321 Regret
The end of the hunt was, to be concise, uneventful. A tired and slightly hungover hunting party returned to the capital with some degree of celebration from the locals, however the reception was little more than a token effort on the part of all involved. The truth of the matter was that nobody left had the energy to celebrate. Happy though they might be, there was still the looming threat of extinction, and so they carried on as normal.
Donovan, having sacrificed enough time to appease the Nekh and their ceremonies, made a large push to organize and get the Pegasus loaded up with people. He still needed to train the flight crew of the Trawler to the minimum standard of competency, and then make plans to train the next batch, all while commanding efforts on the ground from a Pegasus busy ferrying Nekh. In that regard he was somewhat fortunate - the Holifanian elements on the ground were competent enough to carry out orders despite the language and knowledge barrier that was, admittedly, shrinking.
Diana and Titanyana, on the other hand, began to work more closely with the people. Where Donovan organized men and materiel, they were given the all too important task of cultural integration - the first step on that long journey being the adoption of English as a language amongst the populace. Of course, this did not mean they were only working as educators, both of them had important roles in community management, organization, and dispute resolution. In both fields - education and administration - their statuses provided them a great degree of influence in step with their duties, but their days were largely uneventful.
This was the case for almost everyone on Nectar. Aside from the occasional appearance of a Thunderbird circling curiously above the rapidly expanding settlement or the howl of a beast off in the forest somewhere, no serious incident with the wildlife occurred. Guard towers were erected along the edge just to provide a level of defense against terrestrial threats, and patrols equipped with relatively high caliber weaponry scouted and mapped the landscape, but no deaths were recorded and nothing akin to the behemoth nixed by Donovan and Titanyana was found. The work was hard, the people tired, but aside from the occasional marriage celebration there wasn't much out of the norm to shake up their daily routines. Life on the budding colony of Nectar was, in a word, boring.
The same could not be said for those Donovan left at the academy, least of all Len.
"How does he keep tabs on everything?" The picture being shown to Len, Sanna, and Wall through a mirror-like artifact along the wall of the barroom reflected a particularly bloody and brutal battle, one their 'supreme commander' Trebar was in command of. The stipulations of their special enrollment alongside Donovan meant they could not participate in such a brawl, so they had gone together to something like an upscale party establishment, one that catered towards their demographic.
"I'm more interested in how he communicates orders. I don't see him waving around any flags." The subject of their conversation could be seen atop a hastily erected bit of scaffolding, a prominent figure above a gradually reddening field of skirmishes. From there he commanded his side of the battlefield, somehow directing units to engage the opponents he deemed necessary, an ability their opponent did not appear to possess. "Do you think that's why he's so dominant?"
"Eh, they could do the same if they wanted to." Gawan, acting as something of a chaperone for their little band, chipped in from the actual bar, small chunks of ice clinking around in a rather large glass of whiskey as he stirred. "Their general is a fifth year, so this is his last chance to prove himself on the field of battle without the risk of death, same for most of their upper echelon. I bet they thought it would be better to have no commander and commit to the brawl than let someone without experience fall into one of Trebar's traps and ruin it for them. Not a terrible strategy if I'm honest, Trebar himself might be tempted to contribute to the bloodbath once he gets bored."
"Oh, that makes sense." Sanna raised his glass to Gawan's response, thanking him for the explanation. "It's a lot less interesting than I thought it would be."
"That would only be because they don't have a commander with any competence at the helm." Wall, who had seen one of these conflicts from a similar establishment, remembered things going quite differently. "Right now it looks like they're just charging in mindlessly, but under a real commander this sort of conflict turns into something more akin to a dance."
From the vantage point this mirror offered the battlefield appeared to be a flat field, however anyone who had actually fought inside would compare it to something more like an elongated bowl. It sloped up from the center towards either side, leading both sides to a truly flat region in the center. Supposedly this was done to offer some degree of terrain advantage to a defender or flanking attacker, but it also served to exhaust anybody trying to retreat and regroup. Pursuers would also tire themselves out in the chase, however it tended to keep the battles shorter as a result.
