[1.3]

Bitter.

She gritted her teeth and threw her strength into the massive, jagged, pointed pickaxe that lodged into the chipped rock surface. Pebbles flew out, and she slowly pulled the pickaxe out of the rock before throwing it down once more. Again and again the tool was let loose upon the rock, her strength seemingly inexhaustible. Faster and faster she picked away at the stone in front of her.

The stone creaked, and she held out her palm towards it. Crack, crack, crack, and a large block fell out onto the floor next to her. She rolled it over towards the three behind her, saying “You guys take it apart. I’ll figure the next one.” Her tone was confident, aggravated, perhaps; but always strong. Shirin turned back around and proceeded with what she had been doing so far: mining the tunnel.

Amidst the darkness of the tunnel, she went on regardless. Ever so slowly she wore away the rock ahead of her and threw back large rocks for the others around her to clear. Her arms began to wobble, and the dust was building all over her straining body, but again and again she picked away at the stone.

Looking at her with bewildered eyes, one of the men asked, “Say… do they feed you better than us or somethin’?”

“Nah. Just running on fumes.”

“Keep yerself okay, young’in. You never know when ‘ey’ll choose to pull you out either.” He said, bruised, slowly, with a croaking voice.

Shirin looked at him, her eyes wide open, at attention. She frowned. “Please don’t tell me you’ve been here as long as I think.”

“If you mean long enough that I would’n’ be able to count, yah. Long, long time. You new?”

“You’ve been here long enough to know everyone that’s here?”

“Nae. But they balded you, didn’t they? Very young, very boisterous.” He remarked, tapping on her forehead. “Don’t get yourself too ahead, they eventually make youngins like you into their perfect vase-thingys.”

“I’ll keep it in mind, but just saying, I do intend to get out of here.”

“That’s what they all say.” He again remarked with a heavy tone, lifting up a boulder and walking off in the other direction; disappearing behind the corner.

She scratched her head, if only to find her fingers rubbing her now-bald forehead. It was unusually cool to have the wind blowing over her now, the wind directly flying past the skin on her forehead; the rest of her head joining her ears in being unprotected from the elements. All that was left was a light coat of hair stumps.

Still, that didn’t sting. That wasn’t bitter.

The massive brand on the back of her head was. A wide, ornate circular emblem lay burnt into her skin, a dark brown mark with a gigantic dragon-like creature emblazoned in the centre. The characters below it, reminiscent of some kind of Sino-Tibetan writing, simple, straight; numerical.

Behind her footsteps marched towards her. She turned curtly and expediently and stared with disinterested eyes at the guard that now stood in front of her. “How’s the job hanging, fuckface?”

“The woman wants you.”

“Funny, I thought I wasn’t wanted.” She turned around, raising her hands behind her. The guard, whose long-eared silhouette remained barely visible, grabbed them and tied a prickly rope around her wrists, before nudging her.

Without prodding she trotted off, making her way slowly but surely through the winding tunnel. The walls slowly smoothened as she walked into dim, but clear, light, and the stares stacked up bit by bit. She didn’t need to see it herself to know; those pairs of eyes were already on her.

An indignant, almost confrontationally snide expression habitually sat on her face. The smirk that appeared when she felt she knew someone was giving her a bad look was near-constant and almost systematic, the aura of snark emanating from her affecting anyone given the briefest notice of her presence.

“My adoring audience.” She muttered, snickering to herself.

Led on, the walls had turned straight and aligned but not exactly clean; some mess of dirt and grime was splattered across them, with an occasional bloodstain. The lamps lining the walls gave off a bright yellow light, toning the figures moving through. Armoured guards, gaunt prisoners, slaves. She had joined the latter and yet didn’t act like it.

Walking on, she eyed the rooms around her. At the very least each iron door and each sign was given a glance, and every junction she sniffed the air. The musty smell mixed together with the disgusting stink of sewage and the iron-rich smell of… more blood.

