The enemies before them were plenty, lurking at every corner of this city of decadence – but they were disorganised and impulsive, no match for the Sentinels even if they were the Heart Corp.
“Squadron Nineteen, assist with civilian evacuation. Squadron Seventeen, reconvene with Squadron Fourteen – escort and deliver the prisoners and suspects there.” Astra continued.
The innocent dwellers behind them were plenty, fleeing and flailing throughout the bloodstained streets, desperately finding their way back to their homes and inns amidst this unfortunate battlefield.
“Squadron Twelve, move ahead and search Zhamar Street. Check every inn and brothel – those were their last sightings.” Despite his foul mouth and laidback demeanour, he was doing a rather fine job leading the troops – as expected of Six’s own Wing.
“At once, Lord Wing!” the Squad Captain of Squadron Twelve pressed his fist to his chest before marching onwards with his men.
“You’re doing quite well, it’d seem.” Six walked up to Astra from behind. He removed his dragon-like helmet, allowing his long golden hair to fall. Not only his helmet but the steel armour he was wearing was rather too flashy for someone like Six; it even had a black cape attached to it – this was all due to Six yielding to the request of his men for the Prime Sentinel to dress more befittingly of his station.
“I’d much prefer if you do it, though, Boss.” Astra panted, his normally gleaming purple eyes seemed to have lost all of their sheen behind his own helmet. It was rare to see him wearing his armour, let alone doing so much work.
“This plan was your proposal. You started it, so see it through to the end.” Six praised his Wing, but by the look on the lad’s face, it seemed as if it was more of an admonishment than praise.
The Hunt Sentinels already knew that a sizeable force of the Firstkind was hiding away in Dreamcity, thanks to a local informant – but Six knew that the Firstkind, too, knew that the Sentinels were coming for them. By the time the entire Sentinel’s force would arrive at the doorstep of Dreamcity, no doubt, the Firstkind would have been long gone by then.
Not a bad plan, kid... Six tapped Astra’s back. Astra was the one who proposed for the Hunt Sentinels to split their force and have soldiers secretly ride on alone ahead of the convoy, few at a time, masking in civilian clothing and dark cloaks, blending in with the shadow casted down by the colourful city – allowing for them to meet up with city officials ahead of them and seal off as many of the city’s entrances as possible before ambushing the unsuspecting rebels. A simple but effective plan. The enemies would be too preoccupied with the bigger bulk of the Sentinels still marching out on the Iron Trail to pay close enough attention to what’s happening right beneath their noses. This plan did lead to a third of their force being left behind, but their current number of ecliant soldiers ought to be more than enough for a band of rebellious humans – and if any rebels were to escape out of the city, they’d be intercepted by a far larger and sprier force.
“I better not get a promotion for this.” Astra sighed before removing his steel helmet and slicking back his dark wavy hair, drenched in sweat, despite the Wing only commanding on the sideline and not engaging in the skirmish.
“If you could apprehend the Firstkind’s leader, I’m sure the Order would make you the next Prime Sentinel whether you want to or not.”
“Of all things that are boring in this world – I long for your post the least, Boss.” Astra scratched his bum like a delinquent, seeming bored out of his mind – though Six could not exactly blame him. Even calling this a battle would be an insult to the word – it was a borderline one-sided slaughter. Aside from their sheer numbers and unpredictable manoeuvres, the humans stood no chance before the might of a coordinated Sentinel force – skewered by swords and spears to their guts and lathered by arrows all over their bodies. “I must say, they don’t seem like the Firstkind to me.” Astra pointed it out. The enemies before them did not adorn the signature orange emblem of the Firstkind, and most of them were fighting for themselves and not together – hardly what one would expect from battle-hardened rebels.
“Because they most likely aren’t. Your plan was good in bringing us here, but it still lacks clarity. This city breeds all sorts of scoundrels ready to slit your throat, not just rebels.” Six was never fond of the City of Colours. Too many people, too many vices, too many noises. A quieter city like Arkis Port was more to his liking.
“Damn it all… I dread to think how the folks would treat me when next I visit off duty.” Astra lamented – unlike Six, this shameless brat loved the city and its abundant pleasures. “Let’s wrap this up already. Come on out, ya’ rebel scums!” Astra screamed out frustratingly while banging his sword against his shield like a drum as if the Firstkind would ever heed his vulgar request.
