Chapter 9: Donation

Melia's brush with death wound up being a powerful catalyst for her training. In the following four months, she had doubled the power of Shadow Stitch's and Burst End's effects, reached the point where juggling three elementals at once was effortless, and turned Spear Break into a reliable tool for slowing enemies' movements - though she remained firmly unable to actually break them. It did not take long for Reddel to determine she needed something new.

"Now that you are proficient at stealing vitality from foes, it is time to learn how to donate it to allies."

Reddel closed his eyes for a second and placed a hand on his chest, followed by pulling a bright pink cluster of energy the size of his hand out and softly tossing it into the vitality tank.

"This art is called Healing Gift, replenishing some of a friend's energy at the expense of some of your own. It completes a sort of trio of healing methods: the slow regeneration of an aqua's aura, the instant personal boost of a discharged aqua, and the donation of vitality to a needing ally. Each has its own advantages and disadvantages, and can indeed be combined for stronger effect."

Melia nodded. She was used to the exhausting feeling of having energy lost to the vitality tank as part of training her aqua discharge, and figured this would be more of the same.

"This is likely to be the most difficult art for you to learn thus far, due to one primary reason, and you may have noticed it already: it is not a staff art. You may certainly control the art with your staff, but it plays no part in the process. It is an art purely of the mind, and many students have trouble making the initial leap."

Melia didn't think this was likely to be a problem, given her strong mental control of elementals. In fact, perhaps I should try and think of the process as summoning a sort of "health elemental".

"The process of using the art is rather straightforward: simply attempt to extract a portion of your health and vitality from yourself with intent of donating it to one who needs it. Do not worry about overdoing it; it is not possible to cause any kind of permanent injury to yourself with it. Perhaps minor fainting at worst. Now, how about you give it a try."

Without staff in hand, Melia mimicked the motion of closing eyes and putting hand to chest, trying to get into the right mindset. There is an injured man on the ground. I need to heal him so he may live. With the scenario in mind for several seconds, she started slowly pulled her hand away, but felt nothing and so pushed it back. Again. This man is going to die if nothing is done. No other help is coming. I am his only hope for survival. She tried again a few more times and still felt nothing. Okay that's not working. Perhaps something more...personal?

Suddenly, the nameless man in her mind turned into Kallian, with numerous wounds all over. The scene's realism also spiked up a notch, opening up into a battleground with dozens of Mechon bodies strewn about.

Shocked by the unintentional power of her imagination, Melia's eyes clamped shut even harder. I'll save you, brother! Sensing a great emotion in her chest, she reached inside and pulled out what felt like a giant blob of warm slime. She opened her eyes to find that the pink vitality cluster in her hand was blindingly bright and twice the size of her head.

"Er...perhaps I overdid..."

Having accidentally extracted far too much of her own energy, Melia passed out and crumpled to the floor. The vitality cluster slowly floated down and landed on her limp body, re-absorbing itself into her. It took a whole five minutes for her to recover, rolling over and feeling dizzy.

"Once again, you surprise me," Reddel said. "All of my previous students would have problems extracting the smallest parcel of vitality from themselves, yet your first success is near the theoretical upper limit of the art's potential. It is going to be a challenge for you to reduce your level of execution, to effectively learn the art backwards, to a more traditional level."

Melia was not looking forward to basically repeatedly fainting until she learned how to avoid it, but it was nice to know that it was still basically successful.

It was nearing the end of October. Melia sat alone at the table for breakfast; as royal business opened at eight o'clock, whereas her schedule typically began at nine or ten, she usually had breakfast an hour later than the rest of the imperial family. It was a double-edged sword; while she appreciated having meals free of listening to royal problems, she suspected that her absence made it too easy for the rest of the family to talk about her.

Once she was finished her breakfast, Melia turned out of the dining hall to find Kallian jogging towards her.

"Ah, perfect timing." He stopped his half-run on a dime. "There has been a change of your plans for today. Collect your public headdress and go to the Northwestern Advisor's Room. I am to follow you."

Whatever this is, it can't be anything good. Melia was planning to return to her room anyway, but not as preparation for leaving the palace. She started walking a bit faster than normal, eager to get whatever it was over with.

Upon reaching her chambers, Kallian waited outside as Melia took her headdress off the shelf allocated for it. She disliked pretty much everything about it, especially the expression on the mask's face, suggesting eternal contempt. She knew it stood for something, but had ignored the initial explanation many decades ago, and didn't care enough to ask for a refresher.

