Fable - Ask Hope

[Remi Useda]

ON THE ROAD​

A stranger in the road. His hands held up. Palms open.

"I mean you no harm," he said. "Remi Useda."

A stranger who offered to change everything.

* * * * *​

Another mission completed. Much like all the others the Academy doled out to its up and coming Initiates, comprised of violence or threats thereof. Remi had once heard it said among his people, the Useda, that the Anirians wore iron gauntlets over their mouths, meaning that they in all cases resorted to force first and words second. Since his own abduction and subjugation into the Dreadlord system, Remi had come to know that there was much truth to this sentiment.

Often he wondered how different he might have been, had he not been taken. There was a numbness now to blood and suffering, for to see it in such ready quantities was to rob it of what weight it once held. The warriors of the Useda people had all of them a certain immutable look in their eyes; Remi saw it in his own, mirrors and water reflections telling a harsh truth. You didn't know what you were capable of until it was too late.

Now, on the journey back to the Academy, Remi met the stranger.

He was there on the road, alone, apparently waiting for him. An adolescent, maybe only a year or two older than Remi himself. Sandy-blonde hair and a kind look to his face, a pleasant smile—when he said he meant no harm, Remi could easily believe it. As easily as he believed that, if the stranger had in fact meant him harm, he could have killed him without much effort.

The stranger gestured that they go off the road. They did. Distant into the forest they went, until they found a suitably secluded grove, with trees all on one side and a long, downward sloping hill on the other, a stream at the base of it. A peaceful site for a talk.

"How do you know my name?" Remi asked.

The stranger offered a reassuring smile. Gestured for Remi to take a seat but Remi declined, so they each stayed standing. "I hope I didn't frighten you with that. And I will tell you, of course, but first allow me to introduce myself to make things fair and even. My name is Jules Lejeune, and I come from the College of Elbion."

"Elbion," Remi said, mildly puzzled but more so intrigued.

"Yes. I am a student there. I'll confess to being a little...catered to, perhaps, because of the position of my family, but I certainly do not allow this to be an excuse for sloth in my studies and efforts."

"You are a long way from home."

"As are you, I might imagine. Though, given the nature of the Useda, that distance changes with time, no?"

Remi nodded. Then, his heart hanging on the answer, he asked, "Have you...spoken to them? Is that how you know my name?"

"No, I'm afraid not. I'm sorry that I do not come bearing news of them. But, if you would hear it, I can offer you what is perhaps the next best thing."

He was disappointed, of course (though, dismaying in its own right, not as much as he thought he should have been), but Remi remained keen on what the other young man had to say. "And what is that?"

Jules drew in a quiet breath through his nose. He came to silently clasp his hands together. At last he spoke, "Are you aware that the Academy sent a few Initiates north to Elbion for a time? A couple of 'exchange programs,' they were called."

"Yes. They were older Initiates." He thought on the names, familiar but not overly so with the upper classmen. "Zael, Delaney, Edric, Kristen, Henk, Noel, Davi...maybe some others? Yes, I am aware of it."

Jules slowly nodded. "Do you know what they all had in common?"

Remi was silent.

Jules looked down, visibly disturbed in recalling. Visibly disturbed at seeing it, here and now. "Their eyes. They, all of them, had eyes far older than their youth. Eyes that had seen too much. Beauty, brightness, hope...these were gone from them, no matter if they tried to conceal it or not. And...my god...it is truly heartbreaking to even imagine all that has been done to them, all that they have been made to do."

When their gaze met again, Remi knew that Jules meant it all for him too. For him and every other Initiate that had ever been.

"I want to offer you a way out."

That old ingrained fear, near instinctual, crawled up from the deep recesses of Remi's chest and clutched with cold, slender fingers his heart. "I...do not know precisely what you mean."

Jules caught on to it, sensing that fear immediately. "I know why you return to the Academy of your own accord. I know why you do not simply run away, when the opportunities are ample. I do not in any way think less of you for this. Your situation is...unbelievably cruel. Perhaps the greatest, longest running villainy ever perpetrated upon Arethil. Vel Anir is nothing short of a crucible of horrors." Jules spoke softly now, but each word carried tremendous weight. "But all you need, all you've ever needed, is someone to help you."

Remi put it together. Spoke breathlessly, "You mean to see me to Elbion?"