From a distance, Six sighted a Sentinel mounted astride a horse, accompanied by a dozen other foot soldiers, galloping towards where he and Astra were. They were no rebels, but some people did hear Astra’s shout after all. So you finally returned? Six crossed his arms and squinted his golden eyes – pleased to see their return but displeased not to see both of their return.
That once-holy brat has wholly discarded his gloomy cloak and, instead, strapped the standardised Sentinel armour over his skinny, dark body. His buzzed head, too, was covered by a steel helmet, hiding away most of his dull face and silver eyes. In his hand, he no longer clutched onto an Arkive, but instead the reins to his steed and a lance.
The masterless Sentinel dismounted from his horse and faced Six and Astra. He removed his helmet to meet their eyes of gold and purple. “My Lords, I humbly apologise for my late arrival. On behalf of Lord Senu, I offer you Squadrons Nine and Eleven.” Symon knelt down to one knee and placed his lance by Six’s feet.
“Whatever’s left of Squadrons Nine and Eleven anyways.” Astra scoffed. No doubt some of the men from those two squadrons, too, were unable to enter the sealed city like the rest of Six’s force, while most of them were still licking their wounds in Sentry after their recent blunder.
Enough of your prodding, Six slapped Astra at the back of his head. “Rise, Sentinel Symon.” Six commanded, and he listened – something that Astra could learn from him. “I commend your return after suffering such a defeat. But I, too, ordered for the Heart Commander’s presence. Where is he?”
With no time wasted, as if his life depended on it, Symon knelt once more, but this time pressing his palms and head to the ground. “Please forgive him, Lord Prime. My Lord yet could not resign from his keep in Sentry – no matter how much he wishes to. The cruel rebels, in all of their wickedness, had struck a tender blow to his Lord’s chest – leaving him incapacitated and bedbound. Yet even in his enfeebled state, he still willed what little might he had left and commanded us to brave the frontline once again.” Symon chirped on and on, but Six and Astra were no wet-ears youngsters that would fall for such outlandish fairy tales.
“This would not do.”
“My Lord?” Symon raised his neck slightly.
“Idavi has received enough leniencies from me. And he spat upon my hand every time.” Six retold of the Heart Commander’s many blunders. “He has a fortnight to answer my summon and swear his fealty to me once more. If not, the title of Heart Commander would be stripped from him – regardless of what his family and friends in court have to say. Is this matter clear?”
“But Lord Prime… With his injuries, he could not hope to make it here in a fortnight–”
“Is this matter clear?” Six repeated himself.
“Yes, Lord Prime… I will send a messenger at dawn.” Symon planted his forehead on the dirt once more.
“Good. And while you’re at it, I’ll make you Acting Commander of the Heart Corp during the next fortnight. Given that Idavi does not have a Wing Commander, I’ll allow that honour to you.” Six decreed, to the shock of both Astra and Symon – their eyes looking as though they would pop out of their sockets. “You will be taking no orders from Idavi – but the opposite instead.”
“Boss?”
“Lord Prime?”
“The sooner he arrives before me, the sooner he’d get his post returned to him.” Six waved his arm, ending any attempts at protest. “Now go and fulfil your duties. There are rebels among us, and the Sentinels need a commander.”
“Yes, Lord Prime,” Symon answered with composure, but a hint of gloss could be seen on his silver orbs. He stood back up and mounted his horse. “May Ark fortune this battle for us all.” The devout lad prayed before galloping away down the opposing street with his squadrons – where far fewer Sentinels were fighting and far more civilians were fleeing.
Astra waited until Symon and his men were out of sight before opening his mouth. “I’m sure the boy would be better than that sycophant, but I could also say the same for almost anyone else in the Heart Corp. And those same people wouldn’t be too happy to hear that you’ve made that green kid the Commander instead of them.” His Wing Sentinel whinged as if he had ever actually cared about these types of affairs.
“I’d earn some of their ire, yes. But the brunt of the blow, that frail Lord of his would surely make a tale of the agony it dealt.” Six scratched his goatee.
“What do you mean by that?”
“We’ll see how Symon goes. As long as we’re here, a commander wouldn’t be able to do much in ways of commanding regardless. This is merely to sour Idavi’s meal and give vigour to his stout legs to run.” Six spoke before tying up his hair and readorning his helmet.
Astra followed his steps and, too, put his helmet back over his dark head. “If a Corp Commander couldn’t lead the Sentinels – then surely, as the Wing Sentinel, I should not be able to either, right?” Astra pleaded. After all, in terms of ranks – the Prime Sentinel stood the highest, then came the Corp Commanders, the Wing Sentinel, the Squad Captains, the Wing Commanders, and lastly, the Rook Sentinels.