Rejoining Kallian in the hall, the two moved towards the target advisor's room.

"You may want to put that on before you enter," Kallian said about halfway there.

Melia groaned internally. The obvious implication was that there would be civilians in the room. She slowed her pace as she began stuffing her head into the disguise. It took about two minutes to get everything in the right place. At least this means less effort spent trying to keep a straight face. She adjusted the mask for miniscule visibility improvement as they reached and entered the Northwestern Advisor's Room.

The room was a curious sight: thirteen half-Homs were sitting at the table, all with helmets similar to Melia's that concealed their entire heads. Sorean and Alvis were also present. Bewildered, Melia took a seat while Kallian nodded to the emperor and left.

"Excellent, that is everyone." Sorean, at the head of the table, stood up and started pacing around the room. "Now, I'm sure you are all wondering what this is about. Just under two years ago, a dozen Mechon began a blockade of Homs Colony 7. We have been monitoring the situation, and it has come to our attention that the Homs of the colony have decided to launch a last-ditch offensive. Of course, this is a foolish decision that will only lead to a counter-attack and the colony's destruction. Now, as you are probably aware, we are not supposed to intervene in these affairs, for a multitude of reasons." A pause. "However, at the suggestion of our Seer, I believe that given the situation, we can save a great deal of lives while remaining an unknown to them in the end. A risk I feel is worth taking." Another pause. "The plan is simple. I have prepared four medium cargo ships and an Issor scout ship. Go to Colony 7 and save as many Homs and supplies as you can. Take them to Makna Forest, within reasonable distance of the Nopon village there, and tell them to begin their lives anew. This mission is to be kept top secret and off the record. Any questions?"

A nervous silence filled the room. Melia could tell that all the half-Homs recruited for this mission were too jittery or awed to speak directly to the emperor, so she figured she would have to raise any objections herself.

"The Homs of Colony 7 do not know of our existence. They will ask questions of us and be distrustful." She hated how the headdress made her voice sound like a sourpuss, even though she was told it didn't sound as bad from the outside.

"Indeed," Sorean nodded. "You shall have to convince them of your benevolence without revealing your true nature. Of course, this shall be easier if the Mechon have already made significant inroads, though hopefully it will not have come to that by the time you arrive."

Melia suddenly realised what her role in the mission was: it was to be the royal delegate, the ambassador, the one who makes the decisions should something go wrong. It had to be her, as no other royal could reasonably be disguised as a Homs. She immediately froze up just like all the others.

"So," Sorean continued, "these are your assignments. Princess Melia and seer Alvis will be aboard the Issor, acting as liaisons. Ploru, you will pilot the Issor. The rest of you will be on the cargo ships, three each."

The room fell silent again. Alvis was the only one who seemed calm; everyone else was either fidgety or unnaturally rigid.

Sorean reasoned that inaction would only make the uncertainty worse. "It will take several hours to reach the colony, so you must leave immediately. The vehicles are located in hangar 2. The guards outside will lead you there. Good luck."

Alvis smoothly stood up and made for the exit. One by one, the rest of the half-Homs nervously followed. Melia, still in a half-daze at being thrown into such a high-pressure role, remained paralyzed in her seat for several seconds before snapping to attention and scampering off.

The journey to Colony 7 was drearily uneventful, with nothing to do for several hours except watch the Bionis slowly climb upwards. Melia got bored in the first ten minutes and sore legs after the first hour; being designed for quick trips around Eryth Sea, the Issor had no seats aside for the pilot's.

At least the others can converse with each other, she thought as she stared at the cargo ships just behind. She had no one to talk to, since the pilot Ploru shouldn't be disturbed, and Alvis didn't seem interested in idle talk.

Changing her sitting position yet again to try and wake up her legs, Melia glanced at Alvis. He had been standing still the entire time, watching the Bionis pass by on the starboard side.

How is he not incredibly sore by now? The majority of what Alvis did defied explanation. He looked somewhere between 15 and 17 years old - pretty much the same as Melia's relative age, actually - yet acted more like a responsible adult than any adolescent she'd ever known (and even most actual adults). He would never report any of his supposed visions to anyone but the emperor, but from what she heard of them, they mostly consisted of vague generalities that any fraud could come up with. Why is he on this mission, anyway? Yes, he's actually a Homs unlike the rest of us and so needs no disguise, but that leaves two adolescents directing thirteen masked men. Not the most trustable squad.