"In no uncertain terms, yes."

He didn't know when he'd done it, but his gloved hands were on his head, palms pressed against his forehead. He ran them back slowly over his hair. Many times had Remi thought of running away, trying to escape, even before the sweeping changes of the Revolution. He should never have been there to begin with! Yet that old fear was a more powerful shackle than any construction of iron. He feared that he himself might be caught and killed, of course, but he also feared reprisals against the Useda if and when they roamed into Anirian lands. The latter was perhaps unlikely, but the former a certainty—at least in the days of old, before the Anirians decided to shed each other's blood.

"I could just choose to be exiled," Remi said.

"If you even get that choice," Jules pushed back mildly. Not confrontational, but concerned. "Who is to say that you will live to see it, when your masters throw you with wanton abandon into peril after peril?"

The fear was yet persuasive. "Aren't you here? In peril?"

"Because I choose to be, Remi. Because I choose to be. That is the difference. Yes, this whole clandestine affair is sponsored by the College, but I volunteered for it. Heh, more so than volunteered, I was the one who spearheaded the formation of the effort, the privilege of my birth certainly helping. When I saw them, those Initiates from the exchange programs, I...I just had to do something. Often I have been commended on being rather mature for my age, and so I was allowed this, but truly it isn't about me in the slightest. It's about you. You and whoever else you can save, Remi."

"Whoever else...?"

"Yes," Jules said. He squeezed his clasped hands a touch nervously. "I know that the safest course of action you could possibly take would just be to depart with me this instant, to simply vanish and leave no trace. But, Remi...surely there are other Initiates who might be willing to hear this offer? Certainly there are those who are too far gone, too indoctrinated or too warped by the malice inflicted on them or too cowed by fear, and it is they who would give you over to the relevant authorities in an instant. But you are well-positioned to know who might be willing to at least entertain this chance. It has to be you, Remi. It has to be. Because you are Useda. You were never supposed to be there in that horrid Academy. You are the only one I could be sure of to even approach." A wan smile, then finally the answer to his initial question, "Elbion maintains a 'friend' within the Academy who gave me your name. That is how I knew."

Remi's hands found their way back down to his sides. "This is...a lot to consider."

"I know it."

A quiet moment came. Down the hill to the one side of the grove, the stream flowed.

"I do not care for the lies of the Republic. They will hunt us down if we leave. Will...will we even be safe in Elbion?"

"Once we are there, yes. For all their bluster, Vel Anir would not dare to act against Elbion when the cost would be so high—we are not some woeful neighbor of theirs so easily bullied. The College itself is a veritable bastion of magical protection, perhaps as impregnable as any such structure can be upon Arethil. Yet even if it were not so, if Vel Anir were to attempt a political assassination within the walls of Elbion or the College it would be tantamount to a declaration of war."

Remi swallowed. Looked out over the downslope of the hill at the expanse of the land. All of it had once been his. Freedom had once been his.

Seeing him begin to truly consider it, Jules said quietly. Earnestly. "You're a human being, Remi. You don't have to let them do this to you. You don't have to let them turn you into nothing more than a weapon."

Remi bit his bottom lip. The protests in his mind were unceasing, the old master of fear yet there, but he—perhaps at long last—fought back against it.

He pinched his eyes shut. Tormented.

Then let out a sigh, harsh and sudden, giving himself over to this madness. "I will do this."

Jules smiled. Came forward and gave him a brief embrace. "Wonderful."

And he told him the plan.

Jules' final words in parting, "Save who you can, Remi."

* * * * *​

And Remi renewed his trek back to the Academy. There was some conspiring to be done upon his return.

 

[Remi Useda]

THE TALK AT THE ACADEMY​

A few days passed before Remi even attempted to make any sort of move. Carefully he considered his options.

Initially he thought about asking each Initiate that he had in mind individually. One on one, much like his talk with Jules. But this he came to rule out as too dangerous. It would take far too long, for each individual talk there would be another chance to be caught, and at any point if he had misjudged someone's willingness to escape (or at least to keep quiet) then his sedition could well be reported to the Proctors by them. So Remi decided that it would be best to gather everyone on vague terms and hold his talk once, revealing his intentions only then.

Next came figuring out just who to invite. Jules had made it sound easy; and while, yes, it was easier for him than it was for Jules, the task was no less delicate.

