Conscripts

Innocence Lost - A Science Fantasy RP [v.03]

Alexander Kherol

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Alea iacta est

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"Yeah. What about it? It has to butt heads somewhere at some point." Alexander merely shrugged at his general's implications.

"This will escalate tensions, you know that?" Antony replied, to which Alexander nodded, almost nonchalantly. "Civil war even." Another nod similar to the last one. "What happened to reform the Ascendancy with incrementalism?"

The Grand Admiral, leaning right onto the table next to him and shrugged once again with his lips perched to one side. "...Still there. Never has gone away."

"...I really don't understand-"

"Look, as I said, we are facing a fascistic regime. They are not going to abide by the laws when their power is at stake. What we did up till this point is a minor thing to them. One day, there will be something that we both cannot compromise." He explained.

Antony gave an unusually stern look at the Grand Admiral.

"So you're saying it's inevitable?"

Alexander nodded.

"...But..." Of all people, it was the impetuous Lan who spoke up, strangely calm and retrospective. "Didn't you say we can beat them in the legal sense?"

"...did I?" Alexander turned to her, his voice calm but with a hint of genuinity.

"I don't remember clearly what we talked entirely but I remember somewhat when..." She snapped her fingers a few times. "After Ponin remember? When we were in the medical center? We talked literally deep into the night that the nurses were mad about it."

"Uhh...yeah, now I remember..." Alexander scratched his temple, his reply softened. "...but one man's opinion can change. It's been 6 years since, hasn't it?"

Lan gave a sideway glance as she both nodded and shrugged her shoulders. A strange attitude compared to her usual self. It unfortunately also left a very awkward silence in the room. Everyone was just...unsure of what to make of what Alexander just said. On the one hand, it was rather rare that he would act like this, taken by surprise and hesitant in his response. Perhaps they had been too accustomed to this leader Kherol image - a man of action, strength, and daringness. On the other hand, he had a point, and to be honest, even the men and women in the most intimate circle of colleagues, considered the giants of the galaxy, weren't anywhere the political insight necessary to judge what was right in this scenario, maybe except for Annette. Reform, revolution, or both? They only trusted that their superior, one of the greatest space commanders in the current galaxy, to make the right decision.

Sensing the atmosphere, the candid captain of the Richthofen gently approached Alexander, having been quiet for the entire meeting silently observing.

"You have a moment?" She tiptoed to whisper to him. He nodded, and she turned to the rest of the commanders. "Excuse us for a few minutes. We'll be back."

---

"Look, Alex, it's imperative you be transparent about this to your commanders. Hell, maybe even to yourself for that matter." Carina's austere aura was doubly so today. Her arms crossed in front of her chest as she stood at a distance from Alexander in the empty hallway. "I know what you're thinking. It's not simply about you changing your ideals suddenly like that. You've always been against the idea of a violent takeover ever since I know you. You even said that we have to fight against that instinct to do what comes natural."

Alexander could see the underlying criticism she was levying his way, but, as she said, he held onto that natural instinct to throw out an answer. He stood quiet by the corner of the wall looking at his friend and captain as she walked up to him, adjusting his collars and patting his shoulders

"Have I been honest about how contradictory you are?"

"No. This I can't remember for sure." Alexander said as Carina gave him a smile.

"Your family remember? Your marriage too to some extent. That's what you've always wanted." Alexander tilted his head to the side, and she shook his shoulders with her grip. "Come on, don't even try to deny it. You've rambled about it for years to me."

"Yeah, that's true. You've probably gotten sick of it coming from me." Alexander gave her a witty smile.

"No, that's something I can respect. But at the same time, you cannot bring yourself to leave your work. Now now I know..." She said, shrugging her shoulders hard. "The Ascendancy sucks, and it needs you to fix itself. But that's not really a justification to be such a workaholic. You've taken a vacation only once for the last 8 years, and that was only a short detour with your friend. You work throughout the weekends too. I've never actually seen you NOT doing anything at all in fact."

"You want a peaceful life, but you seem have this...fear of idleness. I don't know where it's from, but you keep pushing, harder and harder to satisfy it..."

"...Let me guess, it's the same deal with this one." The Grand Admiral replied. Carina perched her lips a little.

"...I wouldn't say you fear being idle in this case, but something else. But I'd like to believe THAT 'something else' is behind your thoughts." She said, as her gaze landed on the door leading to the meeting room. "I doubt this will sway the loyalty of your officers, but it will greatly help their conviction. I am sure that Antony would like this new direction, if you're being sincere with it."

"Maybe even mine as well..." Alexander gave a loose sigh before uprightly straightened his uniform again. "I'm gonna need my time alone. Just for a few minutes."

Knowing his preferences, Carina simply nodded and took her leave silently, back to the meeting room.

That 'something else'...

Carina was right. He did work like a workaholic. Health-wise, he still exercised daily and slept 8 hours a day, overall a fit person by the standard of a non-augmented human, but other than that, he didn't have much of a...pastime. He could say chess and reading are counter-examples, but he didn't do that often enough to recollect the last time he does so. Hell, the readings he did were for his works too. The scary thing was that he didn't even realize them. Work just dissolved the day for him. He just got lost in it and by the time he was out, the day ended and he was in bed. Rinse repeat. He definitely didn't need to work this hard. Faro is his chief of staff and the amount of time he worked is proportional to the wrinkles on his face, but the old man still spent his time everyday checking up on his wife (whom he stayed with for almost 60 years now), talking to the kids, grandkids, and if none were applicable, he'd just play balls with the soldiers. The old man has a life outside work. Everybody around him have. Alexander doesn't. Why?

Was it actually fear of idleness? That by doing nothing, he achieves nothing?

This Ascendancy business too. He too forgot how he wanted to do these things. It was important and immediately relevant than his work ethics, so he decided to focus on this first. For this one, now that he took the time to introspect, he knew exactly what was talked about here. It wasn't the last straw that broke the invisible camel's back, but it was the instigator. He had been working on this 'kangaroo court' case behind the scenes ever since he drew first blood. But the camel's not dead. What should he do here?

He could turn back. Go back into incremental change. Change the Ascendancy gradually with small legislation and reforms, bribing or converting senators into his fold, both to build legal and political power. And then when he had enough power, he'd be able to pass any legislation he wanted, or hell even a bloodless coup, shaping the government his way. The peaceful and best solution that spared the blood of the people. But again, this is a fascist regime. Would they be so dumb to let him carry out this plan? Right now there are already whispers to strip Alexander of his Grand Admiral title as well, following Nikolas's retirement. Besides, the case he was also working on was getting nowhere as well. Following this route would likely mean that he'd lose the case. A queen sacrifice for a potentially better good.

Or he could follow this through. Escalate tensions and go into direct conflict with the Ascendancy higher-ups. It would certainly mean he could just do whatever he wanted to. But he would definitely be swamping through a blood pool. Exactly what he had wanted to avoid. Revolutions are messy. The most successful ones are triumphant and are revered for centuries and maybe even millennia, but so many failed ones littered the pages of history. And all of them were washed in blood. Especially the latest one. They often are destructive more than constructive. The Grand Admiral certainly did not oppose to the idea, but so many hot-headed revolutionaries are careless with this. No coalition, no concrete constructive actions, destructive behaviors, lofty utopian views are some of the most obvious that people conveniently ignore. And Alexander was not so above it all. He made his mistakes once, what if he made more mistakes again? The blood would be on him.

It took him a long while to make up his mind. As a leader, he couldn't renege halfway through. Once the decision is made, he'd have to go through with it. To his surprise, the meeting was not dissolved, but rather devolved into Antony making some Shakespearian speeches with poor Carina at the receiving end of it to keep the attendees occupied. Alexander's return made them stop halfway and stood at attention.

The Grand Admiral's steps returned to the usual long stride, his gestures firm.

"Sorry for the long delay. I will be honest, I was heavily deliberating this. If I had been more prepared going into this meeting."

He laid his two hands straight on the table in front of him.

"But it's decided now. Here's the plan."

Innocence Lost - A Science Fantasy RP [v.03]

Alexander Kherol

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The High School Lecture Meeting

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ANS Manfred von Richthofen. Conference room.

The room was tranquil quiet, as the last of the civilian crew members left the room to their next assignment or stood at attention by the door outside in case any issue evolved throughout the meeting. A meeting between some of the Ascendancy's most powerful men and women.

One by one the key members logged into the conference room, the time of arrival varied perfectly reflecting their personality. But despite everyone there, the Grand Admiral was still not yet content to begin the meeting.

"Uhh, still waiting on someone?" His captain Carina Sansonetti poked Alexander in his arm.

"Yeah. I didn't expect him for today, but why not let him join as well. He should be here any minute now."

A proud warrior and youngest man in active command in the Ascendancy military. Quite a peculiar fellow, but enthusiastic and very loyal. Kotaro Winterborn

Any Admiral in this situation in Kherol's fleet would be walking into their Grand Admiral's ship proud and eager to report their success. The Rebellion on Plenty was just about over, Their leaders gone, their soldiers outgunned and forced to surrender, and all while also rounding up escaped convicts from an unexpected crash landing of the most infamously secure prison ship on the entire Ascendancy fleet. There were a few escapees - some of which escaped right before his eyes - but he already sent two of his unit to chase them down and round them up as well, and third only to his fellow Admirals and Grand Admiral Kherol himself, the Paladins were those he had nothing but faith in the talents and quality of.

It wasn't a perfect, supreme victory, but it was a victory nonetheless.

Yet, it's been a while since Kotaro felt this down. Peaceful negotiations failed, the criminals stole from and killed innocent people who were already having a rough time trying to live peacefully amidst the civil war that transpired, and more soldiers and rebelling farmers died than necessary. Some of them died right in front of him thanks to that gun-slinging traitorous bastard, Joseph Albion, and he couldn't even capture them.

The other Paladins, particularly a trio of what can only be described as clowns wrapped in Dazzle Camouflage cloaks of Red, Green, and Blue, were essentially pulling a comedy act in front of him as he walked to help cheer him up, the shortest of which banged the other two's heads together to silence them, the yellow-cloaked boy appeared beside him as they walked.

"Look, Boss. I know this turned real sour after the fact, but you can't let it get to you, ok? We're only human after all, we all make mistakes, and we all can't always be at the right place at the right time." The boy said, before another cloaked boy, one with a Cyan cloak clearly around his late teens, looked towards him.

