act33side

Right, enough of the sad stuff. Be back in a jiffy.

Seriously, since when did the Sarkaz become so glib-tongued with me?

I wonder if this count as progress, Theresa...

In any case, Kazdel is moving again. Things will get better.

Back already? Well, it's about time you laid down—

Oh, sorry, I thought you were someone else.

Wait, your wounds are really bad... nobody treated your Arts burns?

The Leithanians did it. My son's dead. They burned him alive before my very eyes. I was the only one who lived.

...At least let me see your wounds.

They burned him alive. He was screaming. They used Arts to hang him in the air, for everyone to see.

My brothers are dead. My captain is dead. The Leithanians stood on the high ground, their raised staffs looked just like...

With bloodshot eyes, the nearly deranged Sarkaz fixates on the doctor's staff abandoned in the corner.

The emblem of the home she had left behind hangs from the staff.

Like a real...

The doctor does not sense the hostility.

She lifts his top to inspect the wound, but feels a chill run up her spine.

You're armed...

Why didn't the guards check you...?

The light of the Soul Furnace lights up the night sky above Kazdel like the midday sun.

The fire's crackles echo like a mournful growl, a somber tribute to the fallen who have become its fuel.

All the Sarkaz set their eyes on the sky that night.

No one notices the light from one of the field hospital's windows go out.

Your Highness?

Why was I brought here...? Oh, yes, I have good news to report...

What news?

We won.

We defeated the Leithanians, Your Highness. Me, my son, and the Blue Blood Squad. We won, we won...

Are you not glad, Your Highness? Were we too slow...?

Blake! My son, bring me the battle plan! Son! Son?

Sorry, Your Highness, I don't know where my son went...

You killed a doctor, one who has served Kazdel for years, treating Oripathy patients.

Kazdel? Doctor? No, you misunderstand, your Highness.

I only fight Leithanians.

Have you read his emotions, Theresa?

Pain, confusion, madness. He has driven himself mad to escape the painful memories.

He doesn't even know what crime he committed.

The others do.

The guards discovered him brawling with another Sarkaz amid shattered casks of liquor, which ignited and spread fire throughout the field hospital.

All await the King's response. But you cannot be the one to do it.

Leave it to me.

Your Highness! General! I gave my all to defeat the Leithanians!

Was I wrong to do so? Your Highness!

Take him away.

...His name is Logan, given to him by his mother, who was one of the first Babel engineers.

He hardly uses any Arts, but the guards were hypnotized by Arts. Someone is behind this.

The Military Commission will not investigate the Sarkaz for the sake of an outsider, not after they've just been through another ordeal.

Neither should Babel.

We have no choice. The war has just ended.

Babel should withdraw from military and political affairs, at least for the time being.

You know that's not what Babel is about in the first place.

I do, but many don't.

I will define the parameters for Babel's activities. Babel members will continue to serve Kazdel's medical, educational, and technological needs from this area.

The Military Commission will continue to protect them. But we must make every effort to avoid conflict.

There will come a day when the repressed hatred boils over, and even we will be powerless when that day comes.

Kazdel is in urgent need of a change. We have to solve the Originium problem... soon.

But even that won't solve all our problems.

I know.

I've always known.

There you are, Ascalon.

What have you seen in this city?

Deth... People cry... People die.

Cry? Cry... tears?

Theresis stretches out his hand. A delicate stone knife lies in its palm.

Knife! My...

Keep it safe. A warrior should treasure her weapon.

I will teach you how to sharpen your blade.

But it's up to you to decide whom it cuts.

You're too impatient, Theresis. She's not ready to understand these things yet.

She has to understand, sooner or later.

Maybe. But for now, what we should do is give the frightened child a little bit of peace. Do you like this city, Ascalon?

Compared to the armored general, Ascalon does not like this Sarkaz woman crouched before her.

She seems to see through all of her thoughts, leaving no secrets—a most dangerous thing in the wastes.

But she cannot bring herself to be hostile to this gentle Sarkaz.

I...

No need to be afraid. You know I don't mean you any harm. Come, touch my horn. We're the same.

...Warm, here.

Warm, me.

Yes, warm. Hatred and killing are not the only way to solve a problem.

(Slurring) Way? Probem?

Theresa says no more. It is difficult for a girl who has known nothing but the wastes to understand certain words, even with the help of the King of Sarkaz.

She takes Ascalon's hand.

It's like the wound on your palm. Weapons can't heal it. Only time and medicine can.

Aw!

It's okay. I've cleaned your wound. You'll need to take care of it.

Be patient. One day, you'll wake up and find that it doesn't hurt anymore.

...Yeah!

Babel Classroom, Kazdel

...No one. Here.

We'll wait a little longer. It's not lesson time yet. They'll come—

Look, it's Theresis.

Casualty report from the Military Commission. There are many children, most of them students.

The ones that lived...

Their parents are no longer willing to let the outsiders of Babel teach them.

Plus, if memory serves, many of Babel's teachers have already left out of fear.

You're troubling yourself too much with trivial matters, Theresa. You need to rest. We still have to—

I want to wait a little longer, Theresis.

...Very well.

He does not leave. The classroom is eerily quiet.

Theresa closes her eyes and recalls the students who used to fill the classroom.

'They said we can get potatoes for coming to school!'