CHAPTER 15

A Path to Freedom

There are only so many waking hours that a Grievar can hone their techniques before fatigue sets in. But the mind is far more resilient than the body. An adept Grievar understands that even when the body fails, the mind can be harnessed to continue training indefinitely.

Passage Two, Seventy-Seventh Precept of the Combat Codes

Commander Memnon clenched his fist against the glass table.

If it could even be called a table. Feeds came to life and floated across the circular lightboard in front of him as Callen continued to drone on.

“We’ll display the feeds on all boards across the Lyceum, before and after the matches, and of course during any SystemView broadcasts held in the common grounds.”

“But what of while our students are in their quarters?” Commander Adrienne Larkspur spoke up, tossing her long hair to the side. “Shouldn’t we ensure their personal lightdecks also broadcast to keep the message going?”

Callen nodded to Larkspur. “A fantastic recommendation, Commander Larkspur—”

“She’s darkin’ messing with you,” Commander Dakar Pugilio said, his feet set up on the glass table. “Commander Larkspur cares as little about this as the rest of us.”

Callen growled at Dakar. “Show some respect, drunkard. The only reason you’re still employed by the Citadel is because Memnon has stood behind you. And I don’t think your thick skull comprehends how important these feeds are to keep morale high.”

Dakar laughed and slapped the table, shaking it and activating the audio to one of the feeds. It was the red-haired Level Three, daughter of Artemis Halberd, speaking directly into the screen.

“The Flux rebellion was driven by greed,” the girl said. “Silas the Slayer’s greed. He wants power and wealth. He was collecting a bit-tax from the Grunt and Grievar alike when we were there, worse than what the empire had been taking. And they made all—”

Memnon swiped his hand against the table to silence the girl and looked up at Callen.

“Do you think this will work, High Commander?” Memnon asked. He was wary of such political games.

To illustrate his point, Memnon swiped another feed on the table, this time of a large Level Three boy with a square head. Dozer, they called him.

“Then, the Flux made us remove all our tattoos,” the boy said. “Everything I worked for, wiped out because Silas wanted control of us.”

Memnon muted the feed and looked to Callen. “They’re kids still. Why would the citizenry believe them?”

“The citizenry is not as smart as you might imagine,” Callen said. “And though they are kids, the word has already spread that they served the Flux, fought for Silas. The seeds have been planted, and so we must cultivate those fruits we’d like to grow. This messaging will play in the Lyceum’s central halls and common grounds, during the upcoming challenge matches, across SystemView for Ezo’s citizens to see.”

“You mean darkin’ lie to them, as you’re accustomed to doing,” Dakar slurred. “That’s how you’ve made it so far, anyway. You’ve never eaten the dirt because of your lies, so I suppose it makes sense why you think they will always work for you.”

Callen crossed his hands on the table. “I believe that we have a purpose here, Commander Pugilio. And that is to keep the wheels of Governance turning. To keep the Lyceum in order, keep our students training to become Knights. To maintain our forces in top shape, ready to defend the nation against rivals. And to do this, we must control the narrative of the Flux. If they continue to grow and move for Ezo, our greatest weakness will be our own citizenry becoming infatuated and joining their ranks. So, I’d like to seal that wound before it festers.”

Callen turned to Memnon and met his eyes. “Don’t you agree with this strategy, Commander?”

Memnon sighed. When he’d heard that Governance wanted to promote Callen to high commander, he’d never complained. In fact, he was happy to have the burden off his shoulders. Playing politik was not something he enjoyed. But he knew Callen’s position would come with a price. The man was beholden to the Daimyo Governance, without any loyalty to his own kin.

“I do think it is wise to dampen panic within our ranks,” Memnon said measuredly. “We’ve already lost Knights to the Flux, and I agree we need to do something to stem future defections.”

“I agree as well,” Larkspur said. “I already hear enough talk in the Lyceum’s halls of what’s happening afar, and the legend of Silas the Slayer grows each time it’s told.”

