Chapter 2: The Unit and the Team
[Knowing your team well is the first step in trust.]
Being such a large city, Saruja had a variety of beings living in its population. It was renowned for being a place of diversity and understanding, with many species escaping warring nations to reside here. Though Hjina were still the most common, Retura from Miral, Sichie from Edge, and even a few Icredie from the icy Lucanne could be found here.
Unfortunately, not all the citizens were refugees from warring states or wanderers looking for new opportunities. There was still a fair amount of slave trade going on all over Alhose, especially just outside Saruja – and those slaves who managed to escape servitude found themselves hiding in the alleys and aqueducts until the hunt for them was over. Saruja was one of only two counties in Alhose to oppose the slave trade, the other being Nozaritt, a larger but less populated region to the south.
Vincent realized the diversity was more extensive than he first thought when he travelled by taxi to the location Regnah had provided the squad, with Simon accompanying him. Various stalls were being put away, and many of them were loading onto large airships – a common travel method for big cities like this.
Both Simon and Vincent felt awkward sitting beside each other – their first meeting could have been smoother, Vincent lamented, but what’s done had been done. Simon was focused on a small rectangular device in his hand that seemed to channel lightning-Essence through a few filters to make a screen. Vincent couldn’t make out what he was doing, only that tapping the screen would invariably do something he wanted.
The outside world strafed through the window – it must have been at least nine in the evening now. Many of the buildings had no lights on or few, and the few streetlights were crossing light and shadow into the cab. This was the first time Vincent had been in an automobile, and he envied the speed compared to that of a horse-drawn caravan. These vehicles were still new to the world, and although they were more common inside cities, they were still relatively rare outside businesses or rich individuals.
An hour passed before the silence was broken – Vincent spoke first. “So, what is your relationship with Regnah? It seems odd that someone like him would fund a random project like this.”
If Simon had taken offense to that grazing comment, he hid it well. His face remained unchanged as he looked up from his device to meet Vincent’s eyes with a half-smile.
“Actually, my father and Regnah worked together for a few years when I was still a child. They were both professors at the College and had a fondness for studying the Baael.”
He turned his device off and faced forward. “I agreed to allow Regnah to study any Baael we’re able to capture, and to collect data with the help of some of the tech that the College and the Military want to design in large scale. In return, he lends me his funding, and I have a chance to better the life of some of the city’s people.”
Vincent was confused. “Better the lives of the city’s people? From what I’ve seen, this place is basically paradise, besides the annoying guards and the Baael attacks.”
Simon’s face flashed with equal confusion, but it was almost instantly replaced with understanding. “Depending on how much of the city you’ve seen, I can understand why you’d think that. But the Baael attacks here are unlike anywhere else, and even we have our share of racism, poverty, and untreated sickness.”
He pointed out the window as it showed a hilly park to the right. It was hard to see, but eventually Vincent could make out damaged buildings near the northwest side of the region. From this distance, he couldn’t make out what they were wearing, but he could tell there were people on the ground, sitting and lying down in the streets.
“The reason you don’t see it near the South Gate is because the guards keep them corralled in that part of the city,” Simon lamented. “If you look like you belong in the slums, the guards will push you there. If you’re caught committing crimes that don’t get you put to death, you’ll go to jail for a time, then be moved to the slums. Even past residents of higher-class areas have been forced there after serving in the military. Because that part of town is where the barrier is weakest, Baael attacks are more prevalent, which lowers life expectancy and property values. Missing Persons reports from the slums make up around twenty-five percent of Saruja’s total reports, and many people there don’t get proper burials when they are confirmed dead.”
Simon’s face scrunched into a mix of anger and pity. “The worst part is, the College has ideas and plans to help the slums become a better place, but the system to get it approved would take years, and then at least another few years to implement. If this tactical unit proves successful, there would be additional military positions and career opportunities within two years.”
Vincent pondered this for a bit. A system that would allow jobs to be created at-will did sound better than plans and thoughts that had little chance of passing a board of directors or had to be approved of by a busy king. On the other hand, if the task force was successful, the biggest concern would then be how quickly jobs could be made available, not to mention what qualifications or training would be necessary for them.
Although there were still holes and unknowns, Vincent felt he was able to better understand Simon’s vision – at least, a little more than initially.
The cab stopped about twenty minutes later, in front of a well-maintained (or possibly just newly built) two-story building. It was nothing of real note: the walls of the building were a peach-grey color, and the door was a simple wooden design with a steel frame and steel kickplates. It had a few steps out front, and an eave looming over the front by about two meters. In the moonlight, it wasn’t spectacular or boring, just commonplace – and that, Vincent thought, was probably intentional.
Simon paid the driver with banknotes (rather than coins) and gave a quick wave goodbye. He and Vincent turned to the building and went inside.
“This building was built by the knight commander of our military,” Simon explained, “and once the trial period has ended, we’ll be able to set up squad quarters near each gate.”
