As it turned out, Tarn's wounds were horrendously more serious than he let on, and the full extent was only discovered when he began coughing blood. This prompted immediate medical attention, and it was discovered than a majority of his organs was suffering from a form of internal bleeding in some way. It was only through some modern Terran medical technologies that this was discovered, and operation was immediate.

But the damage had been done. The grim surgeon told the horrified Clara and her equally shocked retinue that Tarn had, at most, five years, and that was only if he led a quiet life. To actively participate in Clara's Royal Court anymore was shortening his life more so than ever before.

And thus, the Princess was faced with the first of many harsh decisions she would make living...

O O O

"I already told you, I'm returning to duty tomorrow," Tarn tiredly repeated, adjusting his glasses as he sat up in the white medical bed. "I would do so today, but the doctors insisted one more day of rest. There's no point in arguing for more time."

"Tarn, I don't want you to return to duty, I want you to retire dammit!" The white haired princess pleaded, frantically shaking her head as she tried her argument. "Even if it's just a few more years, I would rather have you spend that time in a quiet library rather than be with me. Please Tarn, you mean so much to me!"

"Then you understand how much your safety means to me as well!" The red head knight barked, coughing slightly from the exertion of the shout. "If you were to get hurt in any way, I would never forgive myself."

"She won't get hurt!" Horace snorted.

"She's with us!" Alicia chimed.

"I trust you two, but I feel that I need to trust myself to protect her as well."

It was clear that Tarn would not back down from his duty, even if that meant him dying. Clara hung her head, trying to hide her tears as the man she loved pledged himself to death to simply protect her. All because she was stupid enough to get hurt on the battlefield! Why? Why did such blasted oaths exist?!

Oath...

"Tarn. What was your oath?" Clara asked in an emotionless manner, her hair shadowing her face. When the man looked at her confused, she clarified. "Your family's oath."

"My family oath?" Tarn blinked in surprise before closing his eyes and remembering that one so faithful night he, a young child, pledged to his father. "I swear, upon this blade, to forever uphold the rights of the Terrazine Royal Family. May the sins and burdens of my father pass onto me, and may I bear them with pride. When time comes, may I pass these duties onto my son and his rightful heirs. I shall serve forever the true ruler of Terrazine, in both life and death."

"I release your family from that oath. Your bloodline is no longer obliged to server under us unconditionally." That simple statement elicited gasps from the mercenaries as they behold the power of that declaration. "I strip Tarn of his title as Royal Knight of Terrazine, and take away what power the office beholds upon him. From here on out, he...he is to be treated as a simple citizen of Terrazine!"

Upon that, her voice finally broke, and Clara turned away, rushing to the hospital door and sobbing all the while. But just before she left, the white haired princess turned to the shocked man with bleary eyes. "Please. Hate me."

That was the last thing Princess Clara ever said to Tarn.

O O O

With his titles and powers gone, Tarn had no choice. The King was far too eager to kick him out of the Royal Palace, and placed a decree that he was to not approach the Royal Family again so long as Terrazine stood. This effectively sealed Tarn from ever seeing his old life again, as the Royal Guards locked the palace gates in front of the miserable man in a butler's uniform, with only an old sword and a battered gravity axe to his name.

Resourceful as he was though, Tarn managed to scourge up a job as a simple librarian in the city, placing his well-honed knowledge of ancient Terrazine to use as he documented and shelved and dusted books in the Public Library of Ancient Knowledge. Every day to him seemed to meld together; an university student asking for a certain research paper; a group of young boys crowding around descriptions of ancient weaponry; a shy woman asking for books on old love ballads (he would find some of those poems written on a paper addressed to him the next day). At every encounter, Tarn could smile and aid each one in each unique way.

But every day, as the red head slung a book bag over his shoulder and locked the door to his meager home, he looked up at the soaring Royal Palace made of marble in the distance. And every day, his mind strayed to the stowed weapons under his bed, and his hand would curl up as if holding them again. Every day, a single thought crossed his mind: "How is she holding up today?"