“You see?” Callen smirked at Dakar. “Your fellow commanders seem able to—”

“But,” Memnon interjected, “I also do not believe it is wise to broadcast things that are not true. Do not forget, we have international students, travelers with families in Kiroth. They certainly are getting word from abroad and can relay that to their peers. If you leave the truth to the shadows, what reason will the citizenry have to believe you in the future?”

“I do not think you understand,” Callen said. “We have direct orders from Governance to push these feeds throughout the Citadel and beyond to the entirety of our nation. Are you suggesting disobedience?”

“No,” Memnon said. “I’m simply saying, having led the Citadel for so long, I learned that there is often a middle path, a balance between Governance’s goals and that which we must do to execute them.”

“And where did that style of leadership get you, Memnon?” Callen sneered. “Why do you think the Daimyo put me in your place?”

“So you could darkin’ kiss their ass even more than you used to?” Dakar snorted.

Callen ignored the commander of PublicJustice. “They installed me as high commander so that I could follow orders, something that you all have a problem doing. It’s as if the disease that Pearson had, his inability to ever follow simple instructions, has seeped into all of your brains.”

“You little rat-darked piece of—” Pugilio’s mustache twitched as he stood, but he was cut short as a light flared from the shadows on the far side of the command room.

A glistening steel Enforcer stepped forward, its pulse cannon humming with charge. The pilot within the mech stared out at Dakar with black eyes.

“I would sit down if I were you, Pugilio.” Callen smiled through his teeth. “As I’ve told you before, Governance is listening, and I don’t think they take kindly to you talking down to me or their plans.”

Dakar turned to face the Enforcer, his face still red. Memnon could see the man’s hands clench. He certainly wouldn’t put it past his old friend to charge the mech.

“Dakar.” Memnon stood and placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “This is not the way. We need to work together, now more than ever.”

Pugilio slowly turned away from the Enforcer and slunk back into his seat, his chest still heaving.

“Good, now,” Callen said. “So, if we’re all in accordance, we will continue with our plan. Of course, I understand your rigidness in the many things changing around here, given the way things were previously run. But again, that’s why I’m here. Adaptation, my fellow commanders, is the key to survival. And we will do more than survive. We will thrive.”

You mean you will thrive. Memnon knew Callen had only ever sought to lift himself up.

“I should tell you,” Callen said. “There is another operation currently ongoing, working alongside our Daimyo counterparts. The goal is the same, though, to diminish any power these Flux rebels might possess.”

“What is it?” Memnon sighed.

“Unfortunately, I cannot divulge exactly what it is until I get more information,” Callen said. “But when you are ready to know, you will know.”

Memnon nodded, giving the petty man the satisfaction of keeping his secrets, holding his newfound power over their heads.

“So, as is my new custom, let us recite our most important Code.” Callen looked around the table and spoke the words. “We fight so the rest shall not have to.”

Memnon knew if he didn’t respond, Larkspur and Pugilio would also hold their tongues. Though Callen was high commander now, Memnon still had the loyalty of the Citadel.

This wasn’t the way Memnon ever wanted to speak the Codes, forced to the words by a pitiful man like Callen Albright. But he heard the hum of the Enforcer’s cannon behind him, and he knew what he had to do.

“We fight so the rest shall not have to,” Memnon said hollowly as he met Larkspur’s and Pugilio’s eyes. He nodded and they followed.

“We fight so the rest shall not have to.”

Callen Albright smiled.

“I wish the sky would be blue sometimes,” Brynn said, walking beside Sol and staring up at the clouds. “On the Jade, it wasn’t often we’d have such grey.”

“I remember those island skies,” Sol said as they crossed over a small bridge on the outskirts of the Citadel. “Though some of those storms were fierce.”

“Not to be trifled with, island storms,” Brynn agreed, sniffing and wiping her nose as her breath fogged in the chill winter air.