“I thought you said that the housing was supplied by the College?” Vincent raised a suspicious eyebrow at Simon.
“It’s… a little of both,” Simon confessed. “The building was originally going to be military housing, but there was better housing available, so the College bought it.” Vincent was unsure if Simon was trying to hide this fact, or if he just forgot, but he let it slide.
Vincent nonchalantly grabbed his cigarettes as Simon talked, put one in his mouth, and reached for his lighter.
“Ah-ah!” cooed Simon. “No smoking inside the building please. Or at least wait until you get to the balcony.”
Vincent sighed. A non-smoking policy would kill him before the Baael did. He cursed himself for not pressing Vesic about policies regarding his vices – though drinking didn’t hold any risk for him, so maybe he could get away with that.
The entrance was bare and minimalistic – it was a large, shared space with a small entryway, a kitchen to the right, and stairs to the left, as well as a three-person couch facing the windows to the left. There was a pair of small boots already in the entryway, definitely too small to be Simon’s size.
“So, this is the main room, where we can unwind between jobs, Grudia willing we have any free time. We could possibly fit a home gym and a screen room in here once we start getting paid regularly!” Simon seemed oddly enthusiastic about showing Vincent around the house, like a realtor showing off a fancy property. “The kitchen is there, and please make sure not to track dirt or blood into the house, because it’s a bitch-and-a-half to clean. There’s also a bathroom underneath that staircase.”
They moved up to the second floor, which held a similar – if not smaller – open space that led into eight smaller rooms (four on either side), and another bathroom next to the stairs. And, obviously, what Vincent thought would be his sanctuary from the non-smoking rule: the door that led to the balcony. The door outside was as simple as the entrance door, but with two doors instead of one, and small glass panes on each at about head height.
Vincent thought he heard Simon say “she is here” under his breath when he noticed that all the doors were opened except for one – the farthest room on the left side of the space. “This floor has the bedrooms – so far, just two are taken. This one here, and the far room on the left.” Simon tapped the door nearest to the staircase as he said this.
“So, who’s this other member?” Vincent asked. He had been told there were three members, including himself, but was not told anything about the third member. As it was, he only knew that it was a woman, and that was because Simon let it slip mere seconds ago.
Simon sighed, exhibiting a face of exhaustion. “Her name is Rinkyu, but she hasn’t been very social since she joined.” He scratched his head, pulling his ponytail out of the band. “She’ll join me for meals, but she doesn’t really talk to me. You’ll probably meet her tomorrow.”
He started towards his room. “I’ll start breakfast around seven thirty, so it should be ready at about eight. I’ll make sure there’s enough for everyone.”
He waved a hand and said a final “good night” before closing the door with a soft click.
Vincent took a moment to process the locations of everything. It was late, he decided, looking at each of the open doors. He chose the third bedroom on the right (three being his favorite number) and closed his door behind him. The room, like everything else here, was sparse and dull, with a plain bed with grey sheets and a blanket, and a small side table with a lamp on it. The room also had a small meter-wide closet with several bare hangers, and a small dresser next to it with three drawers.
The furnishing costs for these housing units, if the project was successful, would probably be enormous, even with such light décor. It would be risky to think that either the College or the military would produce funds for more than two units, and even that seemed optimistic.
Vincent placed his bag on the floor next to the bed, and took off his weapon belt and his armor, leaving a tattered black undershirt with grey knee-length underpants, and of course the wristlet from Milyae. His black neck-length hair he tied into a bun, pulling his bangs back into the knot. He sat on the bed, pulling out a notebook with a wooden pencil from his bag. He wrote, quickly but clearly, his opinions of the project so far – the details he knew, the worries he had, and his view of Simon and Regnah. After about ten minutes, he was finished. He breathed deeply and leaned back on the bed.
“I could use a smoke and a drink,” he said quietly to no one, though he didn’t have anything to drink. All the things he worried about for this project were points he would have to address at some point as the leader of the cell. He had to predict errors and problems before they became an issue and needed to keep some kind of rapport with his group – based on what Simon was saying, it would be somewhat different from an actual military unit, but then, the SSM and Vesic’s squad weren’t official military units either.
The difference between them was that the SSM was run by soldiers, and Vesic’s squad was mainly former soldiers who fell into mercenary work, but none had ever raised above the rank of 3rd Lieutenant. Vincent had never enlisted in a true military, so all his “military” knowledge was secondhand and probably wrong to a degree. Besides that, he also needed to remember that most (if not all) of his subordinates wouldn’t even be mercenaries or adventurers. This squad would be built with survivors and second-chancers – a noble duty, but not one ideal for a job involving fighting and politics.
Vincent leaned forward and stood up. His body was starting to tense up – a sign of withdrawal no doubt, and not what he wanted to be feeling before he slept. He took out his cigarette pack and lighter from his pants and wandered out to the balcony.