"But this is war, Crys. People were bound to die, whether they deserved it or not. Our Lord has to accept that, not just as a Vice-Admiral, but as a Soldier." He bluntly said. The yellow-cloaked boy, "Crys", simply looked disapprovingly at him in response, with a Magenta-cloaked boy also looking at them, holding up his hands as if to quell the potential fire that could ignite between the other two.

"I think what Seidon means is, be thankful we saved who we could, and mourn for who we couldn't."

"That's not-"

"A lot more people could have died from this rampage if it wasn't for you managing things in the place of that psycho. I'm almost certain he would have let those crooks steal from and kill those farmers and villagers if not for you taking command away. We did all we could and prevented the worst case scenario...So please don't beat yourself up over what you couldn't do, Lord Kotaro." He said, that gentle tone of voice you don't often find in soldiers these days.

"Talk over me again, Ein, see what happens!" the blue-cloaked Seidon said, a fearful smile on the magenta-cloaked Ein's face. The shortest of the clowns, about the same size as Crys, dressed in a green dazzle cloak, jumped up and slapped both Seidon and Ein to stop their little conflict. They were about to be in the presence of their superiors, after all.

Still, Kotaro couldn't help but crack a smile at his comrades...Seidon may have been blunt, but he and the rest of them said what needed to be said. This was a Civil War, the neutralizing of a rebel force made worse by the escaped inmates causing further havoc. People were going to die no matter what he did; he can't save everyone, but his actions kept further deaths as low as he possibly could.

"My oh my, I leave for about a day or two, and you lot are already at each other's throats. ...I suppose it is acting within your ages though." A voice said as the girl from before, Nuletta, and her partner Zebul, appeared to them as they walked. Well, not necessarily to them, though they were moving with them, they weren't moving a muscle, their translucent bodies simply floating still at the same speed as the rest of them. This is because they were holograms, moving thanks to a rail on the ceiling of the hall moving the projector to match the speed of the group.

Zebul was still covered in a white cloak, while Nuletta seemed to have placed a black cloak over her dress. Now, they both look like cultists...but she supposes the same could be said for the rest of them.

"Oh, Hello Nuletta, Status report?" Kotaro asked her.

"I arrived some time ago at the last location of our targets. It seems they made their way to the Galactic Bazaar. I don't quite understand why they'd come here of all places, but sure enough, I happened upon three of these lowlives already."

"Any trouble?"

"Well, aside from being unable to find the other prisoners as of yet, things were actually quite smooth, a certain someone had a beef with them and essentially rounded them up for us. ...Now I got your signal, what's this all about, M'Lord?" Nuletta replied.

"Grand Admiral Kherol arranged a meeting. He wanted us to come along for it. It might have to do with a report regarding what happened here."

"I see...Very well, If the Grand Admiral asks for us, we must heed the call. We don't have much of a lead at the moment anyways, and our targets haven't made their move as of yet, so the timing's quite perfect." Nuletta said. With that, all of them took a position side-by-side with each other, and moved onto the Conference room of the ship.

Eight of them walked in first, two lines of four with a space in the center, before each one made a step in front of the others, making the lines go from horizontal to outer-diagonal, looking towards the Grand Admiral and the other members of his fleet. They all took off their hoods, and bowed to them. Walking in last at the center was Kotaro himself, walking towards the front and saluting to the Grand Admiral and to those gathered here for the meeting.

"The Paladins have assembled, Sir!" Kotaro announced.

The Paladins of Kherol... A group of nine outright superhuman agents and enforcers, loyal only to their leader, Kotaro Winterborn, and to Kherol and any he deems worthy of loyalty. Unlike the other members of Kherol's inner circle, and save for Kotaro Winterborn himself, the paladins have no military authority beyond their agency to Kherol. They are rankless, and - with exceptions - are nowhere near the level of tactical or strategic prowess as Kherol's admirals. Instead, their role is to be the enforcer, hunters, and frontliners of his will and the secretive destroyers of his enemies. Under Kotaro's command, they often protect civilians from the shadows, and destroy elements that pose a major threat to them. Hence the name Paladin, they are essentially honorable knights who swore their proverbial sword to Kherol. It got to a point where they've become essentially an urban legend among the Ascendancy.

Each one was sired by Kotaro, and given a different name, according to their specialty, and under a pagan god of ancient earth as a symbol of what could be watching over them, and a colored cloak.

Lord Kotaro Winterborn (Silver/Gray)

Madam Nuletta of Nyx (Black)

Sir Zebul of Baal (White)

Sir Crystian of Izanagi (Yellow)

Sir Seidon of Neptune (Cyan)

Sir Ein of Vulcan (Magenta)

The Harlequins of Loki (RGB)

Sir Harl of Loki (Blue)

Sir Lee of Loki (Green)

Madam Quinn of Loki (Red)

“Hmm. Just in time.”The Grand Admiral gave the nine individuals a nod to acknowledge their timeliness. “Come. You might have heard or even worked under these fine ladies and gentlemen.”

One by one, in a clockwise manner, the admirals and generals gave their introduction, to each the variety. Annette and Faro were just a quick nod/salute and stating their names, while Antony, the most gigantic in the room with curly locks, gave a rather elegant and extravagant bow, along with his usual flowery language. Lan introduced last, and she seemed rather itching curious.

“So you guys are the Space Circus, eh? Heard a lot about ye.” Was the first word out of her mouth after letting her names be known. The others immediately glanced at her as if she had committed some cardinal sin. “What? It’s true. Look at how colorful they are! A circus can still be good at its job.”

As strange as it was, the vanguard general of the fleet had never actually commanded any of them throughout the Rau’ve war. She’s heard stories, but a little rumor wouldn’t get in her way of making up funny comparisons. And she was filterless enough to let it echo. The same applies for everyone she knew.

“But didn’t you say this is an officer meeting? Are they involved somehow?”

“Well…” Alexander replied, shrugging his shoulders. “Not really. It’s kinda a coincidence that they’re here the same time as Kotaro, so it’s a good time to properly introduce them.” He then turned to the colorful collections. “You guys can stay if you want to.”

The Paladins nodded, saying “Sir!” in unison as military acknowledgement.

---

"Right, I'll cut to the chase so as not to waste your Friday evening." Alexander opened. "The rebellion on Plenty has been put down, the rogue remnants of Berkeley's fleet destroyed, but I fear that the crisis might not be over."

The admirals all exchanged glances at the statement. All except for the most hot-headed of the bunch.

"You mean more rebels? Sure. Tell me where they are and I'll collect their payments for existing!" Lan declared, slamming her hands on the table.

"Well, I appreciate the enthusiasm." The Grand Admiral chuckled at the joke, but he promptly calmed her with a handwave. "But we are not sure of the status. This is me extrapolating from gut instincts."

"Then what's the logic?" The coarse voice of the old general and instructor echoed, as demanding as ever.

"Two things. One is the dubious presence of this Windsor's Autonomous Trading Fleet. Their fleet size is quite, to be honest, concerning. And their attitude has been increasingly hostile towards the Ascendancy thus far. Lately, their members have been attempting to crash the stock markets of the Ascendancy. Now I know this is FAAARR from concrete evidence, but it's worth considering." Alexander said. "Second...well Kotaro go ahead."

System’s Rigged

Kotaro nodded before turning to Ein, who in turn put on some gloves and clapped his hands together, opening them up to reveal a hologram monitor, a larger copy of which appeared in front of the Grand Admiral and Admirals to see. Pushing a few buttons on his smaller monitor, the larger one began showing images in the form of a slide show as Kotaro took a deep breath.

"As Admiral Annette has already given the summary report - of which I am personally grateful for - the following is a report of the details of my findings while I was stationed here; as a judge, as an investigator, ...and ultimately, as the one tasked with putting down this rebellion." Kotaro stated, having Ein change slides to what appeared to be a financial report.

"When I arrived on this planet, it was already a burning warzone, the battle already underway. I managed to arrange a two hour ceasefire with the Rebel leaders, and Planet's Garrison Commander. The latter was uncooperative, but I managed to "talk" him into it...after which I took on the role of judge and reviewed the case that led to this civil war with the five elders of Plenty, Madam Nuletta served as witness to the negotiations."

"And Bailiff." Nuletta added.

"We learned about the cause of this Rebellion. To make a long story short, using legislative loopholes, the Governor and/or Planetary Congress reverse-monopolized Plenty's market and forced a 50% cut to the market price for their goods and products. To be more specific, by emergency law - thanks to the war's aftermath - they were under obligation to sell everything they make to the government to be distributed across the Ascendancy as replenishment. But the planetary government initiated an illegal tax addendum to decrease the cost of those products. Evidence suggests that they did follow necessary protocol on the matter; they wrote to their senators, both planetary and federal, and made clear their discontent for the Governor's decision on this. However, the Planetary government was...unusually silent on the matter. No response from the Governor, nor the Planetary congress, and the Federal senators on the core planet were unreliable, claiming they know nothing on the matter. ...You may recall what happened next in response. Plenty declaring a strike, halting the sale of their products until their objections would be heard. ...If I may have permission to speak a subjective perspective, as someone who kept an eye on this strike as soon as it hit the news, I believe it would have worked due to the attention it was getting and the general dedication they had to it. ...Which is why what happened next was both unusual, and for me personally, disappointing." Kotaro explained, showing slides that were relevant to what he was saying, one of which was a well-made letter one of the elders made to the governor of Plenty, and a frame image of the Ascendancy news talking about the Strike on Plenty. He then pointed at Ein, as if to signal him to the slide, which actually moved this time. It was a 3d image of one of the Anti-orbital cannons Plenty had.

"About a few months into the Strike, the Elders came into contact with an Anonymous Rebel who gave them stolen military weaponry, such as the infamous Anti-Orbital cannons they've been using throughout. When asked, they only gave us an alias: Codename "Crow''. It seems this "Crow '' stroked their frustrations at the unusual silence that the Governor was giving, despite his planet declaring strike he made no appearance, nor any statements on the matter. He used this lack of response to provoke them and ignite their anger on what they viewed as utter negligence. I too found it odd how silent the government was to everything that was happening. Unfortunately, they made it impossible to get the Governor's side of the story. ...The Governor was found dead in the basement of his house, and the senators were killed during the bombing of their congress that was the declaration of their annexation and rebellion. ...The method used by this "Crow'' matches a particular Modus Operandi... Combined that with the illegal access and distribution of military grade weaponry of that magnitude, and there's reason to believe this might be the work of the organization 'Moonstrike'.'' As he said this, a rather gruesome police photo of the Governor's body, clearly having a look of suffering, slided into the screen, followed by the news clip of the burning capitol building on Plenty.

