Chapter Two—The Warning
[Cranagan Hospital, Cranagan City] [January 17th, MC 081] [0932 hours]
Morning dawned a glorious gold and orange, the sun’s revitalizing rays giving life and color to the otherwise bleak and gray gloom. Mists still clung to the earth, the last of their presence rapidly being eliminated by the warmth of the sun. It was Sunday, a day where people enjoy the general company of friends and relative, of recreation and fun, with no worry of works to be done in offices and factories.
Picnics and social gatherings were common on Sundays, even for Mid-childans, relishing in the momentary respite from the grueling work and duty. It was, therefore, shocking when they discovered that the beautiful park that they had always gone to had been sealed by authorities, with red warning signs surrounding the entire perimeter. Even more disturbing was the fact that the park had turned into a … wasteland? Many wondered if a meteorite had dropped from the heavens to cause such damage.
Across Central Park, about five kilometers away, was the pristine white building that housed the largest hospital in Cranagan City. The atmosphere was generally mellower than that of the normal citizens, but there were still smiles and laughter that occasionally filled the sterile air in the building. Someone was celebrating another person’s birthday, and the happiness they radiated was heart-warming. Except for an orange-haired girl, who looked pale and haggard, as if she had not been sleeping since last night.
Teana Lanster had been awake the whole time ever since she discovered Subaru in such a frightful condition, the fear of losing a friend she had known for a very long time constantly gripping her heart. She was terribly lonely, and even the arrival of Subaru’s father—Nakajima Genya—and sister, Ginga, did little to comfort her. Mariel Atenza, Head of the Precision Engineering Department, had followed them. All three had rushed to the hospital upon receiving her news. Genya and Ginga had to leave the room when Subaru was receiving emergency treatment, so Teana told them about the incident at length.
Though she had tried to tell them what had actually happened, Teana was very confused and afraid herself that she was barely coherent. The little she could make out was that Subaru had engaged the intruder, but the full story of how she received those horrifying wounds had eluded her as well. Genya had asked her to stay calm following that, and advised her to get some rest, both of which she could not do. Ginga had stayed silent, appearing cool, but deeply worried inside.
When at last the doctor and engineer had emerged from the treatment room, a period of nine hours that had stretched almost to infinity for Teana, they had immediately rose and asked about Subaru’s condition. Mariel started first, assuring them that Subaru’s core parts were not badly damaged, and that she could still repair her, given the proper replacements were available. The doctor explained that her physiological conditions were still serious, but not life-threatening, as she still retained some life support from her mechanical parts. Then, he had been reluctant to explain more. Even Mariel looked slightly crestfallen. Both Genya and Ginga had pressed him to go on, to tell them the truth. With a deep sigh, the doctor said that Subaru might not be able to return to the Armed Forces for some time.
It was a terrible shock to all three listeners. Mariel explained that the replacements need some time to arrive, and even if they were available, she needed to do some complex adjustments in order to complement Subaru’s conditions. Within that time-frame, Subaru’s condition would continue to worsen, because the life support would not be able to help her for long. Being a combat cyborg, Subaru had complicated requirements of both human and cybernetic physiologies. She needed blood, like normal humans do, which, the doctor replied, was not the major problem, but her nerves were deeply intertwined with the robotic parts within her, part of which were completely destroyed by the attack. Replacements would be able to help her survive, but restoring her nervous activity to its normal conditions would require some time because of possible incompatibility with the new parts. There was also the possibility that she might not be able to move normally, even if they restored the parts completely, as the nerves attached to the muscular junctions would not operate as usual. Given time, Subaru could become normal again, but it was a test against all odds.
There was a lengthy silence then, all of them deep in their thoughts. The doctor excused himself some time later to attend to other duties. All in all, Subaru had made it past the worst, but her life teetered with the cruel fate hanging above her. Regardless, Teana’s heart still hammered madly on her chest whenever she pictured Subaru’s bloodied face and torn body. Genya had left when he had made sure that everything was all right (and partly because there was little that he could do with Subaru’s condition), while Mariel took leave to restore the broken
Mach Caliber. Ginga had stayed a little while longer with Teana, but she did not seem to be in the mood to talk. It had become awkward then, with each nursing their thoughts in silence. Then, abruptly, Ginga rose from her seat, bid goodbye to Teana, and left in a hurry.
