes mobility over the Vanagandr's defense and firepower. For the time being, she's called it the XM1 Reginleif.

"You were an infiltrator in your younger years, weren't you, Shin? I'm sure the new design will suit your talents. And a lighter touch will certainly help you on your path. As will your 'other' ability, of course."

He was referring to Shin's bloodline power, which had corrupted since his death four years ago. When once he'd been able to hear the thoughts of the living, now he could only hear the final words of the dead. Those of the Legion specifically. Zelene Birkenbaum, the brilliant, insane woman who had designed the Legion, had given them a model of advanced AI that replicated the neurological pathways of mammalian brains, but with the caveat that each drone came with a 50,000 hour lifespan - roughly six years.

But the Legion overcame this by harvesting the brains of fallen soldiers, and using those blueprints, treasure troves of raw data to create new, smarter drones. The only caveat to that was that in the process, the final thoughts of the harvested became trapped in each unit and broadcast on repeat, a chorus of ghostly voices only Shin could hear.

"Grethe is also," Ernst continued, "a capable Feldress operator herself, and has volunteered to join you. As have a number of other Federacy soldiers."

Shin's fist clenched involuntarily at his side, fingernails pressing crescents in his palm. "Ernst, you'll be sending them to die."

Ernst smiled bitterly. "I'm sending them because you think of it like that. Make no mistake, Shin, I'm expecting you to return. I am ordering it of you, in fact. Lieutenant-Colonel Wenzel and her men will help you accomplish that mission."

Shin grit his teeth, his jaw setting in a firm, stubborn line.

"Think of it this way, Shin," Ernst said in a suddenly softer tone. "You'll be bringing more company to your brother's final destination. Don't you think he'd want that?"

".:Bearing 120, distance 300:."

An agile Feldress with the shape of a crawling, headless skeleton slid on a concrete field, sparks showering from its four heels. The 88mm cannon on its back, poised like the tail of a scorpion, triggered in a devastating roar as an armor-piercing shell shattered a hovering target, red-painted metal splitting in a whirl of fragments.

The machine was plated in hardened steel the color of bones bleached beneath the sun, and the joints made an odd sound as they maneuvered, a cavalcade of eerily semi-organic clicks.

".:Bearing 330, distance-:."

Before Grethe could finish that sentence the Feldress flung itself a meter off the ground, spun and shot its dual wire-anchors into a distant metal pylon and flew. It met head-first with the last target, a ball of red steel suspended by wire-anchors of its own, and split it in half with one neat slice of a high-frequency blade. The Feldress retracted its anchors and arced to the ground, joints bending as it landed, slide-drifting on the concrete to a screech of grinding metal.

Though Shin could not see the Lieutenant-Colonel's face, he could nonetheless sense her pouting through the Para-RAID.

".:All targets eliminated:." Grethe said, then sighed. ".:You could at least pretend this is a challenge, Shin-kun:."

".:Sorry about that:."

".:You apologizing doesn't make me feel better:."

The XM1 Reginleif scanned the training field one more time like the wary victor of a bloody battle might watch for ambushes. As it turned clockwise it revealed a Personal Mark emblazoned on its flank: a headless knight wielding a shovel in place of a sword. That the machine bore a Mark at all signaled its pilot as an unparalleled veteran. Only a Feldress operator that scored at least two dozen kills in their career was given one. Between ten and twelve, Shin had accumulated ninety-three.

Undertaker was Shin's callsign. It came from the odd habit he'd made of carrying a memento from each enemy Feldress he destroyed, two chips of steel hacked off from their machine to represent the lives he'd stolen from the gunner and pilot. Some of the chips had names engraved into them, from those rare days when he'd been able to recover the dog-tags after the end of battle. Most, however, were simply unmarked chunks of forest-green metal.

If he were being extremely unkind toward himself, he might say he were taking trophies for sport. So he did say that often when asked, in a listless, emotionless voice so hollow it bordered on inhuman.

".:So what do you think Shin-kun? Runs smooth as butter, doesn't she?:."

Shin glanced around the cockpit at the projected HUD interface that gave the illusion of an open window to the world outside, at the ergonomic drive-stick and the short-burst accelerator pedals near his feet. It was a good machine. There was less space than even the inside of a Vanagandr, but somehow it was much less claustrophobic.

And more importantly, she did, in fact, run smooth as butter. Shin had grown adapted to the sluggish feel of the fifty-ton Vanagandr, doubly so after the war had reduced the Nouzen clan's numbers, and he'd been forced to pilot his two-man machine completely on his own. Having a rig in his hands that was not only five times lighter but also explicitly designed around mobility felt almost like flying.

".:Yeah, she does. Thank you:."

Through their momentarily synchronized senses, Grethe's smile created a slightly warm feeling in the back of Shin's brain. It reminded him for a moment, before he pushed the thought away with a conscious, violent effort, shaking his head as if to crush the notion against the walls of his skull, of what he'd felt when he saw his mother off for the very last time.

".:Come back to base, Undertaker:."