"The rest is history. After a full review, I negotiated my terms to end the rebellion. ...But then the Circle of Hell was detected in orbit unexpectedly, and was subsequently shot down by the rebels. Regardless of why they shot it down, their aggressive decision caused several dangerous criminals - our top-wanted among them - to escape and cause harm to their people. ...I destroyed their cannon, a few unfortunate but inevitable casualties were made as a result, and placed the Paladins' focus on the recapture of the escaped convicts. The rebels of Plenty had two weeks to surrender themselves during our hunt for criminals, or we'd target and neutralize them next. At that point, that was the only thing I could do; the Cease-fire ended around that time. That said, it should be noted that Grand Admiral Laguna was involved in the...frankly poor attempt at suppressing this Rebellion before I got there, and that the Garrison Commander leading the forces against the Rebels, was under her command." Kotaro closed off with.

“...So essentially, the tax was what started the wind, and some fools turned it into a storm.” Faro was silent for quite some time, summarizing the presentation for the others, who had now made themselves comfortable in their seats, before turning for Annette. “I assume you have this in our system.”

“Yeah. It’s new, but the intelligence sector is making progress with them. Hopefully we’ll have something soon.” Annette replied. “My and Kherol’s concern is mostly on that tax loophole. This is no religious or racial issue.”

“The system’s rigged.” Faro could not say he was surprised. If anything he should know this the best. “Anything else?”

The Suspects for the Crash

"Yes sir... About a week later, once we pinpointed the location of the escaped convicts, I dispatched the Paladins to round them up, then took the liberty to start investigating the Circle of Hell itself. Its arrival and crash-landing was a major factor in the continuation of this rebellion, and the fact that it had no reason to stop at Plenty made its arrival all the more suspicious." Kotaro replied. He then had Ein switch over to what appeared to be a slideshow of simple illustrations, portraying the case as Kotaro is about to tell it.

"According to testimony given to me by the Ship's Captain and Warden, Minerva De'Silva, The ship was taking in Prisoners for a while then jumped into hyperspace on its way to the Prison Planet, Alca. Normally, it would be expected for the ship to make some stops on the way to collect more prisoners, but this particular trip was special... The ship was carrying a VIP Prisoner that needed its sentence carried out Immediately, the Rogue AI, Realist. As such, the plan was to collect prisoners during its first stop for long as possible, then jump straight to Alca, without interruption. However, for reasons unknown at the time, there was a black out during the jump, all power to the engines, the lights, everything, just cut out and the ship had to switch to emergency power. As a result of this, the ship was forced out of hyperspace, happening upon and being caught in the orbit of Planet Plenty. The ship's computers were down, including proximity radar, so they were blind when the Anti-orbital cannon made a direct hit. They were caught in Plenty's gravity and crash-landed. ...Honestly, the fact that there were survivors at all is nothing short of a miracle. As for what caused the blackout, none of them seemed to have any idea. Everything was checked and cleared when they hyperspace, then it just shut-down without warning or any clear sign. De'Silva guessed it had to do with the last group that they took in." He said as the slideshow moved to match what he was saying, after which, showing a surveillance photo of three particular individuals being scanned at the entrance of the Circle of Hell.

"It seemed the core of the problem lied in the technical aspect of the ship, and so, I had Sir Ein take temporary leave of the criminal round-up to assist me in the matter. Thanks to him, we managed to obtain a number of evidence...evidence which suggests that this was no accident. ...It's our current belief that the ship was Sabotaged from the inside. ...Ein, It's best I leave this one to you." Kotaro said, looking towards Ein, who actually pulled a double-take look towards Kotaro, not expecting him to call him out like this in front of these very important individuals.

"Oh... Umm... -Ahem- ...Y-Yes, M'Lord." He nervously said. Ein may not seem like much beyond a push-over, he was essentially the Technical genius of the Paladins. If there was a problem with computers or engines, or something they wanted him to make or program, he was the one to turn to. With that note, Kotaro took a step back, and let Ein take center-stage, where he then took a deep breath and sighed.

"...Where to begin? ...-Ahem- ...Thanks to the direct hit and subsequent crash-landing, most of the Circle of Hell's computer systems including data storage and security were FUBAR. Monitors were broken, hard drives utterly fried. However, I've managed to find and successfully repair the ship's Black Box, and extracted all the data from it that I could. We manage to find some rather damning evidence as to what happened from it. To start with, there was clear evidence of external hijacking of the security systems stretching to three weeks ago, about a week before the crash-landing incident." He said. He started messing with the monitor to show technical data extracted from the ship logs before also throwing in communication logs.

"That day, a few oddities showed up as soon as the Technicians came on the ship to work. It seemed there was a reported hole in the security firewalls in Realist's cell...Oh, Umm, for those unaware, since Realist is an AI that's well-known for viral takeover of computer systems, they had to design an external and internal security system, completely renovating a part of the ship specifically to keep Realist sealed off. All terminals, security systems, almost everything was completely isolated from the rest of the ship. But some areas of the ship had to be connected to it, such as monitoring systems, so any errors in the software or any damage in the hardware had to be immediately recovered and patched, or else Realist could sneak out and take control, and if there's one ship we can't have him take control of by any means necessary, it's the one loaded with criminals and rebels he could break free with just snapping his metaphysical fingers." He said to them, showing an image of Realist's cell in a blueprint, showing that all but one or two cables went around the room but never in the room, before then clearing his throat again.

"...Anyways, it was a small hole in the digital seal, more like a dent really, but regardless, any errors - even the smallest one - would trigger an alarm to call the technicians and patch it up. But inconveniently, at around the same time, all the technicians, and I mean ALL the technicians, caught some kind of virus that kept them bedridden and needed to get out of the ship and back to their homes for weeks. We're told their fine now, but at the time, they were completely incapacitated. As such, an SOS was signaled from the ship to as many computer and engineering companies as possible, even I was called, but the odd thing was, the email I got was glitched out, and rendered unreadable. I thought it was some kind of spam chain since my connections were also reporting the same thing. But now, I think someone or something, hijacked the connection and completely garbled the SOS. Whatever caused it, likely caused the dent and the sickness to the technicians; too many coincidences to not treat with suspicion. Something wanted to put them in a situation where they needed to call on someone outside the ship to maintain Realist's cell, and they wanted to make sure they were the only one who answered it. On the day of the incident, they got their wish..." Ein explained, after which, he opened up a few files showing surveillance camera footage, of The three visitors who came just before the ship's incident. It showed both the scene at the entrance, and the Professor talking with the AI, right up until the Blackout caused the cameras to shut-off.

"The three people of interest are Agent James Carmichael of the Special Forces unit, The boy Captain of the rather infamous Cerulean Eclipse Pirates, Arron Falcon... And our star for the evening, Professor Audric Abreo. Practically a living legend of technological science, in terms of AI, Robotic, and bio-tech, he's almost peerless. He disappeared from society for sometime after that and believed to have been a hermit, but just before then, he took an interest in Nano-technology, and while investigating the security room, our suspicions were confirmed." Ein then pressed a few buttons and the monitor showed an image of a very tiny device located in the ship's security room.

"A nanobot, which nanomachines were involved, it was likely suppose to return to the perpetrator, but the evidence suggests that the blast from Plenty that crashed the ship wasn't a part of the plan, and as such, evidence like this was left behind. It's broken now, but it being there shows that they were involved. I talked with Lord Kotaro, and discussing it, we agree that Abreo likely came into contact with those technicians in advance, snuck nanomachines on them and let them enter the ship like a trojan horse. After which they caused an infection, likely inserted manually like an insect bite, hacked the security to make that dent in Realist's wall, and proceeded to hack the cameras from the security room. It sounded like Realist figured it out too. I don't know if he acted alone, or if that Pirate was in on it, but Professor Abreo is a primary suspect in this case. Based on everything, we can say with certainty that he did all this to steal away Realist. But it seemed he failed to do so thanks to those cannons, and likely retreated with the rest of the criminals." He then explained.

"...Excuse me, Ein, A Primary Suspect?" Nuletta pointed out, her eyebrow raised.

"Professor Abreo wasn't alone. We don't know if the pirate was in on it, but we can safely say Abreo had an accomplice. The Terminal in Realist's room had no real connection outside of that room, there was no way he could cause a blackout from there. The Professor masterminded it, but someone else caused that blackout. There was no need to hack the cameras otherwise, given what we saw in them." Kotaro answered, before looking towards Ein.

"It was subtle, since there didn't seem to be a need for it, but the nanomachine seemed to disable the thermal lens on all the cameras. I was curious so I watched it again after re-enabling the cameras. I'd like for you all to turn your attention to the monitor." Ein said. on the monitor, the surveillance footage showed again, this time in thermal vision where everything was blue except for the people, who were now technicolor silhouettes. As soon as Agent Carmichael pushed Arron towards the Scanner, something popped out of the entrance path from Carmichael's ship, that wasn't there at all when in the original footage. Not only that, but whatever it was, it definitely wasn't human, as it crawled out of the entrance tube from above and crawled on the wall, leaving the scene while nobody notices. It was difficult to describe exactly what it was; it looked like the silhouette of a giant reptile, but there were no arms in sight; it looked kind of like a large snake with legs because of that. Viewing it made a few of the Paladins jump like they witnessed a jumpscare, save for Nuletta, Kotaro, Zebul, and of course Ein himself.

"What, the hell, was that...?" Seidon asked.

"An Alien, obviously."

"Indeed, though I'm not familiar with that particular shape. It can't be a Kanarusian..." Nuletta and Zebul responded.

"That, is our second primary suspect, the one actually responsible for the black out. De'Silva confirmed that that pathway leads to the engine room, and upon investigating it, I found this on the Hyperdrive." Kotaro said, taking out what appeared to be a small W shaped black piece of metal, a small glowing orange rock in the dead center.

"This seems to be a makeshift EMP device planted there. I don't really know how it works myself, it's certainly not tech you'd see in the Ascendancy. What we do know is that this little gem in the middle, seems to be the core that caused said pulse."

"That's not a Kaisoken Gem, that's for sure...I'm not entirely sure what it is, but...I do feel heat from it, like standing next to an oven on a cold day." Crystian said.

"We'll research this later, the important thing is this was planted deliberately and seemed to have been the cause of the blackout." Kotaro then said, pocketing the device once again.

