Athena (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
everlastingsoul) wrote2006-05-20 01:20 am
everlastingsoul) wrote2006-05-20 01:20 am
Entry tags:
Journeymen's Survival
I wrote this a good year and a half ago. I'm posting this because I'm scrapping it and it's too long to just hide away.
Anyone who's heard me talk about JS knows the synopsis. It's a twisted futuristic Suikoden story.
Chapter 1:
Entering Caedus
Date: February 20, AS 400
Time: 7:30 PM
He awoke from slumber to a soothing voice coaxing him into the land of the living. Not one to resist such gentle prodding, green eyes opened to behold stark white walls and men dressed in coats of similar color.
“Ah, a response,” the same voice came, emanated from a man wearing silver-wired frames. “Now, may I have your name?”
Green eyes blinked in bewilderment. “E-- Excuse me?” he managed to sputter, his throat dry and his voice cracking slightly.
“Your name, please.”
Still disoriented and confused by his surroundings, the man replied, “… Gremio.”
Another man towards the back of the room was scribbling notes. The men that were not directly interacting with Gremio also seemed to be taking notes, faces ranging from excitement to stoic professionalism. But why? wondered the awakened man, looking around the room in search of anything recognizable.
“Well, Gremio,” the speaker of the group began, waiting patiently for Gremio to return the attention, “what is the last thing you remember?”
“U-- Uh, I don’t really recall…” Gremio was startled by the disappointed reactions that he received. He wracked his brain for the details on the edge of his memory, trying to ignore the chill that ran over his nude body. “Young Master was using a journeymen’s crystal while we kept an eye out for any monsters or guards… We had just entered Soniere Prison…”
The white-coated man glanced at him as he trailed off. “This ‘Young Master’ of yours… May I have a name?”
“Tir McDohl, sir. Please, where am I? Is the Young Master here?”
The apparent leader of the small group took the proffered clipboard from one of his colleagues, studying the contents written on the sheets. “There were no abnormalities in all the tests?” the man asked his colleagues, blatantly ignoring Gremio’s questions.
“None whatsoever, sir,” reported a younger man, sifting through his notes. “Tests that concluded abnormal for Augmentation 01 were normal for 02. He shows all the characteristics of a Paradigm from IS 450.”
“Perhaps 01 was just a fluke, then?” mused a lanky man with wiry brown hair and dark eyes. He carried a bundle of drab clothing under one arm, eyeing the scarred blonde with a bit more interest than the calculative men.
“Nonsense,” snorted the one in charge. “There are still factors between 01 and 02 that were varied. This experiment simply asserts the fact that Augmentations will have varied results because of their sources’ different properties.” Adjusting his spectacles, the man stated, “Reese, escort Augmentation 02 to the Paradigm wing. The rest of you are dismissed.”
Grimacing, Reese stepped forward as the other men left the room. The thin man carefully offered Gremio the bundle of clothing he had been holding, eyeing the crossed scar on the blonde’s face a moment longer before turning to allow Gremio to dress.
“Please, what is going on here?” Gremio asked as he fingered the strange material that the pants and shirt were made out of. Certainly not cotton or wool… I’ve never run into something like this before. He pulled on the pants, shaking his thoughts from such a random issue. There were more important matters to worry about. “Where am I? Why am I here?” Where is the Young Master?
Reese frowned to himself, lowering brown eyes to the axe he still held. “I’m not at liberty to reveal very much to test subjects,” he said cynically.
Test subjects? “… What?” was all he could whisper.
“It’s insulting, you know,” Reese muttered disdainfully, turning left sharply in the equally-bare hallways and striding through with more confidence than before. “You Journeymen function exactly the same as regular humans, and yet all the scientists refer to you by titles and numbers.” He shook his head to clear his own frustration. “Gremio, wasn’t it?”
Gremio jumped when his guide abruptly stopped, nearly colliding with the man. “Yes…” He blinked several times, trying desperately to understand his new surroundings.
“My name is Reese. Arthur Reese, really, but I prefer to be called Reese. I’ll try to answer your questions as honestly as I can, since I know none of the other scientists will.” Reese stuck his hand out, smiling when Gremio slowly shook it. “This is Caedus Institute, where scientists such as myself take care of the ‘ill.’” He rolled his eyes at the very notion. “At least, that’s what I thought I until I actually got in here. Caedus is an extraction complex that is dedicated to creating Paradigms. You, Gremio, would be Paradigm 08 if you weren’t already labeled Augmentation 02.”
“Augmentation? Paradigm? … Extraction?”
“We use technology to pull personalities from Journeymen’s Crystals. There are some groups that pay huge amounts of money for the right types of personalities -- usually Paradigms.”
“I … don’t understand.”
Reese nodded understandingly. “None of the others did at first either. Don’t worry; I’m sure they can explain it more thoroughly for you.”
The auburn-haired scientist started walking again, turning down another corridor before stopping in front of a door with a strange panel with numbers attached to the knob. Reese took his time punching in the code, deliberately allowing Gremio to see the numbers he pressed.
Four. Seven. Two. Six. Three. Enter.
A soft ringing was the sound of affirmation, the door opening (sliding?) for Reese to enter through. “Wait here for a minute, Gremio. I’ll be right back.”
