act33side

Eight years ago...

Summer, 1086

Residential district, the nomadic city of Kazdel, Kazdel

Remember the promise we made at the beginning of the lesson? Good. Keep your voice low when answering, and don't tell anyone about the classes.

Ray Tanka has been teaching you about our history for the past few months. As for myself, I've been struggling to decide what to teach you in our last lesson.

Mathematics? Language? Agriculture? Weapon-making?

What I've come to realize is that whatever I teach you won't truly change our lives. We've lived silently in despair for too long.

The war eighteen years ago never ended. The ghosts of Leithanien's fleet continue to haunt those who experienced that war.

Many died in despair, drowned in the fear of war and of being consumed by the black rocks that grew from their bodies.

But our instincts drove us to seek a way to overcome despair.

Some declared war on despair, on the outsiders who oppressed us, but they all fell short in the face of cruel reality—

...Came to see the contracts.

I've never seen a more motivated mercenary than you. Are you trying to buy a mansion in Columbia or something?

One should feel lucky just to be alive for so long. In that sense, I suppose your name is well-deserved.

I heard a bunch of jobs came in lately. Anything good?

There are eyes on and in the city now. Things didn't turn out too well for the last few who took these jobs.

It's Babel stuff. Are you sure you want to be part of that mess?

Yeah. I trust my luck.

Have it your way. There's a teacher in town who's been saying good things about Babel's outsiders. Someone is willing to pay to shut him up for good.

...Will do.

I look forward to your surprises.

Hope your luck doesn't run out today.

The nomadic city of Kazdel, Kazdel

It has been a while since Goodluck came back.

The city has changed a lot. People come and go. He is familiar with the words 'Babel' and 'Military Commission'; there are always people fighting over things that he does not understand.

He does not understand why the Sarkaz feel the need to fight one another.

He takes out the photo of the target, a mild-mannered young man. The triangular marking on his sleeve seems familiar.

A teacher spreading praise about Babel's outsiders, inciting opposition against the Military Commission.

'Sorry, your luck just ran out today.'

Should be around here.

Wait... this place...

He's been away for a long time, but not long enough to forget his home.

Odda's home.

Odda, you should not have gotten involved...

We've gotten used to despair from one defeat after another at the hands of powers beyond our ability to resist.

But we needed to convince ourselves that our despair was not self-inflicted, that it stemmed from an obvious source in our lives.

That is what Babel has become for people in this day and age.

It was Babel who brought the enemies. It was Babel's medicine that worsened our Oripathy. It was Babel's education that sapped our will to resist...

It was Babel who deluded the King of Sarkaz and tricked us into giving up on collecting the blood debt from the outsiders. Babel is the source of all our despair.

I see some of you nodding. No doubt you've heard the same from your parents. In desperate times, people often mistake hearsay for the truth.

But is it the truth, though? Were our lives better without outsiders in Kazdel?

Don't take anything at face value. See, think, and find your own answer.

Yes, it's hard to leave Kazdel. The land outside is full of danger. Even making it to the border of the next country is no small feat.

But I'll still leave this place. I'll go to Leithanien, Columbia, Kazimierz, to anywhere that I may find a way to change things.

Then, I'll come back and teach you, and all the children of the Sarkaz.

What will happen to Babel, you ask? The future of Babel—

Hide yourselves. Don't make a sound.

Hello? Are you looking for someone?

Sorry, I got the wrong door.

Do you need help? I'm familiar with the area.

He smiles. There is no panic in his eyes.

Ascalon scans the sparsely furnished room, and understands.

Do you live here on your own?

Yes...

My name is Ascalon. I'm from Babel.

Thank you for sheltering him, but you must leave.

Be careful. These are troubled times.

You heard her. Someone knows you're here. You need to go.

Not just the Military Commission, but also those mercenaries who've been bringing trouble to our doorstep...

I know. I'm very grateful to you for lending us your house to serve as classroom.

The children—

I'll take them home. Don't worry, you can continue your classes in a few days, once the storm has passed.

There will be no need. As I've said before, I'm ready to leave.

I've already spent too much time here because I wanted to see the lessons through to the end. There are many places that I still need to see.

...Alright. Oh! Don't forget the potatoes.

They're from the children and me. It's not much, but they will serve as a few meals on the road.

Thank you so much... all of you.

I should be the one thanking you. I learned a lot from you.

For the past few years, Kazdel has grown faster than its education and public thinking can keep up.

I fear that our powers will be our own destruction, if we do not change the present situation.

The conflicts we see in Kazdel now are a good example. This is not how the Sarkaz should be.

I have yet to find a way to change all these, but I know that the answer does not lie within Kazdel.

Goodbye, Odda.

Goodbye... may your journey be safe and smooth.

Odda watches as the 'Teacher' disappears around the corner, but does not go in.

He does not remember when it started, but he has the habit of sitting by the door, waiting for a familiar someone to return.

Wind stirs the dust from the streets, and the dust stirs up his tears. There is not even a shadow.

He gently closes the door.

Odda...

Goodluck sees the target leave the house. Then, he sees a familiar figure that he has not seen for a long time.

His blade feels heavy. He cannot move.

Odda... I'm sorry... I didn't know...

I'm a lousy dad, but...

He tightens his grip on the knife's hilt.

He knows only one way to give Odda a better future.

...Another one.

A mist shrouds a corpse in the corner of the street, erasing all traces of its existence.

The passing of a life in Kazdel is akin to a speck of dust falling to the ground, unheard, unceremonious, and unnoticed.

His luck has run out.

How long do you plan on hiding there, Manfred? Or are you planning to stab me in the back now?

Another mercenary. How many have you killed?

Didn't see the point to keep count.

You could kill one, two, a hundred even, but can you kill every single mercenary who accepts the contract?

They just want to remind us that we've been complacent with the status quo for far too long.

Using the lives of Babel members as a reminder? To remind whom?

He made a promise to Her Highness. Is this what he calls 'protection' for Babel? All I see are crackdowns on Babel and mercenaries running wild!

There are some things that should not be said aloud. Especially not by you, Ascalon.

If you don't like it, arrest me.

Let's see if you've improved at all under his tutelage.

The General has taught me that there are more important things than violence.