Slowly, the Bionis' lower left leg came into focus, the colony becoming visible.

It's smaller than I expected, Melia considered. I suppose that Homs would rather avoid border expansion where possible, to keep..."Is that smoke?"

Everyone else seemed to notice the smell at the same time, with all five ships breaking off their flat descent and pulling into dives. Thrown off balance from the acceleration, Melia peeked over the side of the ship.

The Mechon had already levelled half of the colony, systematically obliterating every person and building they came across. It was like a paintbrush of destruction was being dragged across the ground.

The ships came to a halt about ten storeys above the ground, high enough to not attract the Mechon's attention. "What should we do?" came a call from one of the cargo ships.

Melia quickly scanned the area, seeing no Homs outside in the colony, but several groups a decent distance away in multiple directions. She came to a decision without really thinking about it. "Cargo 1, start from the rear of the colony and do what you can to persuade any hiders to join you. Everyone else, try and collect the largest groups of survivors that can be seen, and join cargo 1 afterwards. Avoid the Mechon as much as possible."

The four cargo ships swooped down in different directions to carry out their orders. Melia turned to Ploru. "Do we have weapons?"

Ploru glanced across the control panel and status indicators. "We can have either weapons or shields, not both at once."

Melia shook her head. Engineers. "Activate the shields. We're going to cover for cargo 1."

A faint blue bubble appeared around the Issor as it dove down to rejoin the cargo ship.

The rescue mission proceeded surprisingly successfully. The first group of Homs found, a family of four, was very receptive to the idea that the Bionis had answered their prayers for help, and set their kids to load food into the cargo ship while the parents started convincing less-trustful neighbours to join. Within a minute they had fifteen Homs pretty much ready to leave, who turned to looking for any further recluses. After three minutes, cargos 3 and 4 arrived to help with eight Homs each, and three minutes after that cargo 2 showed up with a contingent of fifteen.

A total of eight minutes after the rescue crew's arrival, they saw the first Mechon, a group of three that were busy demolishing a storeroom.

"It is unsafe to proceed further," Melia said to the pilots. "We have done all we can do. Proceed to the forest."

Some of the Homs wanted to stay back and fight, but they were quickly overridden by their peers. The cargo ships closed with all 46 survivors, a couple weeks of food, and various supplies aboard, and rose back into the sky. The Mechon ignored them, focused on wrecking the buildings.

As the Issor ascended to follow the cargo ships, Alvis suddenly turned to face Melia. "We must go back."

"What?" Melia had never heard this urgent tone out of Alvis before; he only ever spoke in a careful, even voice. "Why? We cannot risk becoming a target of the Mechon for one or two more survivors." She didn't exactly agree with her own words, but it was the sensible thing to do.

"There is a boy." Alvis pointed to the entrance of the colony, at the opposite end of where the rescue was taking place. "He has somehow snuck around the Mechon's assault, but will be spotted in thirty seconds. We must return for him."

Melia looked over the colony. "We would attract the attention of at least five Mechon to get there. Is one boy worth that?"

Alvis stared directly into Melia's eyes and spoke quietly. "This one boy will, one day, be worth more than all the other survivors combined."

...What an unnerving statement, far more specific than anything I have ever heard from him. Several seconds passed.

"Take us back. We're going to get this boy."

Ploru nervously turned the Issor around and sped towards the location Alvis indicated. Just as Melia expected, they passed directly in front of several unoccupied Mechon, which began pursuit.

"There he is." Alvis calmly pointed to the destroyed entrance of the colony. As he predicted, a young boy was hiding behind a pile of rubble with a smaller Mechon approaching. He was blond and looked somewhere between three and six years old; Melia was terrible at estimating young Homs' ages.

"Approach opposite the Mechon," Melia ordered.

The Issor positioned itself near the rubble and extended its boarding stairs towards the boy. He looked towards them but didn't budge, seemingly too scared to move.

"Quickly, child, climb aboard!" Melia's words had no effect; the boy continued to fearfully look back and forth between the stairs and the Mechon.

Of course it's never easy. Without thinking, Melia slid down the stair railing and attempted to pick up the boy, succeeding on her fourth attempt, and staggered back to the stairs. The Issor immediately started moving, which made it very difficult for her to finish the climb and collapse on the floor.

Alvis made a curious half-smile. "Thank you for trusting my judgement."