Initiates like Edric, Ralene, and Noel were right out; they were Dreadlords among Dreadlords, wholly abandoned of their humanity and given over to the blood-streaked fate intended for them by the Academy and Vel Anir at large. None of such character would ever have any thought of running away, and doubtless, if they were assigned to hunt and kill Remi and whomever else in the worst case scenario, they would carry out the order without reservation.

Right out as well were the truly mad or cruel Initiates, those of Bull's or Charon's ilk. And again, right out were the schemers, Initiates like Liliana or Everleigh, for secrets were their trade and benefit their goal, and in Remi's estimation if a schemer thought that he or she could gain more from reporting his sedition than participating in it, then they would.

These three categories eliminated a large swath of the total number of Initiates to speak with. It was as easy as the task was going to get, only because those categories were patently obvious to disregard. Refining the choices he had left would prove far more difficult.

Because the choices he had left were so few indeed. Not even enough to fill up a standard-sized classroom in Building A. Certainly this wasn't helped by the oppressive atmosphere the Academy maintained before the Revolution, wherein every Initiate was constantly on guard and revealed perhaps only by accident any little detail about themselves (or their magic). The year of relative laxness in the wake of the Republic's rise had done little to ameliorate this. While it was trivial to tell if someone was dedicated to being a Dreadlord, if they were mad or cruel, or if they were a schemer, it would of course be a series of gambles based on precious little information if an Initiate might be open to escaping Vel Anir forever.

Careful considerations to make. Remi had thought Kristen Pirian, the "noble" girl admitted to the Academy with highly unorthodox lateness of age, might have been a good choice, given just how utterly out of place and shocked she had been in her first year. Recent changes in her demeanor banished this thought, and further reflection upon just how tied nobles are to the society from which they hailed made it a poor one in the first place. Zael Castomir had a reputation for being rebellious and insubordinate. A perfect choice, so one might think. Yet he in more recent times had been making it no secret that he intended to join the Guard, "to give them exactly what they paid for" as he put it. Castomir wouldn't have reported him, Remi was sure, but neither would he have joined him.

Eventually, Remi whittled down his choices to a select few. Satisfied, he in a single day either slipped them notes or whispered to them surreptitiously to meet him in his room after lights out to "discuss something important." Vagueness was his potential weapon against the Proctors, curiosity the potential allure to attract the chosen few to actually hear him out. Hopefully said curiosity would overcome whatever caution might stay them.

The time came.

Silver moonlight painted sparse brushstrokes in the austere confines of Remi's small room in the dormitory. One by one those who had been enticed came, each more surprised by the last to see Remi along with the others present. In total, they were less than a dozen. Practically...maybe that was for the best, because it had proven cramped in his room with what number he did have.

Among them were Flavien, the boy with the biggest ego in the whole of the Academy (but perhaps with a heart that could be salvaged); Ambrosie, a girl who, before the Revolution had come, actually had been punished in the Box for notably saving a fellow Initiate's life; Sieglilly, the armless girl from an upper class whom the Proctors constantly belittled for being "deficient"; and Gosham, a direct and blunt boy (who was rather massive in size for his age) but one who maintained a keen sense of reason and sharp rationality.

Remi did not waste time.

A small breath, and he spoke.

"I have something important to tell you all."

And to them he relayed Jules's offer. Escape.

Freedom.

 

[Remi Useda]

There was a moment of quiet following. One, Remi hoped, full of favorable consideration.

Flavien dashed that hope as only he could. He clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Said, "Can't be real."

Ambrosie, begrudgingly, contributed to his train of thought, "What if it was a test? The Proctors...I don't know...trying to see if you're loyal or not, Remi."

"Imagine what they'll do to you, to us, if they find out about this," Sieglilly said, trying (and failing) to conceal her worry.

"It is real," Remi countered gently. Confidently. "I could tell you about the seal of the Maester's Order Jules presented to me. I could tell you about his accent and his dress. What I cannot tell you about is his tone, his face, the look in his eyes. You had to be there. He was not Anirian, nor was he in the employ of one. There was not a single deceptive bone in his body."

Ambrosie looked over the others. Lamented in a way that was half-facetious, half-not-so-much. "Ahhh...well. This 'Jules' has terrible timing. Where was he a year ago? Two years ago? Kress, five, six, seven years ago before...you know...all of this."