As he struck the flint, he noticed that his hands were shaking. Was this also withdrawal? He couldn’t tell, but the feeling faded as the lighter lit and the smooth burn of the smoke went into his lungs. His thoughts cleared quickly when this happened, and he didn’t need to smoke often to retain this feeling – once or twice a day at most, three only if he was significantly stressed and had the time. The withdrawal symptoms came as a sign to him – a sign that he was overthinking and needed to calm down to focus. It was akin to his alcohol immunity in some ways, in that he felt better when he consumed it.
The night air was warm, and the sky was illuminated by the two moons and the thousands of stars streaked across the sky. It almost felt less like night, and more like he was in the middle of that sea of celestial bodies. Vincent exhaled a slow grey cloud of smoke that dissipated almost instantly. The view of the city from here wasn’t great – the balcony faced another, smaller building that almost covered the view of the West Gate. It was a short distance away, or so it seemed now, compared to when they drove here.
There was a click behind Vincent, and he turned his head towards it. A small figure was moving through the space towards the stairs, but stopped when the balcony doors creaked with a small gust. Vincent couldn’t make out the figure exactly, but it was smaller and thinner than Simon (surprising, considering how thin Simon was). The two stared at each other for what seemed like forever, until Vincent broke the stillness by waving his hand, cigarette between his fingers.
No words were spoken, but the figure rose an appendage that appeared to be a thin Hjina hand and shook it back and forth slowly in response. It then continued moving to the stairs, closing itself in the bathroom.
That must be Rinkyu, Vincent thought. Based on the size of the silhouette, unless she was a Sichie, she couldn’t have been older than eighteen. What kind of tactical group would employ children, besides one that didn’t care if they died? The image of a terrified, angry, and confused Cestalian revived in Vincent’s mind – children dying and being orphaned by his hands under Cestalian’s leadership, collecting the remainders that seemed even the slightest bit useful, and the final moments of his life, ended by Vincent cleaving his head from his neck. What were the chances of Vincent stumbling into two immoral groups?
He put out his cigarette with a sigh, only half finished. He would have to focus more on the logistics of this squad and have Simon face reality – the tactical squad would need to be more selective, and its missions would have to be more specific.
Vincent scratched his cheek along his scar. There was still a lot of work to do before this group was ready to act.
~15th day of Rhuvu, Year 1403~
The night passed quickly for Vincent, who had gone to bed after his shortened smoke break. What felt like minutes after he had closed his eyes, he woke to the sun shining directly onto his bed – the angle of the window was perfectly lined up so that the six-AM sun hit directly on his pillow, and by extension, his face. He lay dumbly on the bed, lacking the energy to turn his body or cover his eyes for almost an hour.
Once he heard a movement outside the room, he sat up in bed. Simon’s humming was impressively off-key and loud, even through the door. Vincent recalled Simon saying he would start breakfast at seven-thirty, which gave him about forty-five minutes to get ready. He only needed ten to wash up and dress, though it was slightly annoying or embarrassing (he couldn’t decide which) that the only clothes he had were his uniform and a couple pairs of underwear. Regardless, he went to clean up in the bathroom.
He saw no sign of Rinkyu; the bathroom looked well-presented, almost spotless, aside from a few specks in the sink indicative of someone brushing and spitting. There were five toothbrushes in a cup next to it – a yellow one and a blue one slightly wetted, and red, purple, and orange ones that were dry. He picked up the dry red brush and started his new morning routine.
By the time Vincent had arrived downstairs, Simon had already set a medium-sized rectangular table with a tablecloth, three plates, and three sets of silverware. The scent of meat, eggs, and butter was present in the air, and there was a light haze of oil smoke across the room. A girl of the same build as the shadow from the previous night was sitting at one end of the table, and Simon’s lab coat was on a seat on the long side. Vincent took a seat opposite Simon’s coat.
“Good morning, team!” Simon called excitedly from the kitchen. “Breakfast will be ready soon, please be patient.”
There was a small but noticeable grunt of approval from the end of the table. Vincent took a moment to study his new ally – Rinkyu was probably younger than him or Simon, but her size was harder to define because of her closed and slouched posture. She had blond hair that was shorter than Vincent’s and had minor scratches and scarring on her face and along her arms – it was unclear to Vincent if these were self-inflicted, environmental, or done by a person, though her left wrist was being covered by the tablecloth intentionally. Her face was light-skinned and coated lightly with freckles between her upper lip and the top of her nose bridge, with a small nose and a tiny mouth, which was also littered with cracks. There was also a surprising scar that looked like a burned symbol on her collar.
Perhaps he had focused on her scars too long, because when he turned his gaze to her face, she was staring back at him. She moved her left hand to cover the burn and looked away from Vincent. He hadn’t interacted with many people in a while, save Vesic and the bartender in Aheya, so he felt a little awkward after realizing he hadn’t introduced himself before picking her apart.
