level_act33side_03_beg

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.

And by the looks of things, the mercenaries aren't the only ruthless cutthroats around here.

Stop dodging if you dare! I'll prove to Their Highnesses that I can beat you!

Too slow, Manfred.

Wai—

Argh!

You're dead. Again.

Ugh...

Get up.

Don't... need you... to tell... me...

Footwork, Manfred. And Ascalon... stop going for his head all the time?

This is the most effective way. It's his own fault for getting hit.

If he can't dodge it, he has to learn to take it.

*sigh*...

You're right, Ascalon. But why did you stop? We didn't tell you to.

I... I can take it, Your Highness. It's not over yet!

Hmph.

Huh? I hit... Your Highness! I hit—

Did you, now?

Let me down, Ascalon!

Don't hurt him, Ascalon.

Manfred's long limbs flail helplessly in the air, while his torso is tied to a wooden stake.

H-How did you do it so fast?!

Got my inspiration from the way Her Highness sews.

Manfred wriggles to break free, but the more he squirms, the tighter the ropes hug him.

He cannot understand how Ascalon can be so strong and fast, when she looks as thin and frail as him.

Let—me—down!

Look, I won again!

Ascalon raises her weapon high and grins victoriously at the twin sovereigns.

Ascalon has gotten a lot more cheerful.

What are you thinking?

They're different from the other Sarkaz children.

We can change them, but how can we reach all the children of Kazdel?

Give me time. Babel can do it.

Time is a luxury.

I know. But education is not something that can be rushed. What we're doing is leaving hope for the next generation.

The flame of hope will never go out, as long as a single teacher in Kazdel remains willing to share with these children the vision of a beautiful future.

Theresa casts her eyes towards the two children, full of hope for the future.

Well? Are you going to admit defeat or not?

No! L-Let me down! We're not done!

I'll let you down when you admit defeat.

No way!

I'll unbind you, Manfred.

Thank you, Your Highness... W-woah, why am I flying?! Y-Your Highness!

Hehe.

...Hehe.

Alright, that will do, Theresa. Let him down.

You've improved. But Theresis hasn't taught you everything he knows.

You were always the faster learner, but ever since you left the general, you've been nothing but unadjusted and lost. He is disappointed in your departure, by the way.

I may not be as good with words as you are, but at least I don't just ignore the insults against Her Highness Theresa.

Do you really know why Her Highness is so dedicated to Babel's ideals? Do you really know why the General hasn't openly denounced the attacks on Babel?

You should have talked to him, rather than turning your back on him.

I turned <i>my</i> back? You're the ones who turned your backs on Her Highness and the voices of so many.

It's Theresis who has turned a blind eye to the mercenaries' acts of violence and the damage they've caused Babel! This much I know.

The General has allowed it precisely because he can't ignore the voices of the majority.

If the fate of the Sarkaz is doomed to fall into the abyss, what's wrong with using more effective means to prevent it?

So that's what you truly think.

It's what most of us in Kazdel think.

It's not that I don't trust Her Highness... anyone can promise a better future. But we can't ignore the reality before it.

Isn't it crueler to use violence to force a child to shake hands and make peace with the murderer who just killed his father?

Say whatever you want.

I'll keep my hands off the Military Commission. But if you try to act through the mercenaries...

Then my job is simple.

No more mercenaries, no more problems.

Ascalon!

...If you have the time.

Go visit Her Highness. I've never seen her so tired.

A puff of mist is the only sign that she was ever there.

Manfred looks down and wipes away the blood slowly seeping out of his chest.

He sighs and turns into the empty street, only to spot the deceased mercenary's effects.

Someday... we will all understand.

It was never Her Highness or the General who made the choice.

Who's there?

He hesitates before the door.

It has been a busy day at this old, ramshackle house, from the 'Teacher' to the multiple visitors.

Who could it be outside the door?

Has father finally returned? And if so, what should he say?

He has learned so much from the 'Teacher' that he wants to share with his father, whose visits back home have become less and less frequent.

He takes a deep breath, collects his mind, puts on a calm face, and opens the door.

Hello...?

Good evening.

You're... er, can I help you, sir?

You know who I am?

No sir, but I know the uniform of the Military Commission.

Just a routine inspection. Do you recognize these items?

This is... my father's—!

There have been some disturbances in the city, and I'm afraid your father... I'm so sorry.

Wh-Where did you find them? Was there...?

There was nothing else left at the scene. I'm sorry.

What's your name?

...Odda.

If you need any help...

No... no, I'm very grateful that you brought these back.

It's been a long time since I last saw him... this is enough.

I don't have to wait anymore... He's not coming back...

Do you have family? Or friends you can count on?

I can take care of myself. Besides, we see things like this every day in this city, no?

I-I'm sorry I gushed, sir. I just feel like I know you, somehow...

I'm sure you're busy. I won't keep you any longer.

My condolences.

The door closes. Manfred can hear the sound of sobbing coming from behind the door, but he doesn't feel sorrow. Not anymore.

Odda's right; he's seen this too many times. Yet he remembers this is not what the city was meant to be.