“No.” Unfortunately for the cunning Astra, the Prime Sentinel has the final say regardless of how unconventional his decision may be. “Now focus. Your men are leaving you behind.” Six fluttered his black cape back and pointed forward – where the battle was fresh, with the Heart Sentinels subduing all who dared to obstruct their paths.
“Nock… Release!” Astra gave the command; his voice echoed through his steel helmet. From his words, a rain of arrows clouded the sky, casting their shadows down onto the street’s surface.
Not bad, but a bit too early, Six carefully observed Astra’s deed from behind.
Sounds of falling arrows, pierced flesh, and desperate squirms engulfed the street – from steelmen and humans alike. The spectacle of arrows lasted fleetingly. Before long, the street turned silent of the agonising wails, and the victims of the onslaught lay flat on the dirt, either helpless or silent.
“Squadron Sixteen, apprehend the survivors and bring them to Squadron Fourteen. Squadron Fifteen, have the physicians treat the wounded. Squadron Eight, escort the Children of Ark and have them offer prayers to whomever would wish for it. Squadron Two and Squadron Twenty, clear the streets and corners of every corpse – deliver them to the Children of Ark and physicians so they may be stitched up and be returned to the families of the fallen.” Astra wasted no time to deliver his orders.
The squadrons, too, wasted no time to heed his command as if they came from the Prime Sentinel himself – all besides one red-eyed girl with a burned face.
That was the bold girl from last time, Six thought, after all, it was hard to forget a face like hers.
Astra marched towards the girl who was standing in a daze, yawning and twiddling her thumbs like a princess while everyone else was doing their duties. “Enjoying the scenery, Sentinel Tior?”
“Lord Wing… How can I be of assistance?” Tior asked casually. She was a mere Rook Sentinel, yet she still had the gall to address her superior as if they were friends – though perhaps, that didn’t make her all too that different from Astra.
“You’re of Squadron Twenty, yes? So why are you dawdling about instead of joining your team?” inquired Astra.
“Oh yes… I’m sorry. I’m not very fancied of carrying bodies away. I hope you don’t mind.” She waved her hand at Astra’s face.
“I do, in fact, mind. Or do I need to inform your Squad Captain of this behaviour – or the Commander himself, perhaps?” The Wing Sentinel threatened Tior.
“Captain Berry kicked the bucket a good hour ago already. Oh look, there he is,” she pointed down the end of the street, where a familiar mangled corpse lay flat. “But you could still report on me regardless. If that’s what you want.” The impudent Rook Sentinel scratched her head, which consisted of thin silver hair, the strands barely hanging onto her scalp.
“You have quite a big mouth stitched to your face, don’t you, Sentinel Tior? I have no issue with dismissing you from the Corp entirely. If that’s what you want.” Astra mimicked the girl.
“For not doing this menial slog? I’m here to fight, not to collect corpses. Leave that to the clerics.” Tior nudged her head at the Children of Ark, who were helping to gather up the dead bodies while offering prayers to the ones still alive.
This girl… Six grumbled. It has been a while since Tior challenged Six to combat and was defeated handily. Ever since then, Six has noticed her acting far more aggressive during both training and battle. “Do what the Wing says.” Six uttered his command, leaving both Astra and Tior in stillness while glancing up at him from below.
Tior clicked her tongue faintly, but Six still heard it. “Fine.” She begrudgingly stormed backwards like a pouting child, turning left into a corner alongside her squad before vanishing entirely out of view.
“I do not know how you managed this every day.” Astra sighed and drooped his shoulders as if being a leader had aged him by decades.
“It’s not easy. But every day you struggle, it just means another day of becoming better.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m still not intending to become the future Prime Sentinel, no matter how much guidance you offer me.” Astra shook his head.
“What I said earlier was a joke. I fear a man like you would not last long as the Prime Sentinel anyway.”
“Is that a challenge?”
Six could merely smirk at such a childish response – but Six was not lying either. There have been many Prime Sentinels ever since the Sentinels were founded by Three during the Iron War. Eight was the first ever Prime Sentinel, and she soon resigned from her post after the First Iron Rebellion. Yet all of her successors, for the most part, never lasted for more than a couple of years – whether out of incompetence, corruption, or arrogance, Six did not know. It wasn’t until the Third Iron Rebellion that Eight retook her post as the Prime Sentinel, yet even then, her brief reprisal ended when the rebellion, too, ended. Six took on the mantle after her, and he has held this post for ten years.