“Hey,” Vincent said, lifting a hand in a friendly gesture. Her right arm lifted in kind, if not hesitantly, not unlike the shadow from last night. Still, no words came from her mouth.
“Sorry to stare at you. My name’s Vincent.”
No response, except for a nod of the head.
“I heard from Simon that your name is Rinkyu. Is that correct?”
Another nod, but no verbal response. Was she mute, or just trying to avoid talking? Vincent recalled that Simon had not been able to get her to speak much either, so maybe it was avoidance rather than inability.
“Can I ask what race you are?”
Vincent almost immediately regretted the question – in the SSM, it was common to ask race and age to determine weaknesses, elemental affinities, and who should be prioritized for specific missions. This, he knew, was not the norm, but despite knowing it he asked out of habit. He wondered if it was inappropriate to ask here, in a racially broad city like Saruja, more so if she was not originally from here.
Her eyes widened ever so slightly, but the emotion on her face didn’t change. There was a brief silence, only punctuated by the crackle of hot oil in the kitchen. Just before Vincent retracted, she answered:
“I’m a half-Retura.” Her voice was below shrill – with the lack of emotion in it, she almost sounded like she had just woken up from an unpleasant sleep. Nevertheless, she had spoken to him, so it was a step in the right direction.
“It’s nice meeting you,” Vincent said as gently as he could. He wasn’t sure where to go from here as far as getting to know her – or Simon, for that matter.
Luckily, Simon came from the kitchen with a variety of platters not a moment later – there was a large baked egg dish with what looked like peppers and spinach mixed in, half a loaf of toasted bread with butter, and a gravied meat-and-onion mixture that smelled like domestic boar. There were also nestled greens on the side and another kind of meat sliced into segments that Vincent couldn’t place – he would later learn that it was a special kind of goateater that resided in webs near the Nozaritt county’s lake, south of Saruja and over the mountain range.
The meal was relatively quiet, sans Simon attempting to converse about general topics, and Rinkyu interestedly listening while eating (but not making eye contact, and not actually responding to the conversation). Vincent was listening for a while, but after a few bites of Simon’s meal, he realized how hungry he was. It had been a long time since he had eaten a meal this big and this high quality.
About thirty minutes passed before the three had finished eating – Vincent more than the others, to his embarrassment. No one at the table was lacking etiquette, but Vincent had been voracious. As they finished their plates, Simon cleared his throat to grab attention.
“So, Vincent, Rinkyu, should we discuss the project’s next move?” Simon looked expectantly at them both, although Vincent would have preferred to talk about the project while they were eating to save time. But that was his own fault, so he didn’t linger on it.
Vincent pulled his notebook off of his strap. “I did have some grievances I’d like to address, actually,” he said quickly. He listed his suggestions for a more concise and structured unit.
“First of all, I think we should be more selective with our members. It’s a good thing to want to provide opportunities, but as a militia and political unit, we need to choose people with a certain level of intelligence and skill. Training could be provided by the military or the College, but they can’t prepare people for actual combat or delicate political tension. We should have a program in place to teach people basic knowledge and etiquette, weapon and hand-to-hand combat training, and other survival skills.”
He paused for a moment, looking to Simon and Rinkyu for questions or comments. Simon had lost his face of playful enthusiasm, and had taken to a look of studious concentration. Rinkyu had leaned onto the table with one arm supporting her head – it was a little disinterested, but she was staring in his direction with an obvious “I’m listening” look.
He continued: “Second, we should make sure the missions we accept are clear and achievable for our unit. Once we get more members, we can help with a wider variety of jobs, but with a minimum of four people to get started, we should be careful accepting jobs like defending the walls or hunting specific Baael. Liaison work would be fine even as we are now, but a minimum of two people should be going on each mission, ideally someone strong and someone smart.”
Simon nodded in agreement. “I think that’s a wise decision. If we separate jobs like that, we’ll be able to take on more specific work. I think one member focused on combat for each member focused on intelligence would be a good balance.”
Vincent nodded. “Regarding money, I have two issues: the room and board and the test equipment. I think the unit is nice, but it may be a bit extravagant if we’re planning to set up units all around Saruja. Lodging and healthcare should be clearly indicated with deficits and bonuses, so we know exactly where our funds are being edited. As for the test equipment, I assume we’re being charged for each product we test?”
He looked at Simon, who again nodded. “Regnah is obliged to charge us for everything he builds for us, but we’re getting our gear at a discounted rate. He says it’s because the experimental products may fail, but also because they’re not the final product.”
Vincent nodded again, and added, “That’s exactly what I was going to suggest. We should still be charged for manufacturing and labor, but the discounted price is what I really wanted to get at.”
Vincent breathed in, realizing he was oddly invested in this and talking more than he meant to. “I have two more points, but is everything I mentioned so far a fair assumption?”