As years passed, Tarn would indeed manage to glimpse Clara through a throng of people in the military parades so often held. Every time, her face was shadowed her her hair, as if she had sealed away part of her very soul by banishing Tarn. Horace and Alicia were always at her side, but Tarn could see it in their miserable stances that they were uncomfortable being in such public company without a third set of keen eyes aiding in the search for assassins. Sure, they did their job as Tarn recalled an incident where an assassin tried pulling a gun out from the crowd and the two performed admirably in controlling the situation, but even while they did so...it was as if they were missing a person from their routine as they constantly made to turn and shout to a Royal Knight who didn't exist anymore.

Prince Zeb, for the other part, looked as though he was getting on with age, as his shoulders became even heavier and heavier each year. His aide Tyler, on the hand, seemed to be happier and zealous every year. Once, because a person on the side of the parade made a rather snide remark of the King, the man actually pulled out a pistol and fired at said offender, winging the poor civilian's arm. Only Zeb's quick intervention stopped Tyler from firing another.

Xana, on the other hand...Tarn almost never saw her at the parades anymore. From what he could gather from the gossip circles, it seemed that she was spending more and more time in the Terran Empire than Terrazine. There were rumors that she and the famed Commander Anthony had something for each other; the former knight found himself smiling at the news. Xana was perhaps the closest thing to a babysitter he had between raising Clara and participating in Zeb's sparring. A good sister.

And so, Tarn lived in the masses of Terrazine, yearning for his old life but accepting his new one. He longed for the thrill of fight of an assassination and thought of helping a struggling student get through school. It was odd, as how his new life thrilled him in the same way as his old one, but...Tarn supposed the difference mattered anymore.

Either way, he would serve Terrazine.

O O O

"We've got wounded here, be quick with the stretchers!" A sweat covered Tarn yelled, beckoning to the medical team as they picked their way over the rubble. His librarian coat was in tatters, and his book bag was all but gone, but that didn't matter! "Quick, they've lost a lot of blood already!"

As the wounded moaning civilians were carted away, the red headed man took a break and slumped against the destroyed wall that was once part of the library. Or rather, the ex-library now, as it smoldered with fire that caught from the Terran artillery. His workplace was gone.

Stacked on his side was a pile of books Tarn had barely been able to save when the shelling began. He could've gotten more, but there were wounded civilians trapped under the rubble of bricks and Tarn had to dig them out first. As a result, most of the books burned, a pyre of knowledge that only fueled the furnace of war.

His sword was tucked away at his waist and his gravity axe slung on his back, weapons he had quickly retrieved when he heard that the Terran army was marching for the city. Tarn could hardly believe that the King of Terrazine had actually ordered a civil war within the Empire, for the sole reason of obtaining power; was he a bigger idiot than assumed? Even from a basic tactician's standpoint, they could dismiss the action as doomed to fail as Terrazine and their allies lacked enough resources to wage such a costly war.

But right now, all the red headed man was concerned about was helping others survive this calamity. Citizens of Terrazine were suffering and dying because of one man's stupid decision; Tarn was insistent on trying to save as many of them as he could. He may not be a Royal Knight anymore, but dammit, if the Terran Empire wanted to kill civilians-!

"The Royal Army of Terrazine that shall bring salvation has arrived!" A rather familiar and obnoxious voice announced and Tarn lifted his head to see, out of all people, Tyler stride forward in a manner much like a peacock. An very amusing sight considering he was in CMC Power Armor. Interestingly enough, the man noted that the aide to the late Zeb now had a robotic leg. It would seem that he suffered a wound in leaving Zeb for dead; good. "Rejoice! We shall defeat the Terran army here and secure our place in glorious history!"

"Glorious history of absolute defeats you mean," Tarn sardonically added, raising his voice as he slowly got up. Immediately, Tyler whirled around and pulled out a pistol, firing in the same smooth action. A practiced execution move.