Melia rolled into a sitting position, irritated that the boy who had cost her a pair of sore arms didn't even seem to want saving. "You owe me one, seer."

A soft laugh. "Of course."

The boy was still motionless, sitting on the floor. He still seemed quite fearful, but was slowly calming down, starting to cautiously look around rather than remain still.

If he doesn't want to speak, I won't be initiating either. Melia laid back on the floor, trying to both rest and fix the catch in her back. High in the sky, she could see the four cargo ships, moving at maximum speed towards Makna Forest. The Issor couldn't catch them, merely keep pace.

It was about twenty minutes before someone next spoke.

"Where's Mummy?"

Melia sat up out of her half-nap. "Pardon?"

"Where's Mummy?" The boy was staring right at her. It was honestly a bit creepy.

"Oh. Um..." What answer is both likely to be true and unlikely to upset him? And something he can understand? "Do you see the ships above? She is on one of them. We will get there in several hours."

"Oh." The boy looked up into the distance for a minute or two. "Where did you come from?"

"From very far away." That's not going to be enough is it? Well, he's not questioning further, maybe it is.

It was several minutes before the next question came out.

"Are the black mech-ines following us?"

The depth of the question surprised Melia. It implied that the boy not only understood that they wouldn't be returning to the colony, but that the Mechon were actively antagonistic and not just a force of nature.

"No. We are taking everyone to a place where they have never been seen." It wasn't technically true, as Mechon did pass through Makna Forest on rare occasions, but on the whole it was a Mechon-free zone.

Another several minutes passed in silence. Melia got the sensation that the boy was a very slow and deliberate thinker, only opening his mouth after checking several times to confirm he reached a dead end. It was quite the opposite of other children his relative age she had seen, who would dump words out of their mouths without a single thought. Is it a quirk of the boy's personality, or are all Homs like this? They must have some sort of redeeming characterisic, or father would not be so keen on protecting them.

"Do you have any food?"

The boy's latest question caused the unwanted realisation that it was quite past lunchtime; Melia suddenly felt a cavernous hole in her belly. She had never missed a meal in her life and didn't want to start now.

To her surprise, Alvis answered. "We do." He opened a messenger bag she hadn't noticed before and extracted three apples. "It is not much, but we had little time to prepare."

Melia gratefully took one of the fruits and attempted to take a big bite, but was blocked by the mask she was wearing. Great, now what? She looked around. The pilot cannot see me even if he turned to look, and this boy is unaware of my royal status. As long as the seer keeps quiet, which is his speciality, I should be safe. She carefully unlatched the mask from her headdress and placed it on the floor beside her, then started eating.

The boy took the apple given to him and stared at it for a few seconds before turning back to Melia. "Why do you have a fake face?"

Ugh. Time to make something up. "My skin is...er, very sensitive. It sunburns quite easily." Melia had in fact inherited the High Entia resistance to sunburn, but it seemed like a good enough excuse, especially since she had zero skin showing overall.

"Oh. That's too bad." The boy started gnawing on his apple, as if testing its taste more than anything. "You have a nice real face."

Melia almost choked on her mouthful of apple at the out-of-nowhere comment. Who does he think he is to try and ingratiate me like that? She had a very hard time believing that any compliment on her appearance was genuine, given that she'd never heard anything worse than backhanded praise on how she looked.

Silence fell again. Melia finished her apple in no time, handing the core to Alvis to place back into his bag, and replaced her mask so she wouldn't forget to do so later. The boy ate his very slowly, giving the impression he didn't like apples but was either too hungry or too respectful to pass it up.

No one said anything more for the rest of journey. The Issor arrived at the meetup point in Makna Forest, about halfway between Frontier Village and the passage to Valak Mountain, to find the cargo ships in the process of being unloaded by their occupants. As soon as the boarding stairs were lowered, the boy wordlessly dashed down and into the arms of a flustered couple.

That closes that detour. Melia stood up and waited for the Homs to be fully unloaded before nervously making the speech she had been preparing during the ride.

"You may have many questions about what has just transpired, but we are bound to secrecy and cannot answer. Suffice to say you have been given a second chance at life. Use it however you wish." She nodded to the pilots, signalling them to take off. That went better than expected.

"We'll travel down to the other colonies, and add to their resources!" one Homs called.

"No!" The father of the rescued boy seemed very adamant. "We'll travel to Valak Mountain and find the legendary weapon hidden there, and take back our rightful home!" He seemed to have the support of about a quarter of the group.