"Yeah, maybe you'll see it next match. I'm sure somebody will want to test Trebar in his bracket."
A mix of cheers and empathetic 'ooh'-s rang out from the bar's other patrons, Wall among their number. Portions of the mirror-screen were dedicated to displaying interesting duels or notable individuals, the section in question proudly displaying Kerefel. A distinguished fifth year himself, the controllers of these sections had been focusing on him a lot before his unique style of combat left alongside him, a style of combat that had cleanly bisected one of the opposing army's leaders from right shoulder to left hip.
"Brutal." Wall was seeing exactly what those precisely halted strikes would have done to him during their spars, something he was a little perturbed by. "Wonder if I'll reach that level by graduation."
"I wouldn't count on it."
"Dick." Wall and Sanna shared a giggle. "I kinda miss him."
"Donovan?"
"Yeah. It's only been . . . a month now?"
"Six weeks."
"And I think of all the things we could have done in that time." Wall stared down into his mug, a slight frown forming. "Fucker left just as I got used to the beatings."
"Mm, can't blame him though. The man has a mission."
"No, I certainly can't hold it against him. I only wonder how much further he could have pushed us." The table of three adopted a similar countenance, all recalling the past month and a half. With half of their number gone, life around the barracks quickly became a bore, so the three of them spent increasing amounts of time out at bars or entertainment venues just to avoid the oppressing boredom.
They hadn't neglected their physical conditioning and skills training, if anything they were constantly upping the ante, but without the guidance of Donovan they felt themselves floundering a little. This was something they believed to be represented by their tournament performances, which weren't much better than before.
"I don't want to go back." Len, coddling a glass of juice rather than alcohol, finally spoke. Despite their attempts at getting him to be more open and outgoing since Donovan's departure, he hadn't engaged as much in social contexts. He stood in the corners during parties, shrunk away into his own little bubble at the bars, and the last time they went to an event for young adults to 'mingle' he ended up quietly leaving before introducing himself to any ladies. That said, there was progress. Like a pair of dysfunctional uncles Sanna and Wall had sponsored a rather impressive wardrobe for him, and their constant pushes to have him go out and socialize had finally made him willing to explore of his own accord. Just the other day he had taken a trip to one of the marketplaces in order to buy some gifts for his family.
Len had bigger problems though. Perhaps more than anyone else he had reasons to avoid home. Aside from a general nervousness surrounding his familial relationship, Len was preparing to face an imperial court hearing upon his return. Cards had been played to paint him as innocent, but that didn't mean something else could happen afterwards. Home, the place he was supposed to be safe, was now the most threatening place he could be.
"Prince Merndil said he'd take care of it, bud. You don't need to worry about it until you get there." Wall tried to comfort him, but he couldn't offer much aid in a domain he held no relation with.
"I know, but it doesn't do anything for the nerves."
"Looks like things are wrapping up." Sanna adopted a more callous approach. All their attempts at comfort had failed, so he judged it better to take his mind off things.
"Huh? But there are so many people left?"
"Battles go until half of a side is killed, bud. It's not like a squad battle." Wall was already waving down a waitress to pay their tab. "We need to beat the rush going home."
"Hey, don't worry about it, I'll pay." Gawan emptied his glass, tapping it down on the table before producing a small coin purse. "One week to the end of the year, and I need to get rid of my stipend."
"If you insist."
- - - - -
Len collapsed onto his bed, exhausted from a bout of evening training. Several trunks and bags were scattered about his room at various stages of packing, all but one of them were new acquisitions. They were gifts, presents, investments from the two men who considered him to be a friend and brother, and it depressed him greatly. So there he lay, almost a man, pondering a life barely lived.
He was an orphan adopted by an influential nobleman - the lord of a planet and general of an empire. It was a life devoid of affection, devoid of appreciation, devoid of attachment, and Len had been certain he would not make it in this wondrous world of weaponry. A boy who couldn't put up a proper fight would never be accepted as a serious competitor in any of the armies, a fact he recognized for a long time, ever since he was made aware of his foster father's intentions to send him to this place.