Looking at the group, Simon and Rinkyu both nodded. Rinkyu was no longer resting on her arm but sat up in a more earnest position.
“Another thing that I think is important for morality is that there should not be minors in our units. Working with the SSM, one thing I cannot condone is a death of someone who is too young to understand what they’re fighting for. I would like to suggest we don’t accept anyone under the age of twenty.”
To this, Vincent shifted his eyes to Rinkyu, who had noticeably tensed up at this suggestion. Her eyes wouldn’t meet Vincent’s.
“Regarding that point,” Simon interjected, “I think there may be some leeway for special cases. For example, Rinkyu is intelligent and wise enough to understand morality and political structure. Regnah vouched for her as a member, and I trust his judgement.” He pulled out the thin device and started tapping on it. “We could make it so we hire members as young as sixteen, but train them in the housing units until they reach eighteen or nineteen, after which they can become full-fledged members. This will give them the opportunity to learn valuable life skills, even if they end up not joining the team.”
Vincent wanted to argue this point, but he looked again to Rinkyu. Her eyes showed more than a modicum of determination, and though she was still slouched, he could tell she had a fair bit of muscle tone.
“Then I’ll agree for exceptions,” Vincent relented, “though we’ll run each exception by Regnah and me.”
“To my last concern,” Vincent finished, “I think that any leader can become corrupt, so I would like to suggest that if any job seems morally questionable or dangerous or reckless, we should reserve the right to decline the job – especially early on with limited members.”
This point was one that Vincent would not step down on, if the only one. After Cestalian, Vincent vowed he would never follow a corrupt leader, and if he was to lead this experimental squad, he had to have a firm rule against corruption.
Simon pondered for a moment, still tapping on his device, and Rinkyu picked at the specks of food remaining on her plate. Vincent waited patiently for Simon to finish or respond – after what seemed like several minutes, Simon put his device away and spoke.
“You’ve been thinking about this very earnestly and I respect that,” he started, “and I believe that you have made very good points.” His face crumpled into one of hard thinking. “I will bring these up with Regnah, and he’ll be able to get us an appointment with Lord Atrus to finalize these points.” Simon pushed his glasses up. “I’m impressed. You thought of all this last night?”
Vincent nodded. “I was told to lead, so I want to get as much leverage for the group as possible.”
Simon smiled and said, “Well, you’ve got a good start.” He turned to Rinkyu. “Do you have any points to add, or anything you want to say?”
Again, Rinkyu seemed to avoid direct eye contact. There was a mumble from her direction that was entirely inaudible to Vincent, but Simon seemed to understand it. “I’ll make sure he takes a look at them tomorrow,” he responded. “He’s got interviews with me all day today.” Rinkyu nodded, and stood up, collecting her dishes, and bringing them to the kitchen. Simon flashed a “told you” look to Vincent.
After Rinkyu left, Simon started washing the dishes. Vincent, with nothing to do, decided to help him – partially out of necessity to squeeze more info out of Simon.
“So, what are your skills?” Vincent asked. “I know you’re a scientist or something, but is there something you’re good at for the squad?” He wasn’t intending the question to come out so rudely.
“I have a little military training,” Simon explained, “but my main use for the unit is my knowledge of politics, Baael weaknesses, and beast parts.”
“You dabble in alchemy?” Beast part collection and identification was normally an alchemy skill, and a highly valuable one at that. For Simon to have both military and breakdown expertise was a little odd, but interesting.
“Sometimes,” Simon responded with a chuckle. “Saruja schools teach the basics of monster breakdown, but I studied it in College for a few credits.”
“And Rinkyu? Do we know anything about her skills?”
“Well, Regnah said she had a high poison tolerance, and she also knows some magic. And, like I said earlier, she’s smart.”
Magic was not a rare ability, but like alchemy, if someone had the right affinities, it would be a great boon for the team they were on. Not only that, but knowing more than a handful of spells before age twenty was hard, as mastering Essence control, finding one’s affinity for elements, and even learning the basics of spellcasting were all complex skills. Even Vincent, going on 23, only knew two spells, and only had affinity for Fire as far as he was aware.
“So, it sounds like right now, we’re missing another combatant.” Vincent put away the final dish, drying his hands afterward.
Simon sighed and bobbed his head. “Ideally, I’d still like someone not involved in Saruja’s military to be our fourth, but I’ve been looking for a couple weeks now, to no avail.” He turned and leaned backwards onto the counter. “I have a handful of interviews today, but the only one looking promising is a Czeathe woman who’s been between mercenary jobs for the past few years. Based on the test we gave her, she may be a little lacking in the intelligence department, but we’ll see.”
This was the first time Simon had mentioned any sort of test for applicants, or anything about interviewing people. Had he already checked off some of the points Vincent made earlier? If he already confirmed the skills of Rinkyu with some kind of pretest, maybe she was more intelligent than he gave her credit for.