Gremio pressed himself against the wall as Reese disappeared into the room that he could only assume was the arsenal by the racks lined against the wall. He shut his eyes as he tried to gather his thoughts and absorb the strange bits of information he had received.
“All right, Gremio, let’s go.” Reese returned, looking squarely at the confused blonde, before gesturing him to follow him down the hall.
Gremio followed silently, concentrating his attention on the blank corridors that Reese led him through. “Pardon my asking, Sir Reese, but why are all the walls bare?” he inquired politely, now assured that Reese was the closest thing he had to a friend right now.
“Well, it’s supposed to be some sort of strategic defense or something,” Reese answered dismissively. “The halls are all left bare to make this entire place confusing.” He chuckled lightly. “Honestly, I still get lost in a few of these places. Unfortunately, test subjects aren’t supposed to learn how to navigate this maze … for obvious reasons.” Reese looked pointedly at Gremio as he stood before another password-locked door.
One. Seven. Two. Eight. Two. Enter.
“Keep the codes in mind, especially for the arsenal; Clive will be indebted to you and need to include you in his plans. Stay alive, Gremio.” Gremio could only look perplexed as Reese gathered his thoughts again. “The other Paradigms want to get out of here, and I don’t blame them,” he explained. “I haven’t reported any of the plans I’ve heard floating about, but I think the heads suspect something. If you stick with the others, you may get out of here, too.”
“Where would we go?” Gremio asked as Reese opened the door to reveal a long, flat blue-colored broad hall filled with rooms. “… What is this?”
“This is the Paradigm wing. You’re sharing a room with ‘Paradigm 07’ in that room over there.” Reese rolled his eyes at the subject label and pointed to the door directly to his left. “Talk to the others about what their plans are. Perhaps an extra body will be appreciated.”
Gremio faced Reese at the scientist stepped away to leave, awkwardly inclining his head. “Thank you.”
Reese shrugged. “You guys deserve more than what this whole system gives you. I believe in souls, even if science can’t prove their existences. I also believe all you Journeyers have souls -- even the Shattered.”
Shattered? Gremio was unable to voice his confusion as Reese took his leave, shutting the door that Gremio knew would lock behind him. The blonde shifted and stared at the empty hallway, unnerved by the utter silence.
The swish of a door to his left nearly caused the man to jump.
“Hn. I thought I heard Reese’s voice.”
Gremio turned to face the opened door, seeing another blond-haired man step into the hallway. His hair was shorter and his eyes were golden, glinting in the artificial light as he sized up the new arrival. “Judging from the scar and the build, I would have to say you are a wandering sellsword. Where were you from?”
“Sellsword!?” The title was indignity in its purest form. “I am a servant of the McDohl--”
“McDohl?” A fair brow rose in recognition of the name. “So you’re from the Toran Republic?”
Gremio stared. “P-- Pardon?” When surprise alighted upon the slightly-younger man’s face, Gremio murmured, “The Scarlet Moon Empire. That’s where I am from, sir.”
“So you died before the Gate Rune Wars.”
Both blondes looked up at the new voice, which turned out to be owned by a crimson-haired young man wearing the same bland uniform as Gremio. Another man stepped out of the room behind the redhead, his casual glance becoming one of sudden recognition and alarm. “Gremio?” the rugged, black-haired man called.
“Viktor…” Gremio fought down the distrust he still felt towards the mercenary in favor of the relief of finding someone he knew. He looked older than the last time he had seen him, but his eyes could have been playing tricks on him.
“Heh, I never thought I’d see it…” Viktor stepped out from behind the redhead and walked towards Gremio. “Another one that I knew was dead, brought back.” He studied the perplexed look on the younger man’s face. “If Reese brought you here, you must be another Paradigm.”
The scarred man decided not to correct the huge warrior, unsure of the reactions he would receive for the title ‘Augmentation.’ “May I ask what’s going on? Sir Reese wasn’t able to explain very much…”
“Another familiar face, Viktor?” the redhead inquired, striding to stand next to the taller warrior.
Viktor nodded with such seriousness that it made Gremio nervous. “Let’s go to Mathiu’s room. Grem, there’s a lot to talk about.”
Sir Mathiu is here, too?
* * * * *
Mathiu Silverberg folded his hands on the desk that he had requested from the scientists a few days after his ‘rebirth.’ Being the first Paradigm of the institution, Mathiu had been able to manipulate the scientists into allowing him luxuries the others were not given. Blue eyes focused on the newest member of their fold. “It’s been awhile, Gremio,” greeted the former strategist of the Toran Liberation Army.
“Sir Mathiu, I’m glad to see you in good health,” returned the scarred blonde, still staring at the other people that made up the Caedus Paradigms. Five men and two young women, some familiar and others not.
“Let me introduce you to the others,” Mathiu stated courteously, gesturing to the two unknown men and Viktor. “You already know Viktor, and the other two are Sirs Camus and Seed.” The blonde and redhead nodded in greeting as Mathiu turned to the two young women. “You might remember Apple, but as a child.” Gremio stared at the bespectacled young woman in complete bafflement even as the strategist continued. “The other young lady is Lady Nanami. And the last is … Clive.”
