Levina gently inspected the dagger in her hands, carefully keeping her hands away from the razor-sharp edge as she ran her hand across the flat of the blade, stopping at the hilt. The smooth, cold steel soothed her somewhat, and her thumb settled upon the small bump on the hilt – the Originium crystal within the handle. Someone knocked on her door, and Levina dropped the dagger; allowing her Arts to guide it. The dagger flew straight towards her waist, pressing flat against her stomach before smoothly sliding into its scabbard with a click.
It wasn't as if there was anybody here to complain about the danger. Not anymore.
Opening the door, she gave Ben a nod. "Anything you wanted to say?"
Ben laughed. "Nothing serious. Just a reminder that we're due to arrive at dusk today."
"I know." She replied.
"Okay. I'll see you later, then." Ben smiled and left, footsteps echoing down the hallway.
"Well, he certainly doesn't seem to care much about this situation we're in…" Levina thought. Insurrectionist action against a foreign government… really, what had they gotten themselves into?
"Something none of us are familiar with, I suppose." Levina thought. "…something they aren't familiar with, at least."
No backing out now, however. The Yetis would probably let them leave, but that way lay the problem of explaining how on Terra a research team investigating Ursus found themselves in Leithanien of all places. They'd be fired, no doubt; probably thrown in jail, too. On the other hand, continuing on with Petrova and his Yetis could maybe get them out of this mess; at least, if they maintained contact with the spy cell. Rim Billiton was perfectly willing to use certain… less moral tactics.
Levina resisted the urge to draw her dagger and stab it into the wall. It wouldn't help.
The steel surface would probably damage the dagger too.
With a groan, Levina got up. Maybe a walk could clear her mind. She supposed it wasn't that bad – they were still fed and healthy.
You could die, she reminded herself. Well, it wouldn't be the first time she had taken that risk. With a quick turn of the handle, the door slid open, and she stepped out into the hallways.
It wasn't exactly the open grass field she would've liked, but it was certainly better than being cooped up in that room. Closing her eyes, Levina took a deep breath of the slightly-less-stale air. She felt better already.
After all, everything had been fine so far. What could go wrong?
Fredrich raised the emblem of the Fifth Cell to the midday sun, wind blowing pleasantly at him. Countless strands of crimson within the inset Originium crystals glowed from the sunlight; forming vague symbols that shifted as if alive. The emblems were a foolproof anti-infiltration mechanism; each unique, modified with Arts to create those distinctive strands of red.
They were also inordinately powerful shaped charges. The one on Fredrich was easily enough to vaporize Fredrich and whatever he had upon his person, should he choose to activate it.
Fredrich returned the proof of his identity to a hidden chest pocket, and soon the palm-sized emblem had disappeared as if it had never existed in the first place, disguised within a piece of protective armor.
It was a beautiful day today. The familiar soft Leithanien breeze touched his face, the warm sun a far cry from the sharp light in Ursus.
Well, Fredrich supposed he could go for a walk. He was already atop the landship anyway.
His boots lightly clicked against the steel surface, but Fredrich's mind was already elsewhere; upon his "team." They had been taking it admirably well, so far. No shouted arguments or furious glares, though they had been avoiding him; Anne especially. Perhaps the sheer absurdity of working with a group of terrorists had swept this revelation under the rug. Except for Levina, who had given him the occasional stare – one with the barest hints of empathy.
Perhaps she had experienced something similar. Fredrich had never bothered to delve into his colleagues' personal lives.
Heavy footsteps sounded behind him.
His hand unconsciously strayed to the wand at his hip, gripping onto the handle.
Slowly, carefully, he turned around.
A Yeti smiled at him; their hood pulled back to reveal a surprisingly young-looking boy. "You're Fredrich, yeah?"
"Yes." Fredrich replied, voice even.
The Yeti looked down, spotting Fredrich's hand on the wand. "Relax, I'm not here to kill you. Not that I could. Just here to watch the view, just like you."
Fredrich nodded, cautiously turning his back to the Yeti. Damn his instincts…
If the Yetis really wanted to kill him, Frostnova could kill him with a few blasts of her Arts, or the Spymaster could outright tear his mind apart. He knew that. It didn't stop the unconscious twitches of his wand-hand, though.
The Yeti was Arts-less, he knew. Fredrich took a small step away from the Yeti; he'd only be able to –
No, he chastised himself. They were at peace.
With terrorists, his mind helpfully supplied.
"Hey." The Yeti said. Fredrich spun around, to face the Yeti again. The Yeti still had that innocent smile, a bottle in hand. "You look stressed. Want a drink? I'm Voya, by the way."
Fredrich hesitantly accepted the bottle. "What is it?"
"Vodka. What else?"
Oh, great. Fredrich was going to get drunk at lunch. Nonetheless, he tipped the bottle back and took a swig. It burned as it went down, and he grimaced. "That's quite the hard drink."
"That's the spirit!" Draping an arm across Fredrich's shoulder, Voya took the bottle back and took a swig too. "We won't be able to drink once we're at our destination. Gotta stay sober when we're fighting."
Fredrich nodded. "What will the Yetis be doing?"
"The usual; following Frostnova, fighting."
Fredrich laughed. "Try not to die."
Voya laughed, drinking some more. "Don't think I will. Want some more?"
To his horror, Fredrich nodded, accepting the bottle.
Soon, the ground wobbled beneath him, and Fredrich flopped down on the ground, staring up at the sun above him.
Damn his low alcohol tolerance…
Frostnova idly flipped through the pages of her book, reclined back upon a chair in her room.
