Lance's Role

by Thrudgelmir2333

A 'shonen' fic that sequels Next Dimension and Lost Canvas. In 1960, the Pope of Athena receives three prophecies from an old enemy that irremediably set the course of his reign over Sanctuary's tragic history and almost two decades later a Saint of Pegasus finds himself put through the unfolding of a new age of violence caused by the Pope's actions. Please enjoy and review.

86. 3A: Journey to the East

Notable OCs: Pegasus Lance's Saint Generation, Civil War Saint Generation, WWII Saint Generation, Hades' Dark Princes, the False Specters, Maidens of Athena, Priam's Black Saints; Cyrulian Refugees; Genbu Atlae; Patrician Mariners, Shamballa Muvians;

Notable Original Concepts: Mount Olympus Training Ground, Sanctuary Court, Teos Cloth, Athenian Empire mythology, Isle of Gardens, Stardust Prison, Hades' Dark Princes; Desert Beyond, Sanctuary Town Layout & Buildings; Kido Mount; Pact of Seven; DQI Geography; Shamballa;

Recurring/Cameo OCs of Jenny DeVic: Mrs. Schafurwatt, Cyrus

Recurring/Cameo Concepts of Jenny DeVic: Great Bodyguard Legend, Golden Line Heritage, Sanctuary Orphanages, Andromeda Island's Geography & Tests, Sanctuary Nobility, 88 Knights Festival

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Author Notes:

-This chapter has been betaread by Jenny DeVic, author of "More than Gold" and "Love you, Kill me";

-With this chapter, the story officially reaches the 1.9-million-word landmark on Fanfiction dot net;

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Please enjoy and review ^_^

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A week later,

February 1974

Hawaii, Honolulu

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The sun blazed hotly above the sailboat. Perched on the bow with his binoculars, the number-one of the captain searched for the sight that would put an end to the first long segment of their trip.

"Land!" Caça pointed out, elated at the sight of the rising mountain over the curve. "Aha, welcome to paradise, baby!"

"Finally." Atlae thought, elated at the sight of land. He hadn't expected the journey to have been so long. "The Pacific is so big; and yet we're just starting the journey around the world. The captain wasn't kidding when he said this would take months."

Krishna turned helm, heading straight towards it. He saw the look of relief on Atlae's face. "Enjoy it while you can. Once we stock up at Honolulu and depart, we will only dock again in April, once we reach San Antonio."

Atlae gawked. "April?! We'll be sailing for two whole months after this?!"

Caça cackled. "That's right! If you thought things we rough till now…"

The Muvian tried to picture how much water they'd see between there and Argentina. "This will be a test, for sure!" He clenched fists and snorted determinedly. "I'll be ready for it, captain!"

Caça scowled. "Nothing ruins that courage on your face, uh? We'll see!"

Krishna laughed. "I, for one, am getting quite used to it."

The Chrysaor sailed into the harbor, attracting the attention of tourists and children with the boar tusks it sported on its keel front. Atlae waved at the kids running after it. Then the captain turned the boat away from the coast into the main harbor, where they'd meet with the local Sanctuary envoy.

As they crossed, Atlae looked up in awe, seeing a big clock tower watching over the harbor. "Wow, it's like the one in Sanctuary mail stamps!"

Krishna looked. "That's the Aloha Tower, a clock built on the harbor in the 1920s. It's the locals' way of saying hello to us, but goodbye as well. I suppose it does look like Sanctuary's clock tower a bit." He explained, though he saw more resemblance with Big Ben. He spotted the person they were supposed to be waving at them from the land and pointing at a specific marina. Krishna followed the direction, gently driving the Chrysaor to a stop.

Immediately, all three got to work, furling the sails, dropping the spring line into the cleat, and keeping the roving fender at the stern so they wouldn't hit the dock. Once the Chrysaor was tight to the dock, they dropped the gangway, and Atlae jumped out, excited to touch land.

He stumbled, feeling his sense of balance unaccustomed to solid land. He tried to take a step and yelped, tripping over into a pile of boxes.

Caça came out carrying the first cargo boxes. "Atlae, get up! We don't have time to fool around!"

The Muvian rubbed his head, dizzy. "Ow…I'm sorry."

A female voice laughed amusedly and helped him up by the arm. "You look like you haven't known what walking on land is like in years."

The blonde Muvian nodded gratefully. He studied the person; she was a tall, tanned-skinned girl with long black hair, green eyes like Atlae's, and a confident smile. A short red scarf was around her neck, and her torso was dressed in a black sleeveless shirt with a bare midriff and a golden neckline adorned with Greek myth symbols. Several training wrappings were around her biceps, thighs, and hands; she dressed her feet in Sanctuary sandals, and a silk skirt rained down from her waist.

This last detail caught his attention since it clashed with the rest of her outgoing outfit. "O-oh, hi."

She rested her fist on her hip. "My name is Rebecca. I'm from Sanctuary. Are you Krishna's new apprentice?"

The Muvian nodded. "Yeah. I'm Atlae! Are you, um…" he quickly averted his stare, remembering how everything in Sanctuary's rules was reversed from Shamballa. He tried to get to work, carrying out the supplies they were meant to exchange. "I'm sorry, I don't know if it's okay to… look."

She shook her head. "Don't worry about it. You can look all you want. I'm not that kind of Sanctuary warrior." She saw Krishna come out. "Yo, Captain Chola. It's been a while."

"Hi, Rebecca." Krishna took the papers she offered and signed everything.

"Still straight to the point, uh?" she noticed, taking it back. Her hands clasped around her back, and she smirked. "What took you so long anyway? Usually, you're here before Valentine's. Is it because of your new guy?"

Krishna scratched the shaven side of his head exasperatedly. "Not exactly. Atlae's actually been a bigger help than Caça. We just had to make a stop on the way here on you-know-where."

Rebecca grimaced. "Okay, forgiveness granted." She laid out her arms with a big smile. "But forget the gloom of Death Queen Island; you're in the exact opposite kind of what the Pacific has to offer! Welcome to Honolulu, Mariners of Poseidon!"

Caça finished carrying his end of the crates and wiped his sweat. "Phew, finally! This is going to be the highlight of the trip."

"Is this place that great?" Atlae asked, genuinely curious. He saw the amazing sun-bathed mountains in the horizon. "It looks pretty, but-"

Caça gawked. "Are you kiddin'?! Look around you. You're in freaking Hawaii. Nothing but beaches, sun, coconut milk, malasadas, and pretty ukelele ladies soothing you into a deep sleep! I'll take this a thousand times before any of the stops ahead of us."

"But why are we stopping here?" Atlae questioned. "Is it just because it's a good midway point? Captain says our next stop is super far away."

"I'm glad you ask, Atlae!" Rebecca interjected, feeling her tour guide experience's time to shine come. "See, this isn't just a pretty island; Hawaii also has a lot of active volcanos where Sanctuary can set up alchemy forges to refine its tools and armors. It's also far from any of its enemies, like the Specters, which makes it especially safe. Can you imagine a dude in solid black armor walking around this gorgeous place?"

Atlae laughed at the image in his head of a sweaty Judge getting a tan. "They would be pretty strange, yes."

Caça scoffed. "Big deal, a Mariner could still get here pretty easily!"

Rebecca grinned. "Yes, but then you guys would have me to deal with! And speaking of those forges- " Rebecca walked them to a set of containers of her own, took her crowbar, and showed off the contents. The first crate she opened revealed an impressive set of armor parts fashioned in the style of hoplites. "- Tadaa!"

All three sailors reacted with various degrees of awe. Krishna hummed, impressed at the intricate linework of medusa heads, herculean feats, and owl eyes in the shields; Atlae geeked at the high-quality protection for combat these looked like they could give, and Caça drooled at how much of a profit these could net at the end of their trip. Interestingly, the combat supplies also included modified cuirasses that could fit inside civilian jackets for undercover work.

Krishna knocked on one of the shields. "These check out. Nice job, Rebecca."

"Please get them to San Antonio and Athens as intact as possible." Rebecca urged, turning serious. "Many of my comrade Saints desperately need them. They're risking their lives daily against dictators, paramilitary groups, terrorists, and even Black Saints."

Krishna closed the container and pressed his fist on his chest in a vow. "You have our word as Mariners, Rebecca. Caça, Atlae, load these into the Chrysaor and lock the lower deck. We're leaving before sundown."

"WHAT?!" Caça shrieked, falling to his knees in sheer despair. "But we just got here! Last year I was able to enjoy a full week of sunny paradise!"

"We can't afford to waste more time. We're already behind schedule thanks to the Death Queen Island stop and we need to catch the southern Pacific current if we want to be on time." Krishna commanded, ruthless. "If you like the sun so much, you can enjoy it while we sail."

"Don't worry; we can still make the best of today, Caça," Atlae suggested.

"Oh, SHUT UP, you brown-noser! We'll be doing nothing but loading the boat!" Caça shouted, getting to work.

Atlae sweated. "Brown-noser? I was just trying to make him feel better. Sometimes I don't know what to do to make Caça happy."

Rebecca laughed and rested a hand on her hip with an empathetic look. "Tough crewmate, uh? Caça was the same last year. How has a Muvian landed working for the Mariners anyway? I thought you guys hated each other."

"We do, even if I don't understand why," Atlae confessed. He supposed it was an odd sight for strangers, though, so he explained himself. "A very kind Patrician raised me. Some seem to have a problem with me, but Lord Arthur and Captain Krishna don't." A curiosity then hit him. "Can I ask, are Saints like us, too? Do you have problems with each other while working because of nonsense things?"

The tanned woman was irked and shifted her eyes. "Mm, yeah, sometimes. It can get quite bloody, too. Unfortunately, I've seen my fair share of Saint grudge kills. Sometimes all it takes is a wrong look at the bar or not enough compatible Cloths to go around…"

Grudge kills? This sounded even worse. Atlae folded his arms, exasperated. "I don't understand. I never feel any reason to get nasty with people, even when they treat me wrong. Sure, sometimes they've pushed me a bit too far, but then you beat them up, and that's it. It's no reason to hate anyone. Even Mia and Jeanna aren't worth it, and they've said some horrible things over the years to me."

"I don't know who Mia and Jeanna are, but if you can spend a month on a boat with Caça and not hate him, then I believe ya, Atlae." Rebecca praised. She was pretty sure the second reason Krishna put up with that pale guy, other than the Chrysaor being a sailing school boat, was because of the patience his religion taught him. "Well, Atlae, maybe as a Muvian, you just see everything different from us? We, humans, are pretty silly creatures, after all. We find reasons to fight and ignore each other even when nothing's wrong, so don't let it get to you. As the people of my island say, noho me ka hau'oli."

Atlae perked up at the sweet-sounding words. "Oh, what does that mean?"

She grinned. "Don't worry. Be happy."

The Muvian smiled. Even untranslated, it sounded so nice and relaxed. He almost felt his trip to supply the humans was a tiny thing to a great goal. Between this, Marianne's confidence, Lord Arthur's kindness, Captain Krishna's wisdom, and the sacrifices Saints underwent daily, humans could do and say some beautiful things. He wondered if the humans living on these islands used to be friends with the people of Mu back when the continent still exi-

At this thought, Atlae stiffened, feeling a sharp, hot pain in his forehead, and a terrifying, crimson memory flashed back to him; the sight of human bodies impaled on Muvian spires, bleeding down on piled up, contorting bodies of moaning…

…of what?

He felt cold, lost the sensation in his head, and stepped back. Was this a glimpse of what he saw on Death Queen Island? Just as quickly as it popped into his head, it disappeared, forgotten again.

Rebecca blinked and snapped her fingers. "Hey, kid, are you okay?"

Atlae shook his head and gave a pained smile. "Y-yeah, I am. I think I still feel my body at sea." He changed the subject. "Are you a Saint too, Rebecca? I noticed you didn't mention a Cloth, but you seem so on top of things around here."

She glanced away shyly. "You noticed, uh? Ya don't have to rub my clothlessness in, ya know?"

The Muvian gulped. "I'm sorry. That was impertinent!"

"Well, Atlae, you seem like a good guy, so I'll forgive you." She joked, bumping his shoulder. Rebecca looked around as if about to share a secret. "I'm a Saintia."

Atlae awed. He had heard of these. "You mean, the battle maidens of Athena? Wow! I heard you were all super strong and trained in the Swiss mountains! Is that true?!"

Rebecca held her cheek embarrassedly. Was it such an exciting thing? "Ah, well, some of us are. My experience was; most of the school is a bunch of rich girls cosplaying as Saints."

To Atlae this seemed like nonsense. "No, I sense a high Chi in you. I'm sure you are pretty strong."

Rebecca raised a brow. Chi? Did he mean Cosmos? She was sure she was keeping hers hidden, though.

Still, she took the compliment with a smirk. "Thanks! I don't mean to brag, but I can throw a decent fire technique or two, yeah. So why am I armorless, I sense you ask?"

He nodded. "I do!"

A resigned sigh was released. "Well, as far as Cloths go, I missed my boat. Saintias don't have to wear masks, but we have less access to Cloths." She explained. Some girls still at the school, like young Olivia, argued it was unfair. "It makes sense, though… Why would you ever become an Amazon if Saintias gave you the same access, after all?"

Atlae rubbed his chin. "Well, I guess. She seems sad about it anyway, though." Something about it also rubbed him the wrong way; why wouldn't they just have female Saints and do away with Saintias and Amazons? That would solve it all entirely. "None of the girls at the Turtle School were any weaker than any men I've met. They kept saying girls were better at fighting because they multitasked cosmos instead of focusing on it. Maybe human society is just different."

"I still ran for the Cassiopeia Cloth, which I had a lot of compatibility with, but the people in New Lalibela say that well,…." She then tensed her lips, remembering all the rejections she got, and sighed frustratedly. "They already have a Cassiopeia; why would they want me?"

This made no sense to Atlae. "Why the heck not? At least you could contest it?"

Her eyes narrowed angrily, away from him. "They wouldn't fess up, but… it's for stupid reasons. I know it."

Atlae paused pensively, then took notice of her native Hawaiian ethnicity again.