Clive managed to look mysterious even wearing the drab uniform, red eyes dark and brooding as he looked at Gremio from a corner. “So you’re McDohl’s babysitter, eh? I wasn’t expecting such a scruffy thing.”
“Babysitter?” Camus’ brow shot up as he looked at his comrade. “You know him, Clive?”
“Of him, yes. I was under Tir McDohl’s command before the Dunan Unification Wars,” Clive shrugged. “The kid mentioned him a few times when he should’ve been relaxing.” He frowned at the scarred blonde. “You haunted that boy through the whole damn war and yet we still won. You did one hell of a job raising him.”
Gremio was flustered by the compliment disguised as a barb. “Haunted? … We won?”
“Refrain yourself from confusing Gremio further, Clive,” ordered Mathiu, his gaze resting on Clive until the younger man relented. “Now, Gremio, what is the last thing that you remember?”
The blonde nervously recited what he had told the scientists, gauging the looks from the others. Both Nanami and Apple looked sympathetic, while most of the men carefully hid their expressions. Viktor clapped his hand on Gremio’s shoulder comfortingly from where he stood a short distance away, startling the manservant. “A lot’s happened,” he muttered in way of explanation.
Mathiu nodded in affirmation to Viktor’s statement. “From what the scientists have bothered to explain to me, four hundred years have passed since ‘the beginning of empires’ end.’ We were resurrected using journeymen’s crystals, which have been studied and broken by science recently. Most of us are not from the same timeframe.” He frowned. “For example, Gremio, you died sometime before I did.”
Gremio started at the statement. “I … died?”
“We all died, Sir Gremio,” Apple interrupted, looking distressed. “Try not to think too much about it.”
But the blonde was not processing that last statement. “… How did I die?”
Viktor answered quickly, as to avoid argument with Mathiu and Apple. “Valiantly. You saved Tir’s life, Grem.”
Silverberg cleared his throat noisily, saving Gremio from the sinking feeling of depression over his death. “May I continue?” His inquiry was responded to with a gesture of affirmation. “Thank you… As I said, Gremio, four hundred years have passed and everyone here would have died over that period of time. It is highly unnatural for resurrection of this sort to take place, and Sir Reese has been kind enough to tell me that we are to be sold.” He spat the last word out like a vile insult, triggering disgusted looks from the others. “We have been slowly planning an escape since then.”
Clive stared at the newest member of their strange crew for a few moments, noting the nearly-traumatized expression on the younger man’s face. “Give him time to digest the situation, Mathiu. It isn’t everyday you’re told you died four hundred years ago and were brought back to life as slave labor.”
Mathiu relented, giving the Gunner a wry glance. “There isn’t anything we can do about that now, is there?” Leaning back in his chair, the blue-eyed strategist allowed himself to relax a little. “I’ll gather everyone tomorrow morning, and we can discuss our plans more.” He eyed each of the other Paradigms individually. “Taking Clive’s words to heart, I don’t want all of you bombarding Gremio with despairing thoughts; we don’t need trauma when we are so close to freedom.”
With that said, the Paradigms filed out of Mathiu’s room and into the steel blue corridor that connected the other rooms. “Well, Sir Gremio, who did Reese say you’re supposed to bunk with?” the man introduced as Camus asked, doing his best to act nonchalant and courteous.
“… He said something about ‘Paradigm 07.’ I cannot believe we’re referred to as … experiment numbers.” Gremio murmured softly, eyes downcast.
Viktor took the position of being the comforter, knowing the blonde the best among those gathered; Clive had opted to remain behind, more than likely to talk to Mathiu. “Don’t look so down, Grem; it’s not the end of the world.”
“It’s already past that,” Seed snorted, earning him a glare from the burly, former mercenary.
Gremio’s expression was hidden under his messy bangs, but his tone was cold. “I appreciate your concern, Viktor, but please maintain a formal distance; we aren’t as friendly as you try to present.”
There was an audible sigh. “I take it you never forgave me for getting your lot involved, huh?”
The former servant shook his head, finally locking green eyes with dark brown. “We just aren’t very well-acquainted, Viktor. Please understand.”
Seed tried to bite back his snicker, but was unable to do so. “I haven’t seen such a polite guy since Klaus,” he chuckled. “Cam’s pretty close, but you, Gremio, are just--” He shook his head in amusement as Gremio gave him a strange look.
“You’re such a dork, Seed,” the young woman beside Apple sighed, rolling her brown eyes. Averting her attention to the cloaked blonde, she smiled and waved cheerily. “Sir Mathiu gave really bland introductions. I’m Nanami, from the country of Dunan.”
Gremio nodded in greeting, quickly realizing Nanami’s smile was quite infectious. “I’m … afraid I’m not familiar with that place…”
“It was once known as the Jowston City-States,” informed Apple. “It became Dunan three years after the Gate Rune, or Toran Liberation, Wars.” She smiled for the scarred man. “It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Gremio.”
“Miss Apple… My, you’ve … certainly grown.” She must be about 24… “How is this possible? The last I saw you--”
“--I was 15 years old,” finished the bespectacled woman, smiling wryly. “Yes, well… Master Mathiu mentioned that we were all from different time frames. I was resurrected from a period in which I’m older, which would make sense; what use would these scientists have for a 15 year old?”