".:Roger:."

Later, in the locker-room as Shin was peeling off his flight suit, he would hear the patter of little footsteps bearing down from outside the door. They were accompanied by a slower, heavier step just behind, and that was when he knew he was in for an earful. Probably two, knowing Kiriya.

"Shinei!" Frederika shouted through the door, rattling its locked handle, then pounding at it furiously when it refused to open. "Shinei Nouzen! I forbid you from doing this!"

Despite himself, Shin did smile just a little bit.

"Forbid me from what exactly?"

"You're going after him! Your brother!" She slammed her fists against the door again for emphasis. Hard enough that Shin worried she might hurt herself.

With a small sigh he finished dressing and unlocked it. Instantly the door flew open and a black-and-red blur crashed into him, stumbling him back two steps. When they both had stopped, he found two small arms wrapped around his waist with desperate force.

"Don't go, Shinei," Frederika said in a high, trembling voice. "I am… I am your Empress…I forbid it."

Shin stroked her head softly, still wearing that small, unsteady smile as he looked down at her. "I'm sorry, Frederika," he said, and meant it. He truly was sorry. Sorry beyond words. "But I have to."

"No," Frederika said. "No… no," she said again, as if it were the only word she knew.

Kiriya stepped into the room behind her. He was dressed in his officer's uniform, a ceremonial saber at his hip - though he kept his blade much sharper than most others might.

"Where is he?" he asked.

Shin looked up at him. Kiriya's expression was hard and unreadable.

"700 kilometers to the west. In the Republic of San Magnolia."

Frederika tightened her hold on him like she was afraid he'd vanish into dust as soon as she let go. Even Kiriya's dispassionate gaze grew colder.

Moving that kind of distance through enemy territory would be grueling even with a marching column and a supply train at your back, but for a unit to do it alone? Without support? Maybe it was possible through a combination of adequate preparation, Shin's ability, and a healthy degree of luck. But the odds were still poor.

Kiriya stepped closer. He put a gentle hand on Frederika's shoulder and pulled as if to pry her off, and Frederika refused at first. But when he tried again she relented, if reluctantly, stepping back to a corner of the room, her hands clutched to her chest. Kiriya took her space scant feet from Shin, meeting his eyes through a level stare. His stance was tight and wound as if he were on duty. Judging by the uniform he probably had been.

"Do you plan to come back?"

Shin held his older kinsman's gaze as he replied.

"Ernst ordered me to return."

"That is not what I asked. Do you, Shinei Nouzen, plan to come back to us?"

Shin's eyes slid away. He couldn't speak an honest answer, but his silence was answer enough.

"You don't, do you? You plan to throw your life away. Like your mother and father."

At that Shin felt anger. Just a pulse of it, a throb of heat in his head at the thought that what his mother and father did for him could be so carelessly described. They threw away nothing - their deaths were a sacrifice.

Shin unclenched his fist. He didn't remember when he'd curled it to begin with.

"If so, then I forbid it as well."

"You can't." His voice was vehement, almost venomous with that lingering anger.

"I can. We are the last two of our clan, Shinei. As the eldest and most experienced Nouzen, that makes me your Marquis. And I forbid you from leaving."

Frederika nodded strongly.

"Unless you promise me on your father's name that you will return."

A long, wordless pause. Black eyes staring down from a half-head's vantage, red eyes to the floor.

"Why?" Shin asked, and the word came out so strongly and so suddenly it surprised him. He'd planned on further silence - had been set staunchly on it, but something broke through regardless. "Why does it matter if I don't come back?"

"Because we love you, Shin."

Frederika nodded again, her red eyes brimming with tears.

And finally, something cracked in him. Something deep inside. Something that had stood a hateful vigil ever since the shrapnel carved through his throat four years ago. Something that had sealed off the light and laughter within him, something that had frozen his face and left any expressions he could show to be strictly stiff, unnatural, and fleeting.

Whatever that was, it did not shatter. It did not fall. It remained as steadfast as it had been for all these four years, and what it guarded, it could continue to guard unimpeded. And yet-

And yet there was a crack.

"Alright," Shin said, his voice feeling somehow rusty in his throat. "I promise… on the names of my father and mother… that I'll come back."

Kiriya showed a gentle smile, black eyes warm.

"Thank you. And Godspeed."

Frederika bawled like a baby.

Those of you who have seen the new episode, I envy you.

I'm still at work here unfortunately... twelve hour shifts on the weekend. Not too bad in the grand scheme of things of course. All things end, and so will this shift, and that season finale makes for a damn good incentive to push through the day. Very excited to see it! Oh, and my date went well too. Karaoke is always a blast.

I dunno how this chapter hit for you all, but I got pretty darn emotional while I was working through it. It always seems somehow, mmm... wrong, when my own work gives me the feels. Improper? Like a comedian who laughs at his own jokes. Regardless, I teared up a bit working through that last section, and I hope y'all did too. If not, then rest assured I'll be trying my damndest for future chapters.

- Verbosity