“There’s no shortage of Lords and Ladies who would fancy your position. That snivelling swine Idavi is a given; even that ferocious Anaeis would no doubt want nothing more than to snatch this army from you and wage war as she pleases,” Astra whinged about the Heart Commander and the Hunt Commander. “Why can’t they just be normal like Lord Bowstane…” Astra moped while mentioning the Scout Commander.
“Be at ease. Until the day their dreams come true – they march at my command.”
“But of course. We’ll see if Idavi listens to your command this time, Boss.”
The sound of steel clashing interrupted their conversation – quickly followed by desperate grunts from struggling warriors and neighing from riled horses. All of them came from one corner – where Squadron Twenty went.
Six looked down at Astra, and with not a single word exchanged, his Wing understood his intention.
“Squadron Fifteen, with me. The rest of you will be on standby. Be prepared.” Astra commanded, and the squadrons firmly heeded his orders. “Your glaive, Boss.” Astra whistled, and two Rook Sentinels walked forward. In their hands was Six’s glaive, a battered old thing. Its sheer length and weight required two Sentinels to carry them.
Six stared at its tattered body and blade riddled with scratch marks – it was a wonder that the glaive had lasted for this long. “That would not be needed.” Six turned the weapon away. He never liked the glaive, for the names it’s been labelled and the crimes it’s been accused of – and at this moment, he felt as though he should not wield it no matter what.
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“Very well,” Astra handed the glaive back to the two Rook Sentinels. “Your lead then, Boss.” Despite his valiant demonstration of leadership, Astra did not shy away from hiding behind Six’s back. The Wing delivered Six his shield and glaive.
You still have a lot to learn, kid, Six sighed before marching forward, with the Sentinels following his heels. By the time he reached the edge of the corner, the sound of the ensuing battle only became clearer and clearer. He could even hear the familiar grumbles of a particular feisty girl. “Steady, Sentinels.” Six commanded, and all halted in their track as they crossed the corner and stepped foot onto the new streetside.
The battle split two ways.
The side with their back turned and in front of Six was Squadron Twenty, remaining defensive and holding their grounds – brandishing their swords and spears so vehemently, looking more like barbarians rather than refined soldiers.
The side from afar, facing straight at Six, was a band of humans armed with cheap and chipped weapons while wearing orange cloths embroidered with the black four-pointed star – the sigil of the Firstkind.
What manners of fools would ever brandish their banner when in hiding? Six thought. Something strange smelled afoot, yet that was a matter for later – for now, suppressing the rebels was the priority. “Squadron Twenty, fall back! Make way for Squadron Fifteen!” Six ordered.
The exhausted squad retreated for the spryer force, all besides for that one impish girl.
“That damned girl…” Astra cursed. “Fall back, Sentinel Tior!” the Wing shouted aloud, yet to no avail.
With merely a sword in hand, she stood her ground and faced the rebels before her – but her skills did not seem to match up with her bravery.
There were only around forty rebels, yet they were strangely formidable – or perhaps Six had just overestimated Tior. The rebel who was engaging in single combat with Tior, too, was a girl – but she looked far more mature and composed with her swordplay when compared to the savage dance displayed by Tior. She was about as tall and slim as Tior, yet she seemed far more nimble on her feet due to wearing only a leather vest instead of steel armour. Unlike Tior’s melted face, the ladyknight before her had a fair and pale face with light golden strands over her head. The shade of her beauty, willowy and pallid, unlike anyone Six has ever seen for decades.
Eyes of ginger… A steelborn, perhaps? Six thought while staring keenly at her – for some reason, he could not drive his eyes away.
The duel between the two flowers of the field stopped both sides in their tracks – halting their weapons just to spectate the performance. Even from afar, Six’s keen ears could hear even the faintest whispers and breaths of the combatants.
“Not big of a talker, huh?” Tior goaded her opponent – despite her being the one being overwhelmed with showers of blows, leaving her barely enough room to breathe, let alone parry.
The golden girl remained silent, like a mute – allowing for the clashing of their swords to speak on her behalf.
“That damned attitude. I know a holy wench when I see one.” Tior’s mouth was moving faster than her swordplay and footwork. She wildly swung her sword sideways, perhaps hoping to decapitate the steelborn in one fell swoop with her superior strength as an ecliant.