If the first half of the presentation already took a while for Faro to compile and summarize, midway through the second, the commanders were visibly struggling to keep up. Lan was overwhelmed with the logical progression that her head was basically on her arm. Antony was throwing his legs on the table. Annette already knew everything and was just counting minutes on her watch at this point. Faro, the only one maintaining his elegance, was stoically listening and trying to put the rambling together. Alexander was the only one unreadable, thankfully as his eyes were never seen. But Annette could feel his unseeable gaze. She nodded quickly and stood up just as Kotaro finished.

“The abridge version is: This ship is deliberately sabotaged. In the investigation, we uncovered suspected connections to rebel organizations. Moonstrike, and maybe a gang of pirates. We’re not sure as of yet. So...”

The light-haired woman was in the midst of a hand gesture as she said that, and repeated it several times, staring intently at her colleague lying flat on her table on her flagship.

"So...from this I assume," Lan said, finally awakened from her stupor. "we will not be demobilizing our newest 16th, 17th, 18th and 19th any time soon." To Alexander and Annette’s nonchalant nod. "I mean not that we'd want to do it anyway."

"Yes and this would be a perfect excuse to stick it to the Senate." Faro smirked, a sideway glance to match his contempt.

"Ok, so to quickly cap this off...Lan, your work here is the simplest of us all." Alexander, too having felt the length of this, began with the one whom he knew were only good for the dirty work, but was really good at it. "Just get these green greens into real soldiers. Also keep the rest of your Battle Groups in top shape. Same goes for everyone here with a command."

"Aye." The general in question gave a salute, yet accompanied with an informal tone.

"Faro." Now to his most trusted chief of staff. "How long is it going to take the cartography team to materialize the operational map of the Ascendancy?"

"The Ascendancy..." The Old Guard bit his lips for several seconds. "Since info is a lot more up to date and transparent with Ascendancy maps, I would say 2-3 days."

"Perfect, as soon as it’s reaady, have them submit the maps to Antony, Annette." As their names were called, the other two stood at attention. "This is going to be tricky, but..."

Alexander reached for the computer panels and forwarded several files to the two individuals. "After the maps are submitted, you're going to formulate formal legislation. And make sure this doesn't die in the Senate House."

Leaving the two a moment to digest the whole thing, the Grand Admiral turned to Kotaro and the remaining Paladins and gave each of them a salute.

“Thank you for the report. You’re free to go.”

“Sir Yes Sir!” The Paladins all said. Nuletta and Zebul switched off the holograms and the Paladins - some aware of how the Admirals treated the report, some weren’t so - walked out of the Conference room, at least one of them seemed to be chuckling and cracking a joke at Ein’s expense. Not that he or Kotaro minded. Ein never really managed to read the room around him when it comes to his passion, this was known, and some- Seidon especially - saw it coming. In Kotaro’s case, it was more that he raised himself as to believe that he needed to report with as much detail as he could. Admittingly, it’s more become a habit than anything else.

In any case, with this report, the rebellion he has been witnessing for two weeks was officially over. As much as he wanted to stay and help the planet recover, it was best to leave it for people more capable… The farmers are likely not wanting help from him anyways after all that transpired. Besides, there were things he now needed to look into. As for the rest of the Paladins, except for Nuletta and Zebul, they were essentially on stand-by until he, Kherol, or any of his Admirals, had a need for them, choosing to make good with their moments of relief.

Meanwhile, the two commanders in the room exchanged glances with one another again as they read through the files. Annette was quiet, but Antony was visibly concerned. From a little head scratch, head tilt then a palm on his temple, the dashing looking flamboyant commander finally turned away from it and got serious.

"I won't lie, my dear Alexander." Antony shook his head as he leaned his hands on the table. "If there's any rumors in the Senate before that you're trying to buy yourself a crown, it certainly is clear now."

Innocence Lost - A Science Fantasy RP [v.03]

Alexander Kherol

The Last Ascendancy Commander

---

Everything's Alright

---

2454 AD

Earth

He was only twelve. But his demeanor, his posture, the jacket hung over his shoulder and the neatly-combed white hair didn't tell the same story. Every stride was him growing up before age, breaking boundaries, meeting everyone's high expectations of the genius kid. His last one was through the gates of the University of Mortier.

"Alex!"

Before he even realized who that was, he was already jumped on, to the curious gazes of the passerby, all almost a decade older than the boy. He felt her arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, her body weighting on his back like a hanger, her fragrant reeks of dirt and grass as she edged her cheeks near him. After hours studying and working in the disinfected labs with these cold mindless equipment, this feeling was a bit overwhelming.

"Sarie?" It didn't take him long to recognize who it was. "How did you find me?"

"I asked!" She replied almost immediately, her tone unusually cheerful, as if she had just brushed a huge weight off her shoulder.

"Who did you ask?" He knew he was quite a sensation in his neighbourhood, but he doubted if they'd just outright tell him where exactly he'd be.

"Your mom." She replied. "She said you're done in the afternoon, but I didn't know when in the afternoon, so I just came here early. Didn't expect ya to be this late."

"How long did you wait?" Alexander asked.

"Four hours."

Four hours?!

"What did you do?!" Alexander was very much perplexed. He quickly prompted his friend to get off his back. He looked at her in that emerald eyes. She seemed completely oblivious to her actions, even proud almost. "How do you wait for me for so long?"

"I was in the field right over there!" She pointed in the general direction. "I just ran around, catching some cicadas or talked with the birds."

Geez. She didn't need to do this. Didn't she have friends who she'd rather hung out with. He was the closest one sure, but he's probably not the only one. Unless she'd have to be very lonely to keep hanging on him like that. She didn't seem like that kind of girl though.

"Why though?"

So why?

"...You didn't show up at the park to play for a while." She said, her tone went down significantly. "So I was curious to what ya up to."

"Oh I see." He patted her on the shoulders. "It's mostly schoolwork. I just have more than usual." He gave her a warm smile. "I'll come when I'm free. You don't need to do this."

Her lips curled uncomfortably. "No I do. It's not fun anymore." She confessed. The white-haired boy looked at her worryingly. "I have many friends, but you're the only one who's fun to hang out with."

He was the only one who didn't look at her the same way as people do: a collection of funny labels that resembled her. Rustic. That girl with a comical accent. The shameless one. None of that he ever said to her. Despite being pretty much out of reach for her to be around a boy of his stature, he was a nice friend, never belittled her for her status, never made fun of her for her looks, how she acts, respected her thoughts, and always one to laugh at her antics, even if he was on the receiving end of it. Even though she still had other friends willing to play, she never had one willing to appreciate her presence.

Alexander stood there, silent. The gentle autumn breeze continued, as if to rush those busy commuters home to the warmth of the setting sun.

"Do you want to...uhhh..." It never took him this long over a math problem in comparison. "...get something to eat?" He stumbled.

"Sure!" Sarie replied, her enthusiasm seemingly on the recovery, but it didn't feel the same way again.

---

After indecisively wandering through the food district, having too many snacks to choose from, both of them decided on some chocolate cookies. Classic but delicious and quite nice for growing up kids. To add the icing on it, they were just passing by a beautiful beach. It was artificially made, but the scenery and authenticity was great enough that the two didn't really care if they were fake or not. They just wanted some company, after having drifted away from each other for long.

"You know what...thanks, Sarie. Thanks" Alexander said. Sarie was a little confused. "I didn't know I needed this." He sat down on the grass above the walkway parallel to the beach. "You know about the Prodigy Supplementary Program in our city?"

"Nay. I have no idea what that is." She shook her head, to which Alexander laughed. He forgot this wasn't a college student, a professor or a school teacher he's talking to.

"It's something for people like me. I excel in schools. They decided I could be better if I have a different curriculum, so my time at school will mostly be at...well...where you waited for me. Studying high concepts that you don't wanna know." He said. "It took a lot more time than others my age."

"So that's why you've been off." The orange-haired girl caught on. Alexander nodded.

"I like the atmosphere, the people are great, smart and respectful, but...it just isn't the same as this." He said. "I've always found you a unique friend."

People usually keep to their own groupings when it comes to friendship, especially as it was just as cool to people as it was disgusting to hate on those who aren't them. Rich kids on rich kids. Poor kids on poor kids. Kids with their addictions to that one FPS shooter. But Sarie? As shameless she was sometimes, that confidence and her obliviousness to this was appealing. He didn't need to approach her to connect a diverse group of friends. She approached him, not with drools of being with the cool kid, nor begging for attention. She just did, because she liked him.

"I can ask my program advisor. They probably would let up on me." He said, smiling warmly to her. Considering he was still doing better than others in the program, it probably isn't much to ask. "So we can play together more often."

Sarie, upon hearing this, gave the young Alexander the biggest hug she had. A hearty laugh was shared. It was as if their friendship was once again blooming.

"Alex. Are those your friends?" Sarie said after breaking away from the hug, looking behind him. Alexander looked behind him as well. There were two men in black suit and sunglasses walking in their direction on the walkway.

"...No. I don't know them." He knew a lot of adults in the university, but none of them resembled these two. None of them had that edgy aesthetics.

"Why'd you ask?"

He didn't get a reply. Because before she could, those two men were already right next to both of them. The girl is interesting, but the boy was their main target. The renowned prodigy of Alexandria. One of the man grabbed Alexander by the neck from behind, his arm choked him, a knife's edge placed right near his face. The warm happiness just earlier turned into terror, but their fear only just registered. Alexander was just suppressing the tremor in his arms and legs, while Sarie was just paralyzed. Her arms wrapped around herself, her lips too trembling to even scream. Her knees pointed into each other as she battled herself to look away with her wide eyes and shut them tight.

"I got the boy. You go grab her."

The other man in black nodded and approached Sarie. In plain view of the also shaken Alexander. He didn't know what was going on. Just a few seconds ago, they were eating chocolate and chatting, now he was being choked. She was going to be choked too. What's going to happen to both of them? What's going to happen to Sarie? He didn't even run the possibilities. He was terrified. But what could happen to her was even more terrifying. That was not to sit. He might be choked, but he was not choking.

Alexander felt the stinging pain running across his palm as he suddenly grabbed into the knife itself by the edge, his hands bare to feel the metal on his flesh. His other hand grabbed onto the handle of the knife, around the man's hand. Briefly submitting to his animal instinct, his teeth mounted onto the man's hand like a predator sinking its fangs on its hapless prey. Blood spilled out of both their hands. In a sudden and bad pain, the man let go of his grip of both him and the knife, which went right into Alexander's hands then right back into the man's abdomen. The other man realized what happened, turned back and impulsively lunged at the boy. A quick slash through the hand, coming close to almost severing his fingers clean was the price to pay. Their task had met unexpected disaster.