“Don’t answer that,” Camus said quickly. “Lady Apple has picked up the same cunning tongue her teacher has.”
“Flatterer,” laughed the brunette. “Nanami, are you listening to this?”
“I’m pretending not to,” the slightly-younger woman responded, giving the charismatic man a mock glare. “What kind of knight are you, my dear Camus?”
Camus bowed low and brought one of Nanami’s gloved hands to his lips. “A love-smitten one, my dear lady.”
“Romantics, the lot of ya,” sighed the redhead clad in a well-worn black and white uniform. He offered one hand to Gremio. “I’m Seed, a former general of Highland.”
“A general? General Seed, then,” Gremio started, only to be waved off abruptly.
“I really don’t think titles like those are necessary around here; everything we know is more than likely gone and the titles with the land. In your case, though, I think the habit’s gonna be hard to kill.” Seed chuckled and shook hands with the scarred man. “So, where’s the scar from? I don’t care what the Gunner says -- you definitely aren’t just a babysitter.”
Apple elbowed the Highlander. “How rude!” she exclaimed. “You should know better than to ask, Seed!”
What a strange group…
* * * * *
The group had retired to their rooms after proper introductions and Gremio’s admission to his own exhaustion. He stared at the room he would be sharing with Camus, taking in the expressionless walls and the table and chair pushed to one side. The taller blonde coughed lightly as he gauged Gremio’s reaction. “The scientists give us very little mental stimulation. I sometimes wonder why they even bother resurrecting sentient humans if they think they can just lock us up in here.”
Gremio walked over to the chair, inspecting it mildly before leaning against it. “You are a knight?” he inquired conversationally, recalling Nanami’s comment earlier.
“Former Captain of the Red Knights of Matilda,” affirmed the taller blonde with a small smile. “I joined Lady Nanami’s brother’s army when Matilda refused to take action against Highland.” He was silent for a moment. “I had the pleasure of meeting your ‘Young Master’ during the war.”
Green eyes widened in surprise and anxiety. “W-- was he well?”
Camus nodded slowly. “Solemn and distant, but quite well. He traveled alone and fished when he wasn’t aiding Lord Riou.”
“Why would the Young Master wish to help in another war? If he was so strained by the first, why torture himself further?”
The lost look that Gremio gave Camus caused the knight to hesitate. “Lord Riou had a True Rune of sorts as well. They saw eye to eye on more things than I think either cared to admit. I believe that they confided in each other, as Tir was all alone and Riou didn’t have many people that saw him as anything more than a leader.” Camus frowned and hurried to the scarred servant as he almost collapsed, looking worriedly at the man that looked younger than his years. “… He must mean a lot to you.”
“I took care of Young Master since he was six years old…,” the man answered hollowly. “Master Teo asked me to take care of him after I rescued him from mountain bandits.”
“Mountain bandits? I take it that you’re not a regular servant then?”
“… I served under Master Teo during a few skirmishes against Jowston,” admitted Gremio, shuffling towards his bed once Camus had released him. He nearly tumbled into the simple bed, again earning him a concerned glance from Camus. “I left the military when Master Teo hired me; I was never very fond of the war.”
Camus gave a slight nod of approval. “Well, your war experience will be helpful once we get out of here, then. Most of us can hold our own when a battle breaks out, but Sir Mathiu and Apple will be needing protection while we run.”
Gremio did not have to give a sign of understanding for the information; he had assumed the same after looking at the group that made up the Paradigms. “Sir Reese had me watch him put in the passwords for the arsenal and the main door.”
The knight raised a brow in surprise before beginning to chuckle. “Reese has been as good as he can be for us during our “stay” here. He must want us to take you along if he decided to trust you with that information.”
He was right there when those men labeled me an ‘Augmentation.’ Can that be why? “… How are we going to get out of here?”
“Clive has been collecting components for black powder, and Seed’s been … well, picking up a habit of smoking for the sake of the mission.” When Gremio gave the golden-eyed blonde a blank look, Camus decided to elaborate. “Clive has been making something spectacular that Gunners use for their weapons -- something called gunpowder, or black powder. Seed has been smoking to get his hands on matches from the guards, which we’ll need for lighting the gunpowder. Sir Mathiu is hoping that Clive has enough to make a sizable explosion.”
Gremio’s eyes widened at the mentioning of an explosion, but he nodded slowly in understanding as Camus retired to his bed. They were prisoners in this strange building, from different times in their lives that further alienated them from each other. If Sir Mathiu’s words were true, they were all resurrected for the sole purpose to be sold off to the highest bidder as … something. Slave labor? A prize? I can’t even begin to fathom…
He shook his head at the thought, his mind focusing on an even more important unknown. Where was Young Master McDohl? Four hundred years was an awfully long time… Was he all right? Was he still alive?
His heart ached at the thought of his young charge dead. He knew that the True Rune would probably keep him alive for centuries if it came to that, but there was always the chance that the Young Master had passed the Soul Eater on.