Gosham crossed his arms. "And we're only a couple years away from graduation. We'll get a choice—"

"Will you?" Remi said, looking to the bigger boy. Gentle, again, like Jules. He did not want to be confrontational, but he wanted to present this option in the best possible light to his gathered peers. "After all that we have been through, do you trust our current masters any more than our erstwhile ones?"

"Things have changed, Remi," Flavien said, saying it as if it were the most obvious fact in the world. "Not that I wouldn't have aced the old graduation trial anyway, but this new one is sure to be a breeze. How can it not be, with softies like Proctor Melina and Proctor Fernando around now? Pah. Cake."

"It might not be..." Sieglilly said, eyes trailing down.

"She's right," Remi said, capitalizing on it.

"How do you know?" Gosham said, looking more for confirmation than to be adversarial. "The oldest class hasn't even gone through this new graduation yet. No one knows what it's going to be like."

"Answer this for me: how are new Initiates arriving at the Academy?" Remi said.

No one spoke for a moment. All of them knew the implication, that the Academy was still abducting children from the lands of Vel Anir and bringing them here. Ostensibly, they were all being "freely given," but who could actually be sure? The people who spoke such assurances were not so far removed from those who had tortured all of them without reservation a year ago.

Some things wouldn't change. Some things would never change. And, to Sieglilly's worry, what if it was so for graduation? What if they were still to be pitted against one another, blood to be spilled?

Ambrosie, having grown a bit nervous from the silence, interjected an offhand joke, "Pff, ask Princess Pirian about that."

She got a few laughs from that. Remi kept his cool.

"Who here truly trusts the word of the Republic? Who here believes in their supposed benevolence, when they could have simply let us all be free upon taking power?"

 

[Zaire]

“They still haven’t apologized,” Zaire interjected. An interesting statement to make, but it was true. The revolution had happened and things had been implemented for change. Of course, the most horrendous got taken out immediately, like a gruesome graduation practice. And punishments were less extreme. But as far as Zaire knew, no one had apologized for any of it. The headmaster had said nothing, the proctors had said nothing, and the republic? Even they had said nothing.

They wanted to wipe it all under the rug and pretend that their history of pain and suffering wasn’t as bad as it really was.

And Remi was making a good point. Why did they still have to be at this academy? More importantly, even if they were no longer abducting children, the incentive to giving away a child with any sort of magic was hard to ignore. The republic said there were choices, and while that may have politically be true, there was a lot that wasn’t changing because money spoke volumes.

Zaire knew that his minor house was appreciating the funds. He also knew that compared to others, especially those gathered here, he would likely always be on a mission that was deemed “low-level” and when graduation happened, he really would have a choice— but only because of his last name.

“My dad said Vel Anir can’t uphold it’s promise to grant all that cash to the dreadlords that want to stay in the reserves. But he also said a lot of dreadlords aren’t going into the reserves because they don’t know how to relax anymore.” He paused. “Future dreadlords might be able to handle the peacetime and like being left alone, but then the stipend for them will be small, so they’ll have to join the guard. Not like someone wants to buy cookies from a dreadlord. It’s a cycle. They’re tricking us.”

He agreed with Remi, whereas everyone else seemed to have their grieveances, but there was one thing he couldn’t do. Leave. He wouldn’t ever leave Vel Anir, his family was here. He then looked at Remi, the only one who seemed incline to follow through on running away. His red eye glimmered, and a hand went up to touch the pale star-like scar. It was hurting.

“If you guys really want to run away, I’ll help.” His magic was hardly anything to admire. He’d become a third-level dreadlord at most and would stay at that rank forever. Another thing the republic failed to fix and would never fix. But in cases like this, having someone like Zaire to increase their aptitude in every category? It was worth more than his weight in gold.

Remi Useda

 

[Remi Useda]

It heartened Remi that Zaire spoke up in support. A good point made as well for those present who might be considering the laughable idea of the "reserves." From what he said in closing, he wouldn't be escaping with Remi and whomever else, but his aid might tip the scales of those balancing on indecisiveness.

"It was the least that they could do," Remi said, "and still the Republic has not apologized. They will not liberate any one of you, because their morals stop where their pragmatism begins. You are nothing to them aside from how many men and elves you can kill with your gift."

Was it not all they ever trained on doing?