It was not ignorable. Blood was squelched all over the floor she walked over. Every few of her newfound comrades had wounds, bruises and abrasions, open or somewhat healed, but noticeable red marks regardless. The women all had the same brand on the back of their heads. The men all had the same brand on their necks. She had the same brand on-

-she was one of them?

-yeah, right. Take another look, this is just temporary. I’ll just split the moment somebody turns around, get this rope off, and just you wait I am going to win.

Her eyes continued to dart around before the soldier behind her jabbed her in the back, pointing to the left. She briskly moved onwards over the stone floor and in the direction of a wooden door.

“Hey, you sure this is the right door? Looks like the exit,” She smirked. “Not that I’d be complaining.”

The guard rolled his eyes, then yanked her along by the hem of her shirt; sliding the door open and shoving Shirin to the ground in the room.

“Commander, the prisoner.”

“Keep a watch outside, deny entry to all except vice-commander Enako.”

Inside, a large nondescript table stood with a chair on either side. The floor remained as musty as the outside, the walls, far cleaner, but there was a dark brown mark on the table and the smell of some stagnant, pungent rot.

As she stood up, grabbing onto the chair on her side to support herself, she realised that on one of the chairs sat Miru, dressed in a rather ornamental uniform with several badges, bronze buttons and a small cap. Her lips pursed, she motioned for Shirin to sit.

“You seem real fuckin’ delighted to be here.”

Miru sighed, “As far as my priorities were ordered, this meeting was first.”

“Yeah? Honoured. Whaddya want out of me?” She said, not even looking at Miru in the eyes.

“Obviously, your cooperation would be ideal. Then we can begin the process of reunifying your settlement into the nation.” The tone Miru carried remained emotionless and professional.

“Yeah, have fun with that. I ain’t helping.” Shirin glanced over and tapped on her hairless head, shrugging.

“It was not a request, it was a demand.”

“Then make me do it. Except I won’t. I won’t, ever.” Her tone remained direct, straight-forward… angry. She leaned back, using her arms as a headrest while looking up at the ceiling.

*slap*

A red mark remained on Shirin’s face as Miru shrank back into her chair. She crossed her arms and leaned in once more.

“What was your profession in the settlement?”

“...”

“I said, what was your profession in the settlement?”

*sigh* “Assistant instructor...” Her voice trailed off, apparently mumbling.

“What subject?”

“Magic. The works. Just studying the effects, usage, applications… Y’know.”

Miru stopped and looked at her for a moment. Under the white light of the lantern above them her wide-eyed expression remained clear.

“A magic scholar?”

“I prefer researcher.”

“And you have enough time to train while at it?”

“I find the time.”

“Interesting…” She mentioned, narrowing her eyes and pulling out a small book. The ragged cloth that made up its cover marked ‘reports’, it opened to reveal a long series of meticulous notes and remarks scribbled in uneven ink.

She pulled out a large, bulky pen, with a large cylindrical container behind the grip, then opened the side of the container and peered inside. Miru then closed it once more and started writing on one of the pages. Shirin stared and had a muted chuckle to herself.

“Is that amusing to you?”

“No ma’am, I’m sure that’s an upgrade from an inkwell.”

The incredulous look on Miru’s face disappeared after moments as she wrote a few more lines from top to bottom.

“Were there extensive amounts of Akari in the settlement?”

“Why the hell do you think I’ll tell you that?”

“It was a demand.”

“I wouldn’t sell out my worst enemy to you.” She stated confidently, “Mainly because I don’t even think a cult would be able to get me a good price anyways.”

*slap*

This time both her cheeks were red. Miru stood up and went to the door; opening it, she gestured for the guard outside to come in.

“Against the wall. Now.” She directed, as the guard grabbed Shirin by the shoulders. Shirin scowled at him as she held onto the guard’s face and tugged at his arm, before slapping the guard with one hand and slamming him away with the other. She leapt away, before she realised-

-her legs couldn’t move.

Well, they could shake, but they couldn’t move.