“This test- ” Vincent started, but before he could get to the meat of his question, Simon’s pocket started beeping. He pulled out the thin device – apparently a phone on top of being a notebook – and raised it to his ear, holding up one finger with his free hand.
“This is Simon…” He turned his body and started pacing in the dining space. There were a lot of small confirmations, but the call was relatively short, lasting less than two minutes. Simon put his phone away and faced Vincent once more.
“Well, regarding that meeting with the king,” he said with a weak smile, “it looks like we’ll be meeting with him in three days. Which means we have that much time to find a fourth member.”
“Do we need the minimum team for this meeting?” Vincent asked, confused about Simon’s sudden frailty. “It’s a little odd that they would be expecting this so soon after assigning a leader.”
“Yes, but the commander and the king would like to start testing out this force as soon as possible, and showing them that we have the base number of warriors may lead to us getting our actual duties started.”
In a way, it made sense – providing concrete examples of readiness would show that the unit was passionate about their goals, and right now the best way to do that would be a complete team. But three days seemed too soon; Vincent had only been made known about the project less than a week ago and had accepted the job yesterday. For the king to pass this off as “ready” was worrying, and that the information had hit his ear this morning after just arriving in Saruja spoke magnitudes about the city’s informational network.
“What happens if we don’t have a fourth member by the time of the meeting?” Vincent asked.
“I’m not entirely sure,” Simon said, stress obviously building in him. “But best case, they’ll give us a time limit to engage the unit, and if we don’t have the minimum by then, the project gets scrapped. Worst case, the project is scrapped immediately.” He scratched his head vigorously, as if that would magically bring forth the needed member. “I would like to avoid that scenario altogether, so we’ll focus on bringing in the fourth by then.”
Vincent decided to sit in on the interviews with Regnah and Simon, hoping to see promise in their approval process… and hopefully find a viable fourth member. It wasn’t an extravagant place or setup, but rather cozy and inviting – the room seemed to be a psychotherapy room that had been vacated for use by the military, in a small, unremarkable building in West Saruja. From the entrance of this building, one would be able to see each main tower on either side of the road – though, the more modern one was significantly closer. The only thing that stood out was a signpost displayed outside the door, with “SARUJA SECURITY FORCE RECRUITMENT INSIDE” written in a thick, clear script, and the address fastened on the door – 1010/09 Taldore Street.
The first meeting was unredeemable – the young man was obviously from a high breed, as he made a point to speak low of the people he described as his mentors, friends, and colleagues. He also seemed a little snobbish towards the interviewers, as all three recognized. To Simon’s chagrin, one of the people he spoke badly of was a close friend of his, and a respected member of the College. He went on about how the military was weakened by its dependence on the College, and that the College should stop investing in it.
The interview ended with a polite but curt goodbye, and the insistence that he would be considered (although once he left, all three agreed that he would not be). This first interview provided Vincent with a clearer understanding of how they processed the potential members: if they met all of the criteria, they were marked as “Acceptable” on their documentation; if they didn’t pass all of the tests, but showed potential, they marked the interviewee as “Potential”; and if they lacked critical skills or knowledge, or if they avoided questions and boasted with no proof (as this first person did), they were marked as “Refused”. He realized that the culling for members was much more involved and thorough than he originally thought, especially compared to the one the two scientists had given him. In a word, he was impressed.
The second interview was much more promising, as a man (possibly in his late forties) was respectful, honest, and open about his experience and skills. He was a refugee from the civil war in Miral and had taken up mercenary work along the Mistea River in northeast Alhose until he arrived here, where he’d taken up a military position repairing airships and glyphs. Without a doubt, he moved onto the second stage of the interview – a knowledge test.
Unfortunately, he lacked some basic knowledge about Saruja’s political state, and failed to understand even the simplest tactical situations despite being a mercenary – this told Vincent that he worked in groups most of the time, and relied on other people to make split-second decisions. This was also clear to Simon once mentioned, as glyph repair was recreating a set pattern, not making new ones from scratch. His repair jobs didn’t rely on strict knowledge skills, but rather a recognition of patterns that had been interrupted. In short, he relied on his limited knowledge of existing patterns and could not differentiate or work around new patterns introduced to him. This couldn’t be acceptable.
By the ninth interview, Simon and Vincent were losing faith – people who passed one test would invariably fail another. The tactical positioning test, the basic political knowledge, communications in the initial interview, combat skill, and Baael weaknesses and habitats… None seemed to be able to pass all the tests. Simon noted that over five hours had passed since they started (a good forty-five minutes were spent by the first man gloating); there was a moment that he thought that taking out a test may ease the difficulty, but they all agreed that these were each important points to understand. If the subject couldn’t respond with at least a generally accurate response, they couldn’t be someone on this team.
