Book 1 Epilogue 2

Two days after the incident at the Albidian facility...

Lady Arista had been known for many things, among both the mercenary communities within the Abyss and the particular local markets around Springfield. She was known for her rate of success – she did not send in unqualified or untalented squads for the sake of collecting an easy paycheck at the cost of human life. Along the same lines, she was known for the range and flexibility of her agency – virtually every mercenary in her care was added due to them filling one niche or another in the lines of hired soldiers within the Abyss, and they filled them well.

At various points during her career – even when she was known simply as a talented soldier, long before she became a proper leader – she'd gained fame and infamy from one group or another by sparing those who deserved to be left alone. Being famous for mercy was almost as valuable as being famous for a lack of the same. Being famous for efficiency was sometimes outweighed by a fame derived from being thorough and punishing everyone who opposed your client.

Perhaps that was Lady Arista's greatest talent. The talent of wearing one thousand masks – of being everyone's greatest asset. Being their best friend, their worst enemy, their first choice, their last resort... Lady Arista had been many things over the years, and learned to play them well against each other, so that any given client would see only what they most deeply wanted out of a proper mercenary organization.

But there was one thing... one caveat, one single exception that permeated every single facet of her contracts and jobs. One thing that no matter how rich, powerful, or threatening a client might have seemed, she never even considered giving in for their sake. A code she refused to break for any client.

Lady Arista never so much as batted an eye or blinked at her past clients, and she honored them by not doing so even as she heard the fortifications downstairs detonating. The ricocheting of a reinforced door bouncing off reinforced walls was somewhat hard to tune out, but she managed it, turning all of her concerns and instincts inward as she sipped at her Mai Tai and grinned into the wide-open blue skies above.

"If you bother to listen to your hopeless creations," Lady Arista began, shaking her head even at her own words, "I hope you're proud of me. You've done nothing for me since the day I was born into this forsaken world. The only way I escaped the worst of your creations was by my own efforts and promises to myself... and efforts so Herculean I hope you respected them. I still believe in you... but by your own name, I wish I didn't, Lady Gaia."

Arista continued to sip at her Mai Tai while listening to the sounds of booted feet stomping their way up the stairwell of her headquarters. While listening to shouted orders and the sound of metal and enchantments being broken apart by power and ****, Lady Arista took a form of pride in the emptiness of the halls below her.

"They're gone. They're long gone, because of course they are. What else would you expect? What else would you want of me, Lady Brighton? I am no fool, and I am no coward. The decision I made was my own. No one else needs to suffer for it. Maybe I underestimated you, maybe I overestimated them... I still don't regret my decision."

The sound of boots clashing against the stairs that lead up to the roof was obnoxiously loud. Lady Arista's brow furrowed in annoyance while she continued to sip at her drink. Knowing her base as she did, she had perhaps twenty seconds before they breached the fortified door at the top of the stairs... just long enough to down her last Mai Tai for the day. Maybe forever.

The last drops of it had just passed her lips when the door to the roof rocketed off its hinges in a flash of light and sound, skittering across the rooftop pavement. She would have been more annoyed if she had any inkling that she might ever return to this place before rot and decay had set in.

"Lady Arista!" The commanding voice that echoed through the opened doorway could have been none other than the Warden herself, confirmed as a troupe of armored soldiers strode in with the redheaded Warden at their forefront.

"Your status as a mercenary is not enough to shield you from allying yourself with such despicable foes, Lady Arista! Neutrality is no excuse for-"

"I surrender," Lady Arista said with a sigh, shaking her head at the Warden. "I don't need the speech."

"..." Moira didn't seem particularly surprised. She had probably already known that there would be no fight when the rooms downstairs were empty.

"Come on then. I have nowhere to go to outside of Springfield, and you'd follow me to hell and back if I did. Arrest me, Warden."

"Cuff her."

Two of Moira's Knights walked forward and placed magical restraints around Lady Arista's freely offered wrists. She made no motion or effort to disrupt their efforts – she had known this would happen days ago when she called John Newman under the supervision of the Albidians. The two Knights lifted her from her chair roughly, forcing her to her feet and each of them taking an arm as they walked her over to the Warden.

"...Why, Lady Arista? You've done some terrible things, all mercenaries do, but working with the Albidians?" Moira asked, looking genuinely hurt. "Why would you, of all people, agree to that?"

"They told me that if I didn't, they'd enslave me and my entire organization. That they'd make me walk around naked as their little bitch to show off in front of guests, not that they ever have any. They told me that I'd be throwing away my life, my freedom, and the same for all my men."

"So you threw away the lives of others?!" Moira demanded, getting so up in Lady Arista's face that their noses nearly brushed.

"You have no idea what I've been through. What I did to get here to where I am today," Lady Arista growled, not backing away from Moira at all. "The things I've done, the things I've been through... your judgement means nothing to me. I either helped the Albidians and faced the Order, or I refused, and faced the Albidians. There was no winning this game, only choosing my fate."

"And you chose to hurt us, over them?!" Moira half-shouted. "Why?!"

Lady Arista leaned forward, until her lips were nearly pressed against Moira's ear. The guards tried to jerk her back, but she resisted – cuffs or no, she was far stronger than a couple of pasty Order Knights. Strong enough to whisper in Moira’s ear before they pulled her back.

