Your Definition of Honor

'So, enlighten me, Dominion. After all the gruesome things you've said about this winged general, son, or whatever the fuck he is to you, would you still consider him an honorable man?'

Dominion paused for a bit, obviously contemplating my answer while General Times whispered at the soldier beside him. He was still caressing his daughter's long black hair as he relayed his words in a hushed tone. After a while, Dominion finally found the right words he must have been looking for.

<Depends on your definition of honor.>

'The conventional kind.'

<What the fuck is the "conventional" kind? Different cultures have different "conventional" honor, you know? What your kind views as honorable may not be true to the people of the Keep.>

'Then, let's follow YOUR definition of honor. Is he honorable to you?'

Another pause.

<I would say yes. But the answer wholly depends on the definition of "honor." Having the willingness to kill in a time of endless war where deep-seated hostility rains from above are common. Understanding what one owes from others and repaying it without a need of a reminder is a rare gift General Times possesses. And such a trait is honorable to me. But he also killed and is probably still willing to kill innocent civilians for his cause. Others might paint that as un-honorable.>

'Hmmm... I want to do a gamble, Dominion.'

<What gamble?>

'Allow me to demonstrate.'

<Wait, what, no, Aleph-->

"Well then, gentlemen, I trust that I've made the right decision to surrender the poor lass in your capable hands. I'll be on my way now." I said with a bow still with my hands high up. I'm not gonna lie; my arms already feel like shit after raising it for what seemed like a few hours, but it's probably just a few minutes.

<What are you doing, Aleph?>

'Just watch. Don't worry. If this fails, we still have a Plan B.'

I dropped my hands and bowed. "Farewell, gentlemen." Afterward, I turned my back on them and started slowly, very slowly walking away from the now stunned Vyurborneans. I've been saying that term for a while now, but I'm not sure if it's the right way to say it. Maybe I'll just stick to calling them Vyurborne. I headed straight back to where I came from with a rather swiftly beating heart.

I hope this works.

<I understand what you're doing, but if this fails, I'm not gonna save your ass.>

'Well, there goes Plan B.'

<Your confidence in your shitty decisions is commendable, you know that?

'Thanks. I know.'

<It was sarcasm.>

'Likewise.'

<You better start concocting your next plan soon. It doesn't seem like they're responding to your reverse psychology bullshit.>

'I'm thinking about it.'

<You know I can see your thoughts, right? And your brain is filled only with different kinds of steaks. You can't fool me. You have no Plan B Part 2.>

"Wait." General Times' frigid voice erupted quietly like a howling breeze a few meters behind me.

'Looks like there's no need for that Plan B Part 2 after all.'

<Beginner's luck.>

'Bold of you to assume this is my first time.'

"Yes, sir?" I timidly said after facing Times once more. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Yes."

General Times stood with his wings folded expertly on his sides, but his earlier menacing demeanor had disappeared slightly; nonetheless, he still looked as cautious as before. Meanwhile, the soldier soared into the air, and Gertrude still laid at the foot of the buloke. But this time, her wings were on her belly, and her head was on a visible tree root, a much comfortable and regal position. I didn't utter a reply, just waited for him to collect his thoughts and continue.

With the way the side of his lips perked up slightly, I imagined Times liked the consideration behind my silence. He scanned my body from top to bottom, then bottom to top, with one glance before continuing his words.

"You saved my daughter." Times officially confirmed that Gertrude truly is his daughter. I imagined it's because of all the crying he did earlier. The tears he had shed were not even visible on his face anymore; it looked like he didn't even show any sort of emotion before.

This must have been troublesome for Times since I was sure he regretted how he revealed his relationship with Gertrude to her supposed savior. In a scenario like that, wouldn't the "savior" naturally ask for something in return to the father of the saved? It must have been a shock to him how I suddenly walked away from him after knowing their connection, but on the other hand, my performance might have also given away my intentions. Thus, maybe he already knew I was trying to manipulate him with my shitty reverse psychology trick. This conversation is either his way of showing his admiration to me or his method of clawing out my true intentions. But with how stoic his expression is, there's absolutely no way any man could know what laid behind his rock-solid composure, a composure only his daughter could break.