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"Why do you think we never met, Atlae, even though Lord Solo put you at Delphi?" Krishna questioned. He laid out his dark brown arms. "The Cholas don't study in Greece. Of all the seven big families, we are the poorest, and unlike Baian and Caça, we don't pass for natives."

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Was she the same as Captain Krishna in that she got sidelined over race? But she was such a cool person. The people at Lalibela or whatever it was called were definitely missing out.

Seeing the look on his face, Rebecca waved a hand dismissively. "It's fine, Atlae. I've heard nothing but good things about Saint Cynthia. She was there first and deserved the Cloth. And, well, let's just say I've heard nothing nearly as good of her boss, King Cetus." Rebecca then smiled warmly. "Besides, I got my fans here at home, like Elda over there."

Atlae saw Rebecca point her thumb at a small girl reading some racing magazine by the end of the dock. She seemed enraptured by her literature.

"She wants to be a biker like me. Ain't she cute?" Rebecca laughed. "Nothing makes you feel like you've done the right thing in life than when someone wants to emulate you."

These words hit Atlae with unexpected depth. "Someone to emulate… I wonder if anyone would want to emulate me. Probably not." Muvian smiled, though, happy that Rebecca had people to be with.

"Atlae, hurry up!" Krishna called. "We have to go. Load up those weapon crates and fill the tanks!"

The teenager staggered. "Right away, captain!" he waved at Rebecca and lifted the huge boxes. "It was great meeting you. Hope to see you again someday, Saintia Rebecca."

She saluted, though she had to show a bit of shock at how easily Atlae just lifted those supply crates.

"Just Rebecca. And likewise." She eyed the Chrysaor longingly. "Hawaii looks pretty, but it can sometimes feel cut off from the world. Maybe Krishna will give you guys some time off next year, and he… and he can stick around for more than five minutes."

Atlae paused, surprised. Rebecca sounded sad at the end of that. Did she mean something about her and the captain?

The Saintia noticed the look on his face and waved hands. "Hum, never mind, Atlae. Good luck on your journey."

"See you someday, Saintia Rebecca." As he finished dragging the crates into the sloop and began refilling the fresh water, he thought. "Maybe I'll give a hint to the captain. Rebecca is such a nice person. People deserve to find love."

Atlae did not realize it yet, but this was the last time he'd ever see her.

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A month passes,

March 1974

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Just as the captain promised, long weeks of nothing but water under the hot sun followed. Day and night, they sailed and they fished and they assisted the captain in navigating. Atlae felt he was learning so much, not just about how to move and upkeep a sail ship, but also the stars, where they were, the hard work of living in the sea and just how immensely huge an ocean could feel.

Eventually, he realized they were heading in a strange direction for multiple days in a row, closer to where the sun set than from where it rose.

"Why aren't we going east instead of southwest? Isn't that backtracking?" asked Atlae.

"The North Pacific doesn't favor journeys eastwards, at least not from Hawaii." Captain Krishna pointed at the two arrows going in circles on the map. The ones in the North Pacific moved clockwise, but a second set in the South Atlantic circled in the opposite direction. "To reach Cape Horn, we must catch the South Pacific Gyre, which will then carry us straight into Chile."

Holding the helm steady, Atlae laughed at himself. "Oh, of course. Now I see why we circled north and down into the islands."

"Ugh, I hate this part of the trip," Caça confessed. "It's long, the sun is always hot, and we don't even get to stop at any fun places like Tahiti."

"If Poseidon wills it, we're going to have a lot of boring days in these waters for a while, so I suggest you two relax and enjoy it." The captain spoke, heading off to the helm.

Atlae saw Krishna briefly check the sonar before focusing on steering. "Didn't he seem anxious about it last time, too? Mm, I wonder what the captain's worried about finding underwater besides tuna." He then decided to make his move. "Say, um, Captain… what do you think of Rebecca?"

Krishna turned, surprised. "Saintia Rebecca?" Why would Atlae ask all of a sudden, a month after they left Hawaii? He paused to think. "She's… a dedicated Sanctuary faithful, a brave fighter, and she does well by her peers. I'd like to have a crewman like her, I suppose. Saintias do not do sailing work, however, and Mariners can't have followers of Athena in their crews without special permissions. Why do you ask?"

What a divided world the two were in. Atlae tried to find the best words to ask this difficult question. "Ah, well, I noticed she was very, um,… attractive and was just wondering if you-"

Krishna laughed out loud. "Rebecca? Atlae, I don't know Arthur Solo's daughter very well, but I don't think Marianne would like you looking at other girls like that. I know we are sailors, but it's the 20th century, for Neptune's sake."

The Muvian felt his breath cut short at the thought. "What? No, I'd never feel about… I mean, make Marianne feel that… I mean-"

Krishna shook his head and patted his shoulder comfortingly. "Atlae, it's okay. You feel something about her. I mean, there's only one thing you talk about other than food and fighting; and that's Marianne Solo."

Atlae's green gaze shook, his head rushing. He thought back to all his conversations. "Do I really…?"

He had never put these two and two together, but the captain was right that Marianna was the third element of the trinity constantly occupying his mind. Did that mean something about the way he saw her? But she was Lord Arthur's daughter! And she was a mariner. Years of words of hatred between Muvians and mariners he had personally overheard or seen put into action came flooding to mind, like the invisible shootings of an unspoken war. Everywhere he went, Mariners and Muvians seemed to have awful things to say about each other and terribly wide fissures between how they lived, from family names to religion, to attitudes to war and the sciences, and even to preferred gender norms.

Was it bad for him to feel this way?

Krishna saw him boil on the inside. He felt flattered that his new intern would come to him to ask for dating advice. The thing was, he wasn't insensitive to Atlae's fears. "I can imagine you probably never thought of seeing Marianne in such a way, right? From the way my people talk about yours?"

He shook his head. "No, but… Lord Arthur, Lady Seraphina, and Marianne were different. They never made me feel like… a dotted freak. "He covered his face, mortified. He thought about the position he'd put Marianne in if he talked about having… emotions for her. She might even be grossed out. "Captain, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't feel this way. She's… one of you."

Krishna sighed. "You're still young, Atlae. You have time to figure it out. Maybe she's not even the right one for you. You haven't seen her in a long while, and Vice-Admiral Marianne hasn't been exactly static in her life. Remember, we're stopping in Greece after Argentina and the Isle of Gardens, so maybe seeing the Solos again will help you figure your real feelings out."

Atlae sighed, resting arms over the sloop rail.

He seemed conflicted. Maybe Krishna could put things into perspective. "What do you even like in Marianne, Atlae? Other than being kind to you? For someone who's faced prejudice, you might just have displaced feelings. Is it common in Muvians? It happens in us humans a lot."

As always, Captain Krishna's words made a lot of sense. Was he just emotionally confused, then? Could he honestly say he was attracted to Marianne? Or was she just a precious friend, an adoptive sister, even? For some reason, the strange moment when he fell into the water at Death Queen Island came to mind at this, which just confused him even more. Atlae really needed to get a grip on himself.

Maybe he could employ one of Master Yuzuriha's meditative tricks to figure out how he felt. Yes, he could solve his conundrum through the power of balance!

Closing his eyes and breathing, Atlae pictured himself trying to have some kind of romantic moment with Marianne. Maybe he could imagine how Zayah spoke to him just before the graduation ceremony but replaced her with Mari', and then focus on how he felt about it. Atlae did just that, holding his hand to his chest and playing the scenario in his mind.

Krishna rose a brow. "What is he doing?"

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Mental Marianne smiled at him, twirling her hair. He pictured themselves together at the Neptunia, a festival in Sanctuary for her people's culture, just as the fireworks popped in the sky. "I had so much fun tonight. I missed you, Atlae. I can't believe three years have gone by. And now… we're saying goodbye again. I'm almost afraid someday we'll just forget the other exists." she approached him with that confidence and asked. "We should… not let that happen? Right?"

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Atlae gasped, seeing her close her eyes and move her imaginary lips unto his. He felt his heart beat fast against his hand and the blood rush to his face!

"Oh no! Oh no! Oh no-no-NO!" He panicked, turning to Krishna. "Captain, that felt nothing like it did with Zayah! I think I like Marianne!"

Krishna squinted. "What? Who's Zayah? Are you sure? Atlae, what did we just talk abo-"

"Yes, I am! I just used my Master's secret visualization technique and… and…" Atlae shook in shame. "She was there, and we were kissing and, and, and…I wanted more things to happen after that!"

The captain gawked. "Things?!"

Atlae nodded, mortified. "Yes! I don't know what they are, but I did!"

Caça laughed louder than he ever had in his life. "Holy shit, a Muvian in a rut on the loose in the ship! Quick, captain, get the spray! Toss him overboard before he humps a hole into the ship's hull!"

"Caça, if you want to go tossing things out of the boat, then do it to the fishing nets already!" the captain roared, sending the pale first mate rushing off. He held Atlae's shoulders to calm him down. "Relax, Atlae, I believe in you. Just… you know, don't bring these things up to Marianne when you see her. She might take it the wrong way."

Atlae wasn't even sure what these things were yet, but they were there, and they felt terrifying, tempting, and heart-wrenching in equal degrees, so he happily nodded. "W-what do I do, then? What if I feel the same way the next time we, um…"

"Poor kid. You've never been in love, have you? I suppose a martial arts school in the Himalayas isn't a very love-prone place." Krishna realized. "Just take it easy for now. Remember, Atlae, all you've known of Marianne for the past three years is her letters. That's no substitute for being in the same space as someone and interacting face-to-face. And we have almost half a year before we reach Greece anyway. You have plenty of time to figure things out."

The young sailor sat, breathing slower. "Y-yes, you're right, captain, but…" Atlae gulped. "I'm sorry. I just… never thought I was feeling this way about her this whole time."

"Boy, it's serious." Krishna realized. It was normal for teenagers to have crutches, but this sounded more in-depth. Maybe Muvians were quicker to emotionally mature than humans and never went through the Romeo-Juliet phase. "If she breaks his heart, it will probably be more painful for his age."

Atlae collected himself, embarrassed. "I'm sorry, captain. I'll get back to work."

"Like last time, it's no problem. By the way- " Krishna suddenly realized. "Weren't you going to ask me something? About Rebecca?"

Atlae staggered. After the emotional eureka he just had about himself, Atlae felt he was nowhere near ready to ask the captain whether or not he was ignorant of someone else's feelings.

He waved hand embarrassedly. "U-uh, it wasn't important! Thank you for the talk!"

The captain shrugged. "Odd race. Maybe he wanted to know about the forges or something."

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Greece, Sanctuary Town,

Ophiuchus Hospital

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It was nighttime in Sanctuary, and Ithaca of Delphi, the former cavalryman of the 'Sons of Arion' and current servant of the Households, stood guard by the hospital room door during a particularly quiet evening. Inside, his patron, Lord Arthur, spent the late hours with his bedridden wife, Lady Seraphina.

The light-blue-haired young man yawned into his hand, watching the clock tick away in the corridor. He didn't mean to yawn, given the seriousness of the situation, but he had stood guard there for a while. There was a time when Ithaca had seen this hospital packed with people injured or even maimed by the battles of the Priam War. Ithaca had almost landed on it more than once after a particularly reckless Tidal Charge against the flank of an enemy phalanx. These days, fortunately, the Ophiuchus Hospital's activity was much slimmer compared to the war, taking in mostly the normal sick and elderly of Sanctuary's population.

Néa Delphi, where the Mariners allied to Sanctuary lived, didn't have enough infrastructure to provide secretive care to them, so they also ended up resorting to Sanctuary Town. Lord Arthur and Lady Seraphina were good patrons, which earned them experience from the staff when Her lady came rushing in with complications in her current condition.

More importantly, though, the specific doctor they were asking help from wouldn't be welcomed in Mariner spaces.

The corridor went even quieter as Dr. Iaso called the nurses to help a patient suddenly going into emergency on the other side of the building.

Ithaca struggled to stay awake. Maybe he could snooze off for a few minutes…

Above him, the screws in the air duct loosened bit by bit, clinking down onto the floor until the metal passage was open. Out of it, a small man dressed in shadows emerged, dropping right before a sleeping Ithaca.

He carefully checked the Mariner's breath. It was deep and sound. "Some security you've hired, Arthur Solo." The assassin thought. "I took the trouble of distracting all the doctors and nurses, and now I sneak here to find your bodyguard counting sheep on his duty. Well, your naiveté ends tonight. The Gerasimov Family, patricians of the Artic Ocean, will make you pay for your dealings with the Muvians!"

The assassin unsheathed a short, poisoned dagger off his scabbard and tip-toed around Ithaca. If he got inside, did his business quickly enough, and left, the bodyguard might take the blame for what happened.

But before he could raise up his weapon, a gauntlet struck the side of his face. The assassin screamed as he was blasted across the corridor into the wall. "W-What?"

Ithaca yawned again and cracked his knuckles, cornering him. "Don't the Gerasimov teach their assassins any décor? There's a pregnant woman inside."

"D-damn you!" Holding his bleeding mouth, the assassin took out his poisoned blade and thrust it at the bodyguard.

Ithaca bobbed his head to dodge the thrust, punching the man square in the abdomen. Before the ninja could recover his breath, Ithaca hoisted him by his garment and tossed him out through the glass window, waking everyone nearby with the shattering glass.

The door opened. "Ithaca! What happened?"

The bodyguard dusted his hands and turned to the forty-year-old man. "Nothing, Patrician Arthur. The Gerasimov sent flowers your way, but it wasn't the kind Lady Seraphina likes, so I tossed them out."

Seeing the broken window, Arthur nodded approvingly, "Good work, Ithaca. Thank you." He returned to his wife and the doctor.

Ithaca sat back down, sighing, feeling a pain in his heart from the words harder than any knife stabbing could be. "No, you shouldn't be thanking me, Lord Solo…I don't deserve it."

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Inside, the Muvian man of aged brown hair in glasses, sent by Elder Yuzuriha, tucked his lenses in. "Is something the matter? That was a very loud noise."

