“Death comes to us all.

  It is the living death

  we must fear.”

  - Jaglar O’klar,

  Quinlan philosopher

  Chapter 7: Mission of Mercy

  Koga Kane sat in a Burmese meditation stance, while his faithful droid played with an Ubfrog near the pond. The grove they were in was nothing short of majestic, perfect for meditation. He felt comfortable enough to remove his dark armor, along with the helmet which covered his scarred face. His items sat only a few meters below him as he hovered above it.

  Utilizing his morgatg had taught him many things, including the ability to float above the ground. He hoped to master the technique in order to fly, but his training was incomplete. Nobody but Ozzeray or Master Chang could have taught him. He missed them both dearly.

  Off in the distance, he could sense someone approaching. Judging by body type and movement, he knew it to be Lima. In the event he was wrong, however, he descended to the ground, and activated his armor lock-on to magnetize his armor back onto his person.

  “Relieving some stress?” Lima asked, his hands crossed as he approached.

  “What’s the report from the spies?” Koga asked, using sign speak. He needed more information to go on if he was to free the remaining slaves.

  “The amount of questions you ignore per day astonished me,” Lima said, scoldingly. Koga did not respond, staring at him emotionlessly. There were more important things to focus on that therapy hour with Lima. The older man sighed.

  “They relayed a message to me from Grand General Desparo.”

  “What did he want?” Koga inquired, anxious at the idea of such a notable figure contacting him.

  “You,” Lima replied, “He left you a message. It would be wise to take it in the briefing room.”

  Koga doubted this was a social call. The question was, how did the General know to contact him? Koga had worked hard to ensure his existence was little more than a rumor in most circles. The more exposed he became, the more his enemies could use against him.

  “Lead the way.”

  Deciding he would rather continue to play with the frogs, Naf stayed behind. As the two walked alongside one another, Koga could feel his companion’s gaze. Koga knew what Lima was working up to. He had hoped the old man would stop trying to father him. However, he appreciated his caring nature.

  “Have you thought anymore about my offer?”

  “Yes,” Koga replied.

  “And?”

  “Nothing has changed, Lima.”

  “Koga…” Lima began, exasperated. “What happened was not your fault. Kenza needs its true leader.”

  “Removing Dagon and exposing the Triumvirate is our primary mission. Once removed, we can establish a Republic, just as my father wanted.”

  “But someone will need to lead the nation during its time of transition. To lead our movement into the light.”

  Perhaps in a different life, Koga could give him the answer he wanted to hear. What he could not relinquish, no matter his efforts to, was the guilt that went along with his past. It haunted him every waking moment. While this weighed on him, he could not, and would not, lead. Shame was a shackle he could not escape, and Kenza did not need a weak leader. It needed a flawless leader, unbound from the prison of condemnation. He had disqualified himself from leadership long ago.

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  “I can’t.”

  “Give it some more thought,” Lima encouraged.

  “My answer won’t change,” Koga concluded, wanting to end the conversation. He needed to focus on his mission. Bringing up such a potential future only pained the wounds of the past.

  The rest of the trip to the briefing room was silent. Boarding Lima’s P.A.C. (Personal Access Vehicle), the two skidded away towards Rosari’s inner city. There, a multi-leveled, multi-faceted metropolis existed. Many modern structures, both fixed to the ground and hovering high above, resided there. Before the Kenzanite, Paradignian war, it was a prime vacation resort for both nations, and the jewel of the Crixus Sea. Now, it was a coalition of misfits and refugees, bound by the tragedies of the Triumvirate, and governments that had failed them.

  The war in the East had changed many things. Stemming from the death of King and Queen Kane, as well as the rest of the Kane family, the war began as many others had: as a cry for justice. Dagon had brought Kenza to war against Paradign, claiming the nation was responsible for the assassinations. Many believed the peace that Erik Kane had garnered between the two nations was broken by the Paradignians. Koga knew better, and he was not the only one.

  As Koga had overheard Lima explain earlier, the Triumvirate was behind the enslavements. Behind the war. Behind the deaths of his family. Behind it all. Everything, including the old witch and the mysterious man who had ordered his death, led back to the Triumvirate.

  Had it not been for Gar, Lima’s adopted brother, and formerly the Kenzanite Grand General, the group’s name or purpose would not have been revealed to Koga. His spies had gathered intel for many years, and put together many pieces of the puzzle. Despite their best efforts, Gar only knew two things for certain concerning the shadowy organization: they had infiltrated countless nations and worlds, and their end purpose was chaos.

  Once cleared by the outpost guards and security checkpoints, the two made their way to a briefing room in the compound. Once there, Lima dismissed everyone from the room. In private, the two viewed the transmission from Desparo.

  A holographic, recorded video appeared of the Paradignian General. His face was pale and sunken. His eyes and hair was dark, and his features were pointed and pronounced, much like those of an elf. Between the bags under his eyes and his emaciated form, Desparo was far from the picture of perfect health. Clearly, the war had taken its toll.

  “Matai Lima, my intelligence teams have informed me that you have contact with the individual known as ‘the Blight,’” Desparo began. “I would like to utilize his services for a special mission I have in mind. One that requires the utmost secrecy, and cannot be linked back to Paradign in any way.”

  Desparo continued. His tone was refined, yet firm. His hands remained clasped together, fixed to the area right below his stomach.

  “We believe a number of our people are being held prisoner in the Saglar Desert in northern Sashyria. It is vital we discover whether or not this is true. If so, we’ll send an extraction team to aid the Blight. If it is not, then we will pull him out quietly so we don’t start a war with the Ashyrians, and ruin our terms of neutrality.”

  “This mission is time critical. The Kenzanites move on our capital, and we need all the people we can get. I hope you will relay this message to the Blight. This is our most desperate hour. Please… aid us.”

  Lima cut the transmission.

  “Thoughts?”

  “Seems I have little choice. If Paradign falls, then Dagon will undoubtedly get Kenza into another war,” Koga reasoned. “I have to help get them back.”

  “Do you trust Desparo?” Lima asked.

  “Do you?”

  “He works for King Azakar, so of course I don’t. Snake of a man,” Lima replied, spitting his name out with contempt. “More importantly, why would the Sashyrians be holding Paradignian prisoners?” Lima continued.

  “I’ll find out soon enough.”

  *

  “He’s accepted the mission.”

  “Very good,” Tulius responded, a small grin appearing on his face. “And he doesn’t suspect anything?”

  “No,” Prince Mezatosh responded. “I’ve instructed Desparo as we planned. There are no kinks in our line as of yet.”

  “Demon from the dark dimension. Hmph. What a joke. I’ll teach him to not capture with my slavers,” Tulius scoffed.

  “We’ll be killing two birds with one stone,” Mezatosh replied, grinning.

  “You’ve made the Stryker boy the pilot?” Tulius inquired, surprised.

  “Why not? He’s an idealist, just like his father. A potential threat to my father’s throne, and our plans. He can be another martyr for the glory of Paradign. ‘Like father, like son,’ as the saying goes.”

  “You still believe in that Sword of Right nonsense?”

  “Of course not. But the people do. And Magnus Stryker is the only one left in his line who can wield it. The only one worthy enough, anyway.”

  “It seems everything is going according to plan,” Tulius remarked.

  “Of course. The vision is coming to pass.”

  Tulius raised his glass of wine for a toast, swirling it around.

  “I honor a man who thinks of everything.”

  “And what if you’re not successful in shooting their ship down?” Mezatosh asked, not bothering to return the courtesy. Tulius downed his glass, aggravated someone he considered his inferior dared to question him.

  “Then my Sashyrian Riders will drench the sands with their blood.”