Aegis

“All children are born equal: That is the motto of the Moral Educational Reform of Institutionalized Tutelage, or the Merit Act for short. It is by far the most sophisticated and influential change writ by the Grand General, for the Merit Act’s purpose is to restructure the entirety of the Nox Caelum academic system from the ground up. What has once been but a means to produce more laborers is now transformed into one of the land’s most prestigious in regards to learning, and I do not say that lightly. It loathes me to admit, but Xeros’s facilities are simply of better quality than the Thaumaturgy’s.

“The contents of the Merit Act itself are thus: every child - regardless of birth or status - will receive the same standard of education as any other. Enrollment into the Imperial Academy is required by law, and it is there they shall be subjected to a course designed to encompass all manner of industries: math, science, engineering, sorcery, economics, and even warfare. From infancy to adulthood, the children of Caelum are nurtured and given free reign to discover their own calling.

“However… if one happens to yield subpar results despite the nation’s support, then their evaluation will be swift. Cold and ruthless. The mediocre are sent to toil away in the factories, and those of even lesser capability are tossed aside to the nation’s most impoverished district—the Slums.”

- An Analysis of the Imperial Institution: Penned by Arch Magus Faust, Ruler of the Augurium Thaumaturgy

———

Satanael

My, did she really need to run away so quickly? How very rude to leave a gentleman all to his lonesome.

Satanael pulls out a slip of paper from his pocket. The writing on it is brisk: ‘Come to the Slums. There’s a shack at the edge: red hood, grey windows. Can’t miss it. We’ll settle things there.’

“So I am to visit where she is most powerful, is it?” he says aloud in amusement. “This shall be interesting.”

With a quick tidy of his person, Satanael departs the bar and makes his way through the backstreets. This time, however, he is not alone; a legion patrol carefully scours the area, and he hears from the distance mentions of a familiar group: the Yurodiviye.

One can imagine what shall happen if they discover a lone soul skulking about this late at night. Satanael has a feeling conversing will do no good; fortunately, the moon’s light does not reach here. He hides under the cover of darkness as the patrol rounds the corner, and he slips on by like the passing wind.

Eventually, after a few more run-ins with the Caelum inspectors, he comes upon a barred-off gate. The metal bars are held tightly with chains, and a sign warning against any further proceeding is plastered squarely in the middle. This must be the entrance to the Slums.

Despite its size, Satanael has no trouble scaling the gate, and he leaps to the other side. But instead of hearing the soft thud of pavement, the man’s boots let out a squelch as he lands atop a muddy ditch. Oh dear me, I am not very proper now, am I? There is no helping it unfortunately, for there is naught a speck of road to be seen. The ground is like that of the forest’s surface - brown, coarse and uneven - and it leads downwards in a steep incline towards the very bottom of the city.

He sighs and laments his unseemly appearance before descending to the Slums below. As he walks, the buildings around him become more deteriorated, more decayed, until there are no buildings at all, and the only surroundings are giant piles of rubble and waste. The smell slowly grows fetid, and the trash heaps only intensify in their filth.

It is hard to believe anyone could live in such conditions, but nonetheless life finds a way. Soon, Satanael comes across a few of the district’s residents. Some huddle around makeshift hovels built from the upper layer’s scraps while others stare transfixed at a crude bonfire fueled by grease and discarded fabric. Regardless of shelter, they all share the same look: tattered clothes, a bony figure, and empty eyes that speak of hopelessness. The sorry lot spare not even a curious look as he passes by; they are only concerned with their own misery.

Suddenly, a tiny hand tugs at his pantsuit, and Satanael looks down to discover a little girl staring right up at him. She is dressed in rags - caked in mud and dirt - yet in her gaze is a sparkle that outshines all else in this miserable landscape. She is not like the other dregs; hers is an innocence unblemished even in squalor.

“Why, hello there little one,” Satanael says with a hum. “What can I do for you on this fine day?”

“Um, um…” she stutters. “Are you Mr. Rose?”

“Why, you’ve found the right person. Indeed I am.”

The girl breaks out into a radiant smile. “Oh! Um, Sarah said to look for you. She said a weird man in a mask would visit us.”

“Ah, yes. I do in fact have an appointment with Madam Sarah. Would you be so kind as to lead me to her?”

“Sure!” she beams.

Satanael cannot help but chuckle before her enthusiasm. “My, you’re an energetic one. What is your name?”