The two Whelps followed a worn path off the Citadel grounds along the perimeter of Kalabasas Hill. They watched a group of Level Twos traverse the hills, huffing and red-cheeked as they tried to joust for the front spot.

“Glad we’re not running today,” Brynn noted. “Though I bet you don’t feel the same from the way I saw you run last week. You almost beat Damyn Zular.”

“Yes.” Sol nodded. “I had some practice hill-running on the Emerald with N’auri. Now, that girl can run.”

“I could tell.” Brynn smiled. “Long, fit legs like those… typical of Emeraldis. Spirits be asked, I hope she’s doing all right. N’auri doesn’t belong there with the Slayer.”

“She can hold her own,” Sol said. “N’auri is tough as a cornered tusker.”

“I know that.” Brynn sighed. “When we were in the sewers in Karstock on mission, you should’ve seen her go after that Enforcer. Jumped atop its giant head, laid into it, and didn’t let up until it was down.”

“I can see it now.” Sol grinned.

“It’s her mind I’m worried about,” Brynn said. “The stuff Silas is putting in all their heads, it’s poison. And scary thing is, I even started to believe it while we were out there.”

“Silas has a way about him,” Sol said. “You can’t help but listen, think he’s right with his cause. N’auri will come around. She has her own reasons she’s with the Flux.”

“Her mafé,” Brynn said. “N’auri told me about her, how the Daimyo used her and broke her. How they dishonored her memory.”

“It’s tragic,” Sol said as she kicked at a rock on the dirt path. “And most Grievar-kin have such stories, pain at the hands of the Daimyo. But still… Silas’s way, it isn’t right either. He can’t say it’s okay to wipe out the entire breed. They aren’t all bad.”

Sol’s secret sat heavy in her gut as they walked: the truth of her own Daimyo blood that she’d revealed to Murray on that night sitting outside Hanrin’s farmstead.

“You’re right,” Brynn said. “There is good and evil in all of us.”

Sol felt relieved that her Jadean friend wasn’t so quick to hate all Daimyo. A stray beam of sunlight pierced the pines on the path in front of the girls.

“Cego.” Brynn changed the subject, perhaps sensing Sol’s discomfort. “He’s distant lately. I didn’t know him for too long before he was taken to Arklight, but something’s off. And he never seems to be around anymore.”

“I know,” Sol said. “He’s always been a bit distant, likes to keep to himself because of what’s happened. But lately, it’s gotten worse. Like he’s gone somewhere else completely.”

“You care for him, don’t you?” Brynn asked, stopping ahead of Sol and turning to her.

“Well, yeah…” Sol trailed off. “Of course I do. We’ve been through a lot together and he’s the best training partner I’ve got; no offense.”

“I understand,” Brynn said. “But it’s more than that. You… care for him.”

Sol’s cheeks flushed and she looked down to the ground. “I… When he was gone, I felt an emptiness that I couldn’t get rid of. And now that he’s back, even though everything else has gone wrong and the world seems to be falling apart, the emptiness is gone too.”

Brynn smiled, having gotten what she’d wanted. She turned and began walking again.

“Well, how about N’auri and you?” Sol said, feeling exposed and reaching for a counter.

“What about N’auri and me?” Brynn laughed. “She’s a world away right now, fighting for the rebellion. But still, I can’t help but think a few times a day about the legs on that girl.”

Sol chuckled as they turned onto an overgrown path, pushing aside brambles and foot snares until they came to a run-down shack with splintered wood walls. They rounded to the back of the structure and were greeted with a chorus of loud squawks.

Firenze was the first to the edge of the fence, the massive crimson bird arching his neck over the wire to nuzzle Sol’s outstretched hand. “There we are, boy,” Sol said soothingly. “We weren’t gone too long, were we?”

After they’d made the long trip back across the Kirothian border to the Citadel, the entire crew had worried that they would need to sell their rocs back to the black market. The nation had decreed decades before that roc-riding was not beneficial to training Knights. An unnecessary distraction were the exact words from Governance, and so, there certainly would be no reason to have a flock of birds at the Lyceum.

