2 Fugitives

"... Some news about Sergeant Eldrac?" Halley asked, in a whisper, as he was sitting at his table, curved on the small wooden surface as he stared at two small bottles filled with a muddy liquid and some papers.

"No news, good news." mumbled in a soft voice Corporal Martens, as he stared at the dark, messy room that served as resting place for Deneb-4.

The only light was a small, dim cloud restrained by a glass sphere on the table, to keep any annoyance to his roommates, that were sleeping, to a minimum.

The two were certainly used to staying up all night, albeit for different reasons, and often Viktor observed Halley's work.

"Won't your 'fans' get angry if you spend the night with me, Corporal?" Halley asked, as he moved one of the two bottles closer to the spotlight and annoted something on a separate notebook, his face showing vague hints of amusement.

"My fans are well asleep, tired from today's action." the Corporal sighed "I can't really believe how you aren't, given that you spend most of your days off dozing somewhere."

"Days off are made to doze off. If I have something to do, I must do it, or I won't really be able to sleep."

"And what are you doing then, with those bottles of yours?" the man said, pointing at the several pieces of glassy equipment on the table.

"Investigating where the books came from. The right one is some dirt from Galicia suspended in clear, magically neutral water, and the left one is dirt I found on the inside of the bindings of one book."

"And you can understand where they came from?" asked Viktor, his tone slightly stronger.

"Lower your voice! Yes, I can at least say one thing: one of those books was not made in Galicia."

"How can you say that?"

Viktor was very curious of Halley's alchemic knowledge, mostly due to his origins from a small, fallen noble family that had only the sword to teach.

Halley turned to him, and leaned backwards on his seat, obnoxiously raising the index finger of his left hand.

"You see, while the mineral composition of Galicia can widely change, the ley line that flows through it is only a small branch, and could not charge the molecules as much. This comes from a land with a very rich magic flow, as strong as the Nocturnal Lands."

"... A land as rich as my homeland, uh? Is it the fabled [Golden Empire of Chi]?" scoffed the Corporal.

Halley shook his head. "I know the ley lines of Chi, but its size means there are many coursing through it. It may be one of those, but even then, it is known that no scholar of Chi would write in any other language than his own. And that is even more foreign to me than Galician."

"Could it have just been made in Chi?"

"Again, I'm doubtful of that. They normally don't even use books, but a different recording system altogether."

"Then..." mumbled Viktor "... It's a damn headache, that's what it is."

"As usual, you're right." Halley said, stretching his back and rising from his seat.

"You going to sleep?" Viktor asked him.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm..." Halley yawned "... very tired."

"Good night, then." whispered Viktor in an even softer, almost malicious in tone, voice.

The dawn, in the last days of winter in a country like the eastern-most of the Directorate, is still cold. Not a bone-chilling cold, mind you, but the kind of cold that makes you want to sit down and do nothing all day, not too close to a fire, but not too far either.

These were the thoughts of Private Stillwinter. Yet, here was unit Deneb-4, scouring the forest for no real results, as they at least trying to look like someone who's searching someone who was clearly not there anymore.

"Vega let three prisoners escape, uh?" laughed Ahmid, whose smirk appeared even more wicked on his pretty face "That's what you get for having girls go to war!"

Halley sighed, evidently not as happy as his fellow soldier "And here I thought you were so proud of your Adamhad matriarchy blood."

"As my Pa used to say, some things are just weird!" Ahmid roared with a thick Oldefort accent "Women ought to fit well only in bed!"

"You're the type to change up your version as it's fit, aren't you?" yawned Halley, unfazed by the usual antics of his teammate "I really wonder why the Corporal saw fit to partner us up, though..."

"That's easy, mate. The Corporal knew you need someone t'keep you awake. Don't think I don't know of your night 'expeditions'."

"The way you're phrasing it makes you pass off as either an asshole or an idiot. Pick one." Halley snorted, walking ahead of his squadmate.

"I think I prefer 'asshole' better. Makes me think about what I'd do to..." chuckled the Junior Lieutenant, before being abruptly interrupted. Halley raised his left hand suddenly, and snorted a clear "Stop!".

His eyes started to dart around the northern forest, populated by evergreen trees as far as the eye could see, searching for the source of the disturbance he had just felt.

It was almost imperceptible, but soon he heard it again. The sound of fabric being scraped by the ground, a familiar sound for someone who grew up among nobles.

He turned toward the other and gestured with his risen hand, in the code that was taught to him by the company: one sound, probably hostile, no one on sight, caution.

Crosslead replied back: you right, I left, circular motion.

They both nodded, and Halley began to walk following his instructions, softening his steps as much as he possibly could, readying his weapon, a modest looking one-handed sword. As he gripped the leather handle, he minimized his breath, and kept inspecting his surroundings.

As the scraping sound became clear, he could also sense a human presence. Someone was definitely in front of him, hiding behind a tree, his breath slowed down as forcibly as his.

At this point, he was sure that both him and the Junior Lieutenant had surrounded an escapee.