The spine-chilling stare, blood dripping from both his teeth and his other hand, gently laid on his dear friend nudging her to back away. This is no soft-spoken child.

"HEY! YOU!"

The commotion had alerted the neighbourhood. The two men could see people running to the two kids’ aids. Their initial attempts at stealth had failed. The boy was too resistant. Normally they would switch to stun weapons, but they were both quite badly injured beyond their expectations. With time rapidly closing in on them, the two men decided to retreat, their hands gripping on their injuries.

As the adrenalines died down, the knife slipped from his hand and fell onto the dirt. And soon after, himself.

---

Thankfully, it was just simple blood loss.

But Alexander wouldn't know how close he had come to losing his hand right there.

The next thing he knew, he was in the hospital, his hands well-patched up with several stitches. Outside of a blood transfusion, he was fine. His parents were here, having cried pretty much the entire night, even after knowing he was ok. What was more entrenched was that they had taken actions. They knew of the missing prodigies. They knew what would happen to them. They knew now he would be next. He made it out alive today, but what if they came after him tomorrow, the day after, when he wasn't ready to defend himself?

But they weren't the only one to sob for him.

"Alex?"

The hospital door slowly opened, then halfway through swung open violently.

"ALEX!"

Alexander couldn't muster a response before being smothered. She clinched him in her arms, pressed him onto her chest, his head pinned in one spot, his hand raised in concerns. Her hold was so tight they could feel each other's breathing. But she wasn't ready to let go. If hugs could heal, she'd do it all night.

"There there. It's fine, see?" He raised his arms, trying to laugh it off before returning her hug.

"I thought I lost you..."

He saw the blood stain on her shirt, still there. It all happened so fast, he didn't even remember what happened exactly, but there was only one man close enough to her that moment. It was his blood. Blood given to save his best friend.

"It's ok. It's ok..." His bandaged hand, the hand that protects her, now patting her from behind. He softly whispered. "Everything will be alright."

Everything will be alright...

Innocence Lost - A Science Fantasy RP [v.03]

Alexander Kherol

---

Masked Off

---

He didn't even need to arrive on Plenty to know their work was already done. Behind a successful man is always a group of other successful men and women. What concerned Alexander a lot more were those involved.

"So what you're saying right now is that thanks to Laguna, this rebellion has gone under our noses for months on end?"

"...Yeah." The blond haired woman settled on the blunt response. "I don't know how she kept the situation so well-shut. When we sent Kotaro, I thought it's just a recent thing."

"He said the same thing to me as well. It takes way longer wrestling over responsibilities than actually dealing with the rebels."

Alexander thought it would be simple. The rebellion occurred, Laguna was right there and she got involved. When specialized teams under his command comes to take over, she'd just simply hand over the keys and the rebels would be just a footnote in history. But nooo. Apparently someone just had to have it all for themselves and drag an already bad situation into a mess. Of course, there are chances of her doing it out of some other reasons, but who is he kidding? It's Laguna. She's a cowardly fascistic dictator. Of course she is going to do this for personal glory. Nothing is more important to one of those kind than showing power.

"I'll deal with this myself. Thanks for your hard work." Alexander said, preparing to end the holographic call. "Oh and one last thing. I'm pretty sure you're aware of the current situation?"

"Oh that?" Annette immediately replied. "Ay, I'm already on it. Way before it became trending."

"Really?" Alexander sneered. "Don't tell me you have some stakes involved in this?"

"...No..."

That was the guiltiest reply he had ever seen.

"...ok, I made some profit out of it. Don't blame me." She quickly admitted. It wasn't something of a particular concern for the Grand Admiral anyway, since he doesn't do stocks. "But thanks to it, I have some interesting information you may wanna know."

"Oh?" He liked the sound of this.

"Obvious info out first. It started from an internet forum called RealAscendancyStockBets. Instigated by a member on the forum, these group of disorganized random strangers held the stock price to the point where several hedge funds of the Ascendancy went poof in a single day." Even though both had heard the story before, they couldn't help but gave a laugh at the sheer absurdity of the situation. Hearing the seething contempt of these rich oligarchs brought joy to their ears. "So that's that. What people probably don't bother with is the identity of the instigator. The name changes often, but other forum users have connected this member to this elusive figure known as the 'Wolf Cub of Wall Street'. Apparently a prodigy at stock trading, this is not the first time he has done this. Companies and regulators were finding ways to regulate this guy but to no avail."

Prodigy eh?...

"We already have our suspicions, so you can expect some more info on them soon." Annette gave a sly smile. "What's more interesting is the amount of coordination this is happening. Our AI ran a searching algorithm and mapped out a series of connection between these random internet users. I don't trust this map 100 percent, since users can lie or just create some throwaway accounts for the fun of it. But..." Alexander could see her eyes lit up as she read the next line. "The key word with the most user association is: Windsor Autonomous Trading Fleet"

Whooooo.

That's not a pretty image now.

It's not a smoking gun of course, but given the rapid expansion of that organization's space fleet, their strange demand for resources, Windsor's very shady behavior when meeting with Alexander on Nevivsky, and now this, it didn't take a lot of thought to recognize the potential threat they're facing. But it took a lot of effort, so he didn't expect any of the higher-ups to go into this. Looks like Alexander had to do this himself.

Perhaps it is time.

After a whole minute of silence, the Grand Admiral said with a stern and decisive countenance.

"Can you arrange a meeting between all of us? All us admirals. The sooner the better."

It might be the most important decision he had to make.

~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard [Pt. 2 - Open] ~

_{November 21st - Home}

---

The trip home had two parts. Two completely opposite one. The first was the boat trip. Cramped, crowded and cold. The bunks were humid and reeks of sweat from god-knows-how-many previous occupants there were. It would be hell if Michael hadn't gotten so used to the stench of the trenches and rotting flesh before this. To him, it was respite. If anything, people weren't groaning about their misery, since everybody here had something to look forward to. And too did Michael. The first time in months yet it felt like years had gone by. War had obviously taken its toll on him, regardless how short it is, not only mentally but also physically as well. Within months, he already got himself two very ugly purplish scar on his right arm, still healing and still required some attention, after the heavy actions at Amone opened the old wound. Thankfully, it wasn't his dominant arm, so he could still write and do his sapper duty, to which he still did diligently until he was given the break.

The second trip, however, home from the port were different. As the troopships docked and the soldiers began to disembark, a figure was already there. A man still lush in his prime, donning his black suit, high white collar and a bow tie, yet salt and pepper tint began to appear on his neatly combed hair. Time and weather had also chiseled some crow's feet beneath and above his eyes. His job was made fairly easy today though, as it didn't take long for him to spot Michael, for his short height was very hard to miss. And even if he doubted his skill as a valet, the hat tip coming from the young master was enough confirmation. Both men, now having seen each other, maintained eye contact as they navigated their way through the crowd of expectant soldiers and relatives.

"Victor! I see you have been early today!" Said Michael as both men approached each other with a gentleman's handshake and a short firm hug, the scent of black coffee lingering in the chilly grey clouds of the upcoming winter.

"Oh how can I be late young master? A hero comes home today!" The middle-aged servant replied. Today would not be a chilly day no more, for the happiness he felt right now, there would be more to come a few hours from now.

"Ahaha, I wish. Right now, I'm hungry." Michael said.

"You're hungry?" Victor asked. "How about we go to this restaurant over here before we leave? It's the best sausage here in Tyrella."

"No I'm good." A little hunger meant nothing to him now. "In fact a hot bath is more preferable right now. I smell disgusting!"

The valet gave a hearty laugh before leading Michael to his car, a black Gallian 4-seater with a brown leather roof. A fairly old model already, quite prone to some problems, to which the Daunte family was considering buying a new one, if the market hadn't been quite stingy due to the currently going on Europan War. And it did break down a few times during Michael's trip. But having a companion made a lot of differences. Despite the lengthy trip home, Michael never felt bored. They talked, talked and talked. Like old friends. Well, they were old friends. Victor had been there throughout most of his childhood. The man is diligent yet witty and fatherly, dutiful yet not machine-like, kind and compassionate. If his parents hadn't been the closest people to Michael through his entire life, Victor would be.

Alas, through the rain, fog and occasional snow, both men arrived at the doorstep of the Daunte household. A mansion coated in dark red sandstone, born out of an architect of the previous era, and laid bit by bit by their owners to completion. The stones that stood greeted the winter storm and summer heat with dignity. The white fence settled in front of the flattening green lawn, the acrid botanical smell meant it was freshly cut. All added to the anxiety Michael felt as he trotted through the stone walkway to the wooden dark oak door. The man hesitated a little, calmed his nerves, breathed a long sigh, filled his eyes with life before knocked on the door, thrice.

The door opened.

And right there, without a word uttered, he fell right into her embrace. Norms be damned. He just defied death to return to his mama. He'd not let go.

---

The sky was still grey, the weather slowly sinking to freezing temperature as the sun settled for the day. But he felt warmer than ever before. Dinner that day was something beyond him. It wasn't made by butlers or maids, but rather by his mother himself. It wasn't the stale, diluted, bland and tasteless processed food of the trenches, nor the first-class meal of the professional cooks in his household either. It was imperfect, the pie she made was a bit too sweet but very well-cooked, the sourness in the cream, the soft layer of butterscotch. It was the most perfect meal he ever had.

Then the house servants all turned out for a talk with their young master. Work was off for them as soon as Michael arrived. Some were newly hired, curious to meet the Viscount's son, others were interested in the story the man had to offer. The Viscount himself was all too proud with the praises, but Michael himself led the conversation this time. They talked way into the night, Michael almost forgetting the leisure of the hot bath he said and wearing something other than the tight and dirty Edinburghian military uniform. As the day ended, Michael was in a cozy bed, in her arms.

"We haven't done this in a long time, have we?" Elizabeth said, as she wrapped her arm around his shoulder.

"Hmm...I don't think so." Michael replied. "It just feels so long."

"My poor boy. It must have been terrible." She said. "Having no one to be like this together..."

"Actually I do." He said. Her crystal green eyes lit up in curiosity, then realization.

"Oh yeah, that girl you said. Lucia, right?" Michael nodded. "Does she loves you?"