And Teana was alone by herself once more. She had wanted to see Subaru, but was afraid that she might not be able to face her. She could imagine her bandaged all about, with wires and tubes and capillaries attached from various instruments to her damaged body, unconscious, comatose, and … and … near death. The thoughts returned in vivid clarity, disturbing and bloody. The hospital had suddenly felt hot and small, a sinister claustrophobic feeling that caused her to feel sick and disoriented. The tension threatened to swallow her. She tried her best to remain calm, but it was much more agonizing than she had ever thought. Dreadful images flitted in her mind teasingly, showing her gruesome images of Subaru in near-death conditions. The thought of losing Subaru … her face … her smile … her touch … her familiar comforting presence … all those pervaded her mind with such forceful conviction that Teana could barely hold them back, her emotions on the verge of exploding. She felt so forlorn, abandoned, and lonely …
A gentle hand touched her shoulder, and the unexpected warmth and strength it granted her made her stopped sobbing and looked up. Two compassionate eyes with a light smile upon a kind face looked back at her. She had long brown hair, tied neatly with a white ribbon. Her attire was smart, a white uniform with an array of badges representing her rank: a Major of the Air Force. Still, her eyes were warm, caring, and understanding, as if she could feel her pain and loneliness.
Remembering herself, Teana quickly rose and gave a stiff salute. “Major Takamachi!”
Still smiling gently, the captain put a hand on Teana’s shoulder, and lightly coaxed her to sit. She seated herself next to her. “It’s all right, Teana. This isn’t in the Bureau, so we can skip the formalities.” Teana nodded, then awkwardly shifted her sight to the gleaming floor of the hospital.
“How is Subaru?” Nanoha spoke softly. Teana was taken aback, but Nanoha continued to explain. “I received message from Fate-
chan this morning, when you informed her of the incident. I’m sorry I couldn’t get here earlier, Teana.”
“The doctor and Mariel-
san said that she is all right now,” Teana replied weakly. The thought of having to repeat the occurrence sent ripples of unease into her body, and she shivered slightly.
“Then, I will wait for a while with you,” Nanoha said then. Teana looked at her superior, and was surprised to see her smile. “It must have been a very trying time for you as well, Teana. Subaru will recuperate sooner or later, so you don’t have to worry too much. Though, of course, if there’s anything on your mind that you could not speak out, I will always be glad to lend a shoulder.”
Nanoha put her arms around her body. “Be strong for yourself and for Subaru’s sake, Teana.”
Teana was speechless, moved beyond words. There was little that she could do except to sob, letting the tears she had held back since she found Subaru unconscious fell uncontrollably. And she cried into Nanoha’s arms, the pearls of tear flowing out of her body, washing away her anxiety and loneliness.
* * * * *
[Unknown Location, Cranagan City] [January 17th, MC 081] [1051 hours]
Vestrell grunted in pain. Her right arm was immersed in a large steel basin filled with water, the lower parts of the arm blackened and blistered. Sharazad was sitting next to her, her face frowning in concentration. Her hand was in the water next to Vestrell’s, a small spell sigil on the palm glowing slightly. Little by little, the damaged skin began to repair, flakes of dead cells falling into the basin, and the blisters began to recede. They had been sitting in the same position for the last eleven hours, and Vestrell was getting restless, feeling cramped and tired.
“Hey, Sharazad, how long more will this take?” Vestrell asked, and was given the silent treatment. Sharazad did not even seem to register her question, let alone move so much as a muscle.
Vestrell became annoyed. “Hey, Sharazad, I’m talking to you!” her voice rose a few octaves. “How long more is this goi—”
“You should know that it’s pointless to talk to Sharazad when she’s doing that,” another voice interjected, breaking Vestrell’s rising irritation. It was Grandia, who had emerged from a neighboring room, looking as dark and brooding as ever. His auburn hair was like a crown of fire, adorning his slightly tanned face. The scarlet eyes were clear and sharp, always alert despite the almost zero possibility of an enemy appearing at any time now. His body was lean but powerfully built, the muscles rippling beneath the sleeveless white shirt he was wearing. His arms were appropriately corded, the years of training as the Astral Mage-knight ingrained into the sinews, befitting his title as the Master of the Sword.