"We are from the [Astrolabus Military Company] and your camp has surrounded! Under the General Rule of War, you are to be considered as Prisoner of War and propriety of our company! Surrender yourself or you will be penalized!"

Rule of War. A term used to describe the laws that rule how the many Military Companies of Pleiades are to act.

Generally divided between the three categories of General, Holy and Special, which ruleset is applied is decided at the moment a Company is formally employed by one of the states members of Pleiades.

He immediately heard the escapee's breath quicken.

"You are surrounded. I will give you exactly 10 seconds to communicate your surrendering by leaving your hiding spot, kneeling on the ground and putting your hands behind your head! Now! 9!..."

As soon as the countdown started, the one behind the tree seemingly reached a decision, and darted out of it, to the right of Private Stillwinter.

"Halt -- Or you will be penalized!"

The figure was quick, even if what looked like several layers of garments covered it.

Halley bit his lower lip, before leaving his sword in its sheath, and howled:

"[Alchemical Record of Minerals: Seismic Trap]!"

His hands moved in front of him, each parallel to the other, the fingers bent slightly to resemble outward-going staircases, his own personal style.

All around the hooded figure, several spike-like constructs arose until they were taller than Stillwinter himself.

The fugitive seemed to be shocked initially, but it quickly tried to escape through the holes between the spears, almost like a drowning cat grasping for air. The figure tried to weasel forward, only to halt before another insurmountable obstacle.

"This time I won't be denied!" cackled a visibly excited Crosslead, his feet sliding and dancing on the cluttered terrain as if friction meant nothing to him. His slender, nimble hands already upon the hostile, the hawk-like eyes of the Junior Corporal still flashed around, looking for enemy reinforcements. Luckily for the two, it seemed that this one had been running away on their own.

(I do wonder if it's possible to be unaffected by something by merely ignoring its existence... With this Junior Corporal, anything is possible.)

In a matter of moments, the fugitive was down on its back, the Jr. Corporal's predatory figure over it.

"Junior Corporal, with that cloak, we don't know if it's a man or a woman--" Stillwinter tried to say, marginally worried about what kind of trouble they'd be in if the captive was not brought back in pristine condition.

"You think I care!?" Crosslead replied, as he grabbed the white (now dirtied by the muddy terrain) cloak that covered the escapee "It's been way too much, man!"

"If a man is fine, then why not--"

"You think I could do 'it' with a guy I have to see everyday until I get discharged!?" the other blurted.

Halley could do nothing but shrug in an understanding way.

And as if taken by a raptus of lust, Adim could do nothing but rip away the cloak for the figure laying under him.

"Fueeee~!" whistled the soldier "I am blessed with good luck!"

Halley, who sat on what could only be described as a chair that arose from the ground, thought (Your good luck or her bad luck? Is the girl even legal?) but held himself from voicing his thoughts. It wasn't his place and it wasn't his business. The girl was turned on her back, her expression somewhat uncaring as Adim clawed her wrists and neck.

"With such a cute girl, sorry if I won't leave enough for your sloppy seconds." the Junior Corporal commented.

(Well, she is cute.) observed Halley.

The girl laying down had an average height of 159 cm, and had short, pale blond hair with a very curly shape, her locks ending at the shoulders and over her sea-blue, unfocused eyes.

Her physique looked generally (... is the word I'm looking for "pudgy"?) not so chubby, as maybe "healthy", with a skin as pale as the snow of the Nocturnal Lands, pretty and untouched by time or strain.

Her fingers looked as if she had never held anything heavier than a feather or rougher than a pearl, candid and plump.

Her chest wasn't very abundant, but Halley figured it would be because of her age.

(Speaking of age, I don't think what she is wearing is apt for hers. Has Galician costume degenerated from the strict social order they were known for?)

After all, the girl only wore what he recognized as underwear, and scant ones at that. Her chest until her stomach was wrapped in some brown-ish cloth, and she only wore a short, thigh-length skirt of the same color and texture, and Halley noted that her feet were bare. Not that he had much time to admire her garments before Adim tore them from her body, leaving the naked girl laying over the ground, her fair complexion separated from dirt only by the white cloak that acted as impromptu bed for the the pair.

However, as soon as Halley's eyes passed the girl's stomach...

"Adim! ADIM, STOP!" Halley roared, gripping the man's shoulders and forcefully tearing him from the girl.

"What the f*ck, Stillwinter!?" The enraged officer roared, clearly offended.

"Look! Her stomach! It's not there!"

Stillwinter's normal, bored expression had turned into one of utter glee, and this was kind of frightening, even to his superior officer.

"What...?" murmured the man as he turned back toward the fair-skinned girl "... The hell!?"

There, where there was supposed to be something, that something was missing.

It looked... unnatural. Slightly ugly, even.

"She has..." Halley swallowed "She has no navel!"

And yet, as the two men were so aggressively staring at her, the girl still did not react, and those empty eyes were still unmoving.

"Ho-- HOMUNCULUS!!!"