act33side

Like you said, the nations of Terra have grown tremendously in power over the last century. We could throw more revenants into the Soul Furnace and stoke its flames, but it'll not close that gap.

So why force the people, who aren't really of the same race, to band together, call themselves the Sarkaz, and build a giant target called 'Kazdel'?

The war between the four superpowers has proven that other Terra nations can accept our existence as mercenaries, and that's where Scar Market comes in.

And Your Highness surely knows that we've become a community, a town, because many of us could never fit into the elitist, bloodline-obsessed Royal Court.

In all these years, I may have helped just as many Sarkaz find a new way of life as the Six Heroes, if not even more.

And I'm not the least bit ashamed to say it, Your Highness, King of Sarkaz.

Theresa doesn't reply. All she offers is a faint smile at the Cyclops.

Ah. It suddenly occurs to Scareye that this King of Sarkaz belongs to no Royal Court and represents no bloodline.

Her sole aim is to persuade the Sarkaz who are unwilling to believe that Kazdel can be built, some of whom have even committed crimes for this cause, to believe once more.

But is she enough to break free from this cycle of tragic failures, from the ending he foresaw?

Come to think of it, there's one thing I don't get, Your Highness. I might have agreed to help you...

But why didn't you and General Theresis simply burn this place to the ground before the day's end? I would have little chance of winning if you decided to do so.

Just like you did sixty years ago.

A minute ago, you described 'Kazdel' as nothing but a target and that you want another way for the Sarkaz to live, one that would have them depend on other nations.

Yes.

So tell me, in your prophetic visions, have you seen Kazdel's destruction?

Have you seen my death, Theresis's death, and the destruction of all that you stand against?

And what about yourself? How do you behold your death? A slow and agonizing death by Oripathy? Slain in battle on foreign soil? Or drowned in a sea of plots and conspiracies?

Have you ever left this place, and seen Kazdel as it is now?

Have you ever truly seen 'the future'?

Is this your way of asking for a prophecy? I don't give handouts, but for your Highness, I'll consider a discount.

Such nerve. No wonder you were able to claw your way out of this bleakness and rebuild this mercenary's paradise.

But I'll pass on the prophecy.

Prophecies and fate have no value.

It's getting late. I look forward to your return to Kazdel.

He watches her go and heaves a long sigh only when even her footsteps fall from earshot.

Son of a bitch.

Foresight? Prophecies? His own death?

He bought his coffin this very morning.

Tally up the losses.

Boss, the slaves...

Set them free. They're bound to get tangled up in the Scar Market after the war begins anyway. At most, we lose out on pocket change.

Did anyone take on General Theresis and survive?

Yes. I've noted them all down.

Take them to supplies for a little reward. They've got real balls.

When you're done, take them to the bar entrance and kill 'em all in front of everyone. Send their heads to General Theresis as an apology.

...Got it.

Send their rewards to whatever family and friends they have as bereavement.

Tell every merc looking to make a living in the Scar Market, I don't want to see 'anyone' trying funny shit on my turf.

He heads alone to the bar, the tags on his cloak jangling in his steps.

He stands prominently in the crowd, watching as the blades take the light from the mercenaries' eyes.

Still, no one fights back.

Utter disappointment.

Drinks are on the house tonight, both to celebrate the two Highnesses sparing your lives...

And to celebrate the huge gig you've all just landed. Your objective... is in Kazdel.

Get your shit ready. Soon, you're all gonna be in the city.

Secret Entrance of Scar Market, Kazdel

You've been quiet for some while now, Theresa.

Are you hesitating?

No, I have confidence in you. A reshuffle of the War Council is inevitable, it's just...

I've been thinking about the city's future. War won't stop itself at Gaul. Our pace has fallen too far behind.

Corsica I commands an indomitable fleet of dreadnoughts and guard battalions. The mad king of Leithanien has more than his Arts in his arsenal to effect Gaul's failure.

The industrial might of both Ursus and Victoria in the throes of a large-scale war has far surpassed our imaginations...

Many assume to know war like the back of their hands simply by living long enough through it.

If our concept of war still lingers on the great battle from a century ago, then we have drastically underestimated how quickly wars can nourish empires and fuel dictatorships.

This is exactly why we need a Military Commission.

It's more than that, Theresis.

...I know.

When the day comes, when the Sarkaz wish to live on, if a brittle, creaking city is all they have to call their own—

It will be far from enough.

Do you remember the idea I proposed, back when Kal'tsit was designing the city's blueprints with us?

<i>Babel</i>.

To transcend the borders of race and nation. To echo far and wide in our ideals, in our epics.

...Founded by a Sarkaz.

We will prepare Kazdel for the coming crisis, strive to eradicate the poverty and disease that have plagued them for millennia, and send a message to all of Terra.

There will come a future when we all stand as one. The Sarkaz, too, are part of Terra's destiny.

This is not the first Theresis has heard of her idea.

Apart from the Dame who left after helping build the nomadic city of Kazdel many years ago, he alone knows the true belief of the current King of Sarkaz.

Kazdel won't accept this 'Babel', you and I both know that well.

It's but a dream of attempting to subvert reality.

Yes... for now, at least, we can't be talking of such grand ideals while even our own affairs are slipping away from us.

It's my hope this 'Babel' can become a part of Kazdel, Theresis.

Are you prepared, then?

As I said before, it's not just the other nations that will oppose you. Kazdel and the Sarkaz clinging to their hatred will also stand against you.

It is cruel to force them to forgive and forget. The persecution of the Sarkaz is not history. The ancient hatred is what drives many to survive until this day.

I am the King of Sarkaz. The responsibility is all mine to bear. I must show them a way out of this.

...I see.

Then go. Do what you will.

Theresa, I still do not approve of your vision, but I do support your decision, and the future Military Commission will, too.

If your gaze is set too far to see what lies before you, then I shall sweep away all that obstructs you at the moment, just as always.

I know.

Come, let's go home. Kazdel still needs us for what's about to happen.

Oh, yes. Scareye mentioned the prophecy again as I was leaving...

The signs of a pessimistic fate.

And your reaction?

I don't care.

Agreed.

Kazdel—a strange yet familiar name.

Many from this great land see it as the pit from which devils crawl—a terrible place to be avoided at all costs.

While to the Sarkaz, the name only evokes equally conflicted emotions.

Despite generations of Sarkaz passing on that Kazdel is the Sarkaz's homeland, an outsider might wonder if they mean the city or the entirety of those lands?

Perhaps only they themselves know.

It never struck me on the way out just how high this wall is... Oh well, at least I can go home alive now. That means I'm pretty lucky.

That man in the Scar Market... that was General Theresis. The first of this city's founders, the hero of that legendary campaign.

*sigh* If I had the courage to ask him to take me in, maybe I could've just...

*sigh*... I'm dreaming again.

He sits atop the high wall, experiencing for the first time a new lease on life.

Few of Kazdel's civilian Sarkaz, save for those children who haven't yet cottoned onto the fear of death, ever climb onto the city wall.

If the tremendous pipes and tubes piled high can even be called a wall.

The intricately tangled 'forest' of Originium spikes can take the lives of anyone who loses their footing, but it also serves as a haven for pilferers and mercenaries to stash their goods.