He seated himself on a plush chair in their room, which was still draped in semi-darkness. However, the spring sunlight was bright enough to filter through the thick velvet curtains, illuminating slightly the interior of the room. Grandia’s crimson eyes were penetrating as they looked into Vestrell’s emerald ones, and the latter quickly averted her sight. There was a silence at length, in which nothing sounded except for the hum of Sharazad’s power as she continued to heal Vestrell.
“The
Hounds of Artemis, eh?” Grandia suddenly spoke, his deep voice breaking the quiet. Vestrell looked up, feeling both fear and hope resonating in her heart. She nodded when Grandia did not continue, whose expression had suddenly become distant again. Vestrell knew very well what that meant: whenever Grandia seemed to be isolated in his thought, he was actually appraising the situation with a great amount of care and precision, weighing the scales of balance to see which one shall tip.
His decision was never hasty, for he had been trained as a strategist and leader, and he knew that his decision would carry with it their fate, whether to doom or to victory. That was why Grandia was very strict with his orders, and also why all of them fear risking his anger. To disobey him would mean jeopardizing the rest of their mission, and that he could not risk above all. And he did not take disobedience very well, a sentiment he clearly showed by punishing his lover, Hrist. Vestrell’s heart fluttered as she waited for his sentence.
“That was very reckless of you, Vestrell,” Grandia suddenly continued. There was no hint of anger in his voice, only a certain edge, and Vestrell breathed a sigh of relief. She was saved by a certain twist that fortune often visited upon those who wished for it. “For you to use that powerful an attack, was the opponent that strong?” Grandia asked. Vestrell suddenly remembered that he could have done the same interrogation yesterday night, when she had returned from Lab 75, but he had ordered Sharazad to attend to her first, apparently seeing that her safety was of priority at that moment. Now that he saw her to be out of danger, he wanted information that only she could provide about the enemy.
In answer, Vestrell shook her head. Grandia arched an eyebrow in question, but Vestrell continued. “No, she was not strong at all, but that’s perhaps because she had not used her fullest strength, believing that I was harmless. I used the
Hounds of Artemis in a fit of rage, I’m sorry about it. My mind suddenly went blank when I realized that the Jewel was a fake, and I drew in the Elements without thinking.”
Grandia was silent for a moment, then asked, “So, the officers on this planet have known of our plans?”
Vestrell shrugged. “Not sure, but if they were, they should have sent an army instead of a single mage. I don’t know how they realize we are targeting the Jewels in the first place, though, if they were smart enough to place a fake in the real’s stead.”
“Therein lies the problem,” Grandia concurred. “I agree as much that they would have been ready with a sizable force if they had realized we were coming. But, no, I did not encounter any resistance with Lab 61, and I got the real Jewel of the Sapphire Star easily enough, like what we did with Lab 14.” Vestrell looked glum at the proclamation, but Grandia did not seem to notice. “Trystahn is sending the Jewel to the Magi now.”
“Then, what do you propose about the fake?” questioned Vestrell. “And that the mage I fought was simply a chance encounter?”
“Perhaps,” Grandia said thoughtfully. “Perhaps not.” He looked at Vestrell again. “Didn’t you mention an interference yesterday?”
“Oh, yes,” Vestrell supplied. She had nearly forgotten about the intruder. “Someone attacked me from long range when I was about to strike Nakajima Subaru, the female mage who had followed me. That attack struck my arm and deflected the impact of my assault, or else I would have scored a clean hit on her. The Nakajima girl was fortunate it didn’t; that much magical damage would have torn her to pieces.” Vestrell’s face twisted in a frustrated frown.
“Unluckily for you, his attack had almost caused you to Combust.” It was surprising to both of them, but it was Sharazad who spoke. She had apparently stopped her treatment some time ago, and she seemed very pale and weak. Her glittering aquamarine eyes blinked as she tried to relax them, having been focusing on the treatment for such a long time. She stretched herself, loosening her cramped muscles, and drew in a deep breath. A stray lock of silky blue hair fell to the front of her face, and she brushed it away. As she did so, her face caught a vagrant shaft of dim sunlight, which was more than enough to glorify her majestic features. Fair alabaster skin that needed little cosmetics to improve shone like silver, and her full, sensuously curved lips were seductive. She wore no adornments, save for a crystal necklace that was the gift from Grandia himself.