“Lilac! Sarah gave it to me. I like it a lot.”

“Lilac, is it?” He rubs his chin in thought: ‘Lilac’, the flower of purity. How fitting. “And a very pretty name it is. The floor is yours, Lilac. Lead the way.”

With a bright “Okay!”, the little girl scrambles over herself and excitedly pulls on his hand. Together, the two trudge through the Slum’s maze of twists and corners, and Satanael delights in the company of his newfound guide.

Lilac is a very cheerful darling, but he notices something curious: her steps are slow, right leg dragging on the ground without a care as she babbles about her day. The girl must have been born lame, the poor thing.

“Lilac, why are you here?” he asks.

“Hm? I dunno,” she says. “Because it’s my home?”

Satanael shakes his head. “How strange, your home should be in the Imperial Academy dorms. Did your parents not enroll you? To have one’s child receive an education is the only grace Xeros permits to the Slum dwellers.”

“No, I don’t have parents. Sarah takes care of me. But it’s fine because she stays with me and I’m not lonely.” Lilac pauses for a second before correcting herself. “Okay, I’m lonely sometimes, but I have you now so I’m not anymore and that makes me happy!”

He laughs and ruffles her hair. “Well, consider me grateful to be of service. I hope you remain ever as merry, Lilac. If you behave and be a good girl, then I shall bring you to paradise.”

“Paradise? What does paradise look like?”

“Like an endless field of flowers. There, no one is hungry or sad. There is only happiness. Forever. Now, doesn’t that just sound nice? Do you want to go there?”

Lilac gasps and squirms in place as she struggles to contain her excitement. “I do! I do! I want to go to paradise!”

Satanael smiles. “And so you shall, but only when you become a grown-up.”

She sulks and puffs out her cheeks in annoyance. “Why can’t I go now?”

“You are not ready, that is why. Children must be allowed to enjoy life as a child should.”

Satanael is sure of it; her potential is one of a kind. With her blossom will she become one of his greatest masterpieces, but that time will have to wait until her adulthood. He really must remember to come back some day.

“Hm, okay then… oh, what about Sarah? Can she come to paradise?”

“Of course she can. But for now, let us keep this as a secret between us, okay? It will be a fun surprise.”

Lilac nods and puts on a stoic face. “Okay, surprise. Got it.”

“Very good. But I must say, it would be unbecoming of me to allow a lady to drag her foot in the muck. Let’s see… how about this?”

Satanael grabs Lilac’s waist, and he hoists her up to his shoulders. The little girl flails her arms in surprise at first, but eventually she settles into a comfortable position and lets out a little giggle as she holds onto his head.

“Now, isn’t that better?” he chuckles.

“Wow, I’m so tall!” she exclaims, enjoying her new view. “I can even see Sarah’s house from here!”

“Is that so? Then let us be off. Best not to keep the madam waiting.”

Satanael sets off, carefully holding onto Lilac as they make way towards the very edge of the Slums. The pair receive the occasional odd glances from nearby dwellers, some even wary, but their demeanor softens when the girl gives them a passing wave and it becomes evident the masked stranger poses no danger. She must be quite beloved around these parts; one scream from her and no doubt the entire community will come rushing in to slice his throat.

Eventually, they reach their destination and come across a dilapidated shack with a red hood. It somewhat resembles a house, more than the other dumps anyway, and is situated right next to the edge of a massive landfill.

As they approach, the door opens, and a familiar woman reveals herself. Only, her appearance has slightly changed. Her red hair is much darker now, wrapped neatly into a bun rather than a ponytail, and covering her body is a thick grey robe that lends an imposing air. Gone are her warm brown eyes and easy-going demeanor; instead, she crosses her arms and cares not to hide her hostility.

She glares at him, brow furled and mouth wrenched into a snarl, but she quickly stops upon seeing the young Lilac hanging joyfully over his shoulders. The girl jumps off his back and runs over to her, tackling her stomach and wrapping her arms around her as one would a daughter and their mother.

“Sarah! I found him! I found the weird man!” she shouts while latching on tight. “Oh, but he’s really nice. He listened to me and played with me and taught me a lot about para—oops, I’m not supposed to talk about that but he’s really nice! I like him a lot.”

“Good job, dear,” she says, squishing the girl’s cheeks. “Why don’t you head inside? I managed to snag some food while you were away. Help yourself; in the meantime, Mr. Rose and I here have some things to talk about.”