"It was nothing, Doctor Tsering," Arthur assured as he went to Seraphina's side and held her hand. Her enormous belly was visible through the sheets. "Tell me, doctor, is my wife…"

The woman in the bed, a beautiful lady with sapphire hair, green eyes, and olive skin, took deep breaths as her pain eased and held her husband's bearded cheek. "A-Arthur, I'm going to be fine. Our baby will be okay! I know it."

"Lady Seraphina is correct. Human medicine would have a hard time handling her predicament, but the arts of Muvian science combine the cosmos with medicine in a vastly superior way. You two can expect a safe child springing before the end of the month."

"O-Our son will be an Aries, Arthur!" Seraphina celebrated, smiling. "Just like His Holiness!"

"A lucky constellation among my people!" Doctor Tsering cheerfully reminded them.

Everyone seemed so confident that Arthur had to confess some of the burning fear inside of him felt less warm. He kissed Seraphina softly and tightened her hand. "I won't rest easy until it's all over, Seraphina. Not until you and our son are safe and sound."

She shook her head exasperatedly, sweating. "H-honey, I love you very much for it, but when it all starts, I want you gone from my sight."

He laughed. "Okay, my love. I'll try."

"MOM!" Marianne shouted, barging in.

The two parents saw their blue-haired daughter rush inside. She wore her white, medaled vice-admiral uniform with padded shoulders, tie, brown shoes, and the blue, thigh-length sailing skirt.

"Mom, Dad, I light-sped off the Sea Dragon as soon as I heard! Is my brother okay?!" She panicked. She saw how pale her Mom was and gasped. "Mom, you look like a dried-up cod! What did they give you? Tell me-"

"Marianne, your mother is fine!" Arthur asserted. "Doctor Tsering gave her special treatment. It was just a little scare…"

The girl took a deep breath. "Thank Poseidon." Her eyes reddened. "Mom, I was so scared… When Admiral Vancouver told me you were taken to the hospital…"

Seraphina widened her arms to take her daughter in a hug. "I'll be alright, honey." She then looked at Arthur gravely.

The father nodded comprehendingly. "I will give you two some room to catch up. Doctor Tsering? Would you follow me?"

{======================|A3|======================}

Arthur brought the doctor outside. "I'd like to thank you personally, doctor Tsering."

Tsering blinked. "Well, it was nothing, but for what?"

Remembering Atlae's dense ways, Arthur patiently explained himself to the Muvian. "For protecting my wife. Her family has a history of pregnancy complications. Marianne was rough on her and we were told by Doctor Iaso that carrying sons is especially complicated. Because of that, her line has very few men in it, all the way back to when her ancestors from Bluegrad."

Tsering took a stunned breath. "Oh, I see! Well, think nothing of it, Patrician Arthur. I was simply doing my best for a friend of Elder Yuzuriha."

More and more, Arthur felt the Gods rewarded him for the sacrifices he went through to bridge the gap with the Muvians. "Is that so? I thought… she might be setting me up for a favor."

The aged Muvian laughed at such a strange way of looking at it. "One person's health is very little compared to the lives you've helped change in Shamballa, Patrician. The Mariners have been quite kind to us over the past few years, thanks to you." It then occurred to the doctor, "Arthur Solo, if I may ask…?"

The Patrician nodded. "Anything, doctor?"

"If this isn't too impertinent, is that why you adopted that straw-hair boy who rung the Genbu bell? Atlae is his name?" Tsering queried. "I don't mean to sound rude, but everyone in Shamballa talked about it for years. Did you think, perhaps… you'd never have a son?"

The Patrician glanced at the hospital room door, hearing the sounds of his wife and daughter talking.

With some trepidation, he clicked his tongue and confronted the truth. "That… may have been part of it, yes."

Tsering nodded. "I see. It's still a gesture of great kindness; I want you to be sure of that. It may have started this new friendship between our people, even." He laughed. "Every time now someone in Shamballa says 'Mariners are so evil', now everyone responds 'but Arthur Solo disproves that hypothesis'! It's all quite amazing."

The Patrician took it to heart, so Muvian the way he put it sounded. "Yet, I don't feel like it was a kind gesture." Arthur thought, his throat clenching.

After all, he remembered the years he didn't have the courage to confront his racist father about letting Atlae sleep inside the manor like everyone else. Marianne was right; in a way, while her father fancied himself charitable, in the end Arthur was just using and tossing Atlae out, like any other asset.

{======================|A3|======================}

Ithaca followed his boss through the corridor, looking panicked. "I-I'm sorry, Lord Arthur, I tried to stop Marianne! It's just that… well, she's really strong!"

Arthur shook his head. "It's okay, Ithaca. That girl can be as dangerous as Atlae when someone she cares about is in danger. You'd have better luck standing in the way of a Poseidon Exclamation."

"Tell me about it." Ithaca thought. He had seen his share of Marianne Solo's wrath in the past. A deserved one, too. The two then arrived at the hospital alleyway where the assassin Ithaca tossed out the window landed. He was still there, unconscious among the trash bags. "So, what would you like me to do with this one? It's the third one they've sent in a month."

Arthur gritted teeth. "Those Gerasimov… they've been a bane on Seraphina's life for decades. Thanks to this reckless attack, though, I now have what I need to bring the wrath of the Pope down on them. They will regret this."

Ithaca gulped in guilt, imagining that wrath pointed at himself. If Lord Arthur knew what Ithaca had done. "Say the word, Patrician, and I will personally make them pay."

Arthur eyed him. "You've been a loyal and dedicated servant, Ithaca, but I think right now the Gerasimov will have more to worry about than foolishly targeting my wife. I will summon the Sons of Arion to have my family guarded until her pregnancy gives term, but I need you for a especially dangerous task."

Uh-oh. Ithaca knew this tone. This sounded like one of those jobs. "I'm at your service, Captain. What would you have me do?"

{======================|A3|======================}

Chapter 86

Third Arc

Episode 13

Journey to the East

{======================|A3|======================}

The days ahead of the Chrysaor crew continued to be long and hot. Atlae felt his already tanned skin get even browner over time, and he heard Caça wishing outloud more than once for a storm to come. "Maybe he's worried he'll get skin disease? Caça is rather pale, after all." Atlae theorized.

"I'm so bored… I hate this part of the journey." Caça whined, slumping over the rails. He touched his burnt arms. "My poor beautiful body! Ruined by the sun!"

Atlae perked up. "Hey, maybe we can spar to pass the time?"

Caça gave his usual scowl. "I told you, meathead, NO! Not everyone treats fighting like a freaking hobby. Besides, I'd just defeat you in five seconds anyway."

"I thought you said you were bored!" Atlae pouted. He looked out to sea and enjoyed the salty spray of the water. "I don't mind the journey so much. It gets tedious at times, yes, but it kinda feels like meditating with the cosmos anyway. You just lose yourself in how deep the horizon is…"

"Pah! What a joke." Caça mocked. "Listen to yourself. 'Oh, the ocean is like a sea of stars. It's like the cosmos, it is'! Aren't you romantic. No wonder you think you can get Marianne Solo to like you."

Atlae grumbled. He hoped he could have befriended Caça now that the two were a bit older and more mature, but every chance it took crashed and burned like a runaway car.

"Don't mind him, Atlae," Krishna added. "Caça is bitter because he wins spars by playing dead fish and throwing sand at people's eyes. Cosmos isn't exactly something he likes to wax poetic about."

"It's called being effective!" Caça argued, snorting. "While you two worry about getting a duel done fairly, I'll have five guys dropped on the slab! Who cares if you cheat if you win, especially when the stakes are high."

"Wouldn't you like to win a fight fairly just once, Caça?" Atlae questioned, genuinely curious. "I'm not trying to argue with you, but… one of the reasons I love martial arts is because I know I'm good at it. I bet you'd be happy if you could do something the right way. Cheating wouldn't-"

"This again?" Caça sneered. "Listen, Atlae, when you have a Specter in front of you, or a Saint for that matter, and they threaten everything you believe in, you don't stop to consider if the win will reflect nicely on you! You just do what you have to do for your God! And if you don't, you never really believed in what you were fighting for in the first place."

Atlae exchanged looks with Krishna.

Caça went to his netting. "But who cares, anyway? Lord Poseidon won't wake up for another 1600 years. I was born in the wrong millennium to have these debates with you, Atlae."

The captain sighed. "He's… not wrong, Atlae. As Mariners, our primary concern is to protect our own. If a Specter stood before me and my family was under threat… I'm afraid I'd have to say that Caça's methods wouldn't be below me."

Left alone to do his work, Atlae pondered all of this. "What about me? Would I cheat to save a life?" Maybe Caça was right. Maybe he saw the world through a sheltered lens?

More so, Captain Krishna was so cool, and yet even he seemed to think Marianne was so far ahead of even him. Just how much had Mari' advanced while Atlae was in Shamballa? Captain and Caça mentioned all sorts of crazy stories of her feats that made Atlae's eyes spin, but something told him there was probably a whole lot more they hadn't heard of yet or weren't privy to.

His fingers clenched his turtle flute tighter without him realizing. He couldn't stop thinking about how ashamed he'd be if he reunited with Marianna with this big a gap between them. He wondered why. Marianne never treated him like this sort of thing was important, so-

Krishna saw him crushing his flute. "Watch it, you'll break that thing."

Atlae gasped, releasing the flute. "Oh!"

"You said that was a flute, right?" the captain questioned. He thought of the one the Siren General was famous for. "It doesn't look like one, though. It's small and round and doesn't have-"

Atlae laughed and clicked the secret button, popping the holes out in the shell.

Krishna grimaced embarrassedly. "Oh, a Xun Flute. I should have known. I feel silly now."

"Yeah, but I don't really know how to play." Atlae admitted, handing it to the captain "I just have it because it was a graduation gift from my Master."

Krishna studied it. He realized the shells were tiny, yet had all the crease details a real one would. "It has nice craftmanship. I can tell it was done by Muvians. You said you were from the Mount Rozan school, right? You even got into that argument with the Death Queen Island Dragon? Why did he want it so badly? I thought he was going to tear it off your neck by force if you refused him again?"

Atlae grimaced, concerned. Even after all these weeks and their stop in Hawaii, he still felt a strange dread in thinking back to that place.

"I think… he just wanted to hurt me. It's so strange that some people are like that."

Krishna returned it. "You know, Atlae, maybe you should learn how to play it. I don't know Marianne very well, but a lot of women are impressed by guys who can play music."

"Usually, they like when you play the guitar, captain." Caça commented, laughing. "They don't pay attention to the band's flutist."

Atlae frowned at Caça's comment, but considered the captain's words. He liked the idea of surprising Marianne, yes, especially since she knew him to be as blunt as he was. "You really think so, captain?"

"Absolutely, Atlae. Think of it as a way to show how much you've grown. Even if she hates music, I bet she'd be really surprised to see you take up a hobby other than, um,… beating people up." He then got an idea. "Say, Caça? You trained the flute at the Delphi Conservatory, right? Maybe you could help him?"

Caça read his thoughts "Captain, it's not the same! I played the clarinet, which is a refined instrument that requires strength and control of the reed! The symphonies it plays are full and clean. Flutes are what floosies play to imitate the chirping of birds."

The captain folded arms. "For Prince Chrysaor sake, how hard could it be? Do it and I'll consider looking over the crates you lost in Honolulu."

The first mate growled, but abided, sitting by Atlae. He practically swiped the Xun flute off his hands. "Let me see that. I wanna know what kind of sound this stupid turtle shell thing makes."

This didn't inspire any trust in Atlae, who had the feeling Caça was gonna blow as hard as he could into the delicate flute. He was always so indelicate with everything, after all.

Caça held it to his mouth, awkwardly placed his fingers around the holes and blew.

…

The soft tune released by the flute in Caça's hands filed the air like a buttery melody of nostalgia. Switching fingers through the tiny holes like a master flutist, the pale first mate crafted a song that appealed to Atlae's sense of loss, reaching deep into years gone by and making the face of lost loves ones pop in his mind. The Muvian sat there, hypnotized by the tunes, which began descending into a soft pause.

Caça breathed in, then resumed.

Then, when the tunes rose in a crescendo, a very brief moment of heart-stopping resonance came to Atlae, who gasped, grasping at chest. His eyes teared, feeling the face of his lost parents come to mind. It was a moment of music that captured the pain he felt through a stretched, yet perfectly smooth wail from the flute, then gently set it down in a consoling, descending rhythm that promised that even this moment of pain would pass.

The tune reached an end and Caça put down the flute.

He then gave it a dejected look. "Mm, it's a bit uncomfortable to play, but I think I can use it."

Atlae stood up and clapped, tears in eyes. "Caça, that was incredible!"

Krishna laughed. He too felt the memory of his grandfather come to mind. "You didn't expect that from this guy, did you, Atlae? Caça was terrible at school, but before he boarded the Chrysaor, he scored third place at the Delphi Conservatory grand concert."

"I would have been second if it weren't for that Orphée kid coming in at the last minute!" Caça protested. He hated thinking back to it. He needed to get the silver medal for them to let him stay one more year, and then the Steiners from Sanctuary brought in this shitty little orphan they were sponsoring to ruin it. "And now I'm stuck on this damn boat!"

Atlae cleaned tears and nodded firmly. "I believe it! How can I play that way, Caça?"

Caça scoffed, raising pointy nose. "You can't! Not that a Muvian would understand anyway, but I come from a long line of fado singers. This talent is in your blood, not your fingers!"

"Just help Atlae out, alright?" Krishna enforced. He was used to his first mate's terrible attitude and knew it just needed the right motivation. "Think about it, you'll get to brag to Atlae about how good you are for the whole voyage."

"Yup-yup, and I'll nod the whole way!" Atlae happily assured.

The first mate rubbed chin, eyeing the two of them. "Mm… alright, fine!" He returned the flute. "Let's start with the basics, then. Do-Re-Mi, the whole shebang. Then the 'Song of Seashells'!"

Atlae just held the flute, looking confused and panicked.

Caça squinted. "You don't know notes, do you?"

Krishna went back to hold the helm and kept careful watch as Atlae did his best to follow Caça's harsh instructions about what was Mi, Fa and Sol in the little flute. He should have thought of appealing to Caça's ego earlier. Maybe now the two would learn to get along better.

