Instinctively, I sigh, releasing some of the heavy tension twisting my stomach. Not that it really helps. I've been doing that since I left the building where I've been staying for the past two weeks. At least, it helps keep the sleep hormones away. The anxiety? Not really. Not with these hundreds — probably thousands — of citizens protesting to have Ordinal Three out of prison.
Banners, giant boards, and other signs that they keep on poking up under the morning daylight imply their denial and unacceptance of his crimes that he himself already admitted to. I'm sure there are a lot of them too at the Citadel. But do they even understand the scope of what he's done?
Three is no murderer! Twenty-One is a traitor!
Betray the Legion, Betray the People!
No Arthur, No Legion!
Those are just part of the few. But the others have Finnobair's face, ridiculed, maligned, and almost no longer recognized as Ordinal Twenty-One. Even some elven-born, his own kind, in the crowds, shout against his name. Seeing this scenario only comes as a slap to the face, an attack on the sense of justice that I don't even feel I achieved. What more if they find out that I'm the root of it all?
Through the glass window, the court building is just ahead. The horse drawing the carriage just has to make a turn halfway around the Rotonda to meet the wide and long stairs leading up there, where multiple guards are keeping the cameras desperate to look for a story to put in newspapers and broadcast on radios off limits.
I feel my mother's hand on mine resting on my hip. I look at her to my left as she gives a hopeful smile that I know holds hidden fears. The carriage stops, and I turn to Kyla, in formal attire that her mother asked her to wear, who sits ahead giving me an affirming look.
"Here we go," She says before initiating to open the carriage's door and stepping down.
I follow suit with my mother behind me. Even with the sun up in the middle of the cloudless sky, I feel a chill creep down my spine with the amount of attention that is being bombarded at me. It's either because of the two swords that I wear on my back, or just me who they want to ask about my relevance to Ordinal Three's case, despite that the trial up there is going to be about me.
Tucking my hands into my pockets, I press my thumb onto Aleks' ring around my annular, and keep my head low, shrinking my neck further behind the unfolded collar of my black coat that Mom brought with her last night, shutting out the calls from interviewers looking for something to write down in their notepads, and just focus ahead on the place that I'm now dreading from.
More people surround the building's entrance, some already putting their eyes on me halfway from climbing the stairs, in varying fancy suits native to their relative World Regions, carrying flat boards and notepads in their hands. Recognizing these foreign people makes my stomach sink to the floor as I further realize how immensely sophisticated and crucial this trial is going to be. These Acolyte Ravenbirds from Irathra, Diplomats from Kalvar, Elven Sages from Cysainte, Hexborn Lawyers from Elemis, and Faun Representatives from Sora Iman are whom I have to convince. They're not only here as part of the jurors and judges to sentence me, but as those who'd be the ears of their own people from their Regions. My shoulders feel heavy, and my stomach is on fire all of a sudden. It's only the representation of the increasing dread that I'm having.
But there are some familiar faces. And Grace, in her Wall Sentry suit which signs that she's back in her duty at the barrier, being one of them puts some ample relief into me, and I immediately run to her for a hug after welcoming her girlfriend.
"You look… dashing," She says once she pulls away, parsing my look from down my newly bought combat boots up to my gelled hair.
"Well, I do have some people to please," I say, quickly scanning the people around and she only smiles.
"And a lot of people down there, as well," Adds Eleanor Elda, in formal wear matching the rest of the people, who appear just behind my Ravenbird friend.
My mind suddenly wanders to how her days went since the attack in Astanor, which includes Finnobair's death, and her testimony. I don't even know how I'll ask about them. But I see some answers prominent behind the colors on her face. Still, even though I just happen to be curious about her relationship with him, it's best not to ask. I only acknowledge her presence with a nod.
"You seem to have grown comfortable with carrying your father's swords," She adds.
"Not really," I say in honesty. They may feel little to no weight on my back, but there's still the sense of estrangement. "They're just for today's sake."
