"You keep going… you must keep going. For your brother. For yourself. For the honor of your family. You have no lack of reasons."
Khaelis Kaiwen. Youngest son of House Kaiwen. A noble house, military, of the Arcane high ranks. Honor.
— It seems it won't take long… — he murmured to himself. — I truly wished it wasn't necessary, but this burden has fallen upon my shoulders.
The cybernetic locomotive, powered by arcane energy, tore across the horizon with metallic vibrations. Khaelis traveled in the wing reserved for the upper class, reclining in his seat, eyes turned to the ceiling illuminated by the wagon's pulsing lights.
— Hey, mister! You, the one with the little sword!
A childish voice broke the silence. A small, dirty girl held a basket full of homemade sweets, calling to him insistently.
— You have really nice clothes, mister. I bet you're rich, right? Huh? Aren't you? Please, buy some sweets? They're cheap, I swear!
She didn't belong in that class, but that hardly mattered.
— Hm… of course, child. Just don't let them see you here. — Khaelis raised his hand. Between his fingers, five coins of the Arcane high tier, far beyond the value of the sweets. — I want two.
The girl trembled at the sight of the sum.
— M-mister… that's too much! I can't accept this. They're not worth nearly that… you must be mistaken.
— Hah, don't worry. With this amount, you won't need to sell for weeks… perhaps months. Just don't let anyone see you here. Go back to your guardian quickly, filthy little child… — he said, raising his nose and closing his eyes in a snobbish pose, even though his actions contradicted the appearance.
— Th-thank y—
Her words were cut short.
— THERE SHE IS! CATCH THE BRAT!
— HAHAHA! GOT YOU, LITTLE THIEF!
Two guards appeared beside an elderly woman, clearly a member of the upper class. "Thief," they called her. Clearly, Khaelis wasn't the first man the girl had approached.
— N-no, please! — the child stepped back, frozen.
The guards advanced aggressively, when suddenly Khaelis stepped in front of her.
— Oh… forgive my relative. She's mischievous and ill-mannered. I'm willing to pay for any damage she has caused. I beg forgiveness from all of you. — He bowed slightly, his head lowered in a posture of submission.
— A-ah, of course, Lord Kaiwen! — one of the guards answered nervously. — We didn't know she was your… relative. Our deepest apologies for the misunderstanding.
The woman raised her chin firmly:
— But this girl stole from me. I demand to recover the value I lost.
Khaelis kept his cold expression.
— I see. I believe this will suffice.
He raised his hand, handing the woman an exchange note, equivalent to mystical objects of immense value. The old woman's eyes widened. She recognized it immediately. She swallowed hard.
— H-hah… of course, of course. It is enough, yes. Thank you kindly for your… cooperation, young man. But next time, keep your little demon under control.
The woman walked away with a smug smile, convinced she had gained the upper hand. Khaelis, however, kept his head lowered, as if in an inferior position. But why? Someone of such high rank lowering himself so?
The locomotive slowed down. Khaelis's destination appeared in the window: a small village, with no trace of advanced technology. A return to the past.
— I fear I've reached my destination. Come, Jasmine. — he said, inventing a name for the girl as he picked up ShadowStorm, his sword, and rose to his feet.
The little girl followed hesitantly.
— I'm sorry… I didn't mean to drag you into this. — She raised something in her hand: a stolen military insignia. — Please, take it back.
Khaelis looked at her firmly.
— I noticed when you took it. You may keep it. It's just a decoration… it doesn't matter that much. — His voice trembled slightly, betraying the opposite.
— No, mister, I really am sorry. You even gave an exchange note because of me… it isn't fair.
— It was expired. Worthless for anything but deceiving fools. I don't recommend such use. — The honesty in his voice made her hesitate.
But his expression soon shifted. His gaze grew lofty, distant, cold.
— Even so, you are a thief. Do not think I pity those who stain the world. I spared you this time only because you are native to this village. Now tell me, child: do you know Jerezers, of House Wiltin?
Her eyes lit up.
— AH! AHAHA! My brother! You know him? I knew it! Your clothes are like the ones he wore when he came here! You came to announce his arrival, didn't you?
Khaelis understood. He had found what he was searching for. His expression darkened.
— Tell me your name.
— Pankin. Pankin Wiltin. Are you my brother's friend?
— No. I am not. I must speak with your sister. It is urgent. Take me to your home.
The girl recoiled.
— I… I won't. Where do you know my brother from? Tell me now!
Khaelis tightened his grip on ShadowStorm. His voice hardened.
— I have no time. Just take me to your sister. Now.
A crushing aura emanated from him. The gentle man had vanished; only grim determination remained. Pankin, breathless, yielded.
— A-alright… you helped me before… it must be for a good reason, right?
— Just take me.
With short steps, she led him to a simple, old house. Khaelis recognized it from photos. At the window, a young woman rested after cleaning, her expression weary.
— Are you Lara Wiltin? — Khaelis asked, voice formal, posture rigid.
The woman turned, alarmed.
— Ah, my sister caused you trouble, didn't she? My apologies, sir! Times are hard… she sees no other way…
She knelt, ashamed.
— I am not here for that. — Khaelis kept his voice steady. — I am Khaelis, of House Kaiwen.
Lara's eyes widened. She knew the name. Her brother had left to serve that house… the dream that was meant to bring sustenance. But why was a noble here? Fear gripped her chest.
— You are the sister of Jerezers Wiltin. I came to inform you that he was recently executed. He lost his life in battle, serving House Kaiwen. Our escort to NowaGen was attacked. He died fighting.
His voice was firm, but carried veiled sorrow.
Lara laughed through sobs:
— Hah… haha… wretched! Filthy nobles! You grow fat on our corpses, spit on us… and now you come here, as if it were an honor to die for you? Rotten to the core!
Khaelis looked down at her.
— I came only to announce his funeral. He will be buried with honors. I did not come to waste my time.
The voice sounded cold, but heavy with grief.
— No… he will be buried here! Here! Don't you dare take him! — Lara wept, prostrated.
— Humph… I also brought his sword and rifle. They belong to the house, but they will serve you better. You may sell them.
He placed the weapons before her, turning to leave.
— I have said what I needed. I am leaving. I am sorry for your mourning.
With firm steps, he walked until he vanished on the horizon, like a ghost.
— Sister… is he gone? — Pankin sobbed.
Lara embraced the girl.
— It's just us now, Pankin. We'll be fine. I promise.
— Sister… I got money. We can pay part of father's debt, can't we? I can't let them do that to you again…
— It will be alright… soon they must come… soon they will come…
But the men never came. Days later, their bodies were found at the foot of a hill. Dismembered. Clean cuts. As if a blade of thunder had passed through them. As if a shadow storm had judged their fate.