It did not work. In an instance, the lady rebel duck down low and, with her leg, swipes at Tior’s ankles – collapsing the cocky girl from her high tower and down to the dirt. She kicked Tior’s sword out of her grasp, leaving the Sentinel to struggle and roll around the mud with her sprained ankles.
The Firstkind rebel glanced down at the fallen Tior before raising her sword to the sky until the tip was pointing directly at the clouds. “I’m sorry.” Her foe spoke for the first time – an apology, no less. Her voice was soft, firm, yet remorseful – too kind for her own good.
That voice… Six did not like hearing it from her mouth, her face – just hearing it felt cold.
“That damned fool, never listen,” Astra clicked his tongue. He then waved his hand to the sky. “Sentinels, ready your arrows! Nock… Release!” Astra commanded promptly – yet no arrows came forth, but the sound of them being released was clearly heard. Six and Astra turned their heads back, only to find that most of the archers were pointing their bows to the sky as if they were trying to shoot Ark down from his throne. “What happened? I said release here, not the damn sky!” Astra gripped the collars of an archer.
“I’m sorry, Lord Wing. We heard an order,” the poor archer whimpered like a toddler.
“What order? Is it that bastard Symon?” Astra scolded the lad.
“No, Lord Wing. Closing Order Two-Seven was shouted out a couple blocks down East.”
“What?” Astra released the boy’s collars.
Closing Order Two-Seven… Most Sentinels shouldn’t even be aware of that order anymore. So who could it be? Six mumbled. That order was created dating back to the Iron War as a desperate suicide attack, but it has run out of fashion two hundred years after its inception for most Sentinels – only archers were mandatorily forced to learn this order due to the sake of tradition.
“Damn it all… Enough dawdling! Forward now–”
Six took a step forward and blocked the path of his soldiers with his mighty figure. “Give me that.” Six grabbed a lance off the hand of a standby Sentinel – within his palm, the lance seemed no bigger than a mere cane.
“Boss?”
Stop sulking like her… A strange yet tender ache in Six’s mind and heart – only when gripping onto the lance, crushing it and splintering his palm, would the pain be quelled. With the lance in hand, he stretched his arm back and planted his feet firmly in the dirt. The wind burst forth, accompanied by a sharp and fleeting sound of the sky being pierced – the mighty lance zipped through the air like a hurled thunderbolt, all aimed at a mere steelborn girl.
The lance was as fast as any arrow, yet the rebel girl managed to dodge the blow, just barely – no, Six missed his aim, just barely. The lance struck another rebel standing behind the girl – piercing his torso and launching him off the ground. The lance flew for another foot before sticking itself and the unlucky lad into a building’s wall – leaving the rebel stuck and flailing about against the wall while bleeding out of his chest.
I am going senile… Six grumbled, such a blunder was rare to him – perhaps he was overdue for a new ReSamra surgery and Cycle of Reconstruct. Regardless, his action still allowed for the rebel to remove herself from Tior – the brash Sentinel quickly crawled back to the Sentinel’s side amidst the commotion. “Are you harmed?” Six reached his hand down to the crawling Sentinel.
“I didn’t ask for your help. I had it handled.” Tior refused Six’s help and stood up by herself, nearly tripping and falling back down as she did.
“You still have the strength to whinge – good. But calm yourself and stand back. That woman took it easy on you.” Six revealed to her.
“Took it easy on me? I had it under control! What the hell do you know?”
“Do you know then?” inquired Six – his mighty shadow looming over her, even though she was standing.
All barks and no bites – Tior kicked the ground and stormed back to her squadron with her tail tucked between her legs.
“This girl, I tell ya’… Don’t worry, Boss. I’ll reprimand her later.” Astra assured Six.
Stubborn folks like her would need more than that, Six sighed, he has dealt with people like her his entire life. With the eyesore out of sight, Six returned his golden eyes back to the rebel whom he failed to strike down with his lance.
The Firstkinds were rummaging and bickering amongst themselves like a group of children instead of a troupe of seasoned rebels. They dropped their arms and guards. Some even abandoned the line, threw away their orange banners, and escaped by themselves – a mere death was enough to weaken their defensive line.
“Remove him and bring him to Callen! Perhaps there’s still a chance…” The golden girl sheepishly gave orders to the panicking rebels, but few heeded her flight of fancy command – Six somehow expected she would spout such na?ve ideas. “You damned brute…” She gnawed her teeth and glared at Six so intently that her orange eyes may pop out of her sockets at any time – such a look from her, Six did not expect.