“Okay!”

Lilac dashes inside, leaving the other two alone to stew in a silent tension.

“... I’ve never seen her so energetic,” Sarah says, breaking the peace. “Guess I have you to thank for that.”

“Hehe, I am rather fond of children,” Satanael replies. “How kind of you to send me a guide after so rudely running away, but what would you have done if I truly meant harm? I did not expect for you to be a woman willing to endanger the life of a little girl.”

She scowls and spits on the floor. “Don’t you worry about that. If you tried to harm even a single hair on her head, my people would’ve stuffed you into a grinder.”

“A test, then? To judge my intentions?”

“Hrm, guess you could think of it that way, and you passed with flying colors. Congratulations, but… you have some nerve pulling off that stunt at my bar. Who are you really?”

Satanael breaks out into a wide grin, and he greets the lady with a bow. “Allow me to formally introduce myself. I am Satanael, a traveler so to speak. And you are the illustrious Madam Sarah… or should I say Seraphina, leader of the Yurodiviye? My, your pseudonym is not very subtle. I am surprised you haven’t been discovered yet.”

Seraphina’s face hardens in distaste, but nonetheless she returns his gesture with an acknowledging grunt. “How long have you known?”

“Since the very beginning, my dear. It is why I frequented your establishment all those years ago. At first, I was merely curious about your organization, but as time went on I truly grew to fancy your delightful drinks. And the information… one can gleam much from a bar hosted by the resistance.”

She jumps back and pulls out one of Caelum’s most distinctive inventions: a ranged armament known only as a gun. “So you were a spy.”

“No, No! I assure you not,” Satanael says with a pleading gesture. “On the contrary, I am here to help you.”

“What?”

He lets out a little tut and wags his finger. “If I were truly a spy, do you not think the Grand General’s forces would have already arrested you?”

“... Makes sense.”

“Precisely. Never did I meddle in your affairs, and quite honestly I never intended to. However, certain circumstances have led me to reconsider this relationship of ours. Please do believe me; I come in good faith.”

Seraphina does not seem convinced, initially. But his words eventually get through to her, and she hesitantly lowers her weapon. “Is that so? I must say, you’re quite the mysterious man, Mr. Satanael. I’ve always been a bit wary about you: no history, no background, not even a family member or colleague. I researched all there was to know about my customers, yet no matter how hard I tried there wasn’t a single trace of your existence anywhere. It’s almost like you’re a ghost. And me? I had no problem with that so long as you kept your distance. I even enjoyed your company from time to time.”

“Oh, you flatter me—”

“But,” she interrupts. “This is different. You forced my hand, suddenly confronting me like that. The only reason I’m not having you killed right now is because you don’t look like one of those government pests. You’re not here to rat us out, and you’re not here to hurt us. So speak: what do you want?”

Satanael throws his hands up in mock offense. “Why, have I not made myself clear already? I merely desire to realize your fervent wish: the Grand General’s demise. You are a smart woman, Madam Seraphina. You of all people know best how truly powerless your organization is.”

Her brow twitches in annoyance, and she bares her teeth in a threatening growl, but Satanael continues to goad her: to infuriate her, for that is the only way she will see reason.

“No matter how many factories you raid, no matter how many of these poor, dirty vagrants you gather to your side… in the end, it is all useless. Buildings can be rebuilt. People can be replaced. You cannot harm Xeros in a way that matters.”

Seraphina’s patience wanes so fiercely that her body begins to physically tremble in rage, and yet she does not try to refute him. The truth is hard to bear.

“… I know that,” she says. “Of course I know. To Xeros, our efforts probably seem no different than some little kid’s tantrum. A slight inconvenience. But I—I can’t stop here. I’ve sacrificed far too much, lost many good people, to be where I am now. No, I’ll never give up. Not until I can finally save her from that wretched man’s grasp—”

She stops and brings her hand up to her mouth in surprise, as if she has just revealed a most precious secret.

Her? A woman? Hahaha… ah, so your cause is not nearly so selfless as you tout. How very human.

“Forget it,” Seraphina mumbles, attempting to change the subject. “I get what you’re saying, but don’t think the Yurodiviye’s fallen so low as to trust the words of a stranger. If you want to help us, then prove it. Show me somethin’ worth believing.”

Satanael gleefully rubs his hands together; now he is making progress. “If it is proof you desire, then you’ll be pleased to know I’ve already prepared a most splendid gift. All I ask is that you give me permission to use your door.”