Flavien, then. "It's what I'm good at, you know. If that's the measure, I'll have a comfy home here." He tossed his hands up dismissively. "And what would be waiting for us in Elbion, eh? We'd pretty much be cooped up in the College, scared to go out anywhere for fear of the Anirian boogeymen. It'd be a prison, basically."

"They don't hunt down runaway Dreadlords anymore, Flav," Ambrosie said, with a tone that might as well have punctuated her sentence with a condescending duh.

"Yes they do," Sieg said, almost shocked that Ambrosie could suggest otherwise.

"No they don't!"

"Then why is anyone still here??"

Remi held up his hands in a bid for peace between the two girls. "There are many uncertainties. But suppose the Republic does still hunt deserters. The wager of your life is this: will you be safer enduring two more years of compelled missions and final graduation here? Or will you be safer within the College of Elbion? That is what you must decide."

Gosham, then, brought up the same point Remi himself had presented to Jules. "We have made it this far, and graduation is soon. Two years is nothing compared to all that's behind us. Why do something which could prove so foolish when, if we really wanted to leave, we could just choose exile?"

And Remi, having thought about it in the intervening time, gave his answer. "Because this is the one way you can have what has been denied to you all this time: agency. In choosing exile, you are consenting to be subject to your masters here in Vel Anir forever, because you have given them the final say; you are leaving on their terms, and only at their grace. It is a pitiful state in which to spend the rest of your life, knowing that you prostrated yourself to them until the very end. I would say: do not go to your grave with this regret. If you have any wish at all to leave, do so on your terms, so that even if you are hunted, you may have that pride in your final moments."

A small glance towards Zaire. Remi hoped that in so scorching the option of exile, he did not by accident offend his apparent choice to stay and join into the military.

Zaire

 

[Zaire]

Zaire was quiet, thinking about what everyone else was saying.. It was… rough, to say the least. Because all of them were making good points for themselves. Flavian was good at killing elves, would probably decimate orcs just as easy. And there were plenty of uncertainties on what would happen if one were to become a deserter. Would they be hunted down? For how long? And the paranoia, gods, the paranoia. He always had to be on guard, no matter what, the last name Glaive offered no protection in these walls.

It was through having that last name Glaive that Zaire wouldn’t want to leave the academy. He was a team, a total unit with Dakarai. The twins were near unstoppable, especially with Zaire buffing him up in every way possible. Besides, his father had been a commander and his mother was once a templar. Fighting was in his blood! Even if his small stature of five feet five inches suggested otherwise. Of course, no one in the academy really took him as a threat.

Just another support to stand behind the heavy hitters. Really, not a bad place to be. Zaire didn’t care much for the spotlight. He wasn’t sure how he would feel in the guard in the first place.

His eyes rested on Remi’s face. One red, one black.

“When that upperclassmen girl went missing, they hardly cared to look for her.” Zaire said. “Jasmine, I think? You know, the one who was constantly talking to rocks and squirrels? I think they sent a bunch of kids younger than us to try and find her. Came back with a soggy Gryphon plushie.” There was a pause as he thought of Geoffrey, Marcella’s new friend, and then he looked over at Remi. The pause continued before he looked over at the two sole female initiates. “You two probably wouldn’t be missed.” He then looked at Flavian and then at Gosham. “Maybe you guys wouldn’t, either.” His gaze landed back on Remi. “I think they’d miss you, though. What if… you go first, just to see if they, well, yanno, care about it or not?

“If they don’t care? Then you four would be safe. And I’d be able to get you guys out again. ‘Sides, if they catch Academy kids running off, I’m sure they’d be plenty happy to let us all know what happens if we try to do the same. Then we know for sure that they care.”

Remi Useda

 

[Remi Useda]

Flavien, Ambrosie, Sieglilly, Gosham, and the others content to remain quiet all exchanged glances at Zaire's proposal. He was right—so far as anyone knew—about Jasmine; there was some perfunctory effort put into the search, but not in any way a lot. Was it a fluke? Was Jasmine absconding deemed an acceptable loss? Or did they actually get her and keep it secret?

Zaire's proposal offered them little risk. Like he said, they could all just wait and see.