"Well, I hope one day, you'll embrace them as yours," She says. "No one else will own them but you."
That, I'm still unsure of. I may have agreed to them helping me figure out this entity within me to stop another war from coming, but with how things have pivoted to this predicament, I seem to have been pulled a few steps back. The people down there and the rest of the world will know me, and either as a threat just as the prophecy says, or someone that they'll lean their expectations on. But this is it. Not like I can back out now, can't I?
I can only lie to Eleanor by saying, "I hope so."
To our notice, the people are already entering the big doors and I can only accept what's waiting for me in there.
My hands are in my pockets, clasping the fabric in them as murmurs erupt from the crowds surrounding me in this giant room, well-lit with light bulbs installed on the ceiling and a chandelier at its center. All the seats are not even filled yet, especially the ones above the high benches before me and I'm fighting all the uncontrolled shaking out of anxiety that might soon force me to run out of here, let alone the fact that I'll be the center of attention for the next hour or more while standing behind this podium and being expected to make a stand through these glossy microphones installed above it. My mother and friends are at the very back and I'd steal glances just to see if they're okay, when they're rather the ones checking on me.
To my surprise, they allowed some journalists here with their photographers constantly taking pictures of everyone they're familiar with and me ever since I stood here.
The room suddenly reduces crowd noise, and the remaining empty seats are being filled as the empty benches ahead begin to be occupied by the expected people coming from the path on both sides of the high seats.
Breathe. Just breathe. It'll soon be over.
My eyes parse each of them, and they're composed of Otima's Borough Leaders, including Kyla's mother, some of the World Region representatives whom I saw outside earlier, and some Ordinals; Sixteen, Twenty-Eight, and Twenty-Nine, which no longer brings the question why the higher ranking Legionnaires aren't there instead. They rather have their own designated seats on the side with the rest of the representatives. It's not just Ordinal Five, but also Twenty-Four, Ten, Twelve, and Thirteen. Seeing the last three only elevates the tension I'm feeling. What could they have said in their testimonies if they even had one?
One female attendant comes forth with a wired microphone in hand and asks everyone to stand before marking the beginning of the trial. "We're here to commence the trial of SE Front Soldier 120801, Kyvin Licht."
That's it? No charges followed? Just my military title that I only got to savor for less than a day?
"In this room, where the eyes of justice watch, every person, defendant or accused, citizen or outlander, title-carrier or not, regardless of race, religion or belief, are equal."
Does that even still include me? I ask myself. Well, that's what I'm here for in the first place. At least, that's what I know. If I ever give them the tiniest impression that might make them consider me a worldly threat, then I should start counting my days.
"Do you, Kyvin Licht, under the eyes of justice, swear to show nothing but pure honesty in this trial?" The attendant asks.
I only say, "I swear," as if I have anything else to answer to that.
The attendant leaves, and everyone sits back, except me of course, who's now the highlight of the room. Then come the questions. They start easy; about my career, and where and when I was born as such. Then slowly builds up to how I discovered that I'm not… ordinary, and the incidents I got myself into, including that at the Ordinal Citadel where I can confidently clear my name off the accusation of attempted theft with the real events that happened that day, except how I destroyed Ordinal Ten's armament, and Ordinal Three's later on and how the next events played out that led me to be found within the Barrier along with Ordinal Twenty-One's Wyrbird, and Ordinal Three.
I answer them mostly with yes and no, or with brief clarifications while I secretly put out the brewing fire that's forcing me to relive the memories. I only hope that all my answers are shared with those who had their testimonies.
Throughout, there wouldn't be a second interval for any camera to not snap a picture, or for the journalists and the people behind the benches ahead of me to write down something.
Next comes about my associations with Astanor, and the Order that Finnobair built. They first appear tricky to answer as they bring up the idea of illegal commitments, but I still manage to justify my answers knowing how Ordinal Three's convictions and actions left Finnobair no choice but to act in secret outside the Legion.