As much as Gremio did not want to believe it, Tir could very well be dead. And if his young master was dead, he had no idea what he would do.
Anyone who's heard me talk about JS knows the synopsis. It's a twisted futuristic Suikoden story.
Chapter 1:
Entering Caedus
Date: February 20, AS 400
Time: 7:30 PM
He awoke from slumber to a soothing voice coaxing him into the land of the living. Not one to resist such gentle prodding, green eyes opened to behold stark white walls and men dressed in coats of similar color.
“Ah, a response,” the same voice came, emanated from a man wearing silver-wired frames. “Now, may I have your name?”
Green eyes blinked in bewilderment. “E-- Excuse me?” he managed to sputter, his throat dry and his voice cracking slightly.
“Your name, please.”
Still disoriented and confused by his surroundings, the man replied, “… Gremio.”
Another man towards the back of the room was scribbling notes. The men that were not directly interacting with Gremio also seemed to be taking notes, faces ranging from excitement to stoic professionalism. But why? wondered the awakened man, looking around the room in search of anything recognizable.
“Well, Gremio,” the speaker of the group began, waiting patiently for Gremio to return the attention, “what is the last thing you remember?”
“U-- Uh, I don’t really recall…” Gremio was startled by the disappointed reactions that he received. He wracked his brain for the details on the edge of his memory, trying to ignore the chill that ran over his nude body. “Young Master was using a journeymen’s crystal while we kept an eye out for any monsters or guards… We had just entered Soniere Prison…”
The white-coated man glanced at him as he trailed off. “This ‘Young Master’ of yours… May I have a name?”
“Tir McDohl, sir. Please, where am I? Is the Young Master here?”
The apparent leader of the small group took the proffered clipboard from one of his colleagues, studying the contents written on the sheets. “There were no abnormalities in all the tests?” the man asked his colleagues, blatantly ignoring Gremio’s questions.
“None whatsoever, sir,” reported a younger man, sifting through his notes. “Tests that concluded abnormal for Augmentation 01 were normal for 02. He shows all the characteristics of a Paradigm from IS 450.”
“Perhaps 01 was just a fluke, then?” mused a lanky man with wiry brown hair and dark eyes. He carried a bundle of drab clothing under one arm, eyeing the scarred blonde with a bit more interest than the calculative men.
“Nonsense,” snorted the one in charge. “There are still factors between 01 and 02 that were varied. This experiment simply asserts the fact that Augmentations will have varied results because of their sources’ different properties.” Adjusting his spectacles, the man stated, “Reese, escort Augmentation 02 to the Paradigm wing. The rest of you are dismissed.”
Grimacing, Reese stepped forward as the other men left the room. The thin man carefully offered Gremio the bundle of clothing he had been holding, eyeing the crossed scar on the blonde’s face a moment longer before turning to allow Gremio to dress.
“Please, what is going on here?” Gremio asked as he fingered the strange material that the pants and shirt were made out of. Certainly not cotton or wool… I’ve never run into something like this before. He pulled on the pants, shaking his thoughts from such a random issue. There were more important matters to worry about. “Where am I? Why am I here?” Where is the Young Master?
Reese frowned to himself, lowering brown eyes to the axe he still held. “I’m not at liberty to reveal very much to test subjects,” he said cynically.
Test subjects? “… What?” was all he could whisper.
“It’s insulting, you know,” Reese muttered disdainfully, turning left sharply in the equally-bare hallways and striding through with more confidence than before. “You Journeymen function exactly the same as regular humans, and yet all the scientists refer to you by titles and numbers.” He shook his head to clear his own frustration. “Gremio, wasn’t it?”
Gremio jumped when his guide abruptly stopped, nearly colliding with the man. “Yes…” He blinked several times, trying desperately to understand his new surroundings.
“My name is Reese. Arthur Reese, really, but I prefer to be called Reese. I’ll try to answer your questions as honestly as I can, since I know none of the other scientists will.” Reese stuck his hand out, smiling when Gremio slowly shook it. “This is Caedus Institute, where scientists such as myself take care of the ‘ill.’” He rolled his eyes at the very notion. “At least, that’s what I thought I until I actually got in here. Caedus is an extraction complex that is dedicated to creating Paradigms. You, Gremio, would be Paradigm 08 if you weren’t already labeled Augmentation 02.”
“Augmentation? Paradigm? … Extraction?”
“We use technology to pull personalities from Journeymen’s Crystals. There are some groups that pay huge amounts of money for the right types of personalities -- usually Paradigms.”
“I … don’t understand.”
Reese nodded understandingly. “None of the others did at first either. Don’t worry; I’m sure they can explain it more thoroughly for you.”
The auburn-haired scientist started walking again, turning down another corridor before stopping in front of a door with a strange panel with numbers attached to the knob. Reese took his time punching in the code, deliberately allowing Gremio to see the numbers he pressed.
Four. Seven. Two. Six. Three. Enter.
A soft ringing was the sound of affirmation, the door opening (sliding?) for Reese to enter through. “Wait here for a minute, Gremio. I’ll be right back.”
Gremio pressed himself against the wall as Reese disappeared into the room that he could only assume was the arsenal by the racks lined against the wall. He shut his eyes as he tried to gather his thoughts and absorb the strange bits of information he had received.