She turned to see Miru blankly holding her hand out, using her powers to hold her legs back. She pouted.

The guard slowly staggered to his feet and immediately slammed Shirin into the wall, a wave of energy quickly and speedily running through the stone and rock making up the surface. Even Miru felt it, if just a little bit.

“I find that this position is highly effective at extracting information. Go on, tell me how many there were in the camp.”

“Fine, you win. There were two.”

“Impossible.”

“Naw, I even know their names! They’re called fuck off and take a fuckin’ hint!”

The guard jabbed her in her back, and her nose hit the wall once again. It stung, feeling as if it had been burnt on some hot iron, and she chuckled.

“Yeah, that’s what I want! Go ahead and prove my point, bitch! I’ll have you know just fuckin’ fine that I will take one of your dumb brainwashed lackeys any day in a battle! Tell me the disadvant- urgh-”

Her tone had turned louder and louder until being interrupted by a jab on her neck. Her breathing turned erratic. Her voice had turned hoarse. But Shirin’s laughter was… maniacal. The cracked, somewhat off-kilter laughter streamed out of her ever so slowly gave both the guard and Miru somewhat incredulous looks.

“Yeah, yeah, come on! What the hell are you waiting for, DO IT!”

Miru, staring intently, her mouth agape, motioned for the guard to turn Shirin around. As he slowly dragged Shirin’s face into the forefront, there was, on her face, only a scowl with the ends of her lips turned down as far as she could, and her eyes seemingly attempting to pierce through everything she observed.

Below her head of silver-white hair the neurons in Miru’s mind raced to make sense of it all. There were no words for this.

Shirin, on the other hand, had reverted to a neutral, blank expression. She glanced sideways, never looking directly at Miru, or the guard.

“How many Akari?”

“Still not tellin’. You gotta get better at this entire convincing job.”

Miru pulled out a small steel blade from one of her pockets and held it against Shirin’s neck. The glint of its shine appeared in Shirin’s eyes, and the sweat came pouring down.

“How many?”

“Yeah, go on. Kill me. Get yourself some fuckin’ information then.”

The whites of her teeth showed in her wide grin. Miru stepped back, her mouth wide open, silent.

She pulled a small pocket watch from her shirt pocket, glanced at it, then dropped it back in in a matter of seconds. She immediately turned around and flipped open the book; the ink leaving the pen at a ridiculously fast rate. Miru slapped the pages together, dumped the book on the table and told the guard, “Take her back to the tunnels. Arrange for another interrogation after Lieutenant Sekyo’s inspection.”

The guard nodded, and immediately dragged Shirin away, the sound of her feet scraping away as Miru rushed out the door herself in the opposite direction.

“See ya, cult leader!”

Miru briefly glanced back at Shirin as she vanished past the corner, before immediately turning around and dashing off, the sound of her footsteps ringing through the tunnel.

Little rattling shook the corridor as she dashed past, dozens and dozens of rag-wearing dust-covered men passing her by; a few women of a similar stature. Dodging battering rams, tools, wooden planks and what not, she held onto her hat and continued to sprint past them all.

Dirty puddles appeared. The walls began to freeze. Up the stairs the blizzard stormed in once again and she marched into a sea of white.

Greeting her were dozens of wooden structures swarming the entrance to the tunnels. As she emerged a large stone barrier came into view from all her four directions, and here the soldiers wore large woolen jackets, holding various weapons - spears, longswords and archers - with bits of metal sticking out underneath their coats.

“Is the Lieutenant’s party here yet?”

“No, ma’am. But they’re currently making their way over to the elevator.”

“Are all the men already ready to receive him?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Miru nodded, moving onwards step by step, lifting her boots in and out of the snow ever so slowly. She turned her head to the left and right, men in two lines standing without moving, holding their spears and swords pointed down into the snow. As she trudged through and glanced over all of them, their coats removed and them standing in the snow with just silver-grey armour plating. Ever so slightly, they seemed to be shaking.