Now, there's again the silence, other than the sighs of anticipation of the rest of the audience around me to hear the next questions, and I can barely keep my steady posture and demeanor behind this podium with the amount of anxiety burning me alive.
Kyla's Mother, who goes by the name Felinda Finster, leans again to her microphone.
"Do you ever consider joining the Ordinal Legion, Mister Licht," She asks, which sparks murmurs from the crowd and confused looks from the others sitting among her, which then immediately grow into combined outbursts and arguments.
"No, ma'am. I don't plan to," I answer which then puts everyone in silence. "Never in my life have I ever ambitioned power. Nor did I even expect something like this to happen to me."
"Then what do you plan to do?" An old man among the Cysaintine Sages asks. "Given with a unique power as such surely gives you some new intention out of your duties as a Front Soldier. Perhaps you no longer even consider yourself one when it'd been only less than a day when you held that title."
I can't help but feel a little insulted by that fact.
"I plan nothing else but to continue looking for the connections of my hellion blood to the possible outcomes inlaid in the prophecy to resolve the infestations at the Barrier, just as Ordinal Twenty-One had always planned in the beginning," I say. "But I would like to have all the assistance that there is available especially the Ordinal Legion's, knowing that I cannot do it alone and I have much to learn."
"So to say that you'd learn your Hellion abilities," A Kalvarian takes the floor. "But the fact that that power is from the Otherrealm, how can we be sure that its dangerous nature may not pose a world-level threat? You may have quite a history of using those abilities as a defensive act against some of our great Legionnaires and against two or a few Hellions yourself. But how can we be sure that you won't be murdering anyone out there anytime soon?"
"That, I have no answer to, Sir," I only answer, anxiously, fingers pressed onto the podium's surface, feeling Aleks' ring put pressure around the finger it's wrapped around. "Which, I have to admit, scares me." Murder may sound like an exaggeration, but the idea is valid. Even I still don't know the nature within me given this hellion blood.
A Ravenbird lady takes the mic this time, "Mister Licht, the world is entrusting us the decision of whether to put this in the hands of a young man like you. As genuine as some of us in this room may find you to be, even with all the help that you may get, how can you assure the public, the whole world even, that you won't lead us to extinction?"
I wasn't able to save my godfather, Finnobair, or Killian. What more with millions and millions of lives? I almost skip a breath and good thing that my lips are away from the mic. The burning sensation is spreading throughout my body and I feel like I'm about to explode at any time. They're right. I don't know what else I can do with this power. I may have killed two hellions with it, but how sure am I that I won't be using it to harm someone? Well, I already have, that day at the citadel, my battle with Ordinal Twelve and Ten. I'm sure they're aware of that, too.
Suddenly, I feel blanketed with relaxing warmth, and I release the tension through my lips. It's as if I feel hands on my back. Or maybe it's the swords.
As the calmness set in, I exhaled before bringing my lips to the mic again.
"I seem to notice that many of you forgot the idea that I'm still part human, capable of emotion and decision. And despite my doubts about myself and even the worthiness of these swords that my father once owned, I still made the commitment to deal with the prophecy that has my name on it. I never wanted any of this, at all. All I wanted to be was a soldier because that's what I dreamed of as a kid."
This catches all their attention.
"When my father was still alive, the world was fully sentenced to death as the prophecy rather had his name then. But when I was born due to his sacrifice, the world was given a chance against the Otherrealm. A future where no more soldiers will be risking their lives within the Barrier's walls. No more women and men to abandon their families. And no more children to have the ambition to live behind the same shadows of those who gave their lives just for the future children to follow as well."
Some of them start to give one another looks. The three Ordinals among them are just silent, probably, still unconvinced.