"You know, Fredrich is up there getting drunk with one of your subordinates." Andrey commented.
"Who?" Frostnova asked.
"Voya. You're not surprised that they – well, Fredrich at least – are getting drunk right after lunch?"
"Voya's seen his friends die since childhood. He needs some relaxation. And it's not as if they're harming anyone right now." Frostnova sighed, her Arts dropping a degree – frosting the windows in her room.
"They're harming poor Fredrich's liver." Andrey joked, before his voice took a more serious tone. "Relax your Arts, though. Else you'll be killing yourself much faster than they are."
"Sorry." Frostnova closed her eyes and took a deep breath, feeling flickers of warmth seep back into her body.
"It's not your fault. It's my job to keep watch for you, anyways."
"And to tease me." Frostnova grumbled.
"That too. Speaking of which, you do look good in the Raythean armor." Andrey said.
Frostnova managed to contain her blush that time, though her hands still shifted to touch the black fabric of the full body suit she had donned. Then a realization came to her, and she smirked. "Did you watch me change?"
"No, absolutely not!" Andrey hastily denied. "You just looked at a mirror once you were done."
"Good." Frostnova's smirk grew into a full-blown smile. It was nice to have Andrey embarrassed for once.
After a short moment of silence, Andrey laughed. "Ah, I see what you did there."
Frostnova giggled. It was a beautiful sound, crisp and clear.
The bodysuit was a recent addition to her equipment, besides the wand that she now carried upon her waist. Form-fitting and made out of some tough black fabric, it was reinforced with steel pads around any vulnerable points. It came with a coat too, which Frostnova currently had over her shoulders. Petrova had found it in the armory and handed it to over to her when he realized it didn't fit any of the Yetis.
It blended better into the night in Leithanien, the suit almost as dark as the night itself. Admittedly, it looked nice too. Not that she'd admit that to Andrey. "The suit makes me look less like a Yeti and more like a Blacksteel operative, though."
"Good." Andrey replied. "With how those nobles are like, they won't accept any random 'commoner' to lead their forces."
"Even if I can kill all of them?" Frostnova asked.
"That's more likely to make them want to kill you."
"That doesn't make sense. Why kill a skilled solider?" Frostnova asked.
"Fear, pride and arrogance. My past self had to deal with it for a good few decades, believe me. It took almost-annual executions to put it under control."
Great, these nobles were just like the Ursus nobles… self-serving and stupid. They could only be a means to an end, and nothing more. Frostnova grumbled.
"Relax, I'll deal with them." Andrey assured. "You just have to enforce my commands."
Frostnova nodded. "Thank you."
Petrova studied the assembled Yetis from his position upon the stage – well, upon a bench. They were few in number, but each stood perfectly straight, and stock-still – evidence of Patriot's training. He quickly scanned the crowd – Voya was there, looking none the worse for wear.
Huh. Petrova decided to ask him. "Hey, Voya. Didn't you say you were going to find someone to get drunk with? You look fine."
"Yeah. He was quite the lightweight." Voya smirked.
The assembled Yetis laughed.
"Who was it?" Petrova asked.
"Fredrich. He's puking his guts out in his room right now."
The assembled Yetis laughed even harder.
Petrova let out a laugh too, before pressing a button upon the wall – an array of dummies flying out from the floor. The Yetis jumped back in shock, but quickly regained their composure.
"Alright, let's get to business. Turns out this place has a training room; those smugglers aren't that stupid, after all." Petrova chuckled. "100 punches to the dummies, each of you. Have fun punching wood."
That killed the mood fast.
Petrova laughed, walking towards a dummy. "Don't worry, I'll be joining you. Pain tolerance is important for all of us. Let's start. One!"
The Yetis reluctantly followed along, some wincing.
"Two!"
"Three!"
Frostnova stared at the assorted weights in front of her. "So, this is how the rich train their bodies?"
"Pretty much; mostly those of Rim Billiton and Columbia. It's called weightlifting, and it's mostly a way for city dwellers to work off fat. It'll help your strength too, though." Andrey replied.
"Okay. Can you guide me, then?" Frostnova asked, walking all the way to the far end of the rack.
"Of course. Maybe don't start with the heaviest weight, though?"
"Oh, this?" Frostnova hefted the piece of steel up. "I've thrown people heavier than this."
"…Thrown people?" Andrey blanched.
"In hindsight, perhaps an Arts blast to the stomach would've done better. I was angry." Frostnova reflected.
"That's not exactly relevant, Frostnova! You're strong enough to throw people?"
"Most of the Yetis are. Petrova's stronger than I am, being an Ursus." Frostnova replied.
"WHAT?"
"Were the spies in Leithanien not?" Frostnova asked.
"Nobody got into melees anyway, so training physical strength was usually ignored in favor of stealth." Andrey replied. "…though in hindsight, I can see how some of the spies probably could. Anyways, let's start."
"Okay." Frostnova picked up the weight and began following Andrey's instructions.
She'd admit, it did get somewhat hard repeating the actions so many times in a row. It was boring, too.
Andrey was quite helpful in that regard.
AN: Early chapter! It's just exposition, though… I have a chapter-by-chapter plan of the final story arc already, and yet I had to write all this stuff first. Very annoying. At least we're at 80k words now, and the fourth arc is done.
This chapter isn't just filler (to be fair, it's close) – some stuff mentioned here is going to be important later.
In other words, I'm finding certain conversations easier to write than others. Frostnova and Andrey are quite funny and natural, and so are Ben and Anne. Fredrich's sort of okay too, but Levina is just a massive ball of indecision, both for her character and for me when writing.