“My… door? I guess, but what do you need it for?”

“You need only observe.”

Satanael slowly walks past the wary woman, her eyes never once straying away from his figure, and he makes his way towards the door’s handle. He grabs it, and he turns the knob, and then a familiar floral scent brushes past. Seraphina’s eyes widen in shock as she takes a whiff of the clean air, but her surprise turns into pure bewilderment as the door opens and reveals a sprawling paradise of flowers.

“Huh, that must be the fabled garden I’ve heard so much about,” she says in awe.

Satanael bids her an amused chuckle before disappearing with a shut. It does not take long before he returns, and he does so with a new companion in hand: a battered, eviscerated corpse. The thing’s features are no longer recognizable; only the clothes remain intact, though it has been stained thoroughly with dark, grimy blood.

“What in the hells is—wait, I recognize that attire.” Seraphina backs away with a horrified expression and aims her gun at his head. “That’s one of my men, you lunatic! Stars, just what did you do to him?”

Satanael stands still as to not aggravate her further and motions for peace. “I simply helped you cull your organization of traitors.”

“Traitors?”

“Indeed. I believe this little article will interest you quite a bit…”

He reaches into his pocket and then throws a blood-soaked booklet at the ground in front of her. She tentatively picks it up, flipping through the contents, and Satanael is met with an amusing sight as denial, anger, grief, and cold acceptance courses through her all at once.

“Hah, so that’s how it is,” she says with a bitter laugh. “The names of my executives, our future plans, and even info about our hideaways… everything. It’s all here, jotted down to the exact damn dot. This bastard was going to sell us out.”

“Quite so,” Satanael replies, wiping his dirty hands with a handkerchief. “I intercepted him just yesterday right as he was escaping to the upper layers. No doubt such information would cause you quite the inconvenience, so I did the favor of handling the matter myself.”

Seraphina looks at him, and she sighs. Her shoulders slump, chest sinking in defeat, and she throws her hair back before rubbing her forehead with a grumble all too tired from the day’s excitement. “Alright, alright. You’ve proved your point. So, what’s this grand plan of yours, then? How are you going to help us?”

“Well, not I specifically.” He claps his hands together and makes a big, dramatic show of inspecting the surrounding before scooting over to her side and lowering his voice to a shush. “What I am about to tell you is of the utmost importance—a secret that can never be exposed even if it would cost your life. Are you prepared to shoulder this burden?”

“If it means ridding this nation of Xeros, I would sell my own soul.”

He laughs. “That’s the spirit. Now, listen closely…”

Satanael waits for a spell as to ensure the tension is at its most palpable, and then he lets loose a shocking revelation.

“Polus will soon invade the city.”

To that, Seraphina promptly collapses onto her knees. “W-What? Are you serious?”

“Yes. Soon, the entirety of the Polus army will descend upon Caligos Imperium. They are fast approaching. It is only a matter of weeks before their arrival, and they shall lay siege the very moment Xeros returns from his trip abroad. The attack will be sudden, but even whilst blindsided the capital will not fall easily. What we require is an opening.”

She stares at him with a quivering lip, voice struggling to find the right words, but eventually she gulps down her disbelief and replies with a dignity befitting of her position. “You want us to cause a riot. Sow disorder, force the legion to spread out their numbers. And while they’re all busy dealin’ with us, the Polus knights’ll already be past the gates.”

“I knew you were a sharp one. Exactly, you know this city more than anyone else. With your aid shall the bells of liberation finally be rung. The people will rejoice. The villains will be slain. And Caelum will finally return to how it always should have: in the hands of the people. What do you say, Madam Seraphina? Will you join us?”

Seraphina opens her mouth and almost accepts his proposal, but she holds back at the last second and looks away with a very curious expression: one of concern. “The Yurodiviye will provide their full support with the invasion… but only on one condition.”

“Say it, and it shall be yours.”

“There’s a woman among Xeros’s forces. I don’t care who you have to kill, but… not her. Please, anyone but her. No matter how hard she tries to resist, I want you to promise me that you’ll do everything in your power to keep her safe.”

He smiles. How adorable her desperation is. “Very well, what is the name of this fine lady?”

She hesitates, and Satanael sees in her eyes a tenderness far beyond the likes of simple affection.

“Her name is Luxanne, chief Praetor and second-in-command of the Grand General’s legion.”