{======================|A3|======================}

A month later (Late April)

Russia, Southern Ural Mountains

Serpent's Rock Castle

{======================|A3|======================}

At the widest stretch of the Ural Mountains, down south near the border between Russia and Kazakhstan, a complex relief of valleys, parallel ridges, secluded lakes, and vast forests surrounding tall, white-capped stretches existed. This part of the world, far away from everything, marked the southern tip of the border between Europe and Central Asia and had seen many movements of people between the continents over its history, some of which shaped the history of the two continents forever.

From the point of view of Sanctuary, it was an identically important location of vigilance, standing both at the crossroad between several different factions familiar with Cosmos but also at the gateway of the vast steppes between the Aral and Caspian seas, which were often the site of great battles between Sanctuary and its enemies. From there, one could keep a wedge between the Greeks, the Norse, the Muvian, and the city of Bluegrad. Therefore, those who controlled the region controlled a good portion of the powers capable of affecting change in the world.

Thus, in lost times, in the name of Athena, Saints with the element of Light under Capricorn Cyrul erected one of their nine great castles in the region; the Serpent's Rock fortress.

Described as one of the great secrets of Sanctuary, Serpent's Rock was as darkly secluded as it was awe-inspiring. Those who braved the forested hills to reach the mountain where it perched would see a black structure with thick, abandoned curtain walls of thick towers that seemed to spiral up its eight corners, like climbing snakes, into pointy roofs of scale-like tiles. These eight towers represented both the other eight Zodiac Knight castles that existed further westwards into Europe and the cardinal directions that the Castellan watched over.

It was said that the many realms bordering Serpent's Rock could, during the full moon, see the cold gaze of the tower facing them from a long distance as if the eyes of the Serpent Saint peered directly into their souls from its distant porch. There was a level of truth to this, as all the castles built by Saint Cyrul were designed to house a single armored Zodiac Knight each, along with their oath-sworn retinues, and the Serpent Saint had his Cloth's powers resting on the Babylonian myth of the Horned Serpent, which had abilities of medicine and divination.

Inside the curtain walls lay the keep and the spring of a local river. Constructed into an enormous rock that existed at the mountaintop before the arrival of Cyrul, the main building was a harrowing abode with gothic arches leading inside the boulder's belly, with wide verandas and secret arrow slits constructed all around it, and two keep towers rising from the top sides like curved horns, making the entire keep resemble the skull of the mythical snake.

While the snake's skull housed the keep's innards, its 'mouth', really a large, wide grotto carved into the natal rock, hosted the spring that pooled into the bailey pond, which then emptied a downward sewer passage into a valley stream called the Emerald River. During times of siege, this water source kept the castle supplied and even provided a means to flood the local area to hamper major enemy incursions.

On that April day, the air was dark and clouded, contributing to isolation and dread around the construct. A lone rider of light armor, green cape, feathered helm, backsword, and blue hair was venturing into the region, moving through the forested paths under the castle's watch, and halted his horse to behold the fortress.

A sense of danger immediately crept up Ithaca's spine as he saw the serpent towers.

"What a dreary place. Is this really the home of a Saint of Athena?" His horse shook its head fearfully and pranced, startling Ithaca, then refused to move forward. Ithaca soothed it with a pat. "Whow. You sense it too, don't you, boy? The bloodlust in the air. Don't worry, unlike me, you get to stay here."

Unsaddling, Ithaca tied the horse to a tree and tried to plan his next move. He needed to get inside the castle, but how? Even as he surveyed the landscape with his orichalcum lenses, which served him so well in the Himalayas, this mountain seemed to rise up and up with no clear path. While not high, reaching merely a mile in altitude, Serpent Rock seemed atop a rise with seemingly no access point. The mariner had hardly seen a peak so closely resembling Star Hill in climbing difficulty. The water springing from inside the walls coursed down in free fall, pooling deep below into the valley, and the rise almost cut through the clouds like a finger poking foam.

Ithaca imagined that only a mountain goat could get up there, the type that could climb up a dam on its smooth side.

"How strange, but the Knights of the Zodiac must have had a way to get up there, right? Even Saints cannot fly without wings, and enemies can just ignore an inaccessible castle." Ithaca reasoned with himself. "What was it that Lord Arthur had said back at the hospital?"

{======================|A3|======================}

"The Pact of Seven will soon convene, Ithaca." Arthur Solo told him as they carried the assassin away from the hospital. "In it, I will be face to face with people vying with power in Sanctuary, more often than not at Mariner expense."

The rider put the assassin the Gerasimov sent over his horse. "Yes, Head of Houses."

"As you probably can guess-" Lord Arthur had stressed. "-our Households are only safe for as long as we can negotiate power with the Pope and the other six Pact members. We have ways to do this with almost every single one, including Cetus of New Lalibela. However, there is a Pact member who joined us who is not only notoriously uncooperative, but that we know virtually nothing about."

The blue-haired agent rose eyes. "The Zodiac Knight, Aries Azrael."

A grim squint formed in Arthur's eyes. "Serpens Azrael now."

Ithaca scoffed, humored. "Quite a drop, from Gold to Bronze."

"But it makes him no less dangerous. And those we know nothing about represent a unique source of danger, Ithaca. I can protect Seraphina from what I know, but enemies I don't are a different story."

Ithaca smiled and hit fist on chest, determined. "Then you'll soon have a whole library about him, Lord Arthur."

"I always appreciate your dedication, Ithaca, but beware. Azrael's abilities are just as poorly understood as his past. You must therefore exercise extreme caution as if you were entering the manor of Akassius himself." Arthur stressed. The comparison was grave enough to give Ithaca's smirk a pause. "Furthermore, given the diplomatic incident this might cause, your association with me will be… strictly off the record, should the worst happen."

The servant was used to this. He was honored by the trust, even. "No need, Lord Arthur, I serve the Mariner households with my life, yours most of all. You can rest assured. Besides, it won't come to such a thing. I'm the Mariner's best agent. I'll go in and out like an eel in the reef."

Arthur drummed his fingers anxiously. "Go with Poseidon's waves, Ithaca. You could even infiltrate Gigas and his circle, and that vile man prides himself in being shrewd. A member of the Pact, however, isn't a mere advocate of the corrupt. Zodiac Knights are not to be trifled with, even if there's only one left."

Ithaca got on his horse. "I seem to be racking up a lot of experience scouting mountain holdings for you, in any case. First, the Muvians when I took Atlae to them, and now this. I'll just return the Gerasimov their ninja and then turn back west to the Urals. How hard could this be?"

{======================|A3|======================}

The mariner carved his climbing hook into the rock wall and pulled up, lifting himself just enough to grab another thin edge. He looked up to see how much he still had left to go. The grim walls of the curtain's outer circle seemed distant still.

He had been at it all day and still easily had a mile left. He was also pretty sure he was feeling heavier and heavier, and not just because he was getting tired. Like countless other special fortifications, it was possible that Serpent's Rock was built on another stardust reserve now bleeding Ithaca's cosmos dry. Eurasia was full of meteor sites, after all.

An avian shriek was heard, and an eagle soared around him, landing on a small foliage branch on the mountainside he was climbing. It cawed.

Ithaca kept climbing, piercing a soft spot with his hook and spared it a smirk. It was a mountain hawk-eagle, a native species probably fleeing from deforestation. "Fancy meeting you here. Mind if I pass through?"

It cawed again, this time more threateningly.

Ithaca irked, sensing danger. "Uh-oh. I'm in your space, aren't I?" Then the eagle jumped at him, scratching his head and hitting him with its beak. "AH, SHIT! GET OFF, GET OFF!"

The climbing hook shook with the struggle, not placed firmly. Eventually, Ithaca's arm swept widely to brush the eagle off and, with force, snapped the hook off.

The mariner gawked, feeling loose in the air. Cursing Zeus himself and his favorite bird to transform into, he fell, crashing through the trees.

{======================|A3|======================}

Argentina,

San Antonio (Rio Negro)

{======================|A3|======================}

Having finally reached and sailed around the cold lands of Cape Horn, the Chrysaor was taken by its three sailors northwards, entering the South Atlantic. Atlae thought Caça would finally be ecstatic to enter his favorite ocean, but the cold weather seemed to have drowned the mariner in an even sourer mood.

The three docked the boat in the city of San Antonio and, just like back in Honolulu, a person of Sanctuary was there to receive them, waving at them from the dock.

Krishna signaled back and began preparing to dock. "Caça, Atlae, welcome to San Antonio."

The Muvian looked around; the beaches were deep and wide, but the sun was much shier than in Hawaii, despite it being summer in the Southern Hemisphere.

"Finally, we're landing." Caça sighed, collapsing into the ship rails lazily. "I was getting sick of sailing. And that means a lot coming from a man descending from a long line of Mariners like me!"

Atlae turned. "Wait, didn't he say the other day something like that?" Still, he also took note of the feat their journey was. "I can't believe it's been two months since we last docked. I feel like a sailing expert now."

Caça sneered and cut him down to size. "An expert? Please, you know nothin' until you've had your turn scraping the hull of those dirty barnacles!"

Atlae licked his lips. "I've heard those are really good with olive oil!"

Caça felt a creep up his spine at the thought of those parasites on his plate. "Do you eat everything? Also, have you been practicing the flute too?! Yesterday you sounded like a bagpipe player!"

Atlae nodded. "Yes, teacher! But the Song of Seashells is really hard."

"Atlae, it's known to be a beginner's tune." Captain Krishna added from the helm. "Even I can whistle it, at least. You might want to practice a bit harder."

The Muvian pouted, feeling he had disappointed his teacher and his captain. Caça just laughed, finally having Krishna take his side on something against this Muvian dolt.

He looked out the ship as they entered the marina. "This looks like a nice town, but there are no volcanos. Why is Sanctuary stationed here, captain?"

"Three reasons, Atlae; copper, silver, and bodies," Krishna answered.

The Muvian wasn't sure he heard right. "B…bodies?"

"Yeah, there's a bunch of dictatorships and civil wars in the area right now," Caça explained, chuckling maliciously. "Which means that Sanctuary's orphanages have plenty of traumatized, disposable children to recruit around here."

The blonde Muvian staggered. He completely forgot, but it was true that Sanctuary drew its manpower primarily from war orphans, when not just recruiting from older families like Marianne's. Not only were they easy to pick up, but usually, their traumas left them on the brink of unlocking their cosmos, or at least more likely to accept Athena's cult as a new home.

"Caça is right. The Gift of Aaron orphanage has a holding in San Antonio." Krishna confirmed. "Moreover, bronze mined in Chile and silver from Bolivia can be brought here, away from the prying eyes of the capital, where Sanctuary can load it up and bring it to the Muvians to work with back in Sanctuary. That's where we come in."

Atlae looked at the weapons they were bringing in. "Rebecca said the Saints here needed these weapons urgently, right? Why?"

"Unfortunately, the same volatile environment that makes the area useful for Sanctuary to recruit children with cosmos works both ways; the ones it doesn't collect end up misusing the cosmos. Some join up and form gangs." Krishna explained. "South America, therefore… has become a bit of a haven for Black Saints."

The memory of Rasputin, the coke-sniffing biker that attacked Shamballa, came to Atlae's mind. He didn't like guys like that, even if they sometimes acted funny. Cosmos wasn't a toy to abuse.

"I guess that thanks to this outpost, at least the poor children in the area have a future, though," he concluded. "Maybe it's better to join Sanctuary than becoming a salad-dressing sniffing biker and hurt yourself trying to ring Genbu's Bell."

{======================|A3|======================}

At Port

{======================|A3|======================}

With uneven diligence, Atlae and Caça offloaded the heavy supply crates from the Chrysaor into Saint Triangle Noah's truck. They fit nicely into racks installed on the back hold, which could then be mantled and roped to be taken to Sanctuary holdings all over South America. After finishing the last one, Caça collapsed in exhaustion, complaining in wheezy whispers about how hard his work was when they weren't allowed to burn the cosmos publicly.

By contrast, Atlae wiped the sweat off his face and smiled pleasantly. It was such great exercise, too! Rebecca would be proud of them for a job well done. Next time Atlae sailed by Hawaii, he should take her up on her offer.

The two worked together to bring in the final box, a bigger refrigerating crate where they hid the weapons underneath a bunch of tuna. They lifted it one end each and carried it out the Chrysaor.

A tired Caça, however, slipped "W-WATCH IT!"

Atlae felt the crate drop to the ground. Before he could do anything, a sudden invisible force rose from the ground and hampered the crate with some kind of shiny pillow of cosmos before it could break open, saving it. The Muvian turned and saw the Silver Saint that welcomed them holding out their hand and smiling.

Atlae laughed, rubbing his head. "Thanks! That was our bad. We'll handle it from here."

The Silver Saint nodded and dispelled the technique, landing the crate softly in their hands. "No problem."

"Yeesh, that was close," Caça whispered, helping Atlae drag the crate into place before another accident happened.

Atlae thought the same. What a nice Silver Saint. That looked like a cool technique, too. Whatever the Saint did, he must have applied some soft barrier that pillowed the heavy crate from a distance, or so it felt. Looking over, he saw the captain speaking with the local Silver Saint.

"Thank you for the expedience, Captain." The welcoming Silver Saint thanked Krishna. "Things have been difficult here lately for the Saints, not just in Argentina."

"All in Poseidon's will," Krishna assured. "Though it does surprise me a bit you're paying me in Sanctuary's waver. You're usually so dependable, Saint Noah. What happened?"

The white-haired person turned face away with a mix of concern and guilt in their frown. They looked like they wanted to solve some kind of emergency as quickly as possible.

"It's the metal shipments. They've disappeared on the way to port from the hinterland." The Saint confessed, making the captain stagger. "The political climate in the country is tense right now, so I thought they may have just been delayed, but now I believe something serious has happened."

Attracted by the hold-up between them, Atlae and Caça joined in. The Muvian took note of the Saint that welcomed them, a white-haired young adult of modest height and shoulder-length curls that didn't look quite like a male human or a female one. He seemed very effeminate with a delicate jawline and soft chest bumps underneath their light summer t-shirt that contrasted with a light throat lump. Broad yet small shoulders and hardened fingers carried a silver box with the Triangle constellation. Interestingly enough, they carried a silver pin with the Virgo symbol, which indicated the Saint was a likely candidate for the 6th House in the future.