"Because you're ‘good’. You're righteous, and you believe in that bitch, the one probably looking down on me and laughing right now. At the end of the day, the worst thing your code will let you do is imprison and **** me. And no matter how much pain I have to endure to achieve it ... I will never be anyone's ****, ever again."

Moira looked deep into Lady Arista's eyes. Conviction and a touch of hatred burned in both their gazes, and neither of them looked away. Not even as Moira gave her final order.

"Take her to the fucking car."

Three days after the incident at the Albidian facility...

Kim grunted in anger as the posts around her fell away, in a dozen pieces of nearly equal sizes. She glanced to the wall, to the electronic timer triggered by the sensors around her, sweating with the effort of her strikes. Hope lit in her eyes for a moment; she felt good, she felt powerful. She looked to the clock and saw that she was...

Still a full three hundredths of a second slower than her best run of the week so far.

Kim swore and reset the Barrier once more, reforming the posts and preparing herself. She took up her stance, facing away from the nearest of the posts. She sheathed her blade and steadied her breath, trying to focus and center herself. She waited for the delayed buzzer, fingers hovering over the hilt of her blade. When she heard the noise she immediately pulled a foot back and pivoted, drawing her weapon and moving to strike with her blade-

Her blade met steel instead of wood, and her eyes widened in shock and horror as her father's sword met her own, stopping what would have been a fatal blow to the temple had it struck true. He did not look offended or surprised by the strike in the least, but Kim's heart fell in her chest.

"F-father, I'm sorry! I did not hear you enter, I-"

"No, you did not. And that's very unlike you," he noted, raising an eyebrow at Kim. He looked over her form, taking in his daughter; her sweat-stained clothes, her bruised hands and knuckles, her swaying stance, and her wobbling legs.

"I am sorry, I was not paying enough attention."

"You are incapable of paying enough attention. It is a miracle you are still on your feet."

"I can keep going, Father. My training isn't finished."

"Yes. It is."

Kim was about to object, but her father dismissed the Barrier forcefully before she could. They were returned to the training barracks of the Moon Clan, the still-intact dummies standing as they always did.

"Kim, I understand that you are upset that John Newman is gone, and that your training is slowed as a result. But you are improving at a remarkable rate. You cannot destroy yourself in an attempt to recreate that growth you had alongside him."

"But I must become stronger, Father! There is a power vacuum now that the Albidians are decimated. We must-"

"We must take care of our Clan, yes. And we do that by taking care of ourselves. You are not to train for the rest of the day, are we clear?"

"..." Kim hesitated, but would not disobey her father and leader. "Yes, Father."

"Good," he said simply, turning and striding to the door while Kim stood at the same spot, glaring at the ground with a mixture of frustration and self-loathing. Just before exiting and shutting the door behind himself, he took the time for one final glance back.

"Do not be too harsh on yourself, Kim. You do not see your progress as I do. I believe your mother would be proud."

Kim nodded, remaining silent as her father closed the door behind her. She reached for the Barrier Replicator around her neck, frustrated fingers still only gently touching upon the clear globe daintily. She was going to need a few hours in the zen garden to disperse some of these frustrations. Perhaps a long soak in the hot springs... and a good, hard dicking.

She sighed, mentally letting loose another string of swears.

A proper dicking… yet another thing John Newman had deprived her of with his departure.

Two weeks after the incident at the Albidian facility...

"Full report, Knight Etriyya," Lord Brighton commanded, while staring at the formalized report on the incident in his hand.

"Yes, milord," Knight Etriyya said, clasping a hand over her heart. "The facility was found in a nearly identical state to the others. There were significant signs of conflict, and seventeen dead bodies, most unidentifiable. The ones we could identify were either unknown, had no known allegiances, or were rumored members of the Albidian Society, so we believe all of them were official members. There were a few cells, all of them open. Most of the prisoners remaining seemed incapable of or too scared to leave; we brought them back for proper care and questioning.

"All items of magical power or value seemed to have been taken, either before the **** as a precautionary measure or stripped away once the owners were dead. The Barrier was nearly depleted when we arrived; based on our evaluations of its strength, and some forensic evidence, the attack likely occurred between two and three days before our arrival."

"Exactly as the others were indeed," Lord Brighton sighed, resting his cheek against his hand. "Have there been any reports or rumors of escapees in that area recently?"

"At least four mages who went missing in the last five years within a one-hundred mile radius surrounding the facility have re-appeared at nearly the same time. Most seem too terrified to say where they were, or if they are, they're only telling their most trusted friends. It seems likely they were the prisoners still together enough to escape from the cells and return to their families. We have unmarked Knights combing the area for any escapees who may have had their memories or personalities erased or tampered with."

"I want a full secondary detail from each Knight by the end of the day tomorrow," Lord Brighton ordered, shaking his head. "If that's all, you're dismissed."

"There was... one other thing, milord. There was a message this time. Written in the blood of one of the slaughtered on the wall... it said 'At least two left. They're on the run. Rats fleeing a sinking ship. Catch the stragglers. Make them pay.'"

Lord Brighton paused, already halfway ready to stand up out of his chair. A deep, long sigh escaped him, but no words.

"Lord Brighton... how far is he going to take this?"

Lord Brighton didn't answer immediately. Almost unconsciously his eyes travelled to the wall – to the jewel-encrusted blade, that accursed weapon hanging on his wall. His eyes travelled a familiar path to it, and the blade hungrily welcomed his gaze as it always did.