Everyone in his life seemed to hold some degree of disdain for him. His 'elder brother', Arrewiz, frequently beat him up during training and tended to berate and avoid him around the castle. Arreviro, the 'younger sister', always came off as pushy and demanding in spite of the 'affection' she gave him otherwise. Linarin, his 'mother', treated him coldly, admonishing for his faults but never praising his successes. The only one who was different was Arrelois, his 'father'.
In spite of Arrelois' professed attachment to Len, it wasn't something he ever felt personally. If anything, Arrelois' attachment was to his actual father, the one who saved his life. He always pushed Len, tried to give him confidence, but it always felt hollow, like he was talking to someone else, someone better. Arrelois' assertions were a big reason he utilized the Pile Lance, the absurdly heavy chunk of metal his father apparently once used.
Despite all this, Len possessed no hatred for any of these people, his 'family'. He was ultimately a stranger to them, somebody brought in to repay a life debt, and for all the distaste the other three might have for him they always provided. Arrelois especially was kind to him, even if Len never felt like he was seen, and so he became desperately afraid of disappointing him.
But something had changed.
Len didn't know if it was something in them or something in him, but during their visit Arrewiz and Arreviro had been . . . different. They didn't seem so cold, so oppressive. Viro had not been quite so aggressive in her pestering, closer to affectionate really, while Wiz had even smiled at him - total opposites of his prior perception of them. That didn't mean they had been the ones to change though, Len was keenly aware of how he had grown during his stay here, and how his view of the world and relationships with others was altered by his interactions with Sanna, Wall, and most importantly Donovan.
A part of him developed a sense of regret over the past week of pondering, fearing he may have mistaken the frustrated affection of a family trying to accept him as mere pleasantries and harassment.
"You up?" His door, slightly cracked to let air flow through the open window, was unceremoniously pushed the rest of the way open. Wall's signature method of invading his personal space wasn't entirely unwelcome though.
"Mhm."
"Good. Do you want to go anywhere tomorrow?" He leaned against the frame, occupying an absurd proportion of the doorway regardless.
"Honestly, not really. I'm leaving in a few days and I just want to rest and make sure I'm ready for the return trip." Arreviro had asked his fiancé to let Len tag along with her, banking on her family's influence to dissuade any unsavory elements from Rishtahn's entourage from enacting an early revenge. She was amenable to this considering she was already headed that way for their wedding, however they were leaving a few days before the final battle in the academy.
"That's fine. We'll probably be heading to bars and whatnot anyways. Let us know if you want anything."
"Okay." Len's sigh morphed into a yawn, one hand coming up to rub his tired eyes.
"Is, uh, there anything you wanna get off your chest?" Wall tapped the door with his fingers, drumming away some tune they heard in the Veins. Evidently he thought something might be wrong for Len to be acting this way.
"Have you ever . . . felt like the way you lived was a mistake?" Len lacked the imagination to elaborate on his issue, hoping Wall would catch on to 'vibes'. "I don't mean, like, one or two actions being huge mistakes, but like, like your outlook on the world? Your relationships with others? Or something?"
"That's a, uh, tough question." Wall fell silent, collecting himself. "I may not be a wise man, but I am a man, and this man thinks what you're experiencing is something everyone goes through in their lives. At some point everyone finds out they've been doing something wrong, or have misunderstood something important, and they get stuck with this sense of . . . I don't know if I should call it guilt or regret or something else. It's besides the point though. All I think you need to know is that, despite those mistakes, those understandings, or whatever the hell else it is that's bothering you, it's not the end. Life moves on, and it'll provide you an opportunity to right them if you're fortunate. Even if it doesn't, you'll have grown, become better, more mature, and maybe you'll stop yourself from doing 'em again. No use dwelling on the past if you aren't learning from it, right?"
Len remained silent, trying to absorb a mindset he didn't feel ready for. The advice was appreciated regardless of effectiveness. It showed he cared.
"G'night, Len. I'll see you in the morning."
"See you in the morning."