Moreover, Atlae, with some surprise, noticed the Chi 'breath' of the person's right leg stopped halfway before hitting the ground. "This person's leg is… not there?"

"Girly looking for a guy, right?" Caça teased, smirking. "Reminds me of the carnival drags back in my home country."

Atlae shrugged. The Silver Saint looked normal to him, especially since most Saints he had met looked quite girly, with their long hair and sometimes make-up.

"The silver from this area is half the profit of the Chrysaor's milk run. A waiver will cover us with the Saints in Greece for now, but if this keeps happening…the Chrysaor might not stop here next year, Saint Noah." Krishna warned.

The Triangle Saint nodded, looking mortified but trying to stay stalwart. "Captain, I'm very aware of how serious this is. This region's shipments are why I am allowed to be stationed here and do my work. Please don't cut us off. If you do, Sanctuary might…"

"I'm sorry, Saint Noah, but it's not up to us. We obey the Head of Houses, not the Pope." Krishna apologized. He didn't mean to pressure Saint Noah but had no choice. He scratched his head. "What do you think might have happened, anyway? I thought Sanctuary employed hoplite convoys. Could it be Black Saints?"

"That's what I will try to find out," Noah swore, narrowing his blue eyes determinedly. "I would have gone already, but I knew you were arriving soon. I couldn't just leave you waiting at the dock for me, not knowing what was going on."

Krishna hummed. "I appreciate it. Very well. We'll be leaving for the Isle of Gardens. Good luck, Saint N-"

Atlae gasped, "Captain, wait!" he approached the Silver Saint. "You said it could be Black Saints, right? That's too dangerous for you to do alone. What if they're riding motor bicycles and snorting salad dressing? That would make them at least twice as dangerous! You could get hurt!"

All three of them blinked at the warning.

Noah tried to smile gratefully anyway. "Um, that is very thoughtful, but…" The Saint paused, looking over the Mariners in conflict. Could Noah ask for help? Noah shook his head. "No, I wouldn't dream of putting you at risk. This is a Sanctuary matter and I am a Saint of Silver."

But the Muvian shook his head and turned to the Mariners. "Captain, I think we should help."

Caça dropped his crate. "What?! We had to leave Hawaii immediately but must stay here, in this dreary place?! What if we're attacked or robbed or kidnapped or-" Caça frowned, not wanting to look afraid. "Atlae, just shut up; he said he'd handle it!"

Caça continued, sweeping his arms rejectingly, "This is none of our business! We are mariners, not hoplites! Let this guy take care of his damn problems!"

Atlae squinted offendedly. Was he being lied to again? "I thought you said you were sick of sailing the sea!"

Caça turned red and appealed to authority. "Captain, please just tell him!"

Krishna sighed. "I'm afraid Caça is right, Atlae. We have a schedule to fulfill. We must be on the Isle of Gardens by May to reach Greece in time for our bonus. We're not in the business of doing side jobs for the Saints whenever they're in trouble."

"But…!" Atlae looked between them, but the captain seemed resolute.

"And if they get to boss us, mariners, around, they shouldn't be screwing up like this, anyway," Caça argued, turning to Noah. "Hey, floozy, how would Black Saints get the drop on real warriors worthy of protecting the Earth?!"

Noah sighed sadly, half-heartedly agreeing. "We usually keep things pretty secretive. I don't understand how they could have gotten wind of the San Antonio shipment route."

"Don't feel bad, Saint Noah," Atlae assured, smiling. "Black Saints once found their way up to Shamballa, where I trained. That's in the Himalayas! They can be really resourceful in their snooping."

"This is bullshit! Why can't you call a Gold Ranker?!" Caça bitched. "Just one of those guys could nuke whoever did this if your hoplites didn't get lost on their way here."

Noah shook their head, mortified. "I can't… This area is my responsibility. If I don't solve this myself, Sanctuary might call the work here in question, and I value my current post."

"What do you do around here, Saint Noah?" Atlae asked, curious.

"Um, well…" Noah hesitated. "I work with the Gift of Alone orphanage. Sanctuary does important work in this area, rebuilding the lives of children. Without the metal trade, they could pull this outpost out. This is something I have to fix. I'm deeply sorry."

Atlae slumped shoulders. What a terrible position for someone for Saint Noah to be in. And the Silver Saint was brave enough to assume responsibility and take it upon themselves to help all the children in the area. How could Atlae not help?

Noah bowed their head. "Thank you all very much, Mariners, but I must go now."

Atlae watched the Silver Saint get in their jeep. He observed their chi and movement and noticed the strain of their missing foot as they tried to fit the right pedal.

Caça saw him pouting like a sad dog and growled. "Atlae, just let it go!"

Atlae looked between them all. He approached Krishna and whispered. "Captain, doesn't Poseidon's creed say to deal with people fairly?"

Krishna sighed. "You have a good heart, Atlae, but we can't stay here without good reason. Unless Saint Noah truly needs help, Poseidon's creed does not oblige us to do a thing. Our business with him is finished."

Atlae had no choice, then. He whispered, trying really hard not to stare at Saint Noah's feet. "Captain, I didn't want to say it, but this person is, um, handicapped."

Krishna widened his eyes and took another look. "What? Noah never told me." He saw the Silver Saint carefully limp inside the car and struggle to adjust their right foot's position in the pedal. "I see. How did you…Never mind, you have that strange sense of yours, right?"

"So what?!" Caça counterargued. "Atlae quit feeling sorry for everyone you run into! They're a Silver Saint! He can move around better than you. Besides, I'd say he's got it pretty good here; if he worked in Sanctuary Town, that Saint wouldd probably just be selling whatever he's got between his legs instead!"

Caça's laziness and crassness started grinding on Atlae's patience, but he focused on Krishna. "Captain, if they go off alone, they might get in trouble. Besides, Sanctuary would like to have their cargo instead of a piece of paper, right? And Poseidon's creed says the good things we bargain to others will eventually pay us back."

The captain recognized, with some disgruntlement, the influence of Arthur Solo's charitable interpretation of the Creed. Atlae really was his adopted ward.

Krishna rubbed his chin pensively. He walked over to the jeep, knocked on the window, and addressed Saint Noah. "Saint Triangle, what are the chances this might have been done by Black Saints, Saint Triangle?"

Noah blinked, looking surprised they were reconsidering things like they hadn't expected the change of mind. "Uh, well, in all honesty, they're not zero. One of their favorite tactics is to raid Sanctuary holdings for weapons and goods."

While he appreciated the risks, and Atlae's arguments, Krishna worried about his ship. "I happen to be a Gold-ranker, but I can't leave my ship unattended, especially since we don't know what happened to your convoy yet. However, Atlae is an excellent fighter, and he has keen senses. He could help you solve this problem that much faster."

Noah looked over and saw the Muvian with a boyish excitement for the Saint to accept.

Noah beamed hopefully but restrained themselves. "R… really? Would you? Um, I would never suggest it in a million years, but if you're serious… I could use the help."

Atlae shook his head, huffing his nose determinedly. "Absolutely, Saint Noah! Bad guys have stolen what this outpost needs to survive, right? And they could have hurt innocent foot soldiers."

Krishna saw the smile on him. "You just want to go on an adventure to the mountains after two months on a boat, don't you?" He scratched his head pensively. He supposed Atlae had a point. "Well, if you're going to help, I want one of us with you to make sure nothing goes wrong and one of us to guard the ship-"

Seeing the writing on the wall, Caça raised his hand. "Captain, I'll stay, I'll stay!" he volunteered. He knew Atlae's stupid idealism would sway the captain eventually, so he had to think two steps ahead. "I will guard your ship with my life, I swear on the Cabral Household. Neither storm nor tide will assail the Chrysaor!"

"And what if a silver-rank shows up and me and Saint Noah are away? If they knew about the shipment, they probably also knew about us." Krishna reminded him. "No, we need to balance the power distribution. I'm the strongest, a gold ranker, so it makes sense I work alone, and it makes even more sense that Saint Noah takes responsibility for solving this, so he should take you two. Besides, if you need help, I can use lightspeed to reinforce you instantly."

Caça palmed face. "Damn it, Atlae!"

Atlae clenched his fist triumphantly. "Yes! I'm going to beat people up!"

Though the Saint didn't expect this generosity from the Mariners, Noah beamed. "Captain, thank you! Athena bless you! I will keep your men safe, I swear."

Krishna shook his head. "Poseidon's creed works both ways, Saint Triangle. We help you, but we will expect more than just gratitude in the future. And remember, keep in touch with me at all times. You never know what kinds of twists and turns these 'disappearances' lead to."

{======================|A3|======================}

Russia,

Ural Mountains

Serpent's Rock Castle

{======================|A3|======================}

The iron gates of a cavern's hidden portcullis at the bottom of the mountain creaked, brushing off its camouflage, and rose with the sharp sound of chain links pulling up into the hidden gatehouse. A lonely figure with a heavy set of spikey dark-gold armor, a horned helmet shaped like a goat skull, a large broadsword over a cape buckled over the chest plate, and a black steed that snorted thick fumes came out. Crows in the mountain trees flew off, and the wind grew colder at the person's passage, not to mention the clouds seemed to thicken into incoming rain.

Hiding in foliage nearby, a very dirty, scratched Ithaca who just made his way around the mountain observed it all with a disgruntled frown. "A secret cavern gate, of course. Those Zodiac Knights and their castles. And here foolish me was trying to climb the walls." He kept the branches and leaves on his blue hair to hide himself. Putting on his binoculars, he observed the figure. "So that's him. Aries… no, Serpens Azrael. The last living Zodiac Knight."

The tall figure was macabre to even look at. Even discounting the animal skull on his face and its big curvy horns, the intricate carvings he shaped his Serpens Cloth with was a work of art as unnerving as it was impressive, sporting multiple symbols of death and misery across every segment of every plate, from rib outlines around his torso sides, to pronounced metacarpals on the back of the gauntlets, to the curves of large horns around the collar of the neck guard.

There wasn't much left of the holy serpent the Cloth was supposed to be shaped after, except for a dark green cape coming out the back. Its owner had, through the Zodiac Knight arts with the Light Element, reshaped the Bronze Cloth into a twisted version of Aries. The backsword itself was likely carved out of the Cloth's metal the same way.

The green eyes inside the skull mask glanced briefly in his direction, and Ithaca froze, suddenly feeling the edge pressed over his neck. He staggered and ducked instinctively. With a heavy breath, however, he realized it had all just been his imagination. Azrael was still a good run ahead of him.

After a beat of consideration, Azrael looked away. Ithaca saw it and breathed in relief. "Triton's dick. This job is getting a bit too jump-scary for my liking."

Yellow cosmos shining like a Gold Saint's flare burned around the rider and, with a loud neigh, the large warhorse leaped out the slope, riding out into the Ural woods at a thunderous pace.

"I wonder where he's off to in such a hurry. Maybe the meeting with Lord Arthur." Ithaca took his chance and rushed in, rolling inside the cavern just as the iron gate closed. Hearing the heavy shutting sound and mechanical locking, he sweated, wondering if he could make the same way out or have to take another drop off the mountain. Lighting a torch of blue cosmos in his finger, he entered. "In any case, I have my chance. Alright, Ithaca, time to dig dirt on this guy…"

The cavern path led up a large, gentle staircase from where Azrael likely rode down from the castle above. Illuminated by torches, the place had round natural walls with indented ribbing that felt like the inside of a large serpent's throat, going up, and as the Mariner climbed up, he occasionally stopped, spotting the discrete length of a tripwire, the faint light going through a murder-hole above his head and even small machicolations balconies with abandoned crossbows installed on them. At an arc up ahead, an inscription in Latin read;

Dehinc nulla transibit umbra

(From here, no shadow shall pass)

Ithaca beheld the dead letters warning off the darkness in the damply lit cavern staircase with an ironic brow. "Sanctuary and its byzantine ways. Why do people think putting things in Latin gives phrases special power? Eh, well, I can't call them out for it. I'm a Son of Arion, after all. We still yell 'A Neptuno' during cavalry charges."

Yet, there was a danger to the message. Zodiac Knight castles were built purposefully, and Serpent's Rock was no exception. Hades had many enemies in Asia he would love to destroy, not the least of which the Masters of Mount Rozan and their Chi Gods. The message, therefore, had a triple meaning; that the corridor would always be lit, that no Specter would penetrate the castle, and, most importantly, that Hades' dirty, shadowy fingers would never reach Asia. Writing all three meanings in a spooky arc passage like this did, he supposed, give it a bit of a consecration.

Now the easternmost arm of this sanitary cordon, Serpent's Rock, was occupied by a Zodiac Knight that resembled a Specter more than a Saint. How tragic.

Seeing the light of the inner bailey up ahead, Ithaca shut off his torch and rushed in. Entering the large internal space of the castle, he was greeted by the dim daylight and widened eyes.

All around him, on the enclosing walls, he saw nothing but faces of bone! Behind the stable, beyond the rock keep, over the storehouse, and around the arc doors to each section of the bailey, Ithaca saw nothing but skulls filling the inner walls, each carefully dug into the cement. And where there were no skulls, there were smaller bones like ribs and hand bones filling the gaps, helping keep the macabre environment neatly fitting into the cement of the defenses.

"It's like those bone churches the Christians make. If I didn't know who lived here, I'd be amazed at the décor." Yet, terrible as the sight was, Ithaca realized this was likely not what he came looking for. He studied some of the skulls closely and noticed how little weathered they were despite being out in the open. "These are… relatively recent. Fucking Poseidon. They must be the Zodiac Knights he's killed. The victims of the Topaz Purge!"

It was the only explanation, given their number and age, but this meant Sanctuary already knew of these deaths. And, worse yet, approved of them. They were worthless to Lord Arthur, then. Ithaca needed something the Mariners could use to shield themselves from any powerplay this Zodiac Knight guy tried.