Melia shook her head as the voices trailed off in the distance. Any group of reasonable size will always have disagreements. Hopefully they do not make the foolish choice once again.

The flight back to Alcamoth was equally as uneventful as the journey from it. With the excitement of the day over, Melia went back to thinking.

This has been an interesting year. Despite being targeted for assassination just a few months ago, I am sent on a mission across the Bionis, with minimal if any protection, to rescue a Homs settlement from a Mechon attack. And in the process, we find a boy who the seer claims as exceptionally important.

I suspect that the seer suggested this mission with no intent but to save this boy, with any other Homs rescued being a bonus. But why would he not frame it as such to Father? At the very least, knowing about such beforehand would have helped prevent us needing to turn back for him.

The boy's father seemed quite insistent on searching for a "legendary weapon" on Valak Mountain. Does such a thing truly exist? I have heard many hint of a weapon hidden in the Sealed Tower, but just as many claim it is a ruse to lead the greedy to their deaths. Perhaps in the distant future, the boy succeeds his father's wish and finds the weapon in his stead, and this is why he is important?

There are far too many questions here.

"Forty-seven survivors? Very good." Sorean nodded in approval of Alvis's report. "Dare I say, I am impressed by that figure. Well done to you all."

Back in the Northwestern Advisor's Room, the thirteen half-Homs were again a bit shell-shocked to be spoken to in such a way by the emperor, though with a little less severity. Melia was indifferent; she wasn't convinced his admiration was sincere. And if he really cared about saving a colony, why not just drive off the Mechon a few days ago? Surely that could have been done with equal effort and stealth.

"May I remind you that the events undertaken here today are of the utmost secrecy." Sorean glanced at the guard at the door. "Now, as promised, here is your reward for undertaking such a mission on short notice. I urge you to not squander it."

A second guard walked into the room carrying several bags of money about fifteen centimetres in diameter, placing one in front of each of the half-Homs. They each reacted differently, with some treating it like a decent haul while others looked like they'd never possessed this much cash in their life.

"The guards will escort you out of the palace. Again, I thank you for seeing this task to a successful conclusion."

Still entranced by their reward, the half-Homs each stepped out of the room.

"I must go as well," Alvis said while standing up. "This radical action is certain to have changed the future, and I must investigate what effects it has had."

"Very well, Seer. May our conduct by your blessing steer us on a brighter path."

Alvis left the room, leaving Melia alone with Sorean. She popped off her headdress and started wiping the sweat residue off her face, clearly exhausted. She didn't particularly care what her father had to say about her, but figured she might as well listen.

"Melia, do not underestimate your role in these events. Your quick thinking and level-headed decision-making under pressure saved more than a few lives today."

Is your mind hardwired to think in clichés?

"I suggest you head to the kitchens and request a snack. You may have the rest of the day to yourself." He stood up and left the room.

Now alone, Melia listlessly flopped her head onto the table. No, I need to get up now, or I'll be stuck here for hours. With difficulty she pushed herself off the chair and started wandering towards her room. I need a nap. Badly. Food can wait, I'll just eat more at dinner or something.

A week later, the report came in.

"Yes, what is it?" Sorean looked up from his dinner at the messenger, who looked a bit frazzled.

"It is from the monthly Valak Patrol, with maximum priority, Your Majesty." The messenger unfolded the paper he had been given. "It is but three words: Crimson arm departs."

Both Sorean and Kallian froze for a split second.

"What is this drivel?" Yumea scoffed. "This is hardly top-priority material. I insist-"

"Very well, thank you," interrupted Sorean, his face unreadable. "That will be all."

The messenger bowed and left the dining hall.

Yumea looked quite indignant. "What is this about now? A message from the Valak Patrol is a meaningless pile of words, and you brush it off so easily?"

"It is a code," said Kallian. "Given proximity to Sword Valley, the Valak Patrol uses code in their communications in case they are being watched by Mechon. I believe this one refers to...the movements of a particular exceptionally strong beast."

Yumea huffed and stopped the conversation, apparently accepting the explanation but not amused by it.

Melia, on the other hand, was not convinced. She saw the reaction to the news and Kallian's hesitation with providing the translation - the two men did not want to reveal the true meaning of the message.

Has this to do with the legendary weapon the Homs of Colony 7 spoke of finding? If so, they must have found it and retrieved it, and the Valak Patrol has noticed its absence. I suppose not long from now we might hear of a battle on the Bionis' left leg...