Luckily, Professor Larkspur had directed the Whelps to the abandoned pen set nearby the hill. She’d said that rocs used to be cared for there, but it had gone into disrepair after the decree.

Brynn’s roc came up beside Firenze, the jet-black bird squawking loudly at the sight of her rider. The bird carried a tattered carcass in its beak, what used to be some woodland creature, and dropped it at Brynn’s foot.

“What a nice gift, Akari.” Brynn smiled and attempted to hide her disgust. “For me?”

Sol chuckled. “Looks like she’s been doing some good hunting.”

Though the birds could easily jump the wire fence, and often did to hunt in the pine forest, they’d always returned to the pen.

“I’m glad she comes back,” Brynn said. “I think there are still some wild rocs that live in the deeper forest.”

“I learned about rocs when I was in Lord Cantino’s stable,” Sol said. “Once they serve someone as a mount, it’s difficult for them to go back to the wilds. Not only will a wild flock smell it on them, but they always feel the need to serve again. It’s how they’ve been bred.”

Sol slung the pack off her back and removed a large translucent bag of meat. The food wasn’t live and wriggling like the birds preferred, but it was sustenance. She threw a piece to the air and Firenze gulped it down with an open beak.

“But Firenze used to be the bird of the Daimyo lord,” Brynn said. “Was it easy for him to change his master, to let you ride?”

“He wasn’t treated well there,” Sol said, thinking about how the Daimyo had used their electrified rods to goad the birds. “But even so, I could sometimes sense that he did miss the man, as terrible as he was.”

“I understand,” Brynn said as she fed some of the meat to her bird. The plump brown roc, Boko, arrived at the fence and nipped his beak in the air for a share of the food. But Bird, Murray’s old mount, stayed at the back of the fenced area, picking at the few feathers left on his body.

“He’s been picking those feathers since we arrived,” Sol said, eyeing Bird. “I’m worried he won’t survive much longer.”

“As you say, he misses his master,” Brynn said. “And though Ku pretended he didn’t like Bird, we know he had a soft spot for him. We’ll see if he can recover, spirits be asked.”

The girls continued to feed, water, and groom the birds. A storm had begun to roll in, casting even more clouds above and stealing the remaining sunlight from the thick forest.

“Do you think…” Sol wondered, “… we’re like the birds? That even though we think we’re free, we’re secretly hoping to serve some Daimyo master?”

“You’re thinking of the Slayer again, aren’t you?” asked Brynn.

“Yes,” Sol said. “And Wraith and N’auri and all the Flux. Their cause. I can’t help but wonder: Are they right? Trying to fight against the Daimyo rule so that Grievar can be free?”

Brynn sighed. “Set some of these rocs free, out in the deep woods, and they’ll survive. They’ll adapt to the new life, maybe find some wild birds to run with. But others, like Bird over there, he’ll be dead in a week.”

“How do we know which sort we are unless we try?” Sol said. “How do we know if we’ll survive or not unless we stop being pawns first?”

“We’re all pawns in some way or another,” Brynn said. “Plus, you’re talking here about a rebellion led by Silas the Slayer. Sol, the man killed Ku.”

Sol tossed another strip of meat to Firenze. “There must be another way.”

“I don’t think so,” Brynn said. “Spirits be said, great change always requires sacrifice. It’s a question of whether you’re willing to turn your back to the innocents caught in the middle.”

“How about Murray-Ku?” Sol said. “He sacrificed himself for Cego. For us. Wasn’t that worth anything, even though he wasn’t fighting for some great cause?”

Brynn turned to Sol. “Don’t you see? Ku was fighting for a cause. That man had been fighting some demon inside himself, long as I knew him at least. I think that’s all any of us can do. Fight those demons within. And in the end, I’d like to think Ku won.”

Sol looked to the air as the snowflakes began to flutter from the sky. “I hope so.”