Penetrating the bailey further, Ithaca found the castle's main water source. The fountain pond in the inner space gave the air a refreshing sense of peace, but the intense loneliness and silence, combined with the bones on the walls, made him feel any way like he had walked into a giant basilisk serpent's cavern.

Ithaca made his way inside the rock keep, keeping his senses keen. The guardroom was very akin to old storybook pictures of the fabled Zodiac Knights, Athena's primary guard against the forces of Hades. There were barrels of wine against the wall, armor stands, hunting trophies, and arrow slits to shoot outside through, all the things a little boy pictured when asked about a place where medieval knights met. As the wind blew a soft hymn through the slits, Ithaca could picture oath-sworn under Azrael crossing swords in this room, vowing to destroy Hades and his Specters.

It all felt incredibly lonesome. "He's been here for years, right? What does he do in this creepy place all day anyway? Talk to his armor stands?"

Climbing a floor, Ithaca found the great hall. A large dining table in front of a big, unlit fireplace was covered in dust.

He ran his finger on it and saw it pure black. "Not a cleaner, this one." He then found only one spot at the end, by the window. A journal had been left in it, with fresh ink on its last page. "Ah, jackpot! Thank you, Poseidon!"

Taking it, the agent flipped it quickly, just to make sure it had something of use or was just the ramblings of an insane traitor. He quickly realized it was quite thick and dated further back than he imagined several years. Ithaca was amazed to find passages back to 1956.

1957

"We've finally left the junkyard. All of us! I'm so happy. Kyo-" The word then was scratched, as if corrected into the one after. "(note, I need to get used to our new names) Priam was right all along; if we just kept fighting and surviving, if we stuck TOGETHER, one day we would leave that place. And now we're here, as Saints of Athena.

Priam and I decided to join the Zodiac Knight Order. These people are incredible; their dedication to the cause is everything I've ever admired in Saints of Athena. I couldn't think of anything that would make me happier than earn my knighthood and become a Paladin. I swear, one day, when Holy War comes, I will be at the front, defending mankind! This generation's Holy War will be the last!

Ithaca stopped briefly at this. Reading all about Azrael being a happy-go-lucky Zodiac Knight enthusiast was a bit jarring, considering everything that eventually transpired. He wasn't interested in this relatively simple period of Azrael's life and flipped onwards, but most of it consisting of various births and proposals of his friends, indicating heterosexuality was not dead at Sanctuary.

One entry in 1961 looked interesting, as it looked to talk about when Azrael became a Gold Saint.

1961

Today may be the greatest day of my life!

I am officially Aries Azrael. This is the culmination of everything I've worked so hard for these last four years. All the training as the Serpens Zodiac Knight, then earning the Corvus Silver Cloth along my rank of Paladin, and now I am finally wearing the Cloth of my birth zodiac. I have done my part for Sanctuary and my friends and given the Knights a Gold Cloth.

The first thing I did was visit the Aries Temple, which I will be guarding starting next month. It's going to take a while for me to get used to not living inside a Cyrulian castle anymore. Everything is so spacious here, almost like a palace. It kind of feels off, but it's something I shall get used to.

Everyone came to congratulate me, even Kaiser. Our pathetic Cancer has earned his Gold Cloth, too. Maybe I was wrong about the two of them. I will organize my feast and invite them all to reforge bonds.

Menelaus, on the other hand, has suffered another frustration from Saint Daniel. We're so close, though. If only Menelaus could take over the House of Taurus, our dream could become true. And one day, our generation will do what none before us has.

PS: The 'inevitable' has happened. I will stay at Sanctuary for a bit more to attend the funeral of Akassius' shadow. Another reason to celebrate this day.

It sounded like the guy grew up focused on one big objective in his career as a Saint, but none of the page entries were to clear on that. Instinctively, Ithaca began flipping more quickly, searching for some kind of elaboration. Suddenly he came across one shocking entry.

1962

Our Virgo's dead. That pathetic excuse for a Cancer really did it.

I went to the Sixth Temple. It looked like a bloodbath. I never thought he'd have the balls to do something like this. All he had to do was master his Cancer Cloth! He was the weakest among us, and now he took it out on the most innocent. I hope the spit on his grave never dries.

Saint Daniel was crying at Helen's funeral. I've never seen such a big man shed tears. She was his daughter, but it still feels wrong. I don't like seeing men cry. It's wrong. We are Gold Saints, not children. If Daniel was so weak, he should have just left and let Menelaus take over. Together we would have prevented this from happening. Now our dream is dead.

How could this have happened? Kaiser was right between them at the Leo House, so why didn't he stop HIM? Of all of us, Kaiser is the strongest after Akassius! The strong do not fail! Unless they are weak on the inside. I should have known. I thought I was mistaken about him, but Kai is just a big fuc- (angry scratching).

Now he won't leave his house, presumably out of shame. Partita has been knocking at my temple, asking about him. Her two stupid baby brats wouldn't stop crying. Everyone treats Aries like the Golden Zodiac's receptionist. I'm so sick of it all.

Everything feels like it's falling apart. I can't let that happen. Someone needs to do something! Or our dream will die!

Ithaca flipped more and more pages, utterly bewildered.

Anger.

Bitterness.

Betrayal.

Resentment.

Talks about joining Priam against Sanctuary.

For Triton's sake, this guy just went on and on and on!

And he sounded completely schizophrenic. In one entry, he'd compliment a friend over something; in the other, he'd criticize them as complete disappointments. He must have been a real hoot to be around.

"Forget it; I'll just check his final ones. It'll be good enough if I can just walk out of here with some understanding of how he feels about the Mariners." Ithaca decided, skipping to the last pages with ink on them.

April 1974

Another turn of the moon, another humiliation inflicted on the rightful Gold Saints of this Sanctuary by Arles. I have just learned the Pope has approved a Muvian child into Jamir, which can only mean one thing; the Gold Cloth that rightfully belongs to me will be handed off to some alchemist child with dots on their forehead. One day, Arles will pay for this theft, I swear it! Even if it's in the head of his new little pet being mailed to his Chambers.

Ithaca widened his eyes. Finally, something interesting! Hostile conspiracies against the Pope were a no-no that could get even a Pact Member in serious trouble. It sounded like Azrael has gone even more down the deep end in the decade between this entry and the last that Ithaca read. Swearing harm on a little boy was a bit much, after all.

Maybe the isolation was loosening his tongue to his journal too much. Ithaca kept reading.

Did Arles think he could hide that from me? I'm the master of Serpent Rock. I know EVERYTHING that happens in the Muvian colonies. Even that pathetic dwarf, Gigas, realizes that much; he came knocking at my castle's door trying to extend an offer of 'business,' pretending to be a spontaneous generosity and not an alliance against the Pope's appointments. What convenient timing.

And as if the Golden Rings could offer me anything. They, too, will one day pay.

The Mariner agent found himself sitting down to read, sucked in by the spiral of madness. He came looking for dirt on Azrael and now stood to get a hook on the whole of Sanctuary's court of nobles. Maybe Lord Poseidon was rewarding him for sitting through all those nonsense entries. What else could he find?

I am also concerned about the recent dealings between the Muvians and the Mariners. It's unnatural for those two groups to havetoo many interactions as of late. Are they conspiring together? The Muvians hated the Zodiac Knights almost as much as they hated the Mariners. They envied our Lightcraft arts and ability to copy and surpass their greatest works. Maybe they think an alliance with Arthur Solo will give them the edge they need to destroy me, the last of the Knights. I see more and more blue-hairs visiting their villages from the towers of Serpent Rock, and I don't like it.

Traitors. Conspirators. Corrupt pigs. None work toward our great common dream to protect the Earth from the Gods. The Mariners, in particular, are just itching to have theirs return and flood the earth into oblivion! They're no better than the Asgardians! Doesn't anyone understand this?!

"Jackpot!" Ithaca celebrated. Here he had, definitive proof that Aries Azrael viewed the mariners as enemies. Now he just needed to find something more material afterwards and they could use it as a shield against Azrael's schemes. His eyes noticed the final paragraph, though. "I'll just finish this and get out of here."

I should just ride east and teach those Muvians a lesson, burn a couple of their villages to the ground, just for fun. Teach them that they're nothing but Sanctuary's forgers and that Cyrulian metal can still cut right through Bronze Cloths. Who do they think they are, anyway? That they're still the masters of this planet?! They, too, would rebuild their temples to their evil gods if Sanctuary's fist loosened even a single bit more!

They want to burn our world to the ground to forge their ridiculous artifices, don't they? Then they should fucking burn, too! Held in metal rods over pyres and burn like the dotted pigs they are! Burn in the fires of a thousand-

The ink then abruptly cut off with a scratch, and the text ended as if Azrael had been startled to a stop. Ithaca would like to think the guy got one percent of self-awareness of what he was putting down into words, but from the lack of pressing in the last letters, it looked more like something suddenly distracted him. Perhaps the same thing that made him suddenly head out of his castle.

The Mariner looked around, intrigued. He walked to the window giving light to the great hall, and looked out.

He widened his eyes, feeling his heart pump louder. Tentatively, he opened the large window to get a better look. It faced the same side of the mountain Ithaca had tried to climb up earlier and was designed to allow defenders to shoot arrows out at it, which meant that when Ithaca got attacked by the bird and fell, it could have been noticed! Had Azrael heard him scream?

"H-HELP!"

Ithaca gasped, hearing the high-pitched noise come from upstairs. "He has someone here?! The bastard!"

"IS SOMEONE OUT THERE?! PLEASE, HELP!"

The brave mariner rushed up the stairs towards the Castellan chamber. Finding a locked wooden door, he shoulder-rammed it, breaking it down in one cosmic blow. A hall between war rooms and the bed chambers was located, and a single small child with a white blanket was on the ground, right in the center, with a long chain from the wall arresting them by the foot.

Ithaca approached them, horrified. "I-it's okay. I'm going to free you."

"H-HELP!" it loudly wailed again. "IS SOMEONE OUT THERE?! PLEASE, HELP!"

Ithaca waved his hands appealingly. "I won't hurt you; the scary man is gone." He reached in, entering the middle. "Take my hand. I'll break the chains in a sec-"

His hand passed right through the child, which broke down into particles of bright yellow light that vanished into the air!

He widened his blue eyes, recognizing the process. "W-what?! That was… a Lightcraft construct?! Of a person?! Impossible!"

Every door around him burst open, and multiple men in armor identical to Azrael's surrounded him. Ithaca gasped, feeling his exits blocked and the bizarre sight of the gang with intricately crafted swords, spears, and halberds locking around Ithaca's body, daring him to make the slightest move.

Strangest of all, all their cosmos were incredibly high, easily Gold Rank. And they all felt like the man he saw ride out of the castle.

The sound of footsteps from the stairs that he climbed was heard. Ithaca turned and saw Serpens Azrael, the real one, come out, clutching the same broadsword.

Ithaca sweated, caught. "H-Hi…. I didn't realize you were having a party." He gulped, looking around. There were easily eight of them besides Azrael himself. Even if he tried to lightspeed out of the window, he would probably get ripped to shreds by their interlocking weapons. "S-So, um, are these all friends of yours?"

The terrifying man beheld him, the green eyes inside the shadow of the goat skull sockets shining menacingly. The last of the Zodiac Knights clenched his heavy, bone-shaped gauntlet before exploding it on his face, knocking Ithaca out.

{======================|A3|======================}

Patagonian Hinterlands

{======================|A3|======================}

After leaving the Hawaii shipment with the hoplites at the local Gift of Aaron orphanage, Saint Noah drove Atlae and Caça westwards, towards the country's interior. Several hours passed as the Silver Saint took the two Mariners to the last spot, where they got updates on the bronze shipment from Chile. The further distance they gained from the coast, the fewer towns they ran into, the rougher the plains became, and the drier the air and terrain progressively grew.

Driving, Noah sweated self-consciously. They had been going a bit too fast through the slopes, but it was important they didn't tip off any potential threats by using Mach speeds, and Noah wanted to take as little time from the generous Mariners as possible.

"I'm sorry. We are still a couple of hours away."

Time passed as Saint Noah searched and the group gradually struck conversation. Saint Noah turned out to be a surprisingly pleasant listener, paying attention to all of Atlae's stories that usually weirded out everyone else.

"Wait, you mean a hot martial artist girl threw herself all over you and you pushed her off?!" Caça questioned. "What're you, gay?"

Noah cringed at this. It seemed from Caça that a whole new generation of people after Noah's was going to be intolerant, too.

Atlae was equally despondent. "Of course I wasn't. I made Zayah really sad. How could I possibly be gay about breaking a friend's heart? " Atlae answered. For some reason, it just made the Mariner cackle loudly. Caça was so vicious sometimes. The Muvian slumped eyes sadly. "She was so angry with me about it, too, like I betrayed her. Now I'm wondering if… if this is how she's always seen me as at Shamballa. Was she ever really my friend?"

Caça shook head in lament. "Unbelievable! You know what your problem is, Atlae? No one taught you to be a man! Sometimes you act like you have boobs as big as your muscles." He scoffed. "Pah, this is what you get, being raised by women. Man, I'd be so happy if some chick tossed herself at me like that…"

Atlae scratched head, confused. This kind of made it sound like Caça's never been with women. "But Caça, you once told me you've had at least twelve girlfriends, some of them concurrently."

The lying Mariner sailor sweated. "You never mind what I said, Atlae! What about those letters you said you got from freaking Marianne Solo! I'd frame every single one on my wall if I was as lucky as you!"

Atlae slumped sadly again, looking away. "Oh yeah, Marianne…"

Caça threw arms up. "See?! That reaction right there is exactly what I mean! Do you even got any clue how lucky a guy you are?!"

Atlae, groaned, confused. "Lucky? You don't understand, Caça; to me, Marianne isn't just a girl, she's…" and then he quieted himself, finding a sudden difficulty putting words to it.

"Yeah? Go on!" Caça incited

"She's… my best friend." Atlae concluded. He curved lips happily, remembering the countless nights they had spent sharing secrets and fears at the Solo Manor.

The Triangle Saint driving the jeep swooned. "Awh…"

Caça felt sick and parroted Noah's voice "What's so 'awh' about that! That made no sense!"