“All right, Gremio, let’s go.” Reese returned, looking squarely at the confused blonde, before gesturing him to follow him down the hall.
Gremio followed silently, concentrating his attention on the blank corridors that Reese led him through. “Pardon my asking, Sir Reese, but why are all the walls bare?” he inquired politely, now assured that Reese was the closest thing he had to a friend right now.
“Well, it’s supposed to be some sort of strategic defense or something,” Reese answered dismissively. “The halls are all left bare to make this entire place confusing.” He chuckled lightly. “Honestly, I still get lost in a few of these places. Unfortunately, test subjects aren’t supposed to learn how to navigate this maze … for obvious reasons.” Reese looked pointedly at Gremio as he stood before another password-locked door.
One. Seven. Two. Eight. Two. Enter.
“Keep the codes in mind, especially for the arsenal; Clive will be indebted to you and need to include you in his plans. Stay alive, Gremio.” Gremio could only look perplexed as Reese gathered his thoughts again. “The other Paradigms want to get out of here, and I don’t blame them,” he explained. “I haven’t reported any of the plans I’ve heard floating about, but I think the heads suspect something. If you stick with the others, you may get out of here, too.”
“Where would we go?” Gremio asked as Reese opened the door to reveal a long, flat blue-colored broad hall filled with rooms. “… What is this?”
“This is the Paradigm wing. You’re sharing a room with ‘Paradigm 07’ in that room over there.” Reese rolled his eyes at the subject label and pointed to the door directly to his left. “Talk to the others about what their plans are. Perhaps an extra body will be appreciated.”
Gremio faced Reese at the scientist stepped away to leave, awkwardly inclining his head. “Thank you.”
Reese shrugged. “You guys deserve more than what this whole system gives you. I believe in souls, even if science can’t prove their existences. I also believe all you Journeyers have souls -- even the Shattered.”
Shattered? Gremio was unable to voice his confusion as Reese took his leave, shutting the door that Gremio knew would lock behind him. The blonde shifted and stared at the empty hallway, unnerved by the utter silence.
The swish of a door to his left nearly caused the man to jump.
“Hn. I thought I heard Reese’s voice.”
Gremio turned to face the opened door, seeing another blond-haired man step into the hallway. His hair was shorter and his eyes were golden, glinting in the artificial light as he sized up the new arrival. “Judging from the scar and the build, I would have to say you are a wandering sellsword. Where were you from?”
“Sellsword!?” The title was indignity in its purest form. “I am a servant of the McDohl--”
“McDohl?” A fair brow rose in recognition of the name. “So you’re from the Toran Republic?”
Gremio stared. “P-- Pardon?” When surprise alighted upon the slightly-younger man’s face, Gremio murmured, “The Scarlet Moon Empire. That’s where I am from, sir.”
“So you died before the Gate Rune Wars.”
Both blondes looked up at the new voice, which turned out to be owned by a crimson-haired young man wearing the same bland uniform as Gremio. Another man stepped out of the room behind the redhead, his casual glance becoming one of sudden recognition and alarm. “Gremio?” the rugged, black-haired man called.
“Viktor…” Gremio fought down the distrust he still felt towards the mercenary in favor of the relief of finding someone he knew. He looked older than the last time he had seen him, but his eyes could have been playing tricks on him.
“Heh, I never thought I’d see it…” Viktor stepped out from behind the redhead and walked towards Gremio. “Another one that I knew was dead, brought back.” He studied the perplexed look on the younger man’s face. “If Reese brought you here, you must be another Paradigm.”
The scarred man decided not to correct the huge warrior, unsure of the reactions he would receive for the title ‘Augmentation.’ “May I ask what’s going on? Sir Reese wasn’t able to explain very much…”
“Another familiar face, Viktor?” the redhead inquired, striding to stand next to the taller warrior.
Viktor nodded with such seriousness that it made Gremio nervous. “Let’s go to Mathiu’s room. Grem, there’s a lot to talk about.”
Sir Mathiu is here, too?
* * * * *
Mathiu Silverberg folded his hands on the desk that he had requested from the scientists a few days after his ‘rebirth.’ Being the first Paradigm of the institution, Mathiu had been able to manipulate the scientists into allowing him luxuries the others were not given. Blue eyes focused on the newest member of their fold. “It’s been awhile, Gremio,” greeted the former strategist of the Toran Liberation Army.
“Sir Mathiu, I’m glad to see you in good health,” returned the scarred blonde, still staring at the other people that made up the Caedus Paradigms. Five men and two young women, some familiar and others not.
“Let me introduce you to the others,” Mathiu stated courteously, gesturing to the two unknown men and Viktor. “You already know Viktor, and the other two are Sirs Camus and Seed.” The blonde and redhead nodded in greeting as Mathiu turned to the two young women. “You might remember Apple, but as a child.” Gremio stared at the bespectacled young woman in complete bafflement even as the strategist continued. “The other young lady is Lady Nanami. And the last is … Clive.”
Clive managed to look mysterious even wearing the drab uniform, red eyes dark and brooding as he looked at Gremio from a corner. “So you’re McDohl’s babysitter, eh? I wasn’t expecting such a scruffy thing.”
