SoA/Memory

Twenty Years Ago Palace of the Moon, Derissian Capital Final Day of the Great Northern War

The Prince stepped down from his suit, clad in his charred regalia. It was just the two of them now. With both of their Armigers out of commission, this would be a battle of personal skill. The Lieutenant's sidearm was spent, and he had no chance of making it to one of the fallen to scavenge a weapon. His opponent knew this, a sharp-toothed grin spreading across his features.

"What's wrong, Southlander?" he chided, arms outspread as he approached. "Not so powerful without your suit now, are you?"

There was a distant rumble, and a far-off section of the palace roof caved in. The moonlit sky was streaked with tracer fire and the flashing of spells. The occupation force was drawing close, though with the tower still active they would never breach the city. The Lieutenant glanced to one side, seeing the comatose form of his Captain beside the ruin of her Armiger. He had to win here, at all costs.

"So," he spoke, pulling off his piloting gloves and casting them aside. "What do you bring to the table, blue?"

He smirked as the Prince's long ears twitched in annoyance at the joke; his pallor was unlike the deep purple colouration of the rest of the Derissian royalty, and - if intel reports were right - was a source of much anger in the young commander. The upper echelons had begun to crack down on use of it as of late, so he'd get as many insults in as he could before peace talks began in earnest. His foe slid a thin rod from his belt, and held it aloft for the Lieutenant to see.

"I bring the power of my thousand-year dynasty, dog!" the Prince spat.

"Good for you."

The rod began to crackle with violet energy, wisps of light coalescing around it into a single mass. There was a brief flash, and in the Prince's hand was a glowing, double-ended lance. He twirled it around with surprising ease before pointing it towards the Lieutenant, the mad grin back on his face. As the tip of the lance began to glow, both men sprang forward. Bolts of sizzling energy shot past the Lieutenant, who ducked, rolled and leapt out of the way. One singed his sleeves, and another came within inches of blowing his head off as he advanced.

"Utterly pathetic!" the Derissian's voice sounded muted over the constant buzz of flowing magic. "For all the tales I have heard of this elite force you Southlanders have assembled, you are no more a threat to me than an insect without your amour to protect you!"

He waved his lance, and the ground beside the Lieutenant exploded, sending him sprawling across the black marble of the palace towards the Prince. As he moved to stand up, he found the weapon's tip at his throat. His brown eyes met the pupil-less black pits of his foe's, and he froze, lifting his hands up in surrender.

"Speak your name before you die, at least. So your leaders know who failed them."

The Lieutenant's head drooped for a moment as he muttered something beneath his breath. The lance's point inched closer towards him, now glowing dangerously. The Prince leant in close, a contemptuous sneer across his otherwise handsome features.

"I'm giving you the mercy of a quick death. Insolence will only prolong your suffering."

Looking up, the man smirked. "I said, Gather and scatter, oh worldly fragments."

As confusion flitted across the Prince's face, the air rustled as if disturbed by a sudden gust of wind. The man's right arm dropped to the floor, lance vanishing alongside it as a light filled the room.

"What-"

It was over before he could react. The Prince's fine garb ran red with his blood as six emerald spears pierced his body and legs, forcing him to his knees. The Lieutenant stood above him and held out his arm for a moment, forcing the other man to watch as a shining sword flickered into existence.

"No," he spluttered through a mouthful of blood. "I am your prisoner! You must-"

A single swipe sent the Prince's head flying across the room. The spears faded from existence and let his body slump over, finally defeated. The Lieutenant let go of his sword, which floated behind him and split into six, then twelve, then twenty-four, fanning over his back like angel's wings. Approaching the downed Armiger, he knelt before the woman's body. She was still alive, though one of her legs had been mangled beyond repair in the crash. He sighed and brought one of the blades down upon it, severing and cauterising the limb instantly.

"Sorry Captain," he lifted her onto his shoulder. "But this whole place is about to come down."

The swords behind him formed into a single weapon once more, growing in size as the Lieutenant pointed it towards the upper section of the Palace. The building was famed for its many floors and impressive size, but he had no intention of fighting his way through all that just to destroy a single crystal. Without his Armiger, he'd have to use magic. After all, there was no one around to see.

"Go."

With that command, the glowing sword shot upwards, smashing through the star-painted ceiling and thrusting upwards towards its target. The Lieutenant began to run, heading for the hole in the wall where their team had made their entrance. As he climbed through the rubble, there was a resounding boom that shook the ancient building's very foundations to the core. In the distance, a shimmering translucent barrier of energy dissipated in seconds, and an almighty cry went up across the skies as the first few jets screamed forward. Nearby lay the husk of a metal cylinder - one of the insertion pods built for their Armigers. This one was labelled '006''.

"You'll be remembered, Aun," he whispered, placing the comatose Captain inside before stepping in.

Though dark and cramped within the pod, the Lieutenant could easily key in the necessary commands that would activate the pod's secondary rockets and send them hurtling back home. Home. It was a strange word after only a year and a half on the frontlines, dealing with the horrors of this war. Now though, it was all over. They'd won after eight years of conflict up and down the peninsula. Within days, victory parades would erupt across the lands, their defeated foe would be cowed into signing peace treaties, and the Empire of the Sun - Gerava - could expand its territories.

And maybe now I can face the family.

The pod juddered as it flew through the skies, transmitting a signal that would prevent it from being blown apart by friendly anti-air defences. Inside, the Lieutenant sat down by the feebly-stirring form of his Captain, pondering over his future now that he didn't have a war to run away to.