Unfortunately, Tarn had seen it performed far too many times, and rather dramatically sighed as the projectile went wide from a simple sidestep. It didn't even skim his long hair. Tyler stared in disbelief before recognition dawned in his eyes and he laughed. "Oh! It's the banished Royal Knight! Of course you would be here, mingling with the commoners!"

"The name is Tarn, if you still haven't learnt it by now," The red headed man wearily told, closing his eyes and shaking his head. "But I'm intrigued. What is this salvation army you talk of?"

"None other than the finest warriors of our ancestors!" At this, Tarn's eyes snappd wide open as he heard the sound of metal grinding against metal. His memorized lore went into overtime as they recalled the warriors of death, the automatons of lightning...no, it couldn't be!

And yet, there they were. Ever since that one fateful journey with Zeb, they had haunted his dreams: the robots of Old Terrazine. They must've been activated and restored from their resting place, called back into battle by the desperate in a final attempt to sally out to victory. Their eternally frozen metallic faces seemed to drill into Tarn as they marched forward uncaringly, their bodies humming with green energy that powered them. Green gauss rifles hummed with power in their hands, still operational after centuries of slumber.

Tarn couldn't help himself. "Are you insane?!" He asked, frantically drawing out his sword. "They are the enemies of life itself! You risk dooming us all! Be lucky that they aren't at full power!"

"Full power?" This seemed to intrigue Tyler. "What can we do to power them up?"

"A massive power surge, or life force." The answer instinctively slipped out Tarn's mouth, trained by years of aiding inquisitive students. He found himself horrified as he answered the worst possible way in the current situation. "Either one of them could strengthen all forms of the robots of Old Terrazine."

"Well, we lack power surge, but...I believe we have life force a plenty," The aide to the late Zeb sniggered, glancing at the shocked and wounded civilians. "I'm sure that giving up your life for your kingdom is a noble deed then!"

"No!" The former royal knight drew his blade and stepped up, hacking as old pains sprang up but keeping his blade pointing at Tyler. "I won't let you kill civilians!"

There was a blur as Tyler moved, and years of retirement snuck up on Tarn as he found himself smacked to the side by the backhand of an armored fist. He was evidently unable to react in time as his body crashed onto rubble. Blood trickled from his mouth as internal wounds reopened from the blunt force trauma, his sight already fading to black. The last thing Tarn heard was from that accursed Tyler's mouth, that snake of Terrazine. "Now, submit to our warriors of death!"

O O O

When his eyes opened, there was a bright glare of light. Tarn instinctively shielded his naked eyes, blinking wildly as he tried making out what was his end. But after a while, he finally noticed that nothing was happening and his free hand shot out to the side. After slamming his palms a few times into what assumedly was a metal desk, the man found his glasses and placed them on.

He was what looked to be a field-hospital. Tarn had fought enough battles in the Terrazine Civil War to have been in them, but...after all these years of retirement, it felt odd being in one again. A quick glance to the side of the bed surprised him as his family sword and gravity axe leaned against the metal railing. Why weren't they confiscated...?

Slowly, Tarn pushed the white blanket of the cot off and found himself wearing a hospital gown. His chest ached, as though he had just undergone surgery again; was that what happened?

"Yes it was," A voice answered and Tarn's head snapped around, one hand shooting for his sword scabbard. Pain immediately swelled up all over and the red head grimaced as he began drawing the blade. "Hold up, take it easy; your body is weaker than ever before."

"I know that voice..." Tarn muttered, eyes scanning the empty room. "Xana? Where are you hiding?"

Then suddenly, the feeling of hot breath washed over his side as his former mistress' voice echoed in his ear. A shiver ran down his spine at the feeling. "Right behind you."

Tarn made no sudden movements, but slowly turned his heard around and there she was, small glittering digital diamonds disappearing into the air to reveal Princess Xana. Or rather, the ex-Princess as she just stood there in a bodysuit, her icy blue eyes staring from under that pure white hair. She had nothing in her hands, but there was a holster on her hip with assumedly a blaster pistol. "How many years has it been?" Xana asked, tilting her head. "I've almost forgotten your face. Frankly, only that butler's uniform was the give away that it was you."