It was a feat nobody else but the Sage of the Harp alone could perform to continuously heal an injured person for twelve hours without resting. Among the Astral Mage-knights, Sharazad had the best precision control, which allowed her to maintain the Elements for the longest time without injuring herself by Combusting or Immolating. That also gave her the ability to launch more powerful attacks than any of her other comrades, but she was weak at close range, which was why she played the role of advisor and supporter to the group.
Vestrell removed her hand from the basin of water, inspecting her injury. The obvious wounds had healed now, with little signs of the previous burns. She moved her arm a little for a test, and was immediately greeted by a sharp stab of pain. It was much lesser in magnitude than she had experienced previously, but present nonetheless. “Is this done?” she enquired.
“Almost,” Sharazad gave a non-committal reply. “Your outward wounds have been healed, but it takes far longer time to repair the internal system. The Elements in the basin had exhausted, and I am now too tired to even continue. Maybe tonight, if I seem like it.”
“What do you mean, when you
seem like it?” Vestrell glared, her emerald eyes narrowing.
“I mean, when I want to do it, I will,” Sharazad replied without looking at her. “Right now, you can go off and lick your own wounds yourself. Come back later, or tomorrow.”
“Are you saying that you’re not going to continue the treatment, Sharazad?” There was an unmistakable edge in Vestrell’s voice; she was becoming angry.
“For now, yes.” She mocked a yawn.
“Why, I ought to knock some sense into you, Sharazad!” Vestrell rose abruptly, knocking the basin off from the table on which it stood. The water spilled over, but surprisingly, it did not splash onto the floor. Sharazad’s right index finger was pointing at it, moving in slow circle, to which the water followed in motion. With a fluid stroke, she sent the water directly into Vestrell’s face, drenching her. Caught off-guard, Vestrell spluttered, her hair sticking to her face.
“Do not
presume to patronize me, Hunter of the Claw,” Sharazad spoke coldly. Her eyes flashed dangerously. “Given that I am the only healer in this group, I am
not obliged to treat you completely every time. It was your own mistake to begin with for losing your head over the fake Jewel, and I have been kind enough to nurse you for the past twelve hours. I am not your slave to be ordered around. If you want to be healed, then come back as I said, or else, seek your treatment elsewhere.” Her lips twisted in a sneer. “Maybe going to the hospital of the
humans you so detest?”
Vestrell was livid, but she did not speak. For a moment, there was a deep silence, where none of the three moved at all. Then, turning around stiffly, Vestrell stalked out of the room, still drenched, and slammed the door shut behind her. The picture on the wall rattled slightly from the impact. When she had left, Sharazad closed her eyes, thinking about something, and then sighed.
“Was that necessary, Sharazad?” Grandia asked quietly. She looked up at him, saw his chin resting upon his clasped hands, and saw also the strange gentleness that was fleeting on his expression. Then, his face had assumed a mask of inscrutability.
“No,” Sharazad said, shaking her head, “it wasn’t. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do it.”
And silence reigned again in the room, the two of them deep in their own thoughts. Then, Sharazad rose from her position, picked up the fallen basin, and placed it back on the mahogany table. She then took a seat beside him, putting a hand on his shoulder, and resting her head, her eyes closed. Grandia did not move, merely allowing Sharazad to do what she did, and was content to stay silent for a few moments longer.
At last, he spoke again. “So, what do you think of this, Sharazad?”
Sharazad opened her eyes slowly and raised her head from its rest. She took a moment to compose her words. “If I were the enemy, the most plausible explanation would be that the mage Vestrell had encountered was a stray introduced by chance.” Grandia nodded, and Sharazad continued. “As for the fake, however, I am of the perception that someone from the law enforcement force of this planet has already discovered our intention, but they are not sure of our numbers, which was why you encountered zero resistance at Lab 61. I put the guards in both labs to sleep prior to executing the mission, so there is no doubt that the labs did not call for reinforcement. The fake therefore must have been placed prior to Vestrell’s entrance.”
“I agree, and that means that our moves have already been noticed,” Grandia said.
“True,” Sharazad said, “but that shouldn’t matter much to us, if what Vestrell told us is accurate.”
“You mean, about the enemy’s strength?” Grandia asked. Sharazad nodded.
“Even if the Sergeant
could hold herself equal to Vestrell, we still hold the upper hand of surprise and power,” Sharazad explained. “And if they were to mobilize, it would take them some time.”