Noah shook head. Caça was too young to understand. "For someone as competitive as your friend, I think it means something very special." Noah turned eyes to the straw-hair Muvian through the rearview. "But you know, Atlae, that sentiment is sweet, but if this Marianne really cares about you, she won't mind you're not a gold ranker, you know?"

"Really?" Atlae asked, perking up. An embarrassed sentiment soured him, though. "I don't know why she never told me in those letters she was making it so far."

Noah hummed, sensing the real problem. "Do you think your friend has been pitying you?"

Atlae held chin pensively. "Yes, I think so. But… Marianne would really do that? Why?"

"Well, I don't know your friend myself, Atlae, so I can't tell for sure." Noah confessed. "If you ask me, though, I think she sounds like she just cares more about you than showing off what she's doing."

Atlae blinked. "What do you mean?"

Noah shook head at his teenage silliness. "She's become a Vice-Admiral at such a young age, correct? She's must be very smart. Her time must be limited, too. Yet she's been consistently communicating with you this whole time, right? If she went on and on in her letters about how she's doing this and that, how worse do you think you'd feel, whenever you failed?"

The teenage Muvian slumped head, reflective. "…I didn't think of it that way." Marianne's was definitely the type to guess how he felt about what she said, even all the way from Greece.

"And besides, from the way you make it sound…Atlae, you're the first person that pops to Marianne's head to talk about how she feels. I'm not very familiar with Muvian social norms, but when a human girl writes to a boy like this? That's not because she dislikes you."

A surge of blood rushed to Atlae's face at the implied conclusion. "Wait! Saint Noah, are you saying that Mari'…. Might have fee…" he stopped himself at thinking something as low brow as 'having feelings' to describe it. "She might like me?"

Caça frowned so hard his lips touched his jaw line. "Gah, Marianne liking Atlae… The world is truly an unfair sewer hole."

"I can't say anything for sure, but take it from someone with a bit of perspective on both genders, Atlae; just because she hasn't said anything directly, it doesn't mean she doesn't like you." Noah advised. "Human women don't show off the same way human men do."

"Both genders?" Atlae then gasped in realization. The mild voice, the lumps on chest and throat, the lack of pronouns when Saint Noah spoke about themselves to locals in Spanish, it all made sense now! "Wait, Saint Noah, are you…?!"

"Finally!" Caça mocked, pushing him briskly. "'Idiot of the Year' award, right here."

Noah scratched temple apprehensively. "You really couldn't tell, Atlae? Mm, I don't know if I should feel flattered or not."

Distraught, Atlae shook head. "I swear I did not, Saint Noah. I always heard there were intersex people in Shamballa, but they're considered sacred. They are revered for their middleness and balance!"

Noah smirked. "Oh. Maybe I should move there someday?" Noah looked up and spotted the sign indicating the off-road to the mines. "Okay, we're finally getting close. Let's stop the car."

As they reached the route the shipment would have gone through, the Silver Saint parked the vehicle, leaving it in a secure hidden spot, the two followed Noah down a trail of dirt roads leading towards the ever-rising hinterland slopes.

"How are things?"

Atlae staggered, startled, and held his temple. "It's all good, captain. We're now on foot near the border with Chile."

"Okay, keep me posted," Krishna asked back in San Antonio.

"Do you know what we need to look for, Saint Noah?" Atlae asked.

The Silver nodded and led them down the road. "Yes, I followed them on the route last year. If you two sense anything special, though, it could help. The terrain gets pretty rough the closer to the mines we get."

Caça scoffed. "Hear that, Atlae? You better put your weird radar to work."

Noah blinked. "Radar?"

Atlae laughed self-consciously. "Oh, Caça is talking about my Chi sense. To make it simple, I can sort of sense people's life force. Master Yuzuriha called it the 0th sense," Atlae explained. He saw the cringe in Caça. "It sounds weird, but it makes sense because it comes before all the others."

"Being 0th isn't a thing, Atlae! I flunked at math, and even I know that!"

"I believe Atlae, Caça. There are many strange powers in the world. I don't think anything's truly impossible." The Silver Saint encouraged, making Atlae smile. Noah then realized, "Wait, that means you can sense people, even when they're low on cosmos or hiding it! You could find the convoy!"

"Yup… if I get close enough anyway." Atlae then cringed. "And if, well…."

"If they ain't dead!" Caça completed snickering. "No lifeforce in corpses, after all. We don't need no 0th sense, though; I'll find them myself."

Noah chuckled. "Oh, you're quite confident, Mariner Caça."

The pale youth pointed at himself with a cocky flaunt. "Ah, I may not look like it, but I come from a long line of Caçador hunters. I can find and get the drop on anyone I want before they ever see me."

Atlae squinted, confused. "Wait, I thought you said you came from a long line of singers." Was Caça lying to him again?

Caça sneered. "I can come from a long line of many different things, Atlae! You're not the only one claiming ancestry around here!"

"I guess that's true. Everyone comes from a mom and dad with different families, after all." Atlae recalled. Caça, therefore, probably came from at least four long lines of impressive things. "Well, what other cool things are you a descendant of, Caça?"

The mariner counted with his fingers. "Um, let's see… I come from a long line of impressionists, so I can do anyone's voice… I come from a long line of liars, too, from my dad's side, according to my mom." He struggled to remember the rest of his tall tales. "And I think that's it."

The Triangle Saint hummed, curious. "From what I understand, mariners pass their titles in their army down the father's family line. Didn't you say the South Atlantic was your ocean, Caça?"

Caça sighed, guessing where Noah was getting at. "I'm not gonna be a general. I have five older brothers in line ahead of me."

Seeing the mariner upset, Noah countered. "You say that, Caça, but you never really know."

The pale youth grimaced. "I think I do, thank you very much! Unless they all choke on cod at Christmas dinner, I'm gonna be stuck being a runt mariner on some boat."

"I'm serious. Look at me, Caça." Noah invited, pausing the march to wave themselves. "Do you think I had any reason to believe I'd ever become a Silver Saint?"

The two boys stopped as well and exchanged a guilty look.

The white-haired Silver Saint folded their arms reprovingly.

It was time to teach them the same Noah had taught Lance. "When I tell the trainees I recruit for Sanctuary that anything is possible, I'm not just trying to get them to believe they can break rocks or split the sky with the cosmos. I mean anything is possible, you could become a Mariner general, and Atlae could become the world's greatest martial artist and I could become a Gold Saint. And even more beyond that, so long as you fight for it."

Caça gritted teeth and moved on, ashamed he was getting lectured by this tranny. "Whatever, Mr. Conductor…"

{======================|A3|======================}

Patagonia,

Sanctuary Mine Region

{======================|A3|======================}

Not too far off where Triangle Noah's party investigated their missing comrades, hiding in the hilly slope rocks, a man in a blue combat jacket, boots, and hat hid behind the boulders and stalked the three visitors with his binoculars. Two other men accompanied him; his commanding leader and the radio operator, while a group of unconscious, disarmed hoplites were tied up and gagged next to the stole train cart, they diverted off Sanctuary's line.

He lowered his lenses and called his superior. "The Saints are coming close. It's the Silver one stationed in the area, and he has reinforcements."

The small group's leader, sporting goggles, gloves, and the same jacket, was irked. "Blast, this whole thing has been a disaster! How did we get roped into this?! This was supposed to be a clean surveillance operation!"

"But, sir, the coded order was clear." The scout reminded him. He turned to their radio operator. "Right, Ainsel?"

Their odd new radio man, a green-haired fellow assigned to them by Priam, nodded happily. "That's right. We can't repair our equipment without the stardust they bring along in these convoys, after all. It's just a shame that Priam underestimated the number of guards."

The leader gritted teeth, cursing their luck.

Ainsel observed him with a disdainful squint. "Pathetic rebels. Six years since your war with the Pope ended and you're all reduced to a shadow of your former selves. Lord Lucifer was right to have me infiltrate you. Don't worry; I will bleed you from the inside out like the worthless carcass of an army you are." He smirked evilly. "It's almost too easy for me. We have you lose more of what you have left by throwing yourself at Sanctuary in these nonsense missions Priam never ordered, and at the same time, I collect extra intel on Sanctuary itself for the Prince. Soon you will be so weakened, that my master will have all the leverage he could want in our little alliance. Priam will be at prince Daemon's mercy."

The commander turned to him. "Ainsel, has the Nautilus docked already?"

Ainsel pretended to listen to the radio. "It's approaching the San Antonio harbor, but I think we will have a hard time moving a big train crate of metal past those Saints, sir."

"Damn it! Soldier, how many Saints did Triangle bring?!"

The scout looked again. "They look like… a Muvian and a Mariner."

Ainsel rose brow. "Oh?"

The commander did, too. "What? Are you joking?!"

Ainsel scoffed amusedly. "It does sound like he is, sir, but whoever heard of a Saint, a Mariner, and a Muvian walking into a bar together?"

The lower rebel shook his head. "I am one hundred percent serious. The burly one has dots on his forehead, and the pale one matches descriptions of one of the Cabral Household Patrician heirs."

The disguised False Specter smiled. This was the perfect opportunity to cause even more damage to Sanctuary and Priam. If they got a Mariner heir and a Muvian killed by unknown Black Saints, it would be pure chaos for the Saints. It was time for Ainsel's next move.

"Sir, perhaps we should ambush them while we can? One swift blow can remedy this whole situation."

The commander held his chin. "Mm, something is wrong. things are getting too complicated." He pointed his thumb at the crate. "Ainsel, call Daese. We're dumping the silver."

Ainsel cringed nose unpleasantly. "What?"

"This is getting too dangerous for us. Antagonizing Sanctuary is one thing, but picking a fight with the Mariners too could be the end of us. If anyone knows how to sniff out their enemies, it's them. We're releasing the hoplites we captured and leaving the silver."

The spy squinted and politely insisted. "Won't Priam be upset, sir?"

The commander sterned. "That is part of what's bothering me. Priam just isn't the type to pick fights this risky. More and more, I feel like someone is setting us up." And explained himself. "I will personally explain our circumstances to him. He would much rather we all walked out alive of this than sacrifice ourselves stubbing Sanctuary's little toe. We are not ready to reveal ourselves to Sanctuary yet, anyway."

"That makes sense, sir." He saw Ainsel approach the commander. "Hey, Ainsel, didn't you hear-"

There was a swift movement from the radio operator's hand, and the commander's head came clean off, spraying blood over the scout.

He froze in shock, feeling his blood leave his face. "A…AINSE-"

With a gesture from the operator, a telekinetic hold gripped the scout's throat, silencing him and lifting him into the air.

"Such a shame; I'll have to tell Priam our little group got massacred by the Silver Saint. That won't make him any less angry with the Saints, will it? Who knows what reckless things he'll do next after this?" Ainsel lamented, manifesting his cosmos in a black, foggy heat. "But I can't have the commander call that angry Zodiac Knight canine Priam keeps with him. I don't particularly like her, and she will just make a big loud mess of everything."

The scout's eyes bulged as the cosmos manifested a mass of darkness out of Ainsel's shadow and around him, dressing his body in pointy-segmented shapes. Two big ballooning shrouds burst out of his back like a caterpillar's new wings popping out of a cocoon, and the rest of the mass began burning orange, then solidifying into Damascus plates.

"W-What?! Ainsel, you're… a Specter?!" Old incomprehensible moments from the past returned to him as this missing cog in so many botched jobs and strange information leaks started fitting into place. Rage at the betrayal filled him, making the scout struggle against the asphyxiating grip and reach Ainsel's face. "D… Damn you! DAMN YOU!"

Ainsel gestured a lip over his mouth. "Shh, stop screaming. I don't want to spoil the surprise for the Saint and his friends yet." And he tightened the invisible grip on the scout's neck, pressing him down to the ground. A flurry of golden butterflies flew around them, shooting threads of silk. "Don't worry, though. I won't tell them it's Priam behind this. That would be too big an honor for you. Like countless others in the world, you'll just be another group of roguish Black Saints blamed for an unfortunate battle in the Argentinean hinterlands. Prince knows there are plenty of Saints who take their foes down with them. Wouldn't you like that? To die protecting Priam?"

The rebel in his grip struggled as he breathed his last gasps, feeling his throat slowly crushed. Darkness encroached around his eyes, and his thoughts became blurred and heavy. His last wish was a prayer to Athena for justice he knew would probably not come.

{======================|A3|======================}

Not too far away, the odd trio from San Antonio searched up and down the path to the mines. There weren't too many forests to keep things hidden in the landscape, yet as much as they searched,

After investigating another cliff drop, Noah reunited with them. "Anything guys?"

Caça shook head. "No tracks around here. It doesn't look like anything has driven by in months, much less cargos full of metal."

"What about you, Atlae?" Noah queried, concerned. "You said you sensed something this way, right?"

The Muvian focused hard, but the signatures he felt earlier were gone. He frowned worriedly. "I did, but….Saint Noah, something doesn't feel right. When we were just arriving on this area, I swore I felt the heat of life ahead of us, but now it's gone. I never feel like this unless something around me gets… hunted down."

Caça squinted. "Maybe all you felt was some fox getting snuffed out by wolves. Or some kid fell down a well. We're all the way out in the boondocks, after all."

Atlae shook head. "No, it was too strong. It was definitely lots of people!" he urged. Before their skeptical looks, Atlae insisted. "Saint Noah, I swear I'm telling the truth! Someone around here has been hurt!"

"I believe you, Atlae." The Silver Saint sweated and glanced aside. "From now on, keep your cosmos down, then. We might be being watched." Noah messaged them secretly. The Saint led them further eastwards. "We'll check the mines themselves now. We're not too far away anymore."

The group proceeded quietly, following Saint Noah's every move. Atlae had to admit that Saint Noah was pretty knowledgeable in this kind of work, knowing exactly when and where to use cosmos tricks and whose instincts to rely on. This was the kind of thing Atlae guessed could only come from experience as a Saint on the field, and not from training at a martial arts school.

Eventually, as the terrain cleared, Noah, Caça and Atlae widened their eyes, finding a stunning scene.