Her eyes never wavered. Walking to a large gap in the stone wall, she stopped and looked towards the front.

The distant echo splashed into her ears. She began to walk again, slowly, steadily, as the sound rose and rose and came closer. Snow shook and rattled; some of it flying up and down and chattering away. As she moved in closer a sudden darkness appeared in the ground, a depression - the snow falling in ever so slowly. The darkness gave way, and a large stone layer began to arise from underneath the ground, as did a dozen men.

There were ten men wearing the same winter coats and holding identical longswords, not moving, standing around the two at the centre. Both at the centre wore the same brown uniforms with the same bronze buttons and caps that Miru wore. Her hand moved like the wind; finding itself quickly placed against her forehead, and it remaining there until one of the uniformed men waved for her to stop saluting.

“Very good to see you, Miru.”

“It is a great honor, Lieutenant Sekyo.” She said, her voice clear and formal.

“At ease. Show me the plans.” Sekyo said in a voice reminiscent of a toaster warming bread, the wrinkles on his face clearly moving around as he spoke.

Miru nodded curtly. She didn’t turn, to face him directly, rather choosing to trace her footsteps back towards the tunnel entrance; the men all stood there to their sides as they proceeded through. Sekyo slowed down somewhat and walked over to the right line, slowly moving his gaze over one of the men.

The solder gulped. He shook. He blinked. To him it felt as if lasers ran over his body, visible to all, even Miru, watching several more metres away. His long ears twitched.

Then Sekyo walked off, the hair on his balding head flailing around in the wind. To Miru’s side, he remarked, “Excellent discipline.”

“They are steeled daily.”

“If only the Solha or Akari would be as cooperative.” He muttered, a tone of abject irritation seeping through. “Useless subhumans.”

“Indeed.” Miru noted, a flippant nature to her comment.

Her footsteps took slower strides, and she silently watched as the wobbly, wrinkled man bit by bit lifted his feet up and down into the snow. She walked up to him and said, “would you require assistance?”

“No need.”

Eventually both of them walked past the stone entrance and into the tunnel, puddles of water being left behind. Down the stairs every soldier they passed by saluted, every slave they passed by at the very least nodding if holding massive wooden logs.

They passed by a particularly gaunt and white young elven woman, while being dragged along by two soldiers, staggering along the floor, who collapsed to the floor and strainingly uttered ‘your Honor’; the soldiers saluting before bowing and saying ‘our Apologies, sir’.

As the woman and her pale skin left their sight, the sound of her feet still pattering in a freakish, off-kilter pace, Sekyo remarked, “So that is what is required to teach them respect. Very good, Miru. Very good. I want more.”

Miru nodded, still quiet.

“Regardless, how have the plans proceeded? I have not seen any men of the San’in Battalion.”

“The men have been building up the tunnels, sir. The Battalion was given early rest by Lieutenant Korzich.”

Sekyo frowned. “That will put our plans behind time. What about the special mages?”

“They are ready, as ever. The battering rams and energy-sacks have been prepared and are ready; we did lose some communicators to disease. A reduction of roughly 20.”

“Tolerable.”

“My apologies for not advising Lieutenant Korzich, sir.”

Still walking, he took a short glance at her.

“If only you were elven. I hardly imagine any of my peers wouldn’t be trying to take you for their own forces, perhaps; but they are only focused on their pursuit of wives. You are our key to victory.”

“Thank you very much, sir.”

“Just as much I would have hoped you could have been a man. But the great god chooses unwisely in his times of tiredness. I am sure that he would have changed it much a long time ago.”

Miru looked down, not replying.

“Miru?”

“Nothing, sir.”

“I see. Do recognise, your place here is just a privilege. I hope you use it well.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll be off to converse with Lieutenant Korzich, then. Off you go, steel the men.” He said, turning around and walking off.

Miru remained quiet; the ends of her lips ever so slightly turning downwards. She pressed against her chest, felt nothing, and sighed. She took her notebook, opened it up and in it wrote:

FAILED AGAIN