“Not entirely,” Grandia said. “From the data that Trystahn obtained by … what was that word again?”
“That would be hack,” Sharazad supplied with a slight smile.
Grandia scowled, but quickly ignored it. “Right. From the data that Trystahn obtained by hacking through the military database, there are more powerful officers than what Vestrell had encountered. If they were to be put into the army that I expect us to meet in less than two weeks’ time, then it might prove a bit more difficult to handle.”
“But, nothing impossible, right?” Sharazad said. “After all, we’re the elite members of the fabled Astral Mage-knights. Nothing much can stop us, lest it is the Princess herself.”
Grandia smiled this time, an awkward expression that he was not accustomed to give. “Yes, lest it is the Princess herself. However, I am intrigued by the one who followed Vestrell and attacked her from afar. I have the suspicion that the mysterious person who knew of our intention and placed the fake Jewel and the attacker are the same person.”
“I have the same thought myself,” Sharazad agreed. “Plus, I do not think for a second that he or she operates individually. All the same, it means that we should be more careful, even if we are strong enough to defeat them without much effort. Humans, I’ve learned, give surprises when you least expect it.”
Grandia looked at Sharazad for a moment. “Was that why you were being so difficult to Vestrell?”
She smiled. “You understand me very well.” She let out a small sigh. “Yes, partly so. I understand that she is powerful as a warrior, and rightly so as a Hunter of the Claw, but she must learn restraint. Going off like that and unleashing an attack as powerful as the
Hounds of Artemis for naught but a normal mage crosses the conducts dictated by the Astral Mage-knight’s codes.”
“I can understand why she was so angry at that time,” Grandia said sympathetically. “I mean, I ordered no unnecessary bloodshed and that you did not allow her to go in the lab when there were still humans around. As a warrior, she must have felt depressed. That, and coupled with the fact that the Jewel she managed to get her hand on was a fake, she must have need to release her anger.”
“I understand as well, Grandia,” Sharazad replied. “However, she reveals our moves very easily that way, and sends alert signals to virtually the whole world with her haste. Already, she has injured one of their mages, and I don’t think they will take this matter lightly. This impedes our movements, and the Magi would not like it very much.”
“I will deal with the Magi later, and perhaps they will understand,” Grandia said.
“You know the Magi hardly listen to anyone,” Sharazad countered.
Grandia was silent momentarily. “I know, but it is unavoidable.” Tactfully, he changed the subject: “How is Vestrell’s condition, exactly?”
“Nothing much,” Sharazad replied. “She took in an amount of Elements that she could actually handle. If not for the intruding attack, she shouldn’t have suffered any backlash. The hidden attack had almost caused her to Combust, as I’ve said just now. Her nerves and muscles are damaged and her bones were fractured, but nothing serious. I’m guessing that she would recover in two week’s time, or faster, if I continue with the treatment.”
“And I trust you will?” Grandia asked not out of concern, but out of habit. He and Sharazard shared very close bonds, so close that they share almost everything with one another.
Sharazad merely nodded, and then she smiled.
“Thank you, sister.”
* * * * *
[Residential Area, Cranagan City] [January 17th, MC 081] [1213 hours]
A man was alone, sitting in the dark. His knees were drawn up close to his face, and his eyes were closed, long silvery hair falling onto his sides. Even though it was afternoon, the room was lightless, the windows being covered with heavy curtains the color of deepest purple. He was lost in thought, his thoughts wandering in a landscape only his mind’s eye could perceive.
Images flashed past his mind: a metal claw, sizzling with energy … a mage, caught with no way of escape … a burst of white energy … an explosion of destructive powers … a destroyed park … and … the blood-soaked face of the young mage, torn and critically wounded, her shocking internal mechanisms revealed, unconscious and near-death. Without thinking, he had healed her, even when he knew it was pointless; his healing technique was inadequate for a life-and-death situation. Still, he continued to channel his power, magic surging from palm to body, dispensing any form of healing energy he could summon so that the girl would not die from his negligence.