“Babysitter?” Camus’ brow shot up as he looked at his comrade. “You know him, Clive?”
“Of him, yes. I was under Tir McDohl’s command before the Dunan Unification Wars,” Clive shrugged. “The kid mentioned him a few times when he should’ve been relaxing.” He frowned at the scarred blonde. “You haunted that boy through the whole damn war and yet we still won. You did one hell of a job raising him.”
Gremio was flustered by the compliment disguised as a barb. “Haunted? … We won?”
“Refrain yourself from confusing Gremio further, Clive,” ordered Mathiu, his gaze resting on Clive until the younger man relented. “Now, Gremio, what is the last thing that you remember?”
The blonde nervously recited what he had told the scientists, gauging the looks from the others. Both Nanami and Apple looked sympathetic, while most of the men carefully hid their expressions. Viktor clapped his hand on Gremio’s shoulder comfortingly from where he stood a short distance away, startling the manservant. “A lot’s happened,” he muttered in way of explanation.
Mathiu nodded in affirmation to Viktor’s statement. “From what the scientists have bothered to explain to me, four hundred years have passed since ‘the beginning of empires’ end.’ We were resurrected using journeymen’s crystals, which have been studied and broken by science recently. Most of us are not from the same timeframe.” He frowned. “For example, Gremio, you died sometime before I did.”
Gremio started at the statement. “I … died?”
“We all died, Sir Gremio,” Apple interrupted, looking distressed. “Try not to think too much about it.”
But the blonde was not processing that last statement. “… How did I die?”
Viktor answered quickly, as to avoid argument with Mathiu and Apple. “Valiantly. You saved Tir’s life, Grem.”
Silverberg cleared his throat noisily, saving Gremio from the sinking feeling of depression over his death. “May I continue?” His inquiry was responded to with a gesture of affirmation. “Thank you… As I said, Gremio, four hundred years have passed and everyone here would have died over that period of time. It is highly unnatural for resurrection of this sort to take place, and Sir Reese has been kind enough to tell me that we are to be sold.” He spat the last word out like a vile insult, triggering disgusted looks from the others. “We have been slowly planning an escape since then.”
Clive stared at the newest member of their strange crew for a few moments, noting the nearly-traumatized expression on the younger man’s face. “Give him time to digest the situation, Mathiu. It isn’t everyday you’re told you died four hundred years ago and were brought back to life as slave labor.”
Mathiu relented, giving the Gunner a wry glance. “There isn’t anything we can do about that now, is there?” Leaning back in his chair, the blue-eyed strategist allowed himself to relax a little. “I’ll gather everyone tomorrow morning, and we can discuss our plans more.” He eyed each of the other Paradigms individually. “Taking Clive’s words to heart, I don’t want all of you bombarding Gremio with despairing thoughts; we don’t need trauma when we are so close to freedom.”
With that said, the Paradigms filed out of Mathiu’s room and into the steel blue corridor that connected the other rooms. “Well, Sir Gremio, who did Reese say you’re supposed to bunk with?” the man introduced as Camus asked, doing his best to act nonchalant and courteous.
“… He said something about ‘Paradigm 07.’ I cannot believe we’re referred to as … experiment numbers.” Gremio murmured softly, eyes downcast.
Viktor took the position of being the comforter, knowing the blonde the best among those gathered; Clive had opted to remain behind, more than likely to talk to Mathiu. “Don’t look so down, Grem; it’s not the end of the world.”
“It’s already past that,” Seed snorted, earning him a glare from the burly, former mercenary.
Gremio’s expression was hidden under his messy bangs, but his tone was cold. “I appreciate your concern, Viktor, but please maintain a formal distance; we aren’t as friendly as you try to present.”
There was an audible sigh. “I take it you never forgave me for getting your lot involved, huh?”
The former servant shook his head, finally locking green eyes with dark brown. “We just aren’t very well-acquainted, Viktor. Please understand.”
Seed tried to bite back his snicker, but was unable to do so. “I haven’t seen such a polite guy since Klaus,” he chuckled. “Cam’s pretty close, but you, Gremio, are just--” He shook his head in amusement as Gremio gave him a strange look.
“You’re such a dork, Seed,” the young woman beside Apple sighed, rolling her brown eyes. Averting her attention to the cloaked blonde, she smiled and waved cheerily. “Sir Mathiu gave really bland introductions. I’m Nanami, from the country of Dunan.”
Gremio nodded in greeting, quickly realizing Nanami’s smile was quite infectious. “I’m … afraid I’m not familiar with that place…”
“It was once known as the Jowston City-States,” informed Apple. “It became Dunan three years after the Gate Rune, or Toran Liberation, Wars.” She smiled for the scarred man. “It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Gremio.”
“Miss Apple… My, you’ve … certainly grown.” She must be about 24… “How is this possible? The last I saw you--”
“--I was 15 years old,” finished the bespectacled woman, smiling wryly. “Yes, well… Master Mathiu mentioned that we were all from different time frames. I was resurrected from a period in which I’m older, which would make sense; what use would these scientists have for a 15 year old?”