Before them, by the entrance of a large mine cavern, a series of rail cars loaded with covered copper pieces mined out of the ground was stopped, but, most shocking of all, it was covered top to bottom with silk threading. The ground, the equipment, the carts, the rail and even the temporary installations around the side were dug deep into the white material.

"What…. What happened here?!" Noah gasped.

"EW, this place looks disgusting!" Caça cringed, approaching the webbing. He laughed, mockingly. "Hey, Atlae, I bet even Muvians haven't seen spiders big enough to make this!"

Noah squinted, finding the place oddly silent. "Where is everyone?"

Atlae walked in nervously. His 0th sense felt faint warmth in every direction now. "C-Caça, don't touch anything!"

The Mariner blinked. He had never seen the Muvian this scared. "What? It's just a bunch of silk gunk." He approached a patch of it by an abandoned cart that was the size of a large cradle. Caça studied, closing in on the big silk blob. Suddenly, his foot stepped in too close and sank deep into the ground, crunching something wet. A foul stench came out and Caça nearly gagged. "Oh, freaking gross!"

Nearby, Noah took a bit into his finger. The Triangle Saint's fingers felt numb. The silk was eating Noah's blue cosmos. "I only know of one armor that can do this, but I've heard the Arachne Silver Cloth is in the care of the Ghisi family." Yet, he didn't feel tired by it. Sharp with the inner workings of the cosmos, Noah widened his eyes. "Wait, what if I'm just… sensing it less? Maybe it's not eating my cosmos, but diminishing my sensitivity to it?"

Caça burned cosmos and tried to pull his foot out. "What? How am I stuck? I can't…freaking move!" The cosmos he burned just melted the silky goo even more, sinking his leg deeper into what looked like a green, gooey interior. "UGH, it's just getting worse with Cosmos. This is so disgusting!"

Atlae rushed to Caça. "Oh, Genbu save me, look what happened!" Grabbing his friend, Atlae counted. "One, two…"

Caça remembered how strong he was. "Hey, wait a minute-"

"THREE!" Atlae pulled, and the two practically flew back, landing on the silky floor and getting covered with white gunk.

Caça rose, feeling his arms, hair, and torso now covered in white silk. "EWWW! Damn it, Atlae, this is WAY WORSE!"

Atlae helped him up but couldn't help but be irritated. "You're blaming me, Caça?! I told you not to get close! Why don't you ever listen to me?! I'm sensing lifeforms popping all over the area and you just-" Atlae then froze, seeing what was on the Mariner's foot.

Noah rose and tried to search out with the Cosmos. "(Captain Krishna? Can you hear me?!)" Noah called out. Static in the cosmos was heard, and the Triangle Saint realized the truth. "Oh no!"

Caça looked, and then, at that moment, he saw his foot, which had been stuck in the gunk. A broken, half-dissolved human ribcage covered in green goo was around it.

Screaming, he jumped high into the air. "AH, GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF!"

Atlae rose too and finally realized what the silk patches around the mining equipment were. "Saint Noah, this place is a graveyard!"

The Triangle Saint ignited their blue energy. "I know! BURN YOUR COSMOS, YOU TWO! The enemy is close!"

"Closer than you think."

There was a powerful wind gust, stunning all three into place. From above the mine entrance, in a place disguised against the brown ground of the hill, an orange-clad figure of green hair came floating down with large butterfly wings. His helmet possessed antennae, and a murderous smile showed on his face.

Atlae gasped. "Who is that?!"

Noah narrowed their eyes. "A Specter of Hades!"

Caça gawked. "A S-Specter?!" But Holy War was over a decade away. "Impossible!"

Ainsel laughed, landing before them. "You're a stranger sight of a group than I ever will be, profligates, I promise you that. Yes, I am a Specter." A False one, though. "My name is Papillion Ainsel, one of Prince Lucian's Four Elites. And don't worry, once my babies are finished devouring my old comrades; I'll have you three found by your friends. Nothing like a bunch of dead bodies to make our enemies kill each other, after all."

{======================|A3|======================}

Russia,

Serpent Rock Castle,

Catacombs

{======================|A3|======================}

In the catacombs of the isolated Zodiac Knight fortress, the walls, too, were covered top to bottom with skulls dug into the cement, all facing the room. A large forge burned alight, illuminating the metallic tools laid on the table with a shine that made Ithaca gulp fearfully. He was strapped and cuffed to a chair in the center, while Azrael's strange goons flanked him.

The man in segmented armor himself touched his Emerald Cloth stone, triggering his Lightcraft. With a flash of light, a large blade of metal made out of the Serpens Cloth was pulled out the tiny gem and rested over the fire, heating it. He held it up after a minute, beholding the hot poker while it was still yellow hot. The green lights inside his helmet's eye sockets turned to Ithaca, who was held in the chair by his other 'paladins'.

Azrael approached him with it.

Ithaca nervously smiled, "Ah, ah, I don't suppose t-that's a housewarming present, is it?"

The gauntleted hands holding Ithaca shoulders gripped tightly to keep him from fidgeting too much and Azrael shoved the scalding metal into his leg, making him scream loudly. The scent of burning flesh filled the air.

Ithaca breathed out panickily, feeling his heart pump like crazy. "F-Fuck, he's going to kill me! I don't understand! I stalked the grounds for days to make sure he was alone! Who are these bastards with him?! Why are they wearing fake Zodiac Cloths?! And they all… have cosmos exactly like his!" He remembered the 'little girl' he found in the tower. "They couldn't all be…? No!"

The former Zodiac Knight held the makeshift poker to the fire again to reheat it. "You're very far away from the sea, Mariner."

These were the first words coming out the guy's mouth to Ithaca and they sounded something like a cross between a throat growl and a snake hiss. It didn't set him at ease.

"I g-guess I am!" He looked around, seeing every entrance blocked by another armored man. "S-So, who are your buddies?! Your little band of merry men? Everyone says you're a big loner, but you've been having a recruitment drive when Sanctuary wasn't looking, uh?!"

"Not exactly." And Azrael shoved the hot edge again, punishing Ithaca with another round of burning pain.

"A-AGH! B-BASTARD!" Ithaca cursed to the top of his lungs, feeling his nervous system jolt in pain. The mariner sweated profusely. "S-some sense of humor you got. M-maybe the Pope should know you're putting light-crafted armor on Black Saints?!"

"The Pope?" Azrael hissed. He then laughed coarsely at Ithaca's ignorance. "A mariner speaks to me of the Pope? How dare you? You would beg Athena for forgiveness if you knew how much you just insulted her."

Ithaca watched the knight reach into a spare metal slab on his table, put it inside a small cauldron and shoved both inside the flames. He stared, wondering what frightening instrument the torturer was cooking next.

Azrael watched it melt and shine. "You came here for information on me. I know it. Despite all his big talk of Poseidon's creed, Arthur Solo behaves just like all the other Pact Members, sneaking around for secrets to blackmail others with. Very well, then. How about something topical? Do you know what I like about skulls, Mariner?"

"T-They're on your favorite heavy metal album cover?" Ithaca retorted.

Azrael shook his goat-skull mask. "Wrong again. I hate music."

At least Ithaca didn't get a third jab. "S-should have guessed as much, given your disposition."

Serpens Azrael reached over and ripped one off the wall of his forging chapel. He twirled it in his hand playfully, then held it aside with Ithaca's bloodied face, comparing.

Azrael tossed the skull aside displeased, muttering. "No, this one isn't it."

The mariner followed his every move with increasingly tensing nerves. What was the bastard doing? Picking a reference?Azrael searched again on the wall, his armored finger tapping through the bone faces until another candidate was picked. He ripped it off the wall and held it again by Ithaca.

The knight chuckled approvingly. "Mm, good enough."

Ithaca narrowed eyes. "You sick freak… you're even worse than what Lord Arthur imagined." Carefully, Ithaca freed the bobby pin he carried inside his wrist band into his palm and began fidgeting the lock on his cuffs. "But I've gotten out of worse jams! You just keep working on that… Once I free myself and blind the rest of these goons with a cosmos flashbang, I'm out of here."

"I like skulls because you can picture the person it belonged to when you see it." Azrael continued, retrieving the cauldron with liquified metal he was heating. "No other piece of a body does that for you, even the heart or the brain. You can point at a femur and just pretend some dog left it in the street from dinner… but a skull? No, a skull means something you can't ever ignore. You can almost picture the owner's soul trapped inside when you see one. An identity to a carcass."

"Is that why you filled your little castle with them?!" Ithaca confronted. "A little nostalgia palace just for you? Are these your old friends, the ones you purged?"

The frightening man chuckled to himself, like Ithaca was missing some kind of point.

Ithaca had to confess himself unnerved. "Even we mariners now grow up with stories of what you did. The Topaz Purge. How could we not? Never has a more unfaithful man to his creed been heard of than Aries Azrael, after all! First you betrayed Sanctuary, then betrayed Priam and then betrayed your fellow knights, the people who made you what you are!"

Using a Light-crafted ladle, Azrael took the liquified slab off the cauldron and rested it over the skull, which he precoated with cosmos, allowing the liquid to slowly take shape over the bone, like pouring metallic soup over a face. Ithaca had no idea what he was going to do with it, but wasn't going to stick around to find out. He felt his bobby pin release the first click in his cuffs, but needed more time. Azrael looked like the type that liked correcting others and teaching them lessons.

So maybe Ithaca should poke his ego some more into monologuing. "Uh, and here I thought that keeping kill trophies was a Cancer thing. Not very original of you, Aries Azrael." He provoked. It didn't even seem to make him budge, but Ithaca insisted. "Couldn't pass telekinesis school so you decided to plagiarize the Fourth Temple? Can't say I'm surprised at the turnout; I heard that guy was a murderer, too!"

"There's a lot you don't know about my generation of Gold Saints, Mariner, so I would advise you to be quiet. You make yourself look enough like a clown." Azrael threatened, focused on shaping his new toy.

Ithaca smiled. "S-sorry, I like humoring myself whenever genocidal murderers strap me to a chair and tortures me. I-It lightens the mood."

"Torture you? No, that was just a light reprimand…and this isn't a Deathmask." With a flash of light, the metal of the ladle returned to Azrael's green cloth stone and he poked the cooling mask to shape it further, giving it final touches. Azrael chuckled and held it proud to the light. "It's your new face. Do you like it?"

Ithaca widened eyes. The black metal mask looked like a Muvian face with its dots and Central Asian complexion, resembling an adult he might have run into at Shamballa last time he was with Atlae. All the details were unnaturally perfect, especially for something that looked so crudely produced just as he sat there.

When Azrael turned it over, Ithaca's whole body stiffened at the sight of two emerald lenses where his eyes would fit into. The eyes of the Serpens Constellation felt deeply puncturing into his heart, lulling it to a still and making him forget who he was.

"You look confused. You will understand later. In fact, you'll have a whole new outlook on life, Mariner. Ha, ha, ha, ha. Wouldn't you love that? To see the world through a Muvian's eyes?" Azrael cackled, approaching the mask unto Ithaca's face. "Rejoice, Ithaca of Delphi! After five thousand years of war, you, a man of Poseidon, will feel with your own flesh the pain of the people of Mu!"

{======================|A3|======================}

Chapter End

{======================|A3|======================}

Next Chapter: Chapter 87 – 3rd Arc – Episode 15: Obscure Dilemmas

Release Date: August 25th

Description: A pitched battle begins between Atlae, Triangle Noah, Caça and the False Specter Papillon Ainsel. While the good guys are determined to win, Papillon has many frightening abilities and is able to counter each of their stratagems, not to mention a vast advantage with his use of lightspeed. Atlae is pushed to his limit and fears he may not live to see Marianne again.

Meanwhile Marianne Solo returns home with her new baby brother and her parents, struggling with a terrible secret burden, and Ithaca endures even more of Serpens Azrael's cruel toying.

Author's Comments:

And another chapter is out.

This particular chapter went through a lot of cutting. Initially when sent to Jenny, it was around 26,000 words long and as it stands the non-notes material barely breaks 21,500. This is because a lot of redundant paragraphs and a scene of the characters crossing Cape Horn which weren't really useful were cut out. I also had to do a lot of rewriting with Atlae who is still not landing quite well in some moments, but bit-by-bit he's getting there for a more well-rounded character. Hopefull I'll be done with the backstory storyline within the next…. Three to four chapters. Yikes.

Look, this ain't easy. You can't just pull out a Colossus in the story and then not expect a couple of tens of thousands of words explaining what's going on.

It was also my first foray into a number of things, namely into Azrael and Noah. While both have been present in the story here and there, Noah was never physically described (and I even incorrectly called Noah a transexual person when they really are just intersex) and Azrael was a character I went back and forth on a lot, thematically and backstory wise. Some references to Azrael go all the way back to chapters 17 in the story, where my idea of him was closer to Gilgamesh from Fate Stay Night and I was even going to make him a former Capricorn Saint. Now he's much closer to something else that will be explored overtime and I think the idea of him as a former Aries Saint is really going to help the story get more interesting.

Another note I wanted to make was on Not-Cassiopeia Rebecca; Saintia Sho fans will recognize her as Cassiopeia Elda's role model who lost her life saving Elda from a pirate raid. If you're wondering why the last line of her scene where it says Atlae would never see her again, that's why. She dies after this. So if you liked her, or me shipping her with Krishna, sorry. It's not my fault, it's Chimaki's lol

Today on etymology we talk about the Gerasimov family of Mariners, who I am establishing as claimers of the Kraken Scale and potentially even Isaak's household. They are named after Dmitry Gerasimov, a 16th century Russian diplomat who first suggested to explore the Northeast passage from Russia into the Artic Ocean. He also translated letters from the Magellan Voyage into Russian. While Russia has a long history of explorers and admirals, none of them had surnames I was truly happy with and a lot were more related to the Bering Sea or Siberia than the actual Artic Ocean, so I settled on Gerasimov.

Also Isaak Gerasimov sounds like a badass name to me.

Anyway, be sure to leave a review or share the story if you enjoyed this chapter, or if you want to criticize it even. Like it on Twitter/Tumblr/Reddit and generally support this project if you enjoy it. You can find me in all those places under the Thrudgelmir2333 name.

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See ya \owo