Stop staring at me… Even with his dragon-shaped helmet over his head, Six shunned his eyes away slightly from the girl’s piercing glare – yet he could not wholly turn away as if there was a spell casted on him.
The disorderly sight before Six was pitiful. Despite their notoriety as the Firstkind, most of the bulk of their force was no more than untrained peasants whose minds had been enamoured by his sister’s delusions.
Time to end this, Six sighed – having hoped for a fiercer fight. Yet just he was about to raise his hand and command his men – a sole figure detached himself from the quarrelling bunch, yet not to run, but to alone make way towards the rebel still pinned against the wall.
A human cladded with an auburn vest over his dark body, the colour of the Firstkind. He was far bigger and bulkier than any other rebels around him, as big as a bear and almost as tall as Six – perhaps, he was the reason why other rebels looked so malnourished. Once reached his ally by the wall, with no hesitation nor struggle, the tall rebel yanked the lance out wholly from the lad’s torso and caught him before he fell to the ground. Blood was pouring out of the unlucky rebel’s stomach like a wine dispenser, painting his rescuer’s skin red – yet it did not faze him one bit.
With the boy over his shoulder, the giant amongst humans forced himself into the middle of the bickering rebels. “Ya’ heard the lady? Quit yer’ squabbling and get ya’ shit together!” he shouted in a strong and commanding voice. It worked. One roar from him was enough to quell their dispute. With his men pacified, he then tossed the bleeding lad over to someone Six could only assume to be a physician – though Six doubted even the best physicians in Xearth would be able to save the boy at this point. “What happened there, lads? Have all yer’ wits drowned away from all the boozes we’ve had?” the seeming leader of the band addressed his men while rubbing his bald head. “Why fight amongst yerself’ when there are men priming to gut ya’ right there.” The giant pointed directly at Six with his warhammer, which he carried in one hand.
“I think he’s challenging you, Boss,” Astra whispered to Six.
“What makes you think so?” Six asked sarcastically.
“Dunno’ really. But ya’ don’t see freaks as giant as you often. Would be a hell of a bout to witness, if I’m being honest.” Astra smirked, outwardly finding enjoyment in this turn of events.
What would I do with this kid, Six sighed and rubbed his creasing forehead.
The willowy blonde approached the giant man with her head hung low and fingers tucked onto her vest. “I’m sorry, Abe. I… I didn’t–”
“Don’t sweat it, Stel. Ya’ took the first step that none of us did,” the man named Abe ruffled the woman named Stel’s hair like she was his daughter. “Now I need ya’ to take more steps – and get on out of here.”
Despite being given her praise and flowers, the girl still did not seem satisfied and instead sullenly turned her head back towards the Sentinels. “No. Not when he is also here.” Stel glared at Six, her stare piercing like daggers and lances – very weak and dull ones, though.
“That’s not like ya’, Stel. Still yer’ nerve. Harden it like steel. Ya’ have been holding on for so long; don’t make it all be in vain,” Abe slapped Stel’s back, nearly throwing the girl over with a mere tap. “Just follow the Chief, always.” He smirked and scratched his scruffy beard.
“You’re right… My apologies.” The girl quelled her fleeting sulk, yet she could still not rest her scowling eyes – still intently glaring at Six, even as she refaced her comrades.
“Atta girl,” the giant rebel smirked before presenting himself to the rebels again. “The lady has steeled her resolve! So ya’ lot better show at least an ounce of that same courage!” he commanded, and they listened – ending their yelping and returning them to formation.
While Abe was delivering a speech to his men – the Sentinels stood at the other end of the street, still holding their lines, most of them unsure of what to do.
“Should we march forward and end this already, Boss?” asked Astra.
“We could, yes,” Six nodded his head, and it would be all too easy for the Sentinels to do so, “but to end the battle here would lead us nowhere.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Just watch and see. Let our enemies do all the work for us.”
“Okay… Whatever ya’ say, Boss.” Astra shrugged his shoulders, probably confused by Six’s cryptic answer.
Watch and see… Six crossed his arms, returning to watch the spectacle of futile rebellious valour happening before him – but the na?ve girl, the golden lady, Stel, he could not stop staring at her either.
“Good, good. That’s very good. Bickering cravens are unneeded in the Firstkind. I’m glad to have folks as brave as you all to have been here by my side.” It would seem Abe’s speech was close to coming to an end. “Follow the Chief, always – and remember we were the first!” the brash man declared.