The tenth interviewee entered the room as the day moved to twilight – this interviewee was one who had been pre-tested by Simon. This person was a taller, muscular woman with short-cut, light-colored hair and clothes with inset plating (alike to Vincent’s in a way), although her clothes were more tattered than Vincent’s. Her skin was an obvious shade darker than even the desert-dwelling people of Saruja, though it was hard to make out any distinct features besides her rounded ears, which lay almost flat against her skull. She wore a strong and interested face unlike that of the other subjects, and spoke proudly and without any noticeable anxiety.
“My name is Kozari, and I am here for the combat unit!” she stated with a wide grin.
Alhose was most well-known for Saruja’s military and the rise and fall of the SSM, but once not long ago, there was another familiar name from this continent – Czeathe. Both the name of the town and the race of the people that lived there, Czeathe was in northwest Alhose, and was comprised of Hjina and Czeathe (Hjina scientifically bred to be stronger than normal Hjina). Although they were a successful experiment, there were two events that caused their near-extinction.
The first event was one they would survive, if only barely – the Nestian invasion of Mial County, which ended with the Nestian military issuing a strategic retreat after slaughtering many towns and villages.
The second event was much harder for them to survive – a Baael assault that ravaged both the people and the land, led by a rare humanoid Baael. There was nothing left in the wake of their destruction: buildings were reduced to rubble, people were either eaten or turned into ash, and crops had disappeared. In an amazing coincidence, some Czeathe survived either by sure chance of being away, or less likely, hidden in the rubble or underground cellars. Their homes now gone, the survivors left the Czeathe Abandonment as a group, but over the course of their journey, separated.
Kozari Hazkura, as Vincent and company learned, was one of the latter survivors, having witnessed the massacre under a false floor in her home. She did not know why she wasn’t found, or why this strange Baael attack was so organized and methodical, but what she did know was that she was lucky. One way or another, she had survived.
After the massacre, she had wandered around Mial County for the next eight years, gaining underground knowledge relating to politics between Mial and Ovura, and more recently, Saruja and Mial. She had also taken up various mercenary jobs targeting Baael as revenge for her people to improve her strength, in the hopes that the next time an assault happened, she could mitigate the losses. These adventures during these years had amassed her a strong comprehension of tactics, combat skill, and political figures and positions.
Simon administered the same tests that he did for the other applicants; unsurprisingly, she passed all of them without much issue. To Vincent, there were only two things that he couldn’t be sure about. His first concern was her communication skills – her accent wasn’t heavy or incomprehensible, but she struggled with some Inglish words (this issue was easily fixed with language training and general conversation, but it could cause issues early on, especially in the middle of combat).
His second issue was her boast of her physical fortitude – Czeathe were known to be stronger than Hjina, but the way she talked about her strength seemed to be overcompensating. He had doubts about some of her achievements regarding this – specifically a job taking down a durable bear-type Baael, which she had supposedly done alone. He would’ve preferred some proof regarding this feat, either in the form of a trophy (as warriors and mercenaries did, though for a Baael that dissolved upon death, this may have been too much of an ask) or in the form of a duel. He would ask this later, under approval from the other two.
After the interview, and once Hazkura had left, Vincent brought up his concerns.
“Speech therapy for the language barrier is an inexpensive cost comparatively,” Regnah responded, “and regarding her strength, Czeathe are well-known for their physical abilities. Killing a bear-type would be as easy for her as killing a rat would be for you or I.”
He pressed his eyes. “I understand your concern, but on paper, Kozari Hazkura is our best candidate. If you want to challenge her in a feat of strength, I wholly recommend an open area for the… fallout.”
Simon was busy with his device as they waited for the final interview of the day, but after an hour had passed with no notice or arrival, the three decided to close up for the day. The sun had just set, and the cool air of desert dusk was passing through the city. Regnah stayed behind to finish some things and to lock up while Simon and Vincent left, each self-preparing for a second awkward cab ride.
Surprisingly for Vincent, Simon wanted to discuss the potential of the candidates, besides Hazkura. They were able to confirm the issues that they had with each person, some of which were unfortunately shared between them. For a while, Vincent was unusually relaxed – this was the first time in a while that he had conversed in a normal way with someone other than Vesic – and even those conversations were mainly combat focused. This was different, though – Simon was offering and receiving opinions, taking the data into account, and formulating new opinions and options.
When they arrived at the house, Simon mentioned that Vincent was more open than he had been these past few days. “It almost seems like you’re having fun,” he stated. “That’s a better state of mind than how you’ve seemed the past two days.”
Vincent realized it too. For the first time in a long time – years maybe – Vincent felt calm. He didn’t have to worry about direct threats or tactical plans for a few days, and he was resting in a safe place rather than an abandoned building or a tent. He was safe – if only for a short time, he was safe.
They opened the door and walked into the main room. The table had a ceramic dish sitting on it, covered with a glass lid and all with plastic cling wrap. A stifled chuckle came from Simon as Vincent approached it. It seemed to be fried breaded meat with a nestling of greens underneath (which glistened with oil or dressing of some sort).