"It's been a very long time." All of Tarn's battle lust faded as he just slumped back onto the medical cot, his motivation lost to fight as he realized the situation. "I take it then...Terrazine is no more?"

"I'm afraid so," Xana coldly replied, leaning against one of the tent's poles. "All surviving civilians of Terrazine are to be relocated to new Terran cities, and the land is to be left to the elements before claimed by Terrans again."

"I see...how many of us are left?" Tarn looked up, weary. "How many people survived our war...?"

"...On record...excluding irredemable cast of Father and his entourage...two that we know of." Her face shadowed by bangs, Xana didn't look at Tarn as she finished the report. "Me...and you."

At this, Tarn bowed his head as tears welled up in his eyes, unable to believe that Terrazine was all but gone. "What...how did the others...pass? Did they fight?"

"No. When we entered the city...everybody was already dead. They had no pulse, no breath, nothing whatsoever. It was as if the life was sucked out of them."

"Those monsters-!" Tarn slammed his fist into the bed frame, his voice quivering. "Those damn robots! I knew it-!"

"So that's how she got them working..." The white haired woman let out a breath before shaking her head. "Pray that we never find these again...the lives lost today are a brilliant splash of blood across the Terran Empire's books."

"Xana...tell me. What happened to Clara?" All honorifics were forsaken as Tarn pleaded. "Tell me...how did she die? And who?"

"I killed her." The answer was so blunt, so straightforward as the former knight looked in horror. "Shot in the heart. Clean wound, immediate death. She wouldn't have felt any pain."

"You committed fratricide?!" Tarn roared, standing up and glaring at the emotionless soldier. "Has zealotry blinded you?"

"No. Purpose has." A pause, then the Ghost slowly admitted, "I gave her a chance. She refused, saying that her new position of Queen has doomed her to death. I had no choice."

"She's your sister!"

"She was in the Commander's way."

"Do you love the Terrans more than your own kingdom? What gives you the right to kill somebody who only loved you from the moment she was born?!"

"The same right that had me kill Zeb."

Tarn's accusing hand dropped as he staggered back. "No...no..." He whispered. "I knew he died, but...you?"

"I killed my entire brother and sister. I watched them die in front of my eyes." Her voice was cold and cutting, showing no regret or remorse whatsoever for her actions. "You asked what gave me the right to do so? Because I'm a Ghost; I died as a Terrazine. I returned to haunt them to the grave...and now, I will forever haunt the Terran Empire till its grave."

Xana flicked her wrist and turned away, moving to the tent's exit. But just as she was about to leave, there was a whisper from the wind as it was sliced apart next to her ear, Tarn's sword darting into the space next to her head. "As if I'd let you go without judging you fairly by the laws of Terrazine first!" Tarn snarled, his eyes showing anger and hatred at the woman he once thought was a friend.

The Ghost didn't even bother to turn around as she was held at swordpoint. There was no movement for her blaster pistol, no indication of fighting or resisting as she just stood there, awaiting Tarn's judgement. She knew, that by all rights, Xana should've just pulled out her gun and shot him and be done with this. Nobody would care.

Nobody living that is. A Ghost must remember the dead though.

After a few moments, the blade hovering next to her head was taken away as Tarn quietly told her his decision. "You added a few more years to my life. For that, I shall grant you a few more as well...but know this! I have, and will NEVER forgive you for your sins against Terrazine! By the power that is upon me as the last Terrazine free of corruption, I shall declare you to be killed on sight after this day!"

That was a powerless and meaningless declaration, and they both knew it. The only people who would care would be people from their dead kingdom, and it was more than likely that the two would be the only ones left after this horrid war. All that did was declare that there could never be peace between Xana and Tarn forever; not in this lifetime at least, and that was short considering that Tarn had only a couple years left before his body collapsed.

"I will contact a colleague; you have knowledge that he will gladly welcome and pay you for," The General said, never turning around. "I wonder, how good are you at teaching students?"

And with that, the two parted. They wouldn't meet each other in their lifetimes ever again.