What came after was no cheer, no swords raised, no war cry – the Firstkinds all scattered into different streetways and alleys. Yet this escape attempt was not the same as the previous turncoats – this time, it looked more coordinated, smooth, and calculated.
“They’re fleeing, Boss!” Astra bellowed, so were the Sentinels on standby.
So that’s your play… Six scratched his chin, yet he stood in place, still withholding his orders behind tight lips.
Most of the Firstkinds had already fled, though only by foot, so they weren’t so fast that Sentinel’s hounds wouldn’t be able to sniff them out, and mounts wouldn’t be able to catch up to them. The giant rebel leader, the golden girl, and about eight other Firstkind rebels still lingered despite their compatriots having already fled.
“Stay fast, Stel – but not too fast.” Abe reached his fist out to Stel.
“You too, Abe. Stay safe.” She bumped her fist into his – even during that, her glare still had not left Six’s direction. “Is he stronger than you, Abe?”
“Good question… If it’s one-on-one and no weapons are used, he might cause me a little trouble.” Abe, too, glared his brown eyes at Six, grinning like a bellicose maniac.
“But would you lose?”
“Nah, I’d win.”
Such an arrogant response from a mere human – Six was trying his damnedest to contain his laughter. Yet that response seemed to be enough to reassure Stel. The girl ran away, leaving Abe and the eight rebels behind – not even looking back at Six one last time before she fled.
The sight of her golden hair and willowy body slowly disappearing from Six’s eyes like mist. His hand reached forward as if wanting to grab the air – but there was nothing there to hold. What the hell am I doing? Six struck his own hand down and returned his focus to the rebels who stayed behind. This should be enough… Six counted the number of foes before him, staring at each of their faces closely and their stances.
Those nine men just stood there in a circle. They didn’t even bother to form a wall to block the Sentinels from chasing after their escaping comrades. The leader of the bunch was the worst of them all, with his smug grin, as if to dare Six to come after them.
So that’s your ploy, after all. Very well… Six, too, smirked – having already anticipated it and already made his decision long before the reveal. “All of you, follow the rebels. Tell the squads on standby as well.” Six relayed his order to the Sentinels behind him, still holding their post steadfastly in the sight of fleeing enemies.
“At once, Boss,” Astra tipped his head. “All squadrons, pursue the rebels!” With a swift command from the Wing Sentinel, most Sentinels rode off, all besides one squad. “Squadron Fifteen, stay here and handle these rebels–”
Six lightly struck the back of the head of his Wing to interrupt his order. “No. We could not afford to spare any men here for a mere distraction.”
Astra patted the spot on his helmet that was slapped – the kid acted as if he could feel anything through that thick helmet of his. “Yes… But, we can’t just let these men be… Distraction or not.” He spoke back against Six’s order.
“Who says we’ll let them be?” Six struck Astra’s head again – hoping this time, it’d improve his thinking. “Have the squadrons pursue the escapees. I’ll handle the matter here.”
An absurd statement, teetering on the line of suicidal – even for the Prime Sentinel himself. His mere words shocked both the Sentinels and Firstkinds alike.
A young Rook Sentinel stepped forward, even though his legs were quivering. “Lord Prime. Strong as you are, I do not think this is a good–”
Yet before Six could have given his own response to the brave lad’s concern – Astra burst out in a fit of laughter. He cackled like a jester, rubbing his belly and slapping his knee as if he had just been told the funniest joke. “Of course… How simpleminded you are,” he wiped tears off his eyelids. “Ya’ heard the Prime Sentinel, boys! If we don’t hurry and capture the rebels, Lord Prime will have to do it for us after he’s done here! Surely, we would not allow for such shame upon us, right?” With his laughing fit ended just as suddenly as it began, Astra shouted a new command to the Sentinels – and this time, none disputed his words nor Six’s.
The Squad Captains on standby withdrew their arms and began to relay the command to their own squadrons and the others as well. It took but a moment for them to gather up the horses and carts for their hunt.
The sight of Astra giving commands so fluently and confidently was a rather breath of fresh air compared to his usual jests and tantrums. “You may hate it, but you’re not so bad at it.” Six smirked and tapped his Wing’s shoulder.
“A compliment, I do not want – but I’ll graciously take it.” Astra shrugged Six’s hand off his shoulder. A Rook Sentinel led Astra’s mount to him – a brilliant white stallion. “I wish I could stay and watch this rare bout of the ages. Alas, may Ark be by your side in my place, Boss.” Astra bowed his head once straddled on the horse, only then did he look taller than Six.