Flavien smirked. Shrugged his hands in a laissez-faire fashion. "Well. Doesn't matter all that much to me if any of you stay or go. Personally, I'd root for you going, only because while I know I'd beat all of you in the graduation event, uhhhhh, the more of you there are the more of a bother it'd be, ya know?"

Ambrosie rolled her eyes at all of that, then said, "Yeah. Sounds smart, Zaire. It's like...probing the fences."

Gosham added his remarks. "This isn't for me, but I hope you make it, Remi."

Sieg, head down, voice small as if against everything she might have liked she had no choice but to say, "I can't go either. But...good luck, Remi."

None of the other Initiates voiced much interest in potentially leaving, and so, by Remi's lights, it was only Ambrosie as a maybe. Jules might well be disappointed, but it was the best that Remi could do. All that was left for him was to hope that they did not come to regret their decision.

Or that he did not come to regret his.

The other Initiates filed out of his room, the door shutting in their wake.

Remi sighed. Looked to Zaire. "So it will be only myself, then."

And then, brightening, he added, "It is a brave thing that you are doing."

Zaire

 

[Zaire]

“If it weren’t for my brother, maybe I’d go with you,” Zaire said with a shrug. Perhaps there were better points he should have made, now all of sudden, another event came to mind. On a mission against elves, two upperclassmen had fought and killed another, an initiate on their side. The causalities were great considering the cause was a “disagreement” among two of the boys.

The same could still be said for them. Plenty of the initiates were still crazy, stab-happy weapons. All they had was to tell someone ‘no’ and watch an initiate they had grown up with try to kill them.

Zaire was glad that he, unlike all the others, actually had a sibling to suffer with him. Even if he wasn’t born with magic like Dakarai, at least now they could stay together. It made the academy far more bearable. Even more than their last name holding a bit of weight when it came to minor nobility.

“Brave? You think so, Remi?” Zaire asked. “Huh. Dunno if I’d call myself brave.” His face was fairly blank, then again, when didn’t he often regarded all other initiates with a deadpan look? “Do you think you’re being brave?”

Remi Useda

 

[Remi Useda]

"It is not for anyone to judge whether they themselves are brave or not."

Remi could think anything of this attempt to finally escape the grave misfortune he had fallen into, but what would his people think? What would his family think? What would they think, if they knew all of the thoughts and fears which had kept him from trying for so long?

This was not his home. It never would be. And yet, he had let them own him for nearly a decade. He was not a child for all of those years.

Whether this were an act of bravery or something else, the time had come to try.

To Zaire he looked with an inquisitive eye, then. And he brought the conversation back around. "He will not go? Your brother?"

Zaire

 

[Zaire]

Sometimes, and only sometimes, when Remi spoke, Zaire felt like he was wiser beyond his years. Maybe it was because he wasn’t really Anirian, or the fact that when he spoke, there was a way he pieced together words that made everything sound… older. Remi wasn’t like many of the other academy kids, that was for sure.

“Dakarai? Do you want me to ask him?” Zaire asked, his eyebrows raising up a bit. He hadn’t even thought about asking Dakarai, if anything, he had planned on not telling Dakarai what he was doing. He had a feeling that maybe he’d join in, but mostly, he thought his brother might try to stop them. Dakarai didn’t like academy life sure, but mom and dad…

“I don’t think either of us would leave.” Zaire concluded. “Of course, we could die, but, as long as we’re together, there’s nothing that could stop us. More than that, though, it’s family.” There was a pause from the dark skinned initiate as he thought that statement over. He understood why Remi would go to Elbion, because of Jules being that transit, but there was another thought on his mind. “When you get to Elbion are you going to try to go back… home? Or to your family at least?”

Remi Useda

 

[Remi Useda]

More than that, though, it's family.

"I understand," Remi said. And yes, he most certainly did. It was refreshing, though. Very refreshing to hear a Dreadlord Initiate, those of the most ruthless and cold-blooded stock that the Anirians had to offer, give family as his reason for staying. There were many in this hellish Academy who never uttered the word. "It would be best, then, not to ask him."

Then it came around to him, and Remi paled slightly at Zaire's question. This was the pointed fear he had harbored for years, the one he had never told anyone and the one which robbed countless hours of sleep from him.

What better time than now? In what better company to finally voice it aloud?

"I...do not know. I tell myself that staying at the College for a time will keep them safe from possible Anirian reprisals. But..."