Then, someone had approached, and he had fled, leaving the purple-haired girl in her dreadfully critical state. Guilt crawled under his skin, manifesting in a devilish form of a monster that did not allow him to sleep, or even to think properly. Whenever he closed his eyes to rest, the monster awakened within his mind, throwing him into a nightmarish abyss, and he would open his eyes again. Five times he tried to rest, and five times he awoke, drenched in sweat, riddled with remorse, filled with self-reproach. The image of the unconscious girl, covered in blood all around, always appeared at the forefront of his mind, as if she wanted revenge on him for abandoning her. He shuddered at the thought, a terrible coldness surrounding him, and he tried to dispel it without much success. And so, he had been reduced to sitting in the dark, hoping that the absence of light would repel the ghost of his failure from appearing.
It was futile.
And he was drifting in the maelstrom of his thoughts, surrendering to the burden of his guilt, and hoping that he would drown in the whirlpool, when a soft, gentle hand touched his shoulder, and the touch drew his spirit up from the vengeful torrents. He opened his eyes and was forced to blink, adjusting to the sudden brightness that had invaded the darkness. Someone had returned without him realizing: the curtains had been drawn back, and brilliant sunlight filtered in through the windows, returning colors to the room. And seated next to him was a ravishing lady with a kind smile, her deep blue eyes understanding and gentle, looking compassionately into his black iris. She was an angel of mercy, and her glimmering azure hair framed her like a loving halo.
She was ‘milady’.
Her small hands moved to hold his callous ones; they were warm, life-giving. Still gazing intently at him, she asked, “Are you all right, Kratos?” It was unnecessary for her to ask, however, for the connection that had forged since they became acquaintance had become so intimate that they need neither ask nor tell anything to know the other’s situation. The feeling was mutual, close enough that an observer might call them lovers, but they were not, and they understood that very well.
And Kratos told her everything, from the time of his detection of the second mage, to his pursuit, to his attempt at helping the trapped mage, to his inability to protect her. His feelings poured out like a river whose dam had been removed, all his guilt and sorrow washing out with each word he articulated. When he had finished, there was a brief silence in which none spoke.
Then, she had rose slightly, brushed his silver hair back, hugged him close to her bosom, and kissed his dark forehead. The warmth radiating from her gestures melted away all the coldness he had felt earlier, the dread and dismay evaporating into nothingness, and the monstrous sense of failure reduced to a little, tiny feeling in the back of his mind. He savored the salvation she provided, drinking in every drop of the nectar of affection she gave him. The brim of his eyes became moist, and it let go in a single, pearly drop.
Slowly, she released him, smiling. “For an adult, you’re acting like a child, my dear Kratos.” He smiled unabashedly. “If that was the only reason why you had become so confused, it really wasn’t your fault,” she continued. “In fact, you did nothing wrong.”
“But—” Kratos tried protesting, but she had cut across him by putting a finger on his lips.
“But nothing,” she said as she rose up from the seat. “You were trapped in the midst of moral and duty, Kratos. Choosing either is both right and wrong. Both held equal weight on the balance back then, so you essentially had no choice but to choose one. Besides, if you hadn’t interfered, that girl would have died a more terrible death. You’ve already done what you could with her wounds.”
She walked to the kitchen, bringing with her a grocery bag she had placed down by the door earlier. She then proceeded to sort out the sundries she had brought, putting some into the refrigerator. A loaf of bread, a comb of banana, and a bottle of jam stood on the pantry. Kratos looked as she worked.
“If it were you, what would you have chosen?” Kratos asked softly.
“Then, I would have chosen to follow duty, and let myself suffer the guilt of morality,” she replied without looking at him. “Kratos, there is essentially nothing wrong with what you’ve done. You have performed what others would have failed to do, and that is by fulfilling your responsibility to both moral and duty. Saving the girl was morality’s requirement, and avoiding the exposure of your identity was part of duty. You have done both without losing yourself, a commendable feat that I feel I would have been inadequate to do myself.”
Kratos smiled; Milady was as humble as always.
“That said, I’m afraid I won’t be home tonight, so I’ll cook lunch for you first,” she suddenly said. “It’s your favorite: banana loaf.” She peeled the banana skin off, then rolled them onto the pieces of bread that had been spread over with jam. She placed them in an oven.
“Ah,” Kratos said then, apparently surprised and delighted. “But, where would you be going?”
“The Department of Precision Engineering,” she said succinctly. When Kratos did not ask further, she continued, “It’s that time of that year again. I have an appointment with Mariel-
san at 2:00 PM.”