"...I think so." Michael, after a silent thought, said.

"And you love her back?"

"...I think so too..." An even longer thought, and a sheepish reply.

"What makes you think so?"

"...The scar I had here. My right arm...it's her work. Well technically there was another but nevertheless. She stayed by my side pretty much the entire time at that inn, holding my hand until I go to sleep." He confessed. Here, there is no need for embarrassment or reservation. "She even saved my life one time as well."

"My my. She is quite a girl..." Elizabeth exclaimed, her hand now turned to cuddle his cheeks. Indeed she is. "...though can't you say the same for the other soldiers out there as well?"

"What do you mean?"

"From your description, it seems like a normal response to someone dear to you being hurt." She said. "I'm glad you've made such a positive impact on her, but I don't know if that is actual romance."

Michael was a bit taken aback by the response. It was gentle, kind just like his mother usually is, but she didn't always push back on him this way. If anything his father would do this more often, so Michael couldn't help but feel a little uncomfortable. Not love? The gestures Lucia showed him, the shyness, gentleness and care she gave him. But mama knows best. She didn't say this out of contempt for Lucia either. There is a tint of wisdom within her words that made him think.

"In that letter of yours, apparently she was abused?" Her tone switched.

"Still is."

"Then you might want to consider if she's doing it because she's desperate for affection?" She said. "I'm not saying it's bad. At 16, it is very traumatizing to be both at war and be abused. But she probably doesn't know what is love and romance, and rather is seeking a missing piece of her heart."

"..."

Her words cut. She was right...

"I am proud of the compassion you showed her, but romance is something else. You can want to show her affection and kindness, but not be physically intimate at the same time."

By the hands of the Lord she was damn right. But it was difficult for the young Michael to fully accept this. It was confusing, way more confusing than the technicality of engineering or the politics of the world. It also didn't help that Elizabeth wasn't being definitive on her answers either. Who can blame her for this really? His feelings are his alone. Only he could understand it.

"Come here..."

Feeling the silence her son left by her words, she pulled him into her warmth again. Michael really has grown up. She still vividly remembered him fit right in her arm's embrace, and now he's so big. Grown, mature and brave, ready to take on the world. But despite everything, he shall forever be her precious little angel.

~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard [Pt. 2 - Open] ~

Sharing a meal and a smile.

_{December 30th - Observation Post}

---

“Thanks. And thanks for the feedback too. I’ll keep it all in mind.”

Elliot had some great points. It likely would be so that marksman, already having all their specialized equipment already, wouldn’t bother with this mediocre mish-mash that did none of the other’s equipment better. But marksman were only a small minority of soldiers, so it is better if he’d focus on the other majority who would have loved to look at a creeping Imperial shocktrooper more closely. That might end up saving a trench sector one day.

On the other hand, hearing the curt reaction from the brown-haired lady...kind of tickled him. Oh god, is she another one of those stuck-ups? There were no shortage of these ‘soldiers are meant to kill not relax’ machines in the army, but she thankfully doesn’t seem to bother with him not doing it. He understood their rationale though.

“Suit yourself miss.” Michael gave a fuzzy smile as he replied. He wouldn’t bother with her for the next hour or two, nor for Elliot, respecting their duty. Instead, he worked even further on the design for the next half an hour before occupying himself with a good book and writing letters home. It was getting a lot easier to write compared to the first few months of his enlistment. Now that he stopped with describing how wet and full of rats the area was, or how great his friends are and that they are his strength and all that cheesy stuff, he suddenly found himself having a lot more to say. Like the stale food, the cute dogs in the squad and how Michael would want to wallow in their fluffy furs, or some random rambling about communication technology.

With the conversation having died down, Elliot soon settled into the rhythm of sweeping the area with his own periscope, detecting nothing in the initial sweep, and then sweeping the area once more, this time with the scope of his rifle. Peeking out of the safety of the trenches to get a better look at things with his scope was always a risky prospect, but if there was an enemy marksman lying in wait, Elliot would have spotted them long before.

Or he’d be dead.

...But seeing as neither of those things were the case, the boy settled into the monotony of his job. Thankfully, a marksman was nothing if not patient. Two years of war experience had desensitized Elliot’s perception of seemingly boring jobs-- as disinteresting as they were sometimes, they had a purpose to serve.

Soon, Michael found his hunger becoming more and more unbearable. The growling in his stomach were getting more and more obvious. Having no reasons to not eat anymore, he packed up his things and trotted down the trench line back to the reserve line for some good ol’ packed rations, the marksman seeing the young man off with a tip of his hat. It was a nice enough diversion, but Elliot supposed the sapper had no reason to stay for much longer if they were going to be quiet, which was reasonable enough. He would’ve done the same thing, in his shoes.

And thus, Elliot went on to do sentry duty...

After grabbing his portion of the meal, Michael was finding himself a seat at the tables, but he suddenly remembered both the sentries, wondering if they had had lunch yet. They might have already, and it would be a waste of time, but eh, it wouldn’t hurt if they did anyway. It would also be nice to have some companies. And so, Michael went back into the soup kitchen, and, with a little bit of modesty and politeness, convinced the soldier in charge to give him 2 more rations for ‘his friends’. And he wouldn’t betray their trust in him to do what he was told either. He went back to the observation post with them in hand.

”Anyone want some food?” He laid them out at the spot he last sat a few moments ago and sat down and took one for himself.

Elliot was surprised when Michael had returned, with food in his hands. The marksman had planned on getting lunch after his shift, but seeing as the sapper had gone out of his way to do this much…

”I’ll take some.” He said, the faintest of smiles on his face. ”Thank you very much.

The marksman placed down the meal before him. As far as army slop went, the food was still better than the claylike rations given to him on extended trips away from the trenches. Water, a small teabag, stale biscuits, dry bread, tinned meat and some kind of soup, the kind of which Elliot could not identify.

The marksman set a nearby kettle to boil-- the thing likely left there as a small reprieve for watchmen and sentries assigned to the observation posts. As the water began to heat up, he couldn’t help but ask. ”I would’ve figured you’d have preferred to spend your off-time back in town.” He commented. ”Why return to the frontlines?”

Elliot certainly wasn’t complaining-- anyone willing to bring food back for someone was a good enough sort in his books; he simply wanted to hear the sapper’s reasoning for it.

Michael put his fingers on his chin. He tried coming up with whatever reasons like he wanted to work on the periscope more, which he could just do it back there, or he wanted to work on the trench, which he wouldn’t get to do so without authorization, or he just wanted to talk...which sounded dumb. At the end of the day, he’d just give a light shrug as he picked up the cup of diluted tea.

”Well, I don’t know…” He said. ”I figured it’s not noon yet, so maybe you guys haven’t had lunch yet. I don’t think it hurts being nice.

If they already had lunch, he would be handing them to someone else anyway. Not everything is for personal benefit.

The sapper then took a sip of the tea. Although freshly boiled, it was still bland and watered down. Pretty tasteless and if he paid too much attention he’d probably appreciate just a cup of water more. But it’s wartime, he wouldn’t demand more than this. He’d treat it like any first-class meal he once ever had: with some delicate touch beneath the cup.

”How very thoughtful of you.” Elliot said in response. It was unclear whether or not he believed it to be so, but he looked thankful enough. ”...Well, you were certainly right about one thing: I haven’t eaten yet.”

With that, the marksman mixed in his own bag of tea with the newly heated water. He took the metal cup in both hands, holding the handle with his dominant hand, and using his other as an impromptu saucer. Elliot curled his fingers inwards, letting the warmth of the tea run through his hands, before raising the cup to his lips.

All things considered, the tea was bland and not nearly as sweet as he would’ve liked. He had heard that sugar rations were issued early in the war, but by the time he had enlisted, those were reserved for officers. Still, even despite the lack of taste, it was suitable enough for warming the body.

After taking a long sip, he set the cut back down on the palm of his other hand. Normally, this was done on a table with a small plate or saucer, but both things weren’t strictly necessary in a war like this. Elliot enjoyed his tea (or what passes for it) in silence, letting only a small sigh escape his lips.

Too Michael let out a sigh, as he grabbed the biscuit and held it by the very tip of his finger, biting it small and careful not to let crumbs stick on his lips. If any was left on, he would wipe it off with the given napkin. On the while, he was quick to notice the same exact posture carried out by Elliot. The palm beneath the cup, the fingers and especially how he didn’t have the next sip without putting it back into his hand. It might be just confirmation bias on his part, but Michael recognized these social gestures.

Whether or not he’s right, he let himself loose a little and asked, his head tipped slightly sideway.

“Y’ new mahney?”

His accent changed suddenly. It was no longer the neutral intonation that everybody across Europa were taught, but a distinct Tyrellan one. He was taught to be proud of his heritage, which was kinda dumb, but it helped recognizing people.

Elliot looked up at Michael, somewhat surprised, though he did his best not to show it. He took a moment to parse that Tyrellan accent back into the more neutral tone he had grown accustomed to, before letting out a small exhale through his nose, as if slightly bemused.

If Michael was going to hang a little loose, perhaps it wouldn’t hurt for Elliot to do the same.

”Aye, something like that.”

Unlike the sapper’s Tyrellan accent, the marksman’s own accent was distinctly Castletonian. Elliot gave the young man a knowing glance, before shifting back to a more neutral tone. “...money’s a little tight nowadays, though.” He let out a shrug.

”What of you? Old, or new?” Elliot figured small talk like this was fine, as long as he was careful. Besides, it was better that he start making new friends and acquaintances in this platoon sooner, rather than later.

”Eh...Kinda both.” His eyes glanced up, ”We inherit our wealth, but our grandfather kinda squandered our wealth through...variety of means,” And rolled around, exasperated. ”So my father had to patch it up like a sinking ship. He did well though, professorship gets good pay so we’re doing just cozy. A nice house and some good academic opportunities.”

It was nice seeing an upper-class (somewhat) Castleton brother around. Despite Michael not wanting to look like a spoiled rich kid, he couldn’t help the pre-imposed impressions of these people in society, so he tended to keep his status hidden, only letting loose when he was around familiar territory. New money might sound derogatory, but if anything he even respected those hard working people. People underestimated the strength of the manual labourers these days.

Elliot nodded as Michael went on, the marksman occasionally snacking on a biscuit. It was interesting-- he didn’t expect a blue-blood to be working the trenches, but he’s seen more than his fair share of surprising things in the war. Still, he couldn’t help but ask another question.