“Don’t answer that,” Camus said quickly. “Lady Apple has picked up the same cunning tongue her teacher has.”
“Flatterer,” laughed the brunette. “Nanami, are you listening to this?”
“I’m pretending not to,” the slightly-younger woman responded, giving the charismatic man a mock glare. “What kind of knight are you, my dear Camus?”
Camus bowed low and brought one of Nanami’s gloved hands to his lips. “A love-smitten one, my dear lady.”
“Romantics, the lot of ya,” sighed the redhead clad in a well-worn black and white uniform. He offered one hand to Gremio. “I’m Seed, a former general of Highland.”
“A general? General Seed, then,” Gremio started, only to be waved off abruptly.
“I really don’t think titles like those are necessary around here; everything we know is more than likely gone and the titles with the land. In your case, though, I think the habit’s gonna be hard to kill.” Seed chuckled and shook hands with the scarred man. “So, where’s the scar from? I don’t care what the Gunner says -- you definitely aren’t just a babysitter.”
Apple elbowed the Highlander. “How rude!” she exclaimed. “You should know better than to ask, Seed!”
What a strange group…
* * * * *
The group had retired to their rooms after proper introductions and Gremio’s admission to his own exhaustion. He stared at the room he would be sharing with Camus, taking in the expressionless walls and the table and chair pushed to one side. The taller blonde coughed lightly as he gauged Gremio’s reaction. “The scientists give us very little mental stimulation. I sometimes wonder why they even bother resurrecting sentient humans if they think they can just lock us up in here.”
Gremio walked over to the chair, inspecting it mildly before leaning against it. “You are a knight?” he inquired conversationally, recalling Nanami’s comment earlier.
“Former Captain of the Red Knights of Matilda,” affirmed the taller blonde with a small smile. “I joined Lady Nanami’s brother’s army when Matilda refused to take action against Highland.” He was silent for a moment. “I had the pleasure of meeting your ‘Young Master’ during the war.”
Green eyes widened in surprise and anxiety. “W-- was he well?”
Camus nodded slowly. “Solemn and distant, but quite well. He traveled alone and fished when he wasn’t aiding Lord Riou.”
“Why would the Young Master wish to help in another war? If he was so strained by the first, why torture himself further?”
The lost look that Gremio gave Camus caused the knight to hesitate. “Lord Riou had a True Rune of sorts as well. They saw eye to eye on more things than I think either cared to admit. I believe that they confided in each other, as Tir was all alone and Riou didn’t have many people that saw him as anything more than a leader.” Camus frowned and hurried to the scarred servant as he almost collapsed, looking worriedly at the man that looked younger than his years. “… He must mean a lot to you.”
“I took care of Young Master since he was six years old…,” the man answered hollowly. “Master Teo asked me to take care of him after I rescued him from mountain bandits.”
“Mountain bandits? I take it that you’re not a regular servant then?”
“… I served under Master Teo during a few skirmishes against Jowston,” admitted Gremio, shuffling towards his bed once Camus had released him. He nearly tumbled into the simple bed, again earning him a concerned glance from Camus. “I left the military when Master Teo hired me; I was never very fond of the war.”
Camus gave a slight nod of approval. “Well, your war experience will be helpful once we get out of here, then. Most of us can hold our own when a battle breaks out, but Sir Mathiu and Apple will be needing protection while we run.”
Gremio did not have to give a sign of understanding for the information; he had assumed the same after looking at the group that made up the Paradigms. “Sir Reese had me watch him put in the passwords for the arsenal and the main door.”
The knight raised a brow in surprise before beginning to chuckle. “Reese has been as good as he can be for us during our “stay” here. He must want us to take you along if he decided to trust you with that information.”
He was right there when those men labeled me an ‘Augmentation.’ Can that be why? “… How are we going to get out of here?”
“Clive has been collecting components for black powder, and Seed’s been … well, picking up a habit of smoking for the sake of the mission.” When Gremio gave the golden-eyed blonde a blank look, Camus decided to elaborate. “Clive has been making something spectacular that Gunners use for their weapons -- something called gunpowder, or black powder. Seed has been smoking to get his hands on matches from the guards, which we’ll need for lighting the gunpowder. Sir Mathiu is hoping that Clive has enough to make a sizable explosion.”
Gremio’s eyes widened at the mentioning of an explosion, but he nodded slowly in understanding as Camus retired to his bed. They were prisoners in this strange building, from different times in their lives that further alienated them from each other. If Sir Mathiu’s words were true, they were all resurrected for the sole purpose to be sold off to the highest bidder as … something. Slave labor? A prize? I can’t even begin to fathom…
He shook his head at the thought, his mind focusing on an even more important unknown. Where was Young Master McDohl? Four hundred years was an awfully long time… Was he all right? Was he still alive?
His heart ached at the thought of his young charge dead. He knew that the True Rune would probably keep him alive for centuries if it came to that, but there was always the chance that the Young Master had passed the Soul Eater on.
As much as Gremio did not want to believe it, Tir could very well be dead. And if his young master was dead, he had no idea what he would do.
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I think these are the perfect eyes to tell this kind of story through. It reads like RP at first, but then, any crossgenerational will. I'm intrigued, of course, as to where this might go...