“Nothing serious, I hope?” Kratos said shortly.
“Just the normal body inspection,” she explained. “Are Xeno and Gabriel returning tonight?”
“I think so,” Kratos supplied. “Anything you need from them?”
“Not in particular. I’m just hoping that they
can survive your cooking.”
They burst out laughing together.
* * * * *
[Cranagan Hospital, Cranagan City] [January 17th, MC 081] [1526 hours]
The hospital was still and rather quiet as evening approached. A lone woman walked along the silent corridor. She wore a black uniform, adorned with various insignias and badges, which marked her as one of the Bureau’s officers. Her steps were light even though she wore high-heeled shoes, and her long azure hair was tied neatly by a silver ribbon. She stopped momentarily to get her bearings, then turned left in the direction of Room 254.
She found it moments later. The door had a plaque emblazoned with the room number and the patient’s name. It read:
Room 254—Nakajima Subaru. She put her gloved right hand on the handle and turned it quietly. There was no one else inside, only the patient. She entered silently, closed the door behind her, and proceeded to approach the bed.
Dark blue eyes appraised the patient with grave interest. Various tubes and capillaries and wires were attached to the comatose Subaru, white bandages wrapping her arms and forehead. Deep scars and bruises were still visible on her exposed skin, and there was a terrible welt across her cheek, where blood had stained the sterile bandage crimson. She looked in such a terrible state that one might mistook her as being dead.
“Nakajima Subaru,” she said quietly. “Mariel-
san told me that you are in a dismal state that I could not believe her until I meet you.” She was silent momentarily. “No wonder Kratos had felt so guilty; he blamed himself for being causing you the unintentional harm with the replicated Jewel, our plan to find out more about the enemy.”
She sighed then. “I apologize for our neglect and lack of attentiveness that caused you to suffer this great misfortune. When you’ve entered the equation by chance, we should have protected you against the danger, or at least gave you warning. Instead, we were bound by our responsibility to keep our identities hidden. I’m very sorry.” There was a genuine sorrow in her voice when she spoke.
Lowering her face, she inspected Subaru further. “So, you require replacement parts, according to Mariel-san. That would take some time, and she still needs to make adjustments. Your physiology would continue to worsen in that period.” She touched Subaru’s left arm, and her eyes widened in shock.
This is a wound caused by … melee-type bombardment attack? It cannot be. No one else knows this technique anymore, except … Her mind drifted for a moment, then she quickly dispelled her thoughts.
No, it’s impossible.
And her attention shifted to Subaru once more. She reached into her collar and produced a necklace with a three-pointed star set in its center. “Then, at least let me repay you what Kratos had been unable to do, in the hope that you would forgive us for our irresponsibility.”
Putting both hands in front of her, she began to summon her power. A spell sigil appeared below her, light blue in color, taking on the form of a four-pointed star. “
Phalanx Nexus, release.” Her hands glowed eerily with a bluish light, phantom fires dancing upon her fingers.
“
Wyrd.”
The star jewel on her necklace gleamed, and spoke:
<Verstanden. (Understood.)>
* * * * *
[Saint Church, Head’s Office] [January 18th, MC 081] [0900 hours]
Knight Carim was seated upon an elaborately-carved chair with three other personae around a round wooden table. The room was dim, the curtains drawn to prevent curious eyes from peering in from without. There was a set of china set upon the table, and a small pot of tea, still hot and fresh. The rest of the guests had a cup in front of them, but they were untouched. Apparently, all of them were intrigued by what she had called them for than the taste of the tea. She could not blame them though, she had requested for the meeting rather abruptly, that they must think it was very important.
It was beyond important; it was dire.
“I’m sorry to have called for a meeting on such short notice, Admiral Chrono Harlaown, Brigadier General Yagami Hayate, and Captain of the Enforcers, Fate Testarossa Harlaown,” Carim began formally. “It was not my intention to detract you from your duties, but such necessity has arisen that I must convene a matter of much complexity and danger to all of you.”
“It’s quite all right, Carim, there’s no need for such formalities,” Chrono interrupted. One of the youngest Admirals in the history of the Bureau’s Dimensional Navigational Fleet, he was a handsome man in his thirties. With deep, penetrating eyes and an intellectual mind, he was both fighter and strategist, armed with powerful magic and skills unrivalled by most. “We are friends, so please, conduct yourself as per normal.”