”...So what are you doing here?” Elliot asked, not unkindly. ”I ended up being drafted, so I didn’t have that much of a choice-- not that I mind all that much, mind you.” He quickly appended. ”...but forgive me if I’m presuming a little much: you don’t seem like the kind to want to go to war.”

From behind a sniper’s scope, Elliot’s seen plenty of faces. Michael’s own countenance just happened to be the kind that didn’t seem like the kind to enjoy fighting overmuch (though in fairness, there were very few that did). It made the marksman wonder about the young man’s convictions.

”Oh I don’t have a choice either…” Michael sighed. Well, it was not necessarily right. ”W-Well, I do have a choice. Go to university and be considered a reserved-skilled worker, which is what I’m into anyway. But... He snapped his fingers several times, getting irritated by each. His accent changed once again. ”Some tired old codger in the Board of Admission prob’bly slept during the job or somethin’. Got the admission letter a week late, and got called. So ‘ere I am.”

To be fair, he wasn’t too used to the new admission process either. Most of what he was referenced to was from his father, who studied in Vinland instead. So it took him a bit of time to gather the documents. Probably served him right he should’ve checked early, but hey, whatevs.

”To be fair, it does make me a lil more plucky than if I stayed home, He said, which is true. His Amone experience really toughened him, but nevertheless...”Don’t get me wrong though, I hate this fecking war regardless. No disagreement is worth millions of deaths.

And whose disagreements anyway? Some worthless kings’ on the throne? All the while people die like dogs. People that probably don’t even know the country, let alone the soldiers, they’re fighting if they hadn’t been subjugated under so much propaganda.

Michael put the cup of tea down for a long sigh. He doesn’t often get riled up.

Elliot calmly sipped at his tea, giving Michael an apologetic look. The marksman didn’t seem to mind the sapper’s sudden turn of mood. ”It’s a damn shame.” He simply commented. ”The world is a beautiful place, made darker by the war.”

Was the world beautiful, and the war ugly? Or was the world ugly, and the war merely a byproduct of that ugliness? Elliot pondered this for a moment.

The marksman set down his cup and looked to the sky. Though bleak and overcast, there was a certain beauty to its dreariness. He then turned to his compatriots: the sapper and the rifleman. This moment, as fleeting as it was, was likely to be the calm before the storm. It was best to cherish it while he could.

Elliot then reached for some of the dry bread, cutting it crosswise before putting some of the tinned meat between the loaves. Impromptu sandwich complete, the marksman took a bite. It was lacking in many things, but it was still better than nothing. He ate in silence for a while, occasionally pausing to take a sip of what little remained of his tea, or to survey the area with his periscope.

Michael let the talkings die down a little as they both enjoyed their lunch, while Michael cooled himself as well, relatively quickly though. Thankfully with Elliot here, he wouldn’t mind releasing the valve a little. He wasn’t one to hang on too long onto negativity as long as he could just say it to someone and someone understanding. It gets boring. Better to hand it to someone so both can bury them into the Earth.

Once he was done, he briefly cleaned up and prepared to get back to the reserve line. Some bloke coming to replace the two here informed him they were probably gathering soon.

For a while, he also wondered about the idea. The world. A beautiful place? He didn’t really see it as such, nor he saw it otherwise. He just...didn’t really think about it a lot. He’d really love to think it is, for there is beauty he wallowed in. His family. His sickly yet gentle mother. His stern yet kind father. As of now, he fought the war for them, because he is an only child. He is their future.

What about Elliot?

”Also, if you don’t mind me asking something as well. It might be intrusive, but you have someone at home you look forward to seeing?”

People who love the world probably have someone to fight for.

The marksman gave the visiting man a nod. Elliot hadn’t even realized it, but it seemed his shift would be over soon enough. The man said that they were probably gathering soon, prompting the boy to wonder as to what kind of operation they’d be doing soon enough.

Michael’s question snapped Elliot out of his reverie, though. Someone at home he looked forward to seeing… He pondered the question for only a few moments, before continuing. ”I’ve got family back home. My mother, father, and brother.” He started. ”It’s no exaggeration when I say that a big part of the reason as to why I signed on was to protect them.”

”...Truth be told… I don’t know if they’d be glad to see me.” Elliot admitted sheepishly. Going behind their back, breaking off a betrothal, and generally making a mess of their plans tended to breed more than a little bit of resentment, even if his intentions were good.

”...but when the war’s over, I’d like to see them again.”

And that was the truth of it. Even if he had left out a large part of context, Elliot was content with that answer.

”Ah I see.” Michael nodded firmly, and gave a genuine smile. Thinking for a couple of seconds, he reached for his pocket and took out another piece of paper. This one not the weary yellow notes he had for his designs and other random things he needed to write down, but a pinkish-white one, slightly marred by the dirt, but still looked modest enough on its own.

”I have someone to see too. My mother. Basically the angel of my life. And she wrote me this. He unfolded the paper and read. ”I swell in pride in hearing your accomplishment. But please don’t get carried away. I don’t care what you did or how many battles you won. All that matters is you coming home...”
He stared at the paper for a little, held it out then folded the paper and put it back in his pocket, laughed a little. ”A little dramatic I know. But those who stayed always have strong feelings.” He then patted Elliot on the shoulder. ”So I hope everything will work out for you.”

Elliot looked on as Michael read out his letter, and soon, in spite of himself, the marksman revealed a genuine smile of his own. He knew his own family might not have approved of him disappearing, but he knew that they wished for his safe return as well.

Thoughts of family tended to make the world a brighter place.

”That they do.” Elliot said in reply. ”...thanks… I hope everything works out for you too.” He smiled.

The boy then reached into his pocket, retrieving a simple, brass pocket watch with just a little bit of tarnish. He opened it, looked at the time, and then looked to his companions, the sapper and the rifleman.

”Looks like our shift’s done. Shall we head back?”

”Let’s go then.” Michael said.
@Hawthorne@TGM

~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard [Pt. 2 - Open] ~

---

"I am Michael. Last name Daunte." He returned Elliot's introduction with yet another slight nod, more as a formality but he rather took it in with grace. Nevertheless, even before his life in the trenches, he had long preferred the rather down-to-earth commoner address to most of his peers. If anything it made him feel a bit more relatable to the rest of society than the relatively few stuck-up individuals up there on the upper echelon. "Just call me Michael. There's no time for titles in a place like this."

He's also not that old anyway, but chances are Elliot was just being formal as well. Speaking of whom, Michael noticed the little tube jutting out of the ends of Elliot's rifles. It's thin and barely, if not outright otherwise, bigger than the rifle thickness. Curious. People don't tend to put accessories on their rifles since they get turned in quite frequently to higher ups, so he wondered what that is. Maybe he worked this out on his own as well. He may be a marksman, but who can say that he doesn't have backgrounds in engineering or mathematics. Elliot does look a bit young for that, but hey, the existence of the one and only Michael himself was enough proof that looks can be very deceiving.

Michael waited a little bit anxiously as Elliot peered the periscope over the parapet, both for him and for the feedback on his latest invention/innovation, although if it hadn't been already apparent, the way he handled it and positioned himself indicated he knew what he was doing perfectly. Actually that wouldn't really relieve him much, considering he was asking for feedback from an experienced veteran, whereas he only just partook in the war for a few months at best. Like his university or job interview, he stared at literally everything, every small detail, Elliot does, up until he turned around. Whew. It worked, and while not exactly glowing, it wasn't scathing either. It was exactly what he expected.

"Yeah, it's optical lense. It was a binocular from a dead Imperial officer that I found a few weeks back. I have to redo the magnification because the saw-off point is right in the center." Michael replied as he took out the sheet of paper he had folded in his pocket. Unfolding it, it showed a rather crude but geometrical drawings of the design. "The binocular is rather short, so it leaves not so much room to work with." He gave a small laugh afterward. "I do have a bit too much time on hand."

Now that Lucia wasn't on his back the whole time he does. He wondered if she was doing alright, but personally, he did find her absence somewhat liberating, not having to babysit her. Was it down to his normal etiquette or his complex feelings towards her and her current predicament was up for debate, but it was nice being a free man for once.

His discussion with Elliot was followed quite abruptly by a lovely lady at the entrance. Unlike neither the marksman or the sapper, she was tall, and had this rather...weary aura to her. And the custom for a gentleman is to never leave a lady unattended.

"Are you alright, miss? Are you here for the observation duty? Come, join us in our work." Michael cupped his hands in front of his stomach. "Make yourself comfortable."

He was meant to go back for some food after this, but eh, he could wait a couple of hours.
@TGM@Hawthorne

~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard [Pt. 2 - Open] ~

---

For all that's worth, the silence and relatively remote location of the observation post meant a little bit of personal time for Michael. It reminded him of the time in his father's study or the school lab, minds drifted away in deep introspection or concentration, sometimes crossing his legs crudely in his armchair. Which is kind of what he was doing right now. His tools were a bit all over the place on the ground next to him. His hair was unadjusted from the various head scratch he had as he figured out the periscope. Most of the time once he was done, he would get back to his usual self soon enough. But he forgot time today as well.

When a boy popped up at the observation post for his shift, Michael looked up almost immediately and, out of instinct, uncrossed his legs and went into crouch with one knee firm on the ground. His two hands put the periscope to the side and tugged down his lower shoulder's shirt areas. Normally Michael would have stood up for a greeting, but he knew he wouldn't stand up again if he does that. He still greeted the comer to his recently fitted out observation post like a guest to his house.

"Good morning!" Michael returned the boy's nod with his own nod and a spirited yet firm voice. When prompted about the shift, he took a moment to compose an answer as he briefly glanced at the periscope again and adjusted his hair. "It's not really my shift actually. I was really just setting up the last of the things for the post. The I just kind of...toyed with this periscope for a while." He said as he pointed at the sentry. He would be a little bit proud of the work he had done as the work on this trench were mostly relegated to him (and Anna as well) if it hadn't been back-breaking from all the carrying and digging he had to do, even more so if he ran into those pesky rocks to break.

"So yeah, hope you'll enjoy your stay..." He joked a little as he asked. ...if you don't mind me asking how may I address you?"

Also, while the young man was here, Michael did not hesitate to ask him a little favor, picking up the periscope. "Also, if you don't mind, can you test this out for me? You can use a periscope right?"

He didn't intend to come off as disrespecting a veteran's experience, but after a few months of misery in the trenches, newbies look exactly the same as the established. He didn't want someone fumbling the thing and got themselves killed as a result.