“Regnah told me Rinkyu knew how to cook simple meals,” Simon said softly, “but this is impressive.” Vincent carefully unwrapped the dish and lifted the lid. Immediately, a savory scent filled the room – an undertone of sweetness and piquancy came from what they suspected was the dressing on the greens. Both took an extended breath of the new smells, Simon taking an extra moment to enjoy the scent. The food was still warm, meaning that Rinkyu had made it recently.
“Shall we partake?” Simon ushered with a smile.
~16th day of Rhuvu, Year 1403~
The night passed uneventfully, and the next morning, Vincent came across Rinkyu brushing her teeth. She stared at him for a moment as he entered, but went back to brushing almost immediately. Vincent felt awkward sharing the bathroom with her, but he pushed on to brush his own teeth and hair.
“Thanks for cooking for us yesterday,” he said once he started on his hair. “It was delicious.”
Rinkyu, who had already switched to her hair, looked at Vincent through the mirror. Vincent met her mirror’s gaze and gave a short, friendly smile, to which she focused back on her hair. It seemed like he wouldn’t be able to get on speaking terms with her easily. To his surprise, he managed a quiet “thank you” from her as she exited. Baby steps, Vincent thought to himself.
When he arrived downstairs, Simon had already finished plating breakfast. “Take a seat,” he said excitedly. “We’re going to finalize Hazkura’s membership today, and in a method I think you’ll enjoy.” He turned to Rinkyu as Vincent sat down. “Do you have testing with Regnah’s students today, Rinkyu?”
She shook her head. “They’re on break for a week starting today,” she said softly. “I was told to work with you and Vincent today.”
Vincent’s confusion must have been clear, as Simon’s face switched from absorbing information to realization or remembrance. “I completely forgot about it!” he exclaimed.
He stood up, excused himself and rushed upstairs without explanation. Vincent turned to Rinkyu, confusion still plastered on his face. Rinkyu clearly understood the confusion and met his mixed look with one of calmness.
“He probably… wants to give you one of these,” she said, pulling out one of those high-tech phones that Simon and Regnah had. “It’s a wireless phone… as well as an electronic notebook… and calendar.”
Apparently, it was another item designed or procured for this tentative unit. And likely, another cost that wasn’t totally thought through. Simon’s footsteps reverberated through the ceiling, hurried and purposeful. After a few minutes, they made their way to the staircase, and Simon appeared at the top coming down moments later. Sure enough, in his hand was a wireless phone with a red trim to it – Vincent hadn’t really cared to notice before, but Simon’s phone had a blue trim, and Rinkyu’s (now that he had seen it) had a yellow trim. It was oddly fitting.
“Here is your contact information and instructions,” Simon said quickly, holding the phone with two sheets of paper.
Vincent took the papers and reviewed them – there were instructions written out in Inglish, as well as a few names with numbers and dots next to them: Regnah Sivverya, Simon Listrean, and Rinkyu Asakura were listed with phone numbers, as well as three other names he didn’t recognize (Barran Clowe and Rayna Merduci were each marked as “Regnah’s Assistant”, though the name Knite-Siege Laster was only subtitled with “KC”).
Vincent studied the phone for a moment. It didn’t have buttons aside from one on the top and two on the right side, and the screen unfolded in half horizontally, though right now it was black and empty even unfolded. Technology, of all things, was immutably something he took extra time to understand, even with the simplest devices.
The other two noticed his lack of understanding and shared a friendly-if-not-mocking look. Simon tapped Vincent on the shoulder, gaining his attention, and pointed to the left edge of the device – this edge was a little bulbous compared to the rest of the phone.
“The stylus has to be removed for the screen to activate,” Simon directed.
True enough, the left edge detached from the rest of the phone in a single long piece not dissimilar to a pen. The screen immediately flared to life, with a prompt visible.
“WELCOME, USER [BLANK], PLEASE CREATE A DESIGNATION.”- so the screen read, below which was a six-space passkey entry, something Vincent was vaguely familiar with – essentially, he was creating a personalized lock for the device, he thought with an iota of pride in understanding the basest forms of tech.
Vincent managed to set up his device in the span of 35 minutes, all the while being judged silently by Rinkyu and directed by Simon and the notes, and also while the three of them ate. Once the setup process was completed, Simon closed his and Vincent’s devices with a rushed sense of doneness.
“Grudia, we’re running a little late,” he said without a second glance to his watch. “Rinkyu, you’ll join us for the full day today since you’re off. We’ll take care of the dishes when we get back.”
Rinkyu’s face was still unreadable, but her body noticeably relaxed at the invitation.
“She’ll be sitting in on interviews?” Vincent asked for clarification. It seemed odd to have her sit in so late in the process.
“Oh, no,” Simon reassured, “Thursdays and Sunsdays are reserved for combat practice.”
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