Carim smiled. “Well, thank you then, Chrono.”
“What do you have that is so urgent, Carim-
san?” Hayate asked, a lively lady with a cheerful demeanor. Her small figure belied her impressive command of magic; in fact, she was one of the rare Ancient Belkan magic-users, who were thought to have been extinct now, save for a small number scattered throughout the dimensions. “I received your message from Rein when I got back. She said it is quite serious.”
“Yes, I have the same feeling as well when my secretary passed me the message,” the blond-haired Fate added. Albeit being an artificial mage created through a cloning technology called
Project F, she was a powerful mage who was once an arch-rival to Nanoha. They had become friends after an incident, to which she looked to Nanoha as both best friend and savior. “I asked Inspector Acous if he knew anything, but he said no.”
“Verossa? I do not think that he would, since I did
not tell him anything about this, yet,” Carim said, chuckling slightly. “Oh, he must be frustrated. He works in the Intelligence Department, after all.”
“I’m guessing that he’s around, snooping for information,” added Hayate, and all four of them laughed. “Wait, he
is around. Didn’t he just meet us outside, Fate-
chan?”
“Yes, he said he’s going to meet someone, but he didn’t mention anything else,” Fate answered.
“Oh, he’ll be all right, then,” Carim said, smiling. “He will eventually know of this, anyway, so he can wait for a few moments longer.” Her demeanor became critical suddenly, and there was a rigidity about her that was not present previously. “Anyway, first thing’s first, I assume all of you still remember my power, right?”
All three nodded. “
Profeitin Shrifti,” Hayate said. “Ancient Belkan magic with the power to predict the future.”
“Yes,” Carim said. “And just two days ago, I used the same power.”
The three of them looked surprised. Concerned, Chrono asked, “Is there a new prophecy? What does it say?”
To their surprise again, Carim shook her head. “It is not a prophecy this time.”
“Then, what is it?” Fate asked curiously.
Almost whisper-like, Carim said slowly, “It’s a warning.”
“Warning?” all three of them said at once. “What do you mean?”
“You do realize that prophecies are predictions of things that
shall happen, and that depending on the circumstances, they might
or might not come true,” Carim explained. They nodded.
“Then, you mean to say …” Hayate began.
Carim nodded. “This time, however, it
will happen, regardless of the factors. There is no mistaking it.”
“What does the warning say, then?” Chrono enquired, his brows knitted in a frown.
Carim closed her eyes, drew in a deep breath, and let out a long sigh. The feelings that had haunted her for the past two days began anew, a chill that slowly crept under her skin, an unknown fear that meddled with her thought. There was a pregnant silence as they waited for her, all eyes intent. It felt as if the atmosphere was charged with a strange presence, a malignant creature borne of dread and trepidation, threatening to engulf them in its hollow maw.
“Listen very carefully, then,” Carim said as she opened her eyes slowly, her voice tight and hoarse, as if her windpipe were constricted. The presence intensified, building its invisible mass that pressed upon all four of them.
Bewareth the Signs of the End:
When the Lost Angel of the Silver Torch falleth,
the Crimson Star wilt falter,
and the world upon which gathereth the nine Jewels of the Star,
wilt enter the Age of Darkness.
When equinox turneth solstice,
and the two moons aligneth in opposition,
the Ritual of Ascension wilt be complete,
and the slumbering Princess wilt awaken.
Upon the restorers she wilt gift the Ambrosia of God,
and …
Carim stopped, unable to continue. Her voice lost coherence, and she coughed. The presence had reached its climax, bearing its full weight upon all four, wrapping them with its unseen pressure.
“
And … what is the rest, Carim?” Chrono pressed, his voice urgent.
With much difficulty, Carim composed herself, repositioning her seat so as to make herself more comfortable, though it was without success. She choked slightly on the words, but they were heard as clearly as the rings of the church bells outside.
And upon the world,
eternal rest within the tomb of stars.
2007-10-13, 12:19
.
WIN level HIGH, Cognitive response: NEAR NIL...
Author
. Not that I'm Jewish or knows the language well, but since my initial setting for the Belkan religion is based on Judaism, I thought it might be nice if the Ancient Belkan spells are done in Hebrew as well. 
?
A nice past story and other info, too...enjoyable, I must say.
Ah-hahaha!