"Isn't that what the Ordinal Legion or any of you also dreamed of?" I add. "I'm not asking for a chance, permission, or your full trust. I only ask for your hopes." My gaze sets at the Ordinals on the side, mainly, at Ordinal Five. She nods as a sign of her commitment to trusting me. That's enough affirmation despite that the others next to her are not sharing the gesture.
"You are confident, Mister Licht. Determined, even," The same Kalvarian representative comments. "And if it indeed comes to the point of uncertainty or the worst-case scenario, then what?"
As much as this moment fears me, I have no choice but to accept this commitment. My eyes for my old future are gone. Now, I'm something else. "Then the Ordinals themselves can put an act to it."
The cold afternoon breeze swings. I didn't bother to style my hair and let the wind billow through its locks. There's no need to when the occasion is just to see Aleks' grave. I wouldn't consider it simple at first when it's the first time since that day.
Before I even entered the park's gates, I couldn't help but immediately break at the reality of seeing him now beneath this soil. At least, I can take as much time as I can. Not that I have anywhere else to go. And my escort guards can't complain when Ordinal Five hasn't relieved them from this tedious duty. Next week, I'll find out the court's decision, whether I've convinced them enough — or at least, enough number of them — or not. Either way, I won't have any other option.
I bend my knees to fix the bouquet of flowers I put on the damp soil of his grave. Some lush greens have already sprouted under the warm weather, thanks to the Barrier's distant walls that block the sun most of the day. The slab at the head with his name engraved is freshly smudged with a melted candle that has been removed recently, and I can't even bring myself to think who most likely might be lighting them there.
I can't. I'm not ready to face Alice yet, Aleks. I think as I now hold the ring onto my fingers. After all the time that it has been with me, it never even got a scratch. As funny as it may sound, I can only think of it as an imbued object that's making this intact. Not with any other kind of mineral or magic. Probably a little of that. And love.
I'm sorry. I've probably said that in my head for a millionth time and I've only been standing by the foot of his grave for less than an hour, during which I've told him everything that he needed to know. And almost in between statements, I'd bring up those two words in my head. But even so, no amount of asking for forgiveness can bring him back, or his friends that are buried somewhere else with their families still mourning for them. I don't care if he knew and was involved with Ordinal Twenty-One's plans, or knew what he signed up for. I didn't ask for any of that.
I clutch the ring to my hand and slid it into the pocket of my jacket, whisper goodbye to him and remind him that I'll visit again sometime soon, then proceed to the other sections of the memorial park where I'd find Killian's grave.
They only found his body four days after my trial. They had Soaring Pandas bring him here already in a casket and immediately buried him the day after arrival. I didn't get to see it for myself. But I wouldn't have wanted to anyway. I couldn't handle it. It's the remaining figment of my denial of his death. But now, I'm just standing before his grave with the soil still looking fresh from burial.
This park is supposedly only for the soldiers who died at the Barrier. But I'm glad that Ordinal Twenty-Four permitted to have him buried here as requested of Eleanor who I still haven't given my appreciation to.
In my other pocket, I have the sketch. And I can only feel it there with my hand while I keep myself warm with the robe. Killian's robe. I remember leaving it at the inn I stayed at in Astanor before Ordinal Three's assault, and I'm glad Eleanor had it delivered as well. And this is the only thing, including the drawing that I have of him.
"I still haven't repaid you, you know," I whisper, despite knowing that he'd still deny that. Stubborn Killian, as always. Or maybe I should consider that now as his selflessness. "Say hi to him for me."
Then, I kneel, reaching my hand with the sketch at the tip of my fingers, and bury it under a clump of soil. I wouldn't consider that as an implication of my last visit, knowing that I'm the only person who knew him the closest, probably since his time as Kalvar's slave centuries ago.
As I tread through the cemented path toward the park's gates, my gaze rests on the Barrier's walls, thinking of all the possibilities ahead of my life that I know won't be as simple as a Front Soldier's life as I dreamed it to be. Not anymore. Because now, I'm more than a soldier and more than a human.
END OF BOOK 1