"Correct, sir," I answered with as much confidence as I could muster in my voice without losing the polite momentum I had built since the first second our eyes met.

"I imagine the battle with the kapre is a difficult one."

<Woah.>

'How the fuck did he know?'

"It's just an inference." Times then pointed at my hands with his eyebrows.

I looked down and saw blue liquid, almost covering the entirety of my hands. I hadn't even noticed this. For some reason, my mind thought I was just wearing a bright pair of gloves or something.

"Blue," Times uttered with a nod. "Only kapres have blood as bright as that."

'Are you sure he's not actually a mind reader or something?'

<Who the fuck knows? That magic doesn't exist, but who knows what these people have been up to in my absence.>

"It was not an easy one, sir," I replied, not wanting to make the older gentleman any longer.

"You don't say. You're injured."

"I've been careless midway," I almost ended my sentence there before realizing that I'm supposed to be polite. "sir."

His eyes landed on my trousers, the blood covering my tunic, and the ripped fabric on my side. It was where the injury that murdered Gres was supposed to be in. "Did the injuries come from the kapre's magic?"

"No, sir," I replied, not wanting to reveal anything as much as possible.

Times looked at me appraisingly, wordlessly waiting for elaboration.

"The kapre slapped me. Pointblank."

"Really?" His stoic face suddenly showed a slight change, showcasing his shock. That took Times' attention somehow. "You're not as injured as I thought you would be. Humans would usually be dead by then."

"I must have been built differently, sir." I smugly replied after feeling Times drop his guard a bit.

"Hah!" Times shook his head with his eyes closed. "Where's your armor?"

"Pardon?"

"Humans could only survive that hit with full-body armor. You look like a strong man." Times' eyes landed on my bloodied feet. "That explains how you're still walking."

<Haa... Lying would just make us look suspicious at this point. Just say you dropped it somewhere.>

'Are you sure you really raised this man?'

<Of course, why?>

'I expected him to be dumber than this.'

<HEY, YOU WATCH YOUR DAMN MOUTH!>

"I threw it somewhere on my way here, sir," I observed the Vyurborne general's reaction with keen eyes. I just hope he overlooks the inquisitive nature of my gaze.

Times nodded in affirmation as if wordlessly telling me that I did the right thing. "You must be the newest batch of exiles. You lived. How surprising."

"It gets hard with the fog, sir, but I manage."

"Ah, yes. Your kind has a hard time moving through the fog." Times then crouched on the ground, patting his daughter's head without breaking eye contact with me. "You'll get used to it."

Silence then took over our conversation and was only broken a few seconds when Times uttered a whisper while tending to his daughter.

"Do you have a place to go?"

"No, sir."

"Then, stay, Exile." He then raised his head again to meet my gaze. "Our ride will be here soon."

"Our ride, sir?"

"Yes. We're taking you with us back to our city." Times looked back and pointed his ring finger at Skystead Keep. "Your eyes may not see it, but there's a walled city over there. That's Skystead Keep." He directed his eyes back to me. "You best remember it."

"That's a bit embarrassing, sir. It's really okay even if you--"

"Quit the act, boy." Times interrupted. "An audience might applaud your performance, but I haven't got the interest to deal with it. You will fly with us, and that's the end of it."

I then bowed down, showing my utmost gratitude. "Understood, sir."

<You really should have just begged for your own estate in the Keep instead. Things would have probably ended the same way, to be honest.>

'Yeah. But he would probably like me less.'

<How audacious of you to believe that he likes you.>

'Well, I'm still alive, aren't I?'

<Point taken.>

After a while, the fierce blazing of flames resounded from above. I looked up, and my lips slowly perked into a smile I tried to conceal so that Times wouldn't notice my excitement.

"Our ride is here, boy." Times looked up as he carried his daughter on his wings.

"A hot air balloon..." I whispered as the aircraft cast a looming shadow over us.