“I’m sure he will. And I hope you remember your duty as well. Follow them,” Six reminded his scatter-brained Wing.
“Yes, I heard ya’, Boss.” Astra waved his hand and tucked at the horse’s reins, commanding it to gallop forward.
Six pulled at the horse’s reins, stopping its galloping suddenly and nearly launching Astra off of its back. “Follow them.” A reminder once more, only this time clearer and graver – before Six released the reins, entrusting his Wing with this mission.
“Ye-Yes, Lord Prime.” Astra stuttered before riding off with the squadrons – he ought to remember Six’s command now.
You better remember, Six stared at the Astra and the Sentinels as they rode away into every corner of Dreamcity. Before long, their sights were no more than fickle mirages in his golden eyes, consumed away by the storm of dust, burning buildings, and piles of corpses. Then, he was alone – alone with only foes to keep him company. Same story as always, huh? Six couldn’t help but laugh at such a stale repeating tale. “So I take it you lot wish stayed for me? How gracious of you all.” Six said as he marched towards the nine rebels – still holding up in their corner despite them vastly outnumbering Six.
“It’s not very often one’d get the chance to fight the Sixth Archetype himself,” Abe grinned. “I’ve heard much about you from your sister.”
“Nothing good, I presume.” Six sneered.
“She did mention your strength. And your dryness, your callousness, your soullessness. A machine who knows no love.” The rebel chirped on and on like a gossiper.
Such grand descriptions... Sounds like Four, alright, Six sighed. “In that case, surely she’d have also told you that none of you would stand a chance against me.”
“She did, yes.”
“Then why aren’t you following her orders? So much for – following the Chief, always.” Six pointed out.
“I have my pride as a man, after all. Sometimes, a man needs to break some rules for the sake of a damsel’s smile.” Abe coolly slicked his hair back, but there was no hair, he was bald.
Six did not expect such words coming out of a brute like him – those whimsical words would be something Lord Bao would say to swoon ladies in court. “Is it for that girl? Stel?” asked Six.
Abe did not answer, but his slight grin was enough of an answer for Six.
“I do not know much, but she did not seem to fancy me very much. Very brave of you to stand up for your dearest.” Six bid the one compliment he could think of for this brutish giant.
“Oh, we’re no lovers. A meek bundle of skin and bones isn’t really it for a man like me,” Abe denied. Outwardly finding it funny, he chuckled alongside the eight other rebels, all nodding in unison. “But I do pray that she’d find love once this is all over.”
“She does not know you intend to do this either, doesn’t she?” questioned Six.
“There’s no need for her to. One less worry in her mind. Ark knows there are already enough in it.” Abe smiled, somewhat solemnly. “With you out of our way, that’d be one of her biggest worries taken care of.” He glared at Six with his murky brown eyes, filled with loathing, yet not from himself.
Is that so… Six has earned the ire of so many folks throughout his life that he no longer even knew what reason she could have possibly held a grudge over him.
After a period of standstill, the nine rebels then began to spread out into a circle around Six, armed with bows, daggers, and hammers.
Meanwhile, Six merely had a steel sword hung by his waistside. His armour was bulky, and his cape was too long, making it hard for him to move. Even his helmet was far too heavy and limited his vision. Enough of this… Six grunted before swiftly removing his dragon-like helmet and tossing it to the dirt. Even his armour and cape were taken off, leaving only a gambeson left to shield his body.
“What are you doing?” Abe asked with a puzzled look.
Six’s body has felt much lighter already. “I have to give you lot an advantage somehow. I’m a fair man.” He taunted the cowardly rebels.
“Fucking crazy old steelman... Don’t expect us to extend the same generosity.” No matter how brave and bold of a front Abe tried to wear, he could not hide the drop of sweat trickling down his forehead.
“I won’t. If anything, I’d ask that you’d all show me something I haven’t seen.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Abe lifted up his warhammer, followed by the other rebels readying their own weapons and stances.
Nine rebels… You’ll need much more than that to bring this old man down. Six cracked his knuckles and stretched his limbs – before, at last, unsheathing his sword. “By my mettle as the Prime Sentinel, a member of the Ace, and an Archetype – I bid you all fortune in this bout against me, bold challengers. Take it up with Ark when I’m done with you all.” A very corny line uttered by Six of all people. If she was here, the Chief of these same rebels he was confronting would no doubt be so proud of such paltry displays of acting – dreadful enough to make the most seasoned of actors weep.