Remi looked away, off and to the left. His lips pursed, this thin line disrupted only by a single squirm in the moment before he said it at last.

"...this is just another version of the same lie that I have always told myself. I am...fearful...that my family will not accept me back."

Zaire

 

[Zaire]

Zaire nodded his head, as if he understood, but really, he didn’t. He could sympathize with Remi, understand that family was such a tricky subject and word— one that was never explained in the academy, yet somehow there was an unspoken rule to never speak of it. But both Remi and Zaire had experienced family, could remember their family’s faces. The initiates taken at five or younger, could they even picture what their parents looked like?

And in truth, deep down, Zaire knew that the only bond he could trust was family. It made the paranoia many initiates felt at night nearly nonexistent for Zaire. Another truth deep within his core was that no matter what he did, his family would always love him. He was certain there were few things he could do that would make his parents turn their back to him.

So no, he couldn’t comprehend the fear of not being welcomed back home with open arms. He always couldn’t comprehend the fear of going back to an even worse fate: one with violence.

“That sucks, man,” Zaire said, rather lamely. What else was there to say? It did suck.

“Maybe Elbion has better things in store. You can always start a new family. Or get a few cats at least.” Despite trying to seem positive and cheerful, even Zaire understood that he was falling short of his intent. He looked off to the side. “What do you mean by… Anirian reprisals, Remi?” Zaire knew the words, the definitions of them, but he had only heard it a few times. What they truly meant was unknown to the initiate.

Remi Useda

 

[Remi Useda]

This was not territory upon which Initiates often tread. Such was their world. But Zaire tried, and if it were not for his brother Dakarai and having that connection he would have surely floundered more. But he did try, and that was good enough. Unlike the more murderous among them, he meant no ill—gave him hopeful wishes, even.

Anirian reprisals. Remi did not need to think long to find how best to express it.

He gestured toward the door, in the wake of whom he was about to speak. "Sieglilly from the senior class once confided in me while we were on a mission. I do not know why, yet...I found it heartwarming that she trusted me. I ask that you keep the same confidence that I have."

He took a little breath. The story was horrid enough when he heard it from Sieg's own mouth.

Then he began.

"It is no secret that many of the old Proctors, and still some of the new ones, detest Sieglilly. It does not matter to them how strong her telekinesis may be—for her lack of arms, these Proctors will always see her as deficient. There is one, though—whose name Sieg did not share with me—who takes a perverse pleasure in torturing her. Not through pain upon her person, but..."

Remi looked off, lips pulled tight.

"...with each significant failure of a test or mission, this Proctor cuts off another finger from the hand of Sieglilly's mother, and shows it to her. This Proctor's magic is good at doing this undetected. Her mother does not even know the truth of what is happening, and believes herself to be haunted or cursed. If Sieglilly does not graduate and join the military, this Proctor has threatened to outright kill her mother."

He had been hoping she would accept his offer to run, but...her fear for her mother's life was just too great.

"That is what I mean by Anirian reprisals. This, or something like this, upon my own people."

Zaire

 

[Zaire]

Zaire said nothing.

Seconds passed and somehow it had been a minute.

The reason for why he said nothing for so long was because the words wouldn’t come. Or, no, there were words, plenty of words trying to cram their way outside of his throat, outside of his mouth. It’s not that Zaire never thought Vel Anir to have a particular cruelty to it, especially after seeing places like Alliria or Oban. It’s not that Zaire had never heard of horror stories.

Initiates going back home after graduation to see that it had been destroyed, parents dead for hiding their magically gifted children, and so many others.

Why did this one cause bile to rise up?

Because of family. Because Zaire knew if his mother were to suffer because of him, for his failures, then he’d… gods knew what Zaire would be able to do. He understood why Sieg didn’t seem keen on leaving, despite his harsh reminder of what the proctors thought of her. And it also meant he couldn’t imagine what they may due to Useda clan, especially because… well, Anirians had never had any trouble pointing fingers at others slightly different than them.

Zaire frowned deeply, dark brows furrowed together.

“What if… the Academy thought you to be dead? Or kidnapped?” He completely ignored Sieg’s tale of misery and woe. He wouldn’t speak on it, feeling disgusted that he had felt grateful the same fate wasn’t placed on his mother. Instead, he could put his focus on Remi and his escape, something much easier to swallow.

Remi Useda