@Hawthorne

~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard [Pt. 2 - Open] ~

---

Michael thought he'd get overwhelmed by the sight of the trenches after the respite break where the Viscount's son basically went back home to a quiet yet warm welcome by his neighborhood. But it turned out well actually. Mother was correct. Of course he missed the hot bath at home or the maids/butlers giving him pretty much every good meal he deserved, but the recently returned Michael found himself instead immersed in something other than the constant groaning of wet feet or rats crawling around munching at the woods of the parapet.

For a few days, this rugged-looking mixture of a binocular and a periscope had been Michael's project. After meddling with the binocular found on a dead Imperial officer in a raid a week ago, Michael had managed to crack open the thing with his sapper tools and place a tube, or rather two tubes, perpendicular to the binocular, each with mirrors placed at each end perching 45 degrees. It might look like just a poor attempt at replicating something that already existed, but a unique trait of this periscope that Michael was trying to get it to work right is the ability to zoom. That's what had been keeping him occupied for the entire day, as he sat tugged in beside the parapet with the tools either in hands or on the ground next to him. It was way past his shift time. He could feel his stomach poking him to go and have some food in the reserve line, but he suppressed it as he held his breath at yet another plier grip.

"Right..."

This should hopefully work.

He flipped over, being careful not to straighten himself while he was on the parapet out of instinct. Otherwise he might risk getting shot by a sniper's bullet. It doesn't matter how brief it was he might show himself, he had seen people being all cheery one moment and a corpse a second later. But being short does have its advantage that he had more rooms for mistakes. After adjusting himself, he rested the periscope on the dirt, letting the lens peer over No Man's Land. He could see the mounds of dirt and barbed wires, along with puddles of mud water reflecting on the sticky situation both sides found themselves in. But the moment he was waiting for was when he slid those lens beneath forward and backward...

"Yes!"

He gripped his fist in pride. It worked...somewhat. The zooming wasn't very good, not the best amongst the periscopes, and far worse than what a binoculars can afford to magnify, but it worked regardless. He could adjust how much he wanted to see with (relative) ease, and without having to expose himself to sniper fires. Now Michael felt the urge to have this be tested. He probably won't need to wait for long, as this is an observation area, so naturally there should be one or two observers at any given time. They should arrive soon. For now, he'd keep trying to make sure this sloppy patch-up of a tool didn't fall apart when roughly handled.

~ Valkyria Chronicles - Changing of the Guard [Pt. 2 - Open] ~

Michael Daunte

---

---

Name
Michael Daunte

Gender
Male

Age
June 6th, 1896 - 18 years old

Sexuality
Heterosexual

Race
United Kingdom of Edinburgh - Tyrella

Height
5'0"

Weight
134 lbs

---

Appearance
You don't see Michael unless you look down over him. Comparing to his Edinburgh, or anywhere else for that matter, peers, Michael's most distinctive feature is his ridiculously short height. Very easy to recognize, and sometimes a subject of ridicule, but a very valuable asset in combat. His small and thin silhouette made him a more difficult target than others, and as a sapper, a key role on the battlefield, this asset is invaluable. However, don't judge the young man through his size. He actually boasts quite a sustainable stamina, able to carry heavy equipment around the battlefield for quite a good while. Another trivia to note about this young just-about-to-be college student is that he once almost got away with the conscription due to the officer in charge mistaken him for a child. It was only until the man in charge checked the man's profile that they let him hold a gun on the battlefield. His more roundish face contributed to the misunderstanding of his age. Reflecting his rather high social upbringings, Michael always appears well-spoken, articulate and nicely dressed, or at least as nicely as he could in the situation he is in. He is not a strict follower of the noble dress code, but anytime you see him, except on the battlefield after the blood and mud, he is always seen neat and upright in his uniform. With the ruthless war undergoing, he still tried to maintain a slightest bit of humanity in his appearance.

His uniform was quite specially made to fit his rather small posture. It wasn't entirely new though, just a slightly altered version of the smallest possible male uniform. Strapped all around his torso are rucksacks and straps that carries all (almost all) necessary engineering equipment Michael needs in a battlefield condition, along with a few grenades for combat purposes aside from his main gun (provided if he was given some).

Throughout the short few months of his conscription, he had for himself a few scars as well, notably on his right arm, where he was shot through the arm at Amone.

Personality
It took a lot to change a man's personality in a matter of months. But those were hellish months. After being subjected to countless near-death situation, having been forced into nigh impossible situation and emerged victorious, Michael had changed from a quiet, terrified boy without hope, begging for the divine to help into a relatively ambivert, readily willing to entertain any guest with a conversation, yet courageous soldier, skeptical at the world, yet fiercely determined to see the end of this war himself. He couldn't completely hide his fears. He still wanted to go home, back to his family, to his sickly mother at home. But he knew that he wouldn't go home any faster either way except in a casket, so he just bit the bullet, looked straight at his terror in the eyes and walked forward. And that's how he survived, even after being blown up, shot, thrown around and spitted at.

Kind-hearted and compassionate, he is your sweetheart in times of need, and that was not lost under the trampling muddy boots. He can always keep you company with a conversation or two, or sharing a book, a meal together. It might not dawn on you right away, but gradually, his continuous presence either meant he's taken a liking to you or he's worried about you. But regardless, he doesn't take kindly to close-mindedness, even less to cruelty. Despite the looks, he is rather well-educated and intelligent, capable of complex understanding of different subject matter, and often has a rather 'different' approach or viewpoint from the rest of society.

---

Rank
Private

Role
Sapper - EW1

Equipment
SM-Longfield Rifle
Trench Spade
Hatchet
Pickaxe

Personal Items
A Medal for his Actions at Amone
Heinz's Military Tag and Last Letter
Cruxian Cross

Potentials
Engineering Master: Due to his background as an engineering student, Michael is capable of absorbing knowledge and understanding various complex machineries. Not a know-it-all or is capable of fixing any machines he come into, but he would be able to do things whilst other people are still scratching their heads over it. Both how to fix it and how to BLOW it up.

Low-profile: His small stature makes him a more difficult target to hit on the battlefield, but it can make it difficult for him to traverse on some difficult terrains.

The Brave Little Pacifist: Beneath the child-like stature, a religious moderate, a soft and gentle man unwilling to hurt a fly, was the new-found determination and courage only bloomed in great adversity. He still loathes the war to his very skin, but he is strong enough to face it now.

---

Biography
In a fine antique yet cozy mansion in the city of Tyrella, a young man by the name of Michael Daunte came into existence. The family had a relatively prestigious history, with ancestors a few times serving as government officials. So it is understandable that the family would place high demands on Michael in terms of education. It was indeed a little tiresome for the young lad, but in exchange, the wealth of the family meant that the Dauntes could do many things. As an attempt to encourage curiosity in Michael, his father likes to take him to places, either domestic or international, so he could interact with different cultures and therefore wanting to figure more about them. Child curiosity is a thing to be feared. And yes, his father did get the greatest out of him. He was fascinated with the world around him, with so many different things to explore. He began to read books after books about different things. First just about countries, but then expands to other stuff, like science, heritage and culture. One of his topic of great interest is engineering, especially the Imperial Alliance's, known for many great masterpieces of it.

The routine spread further into his early teenage years. Soon, Michael began to dig into the more grim and serious aspects of the world around him. It wasn't the shiny and riveting world anymore. He used to imagine a world full of harmony despite its deep rooted varieties, yet the former was never fully achieved. He touched upon politics, diplomacy and then history of conflicts. There were things that he couldn't understand why a human being would do to another human being. He could never. Michael realized that the world wasn't just the world that he used to see it. It was cruel and not meant for softness.

At first he thought the war was just a distant thing. Then it came to him. He was sent to Hill 58, where death fell right on his chest. His soft kindness was trampled when he beat that man to death with his helmet on that hill. Then he went to Amone, where he learnt pain, and how close he had come to meeting God. Softness is a weakness on the battlefield. But he also found something profound in those experience.

Courage.

And with it, he achieved the almost impossible beneath the city of God.

The mission at Amone was a success, and significantly assisted the end of the fighting in the city. For the first time, he felt a slimmer of power. He wasn't completely bound to this manmade torture device. He did something great. And with it, he felt like he could do something more.

Michael was also never a man of staleness. He reveled in entertaining himself with his interests and curiosity. And so was death to him. After a while fussing about the corpses rotting on the battlefield, the blood mixed in with mud and rain and the terrible living conditions in the trenches, it got boring. He'd rather spend more time learning more about Darcsen mythologies, other country's histories or maintaining his equipment well rather.

Affiliations
George Daunte - Father (40)
Elizabeth Daunte - Mother (40)
Anna Elisa Richelieu - Fellow Sapper and Friend (19)
Heinz Noel - Imperial Friend whom Michael Respected (23 - Deceased)

Relationships

+

Jean-Robin Charpentier
He is an ok leader, but holy cross is he bad at socializing. Michael could not help but feel a little bad for him as he tried so hard to flirt. Otherwise, Jean is a kind man who does care a lot, and Michael respected that. He probably knew a lot more than the sapper believed to, so Michael wished for more moments to learn more about him.

Isaac Black
He is that cool guy of sort in the group. Michael felt safer under his command than Jean, no offense to the latter, but his personality is...wild to say the least. It can be a little annoying at times, but eh he could say that about anyone.

Lucia Farris
In a way, he had affections towards Lucia, but he did doubt if he really loved her or this was just him wanting her to be happy, considering the rumors of what Middleton did to her. Nevertheless, he cared a lot for her and hoped she could be free from his grasp.

Diana Elana Vastergoth
Weird. A nice girl in his eyes but weird. At the same time she really reminded Michael of Jean. They both don't have a clue about social cues. They're probably a perfect match for each other.

Franz Blau
He also empathizes a lot with his situation, having lost a girl he liked so much in front of his eyes. He is glad that he is able to help him gain some of his confidence back. He hopes that it would remain the same for long, but who can say that statement would be true in the far future. But he hopes that his friendship would remain the same.

Senja Penttilä
A peculiarly beautiful lady from North Europa. She's quite eccentric, but kindness goes a long way in forming a friendship with Michael.

Alexander-John Middleton
He doesn't deserve a footnote in Michael's memoir if he ever to write one. But at the same time, he does want to understand his psyche. But would he ever want to approach a man directly if he doesn't want to entertain genuine curiosity but only to subjugate those beneath him?

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