Chapter 25-
“Hey, Jepta!” the voice rang out from the top of the stairwell. Gideon looked to the source of the call to see someone waving at him from their group.
The moon was steadily creeping up into the sky, but its light was competing with the vibrant electric lamps, whose refulgence flooded the courtyard of the private mansion. All about him, upscale socialites, dressed up to extravagance, were emerging from their carriages to climb the stairs into the festivities.
Gideon was comparably underdressed, wearing only a dark blue uniform, complete with gold-fringed epaulets. His humble appearance stepped stiffly up to the one who had beckoned him. An older acquaintance from the military, Henry Radditz, in his black general’s attire, decorated with countless small patches and tassels, was who he found.
“How are you doing tonight, old friend?” Henry asked eagerly.
“Ah-” Gideon suddenly found himself at a loss for words. “I’m doing just alright!” he managed to pull together. It wasn’t that he was an awkward person, he just didn’t want to talk to Henry.
“You’re looking very modest, tonight, aren’t you?” he commented, looking Gideon up and down. Although his face was covered by a white, boxed beard, it was clear from his flush that he was already intoxicated.
“Yes, I am,” Gideon tried to humor, offering a half-hearted chuckle. “But you know me, I’m not really much for fancy clothes…”
“Well,” Henry proclaimed. “You’ve still got the most important accessory right here, don’t you?”
He pointed at Gideon’s right breast, where a small medal hung in the shape of a feather.
“Ah, that…” Gideon remarked, wanting to leave the conversation.
Henry turned to his group and began to spout enthusiastically.
“Captain Jepta here, you see, this is the one responsible for winning the Andeidra-Demeena War!” His companions gasped, the women held their hands up to their mouths in a display of cutesy shock.
The truth was, each of them already knew who he was.
The country of Andeidra had been undergoing a severe recession fifteen years prior, leaving their infrastructure decrepit and their military ill-equipped. Seizing the opportunity, the southern country of Demeena had invaded under the command of the tyrannical Dictator Perren, and a brutal war broke out which lasted six years. Gideon Jepta was named the youngest Captain in the corps for his exceptional skill and leadership, and led a series of assaults which resulted in the final battle over the Demeenan capital city. In the last hour of the war, Perren committed suicide in his office. The news resounded around the world, this struggling country had promptly crushed the forces of a much longer established, flourishing nation, all under the guidance of a young commander. Captain Jepta was seen as a parallel to Andeidra by foreign news publications.
In the years since, Gideon had taken up training young recruits, having grown bored of resting on his laurels in the peacetime. None outside of his closest companions knew that he didn’t care much for the glitz of the military; he was a man entirely dedicated to the cultivation of his ability, to an ironclad physical and mental state.
Gideon attempted to humor Henry, but soon dismissed himself to go into the mansion proper. As he reached the top of the wide, open staircase, he looked back to the sky. Dusk was descending over the city, visible from across the lake which separated the small, wealthy community from Hilltop. Soaking in the view for a moment, Gideon took one last deep breath of fresh air before turning around to head into the bright lights.
---
“Hey, hey...” Gallow’s voice was shaky as he raised his hands in a nonviolent gesture.
“I’ll say it one more time,” the older man warned. “What are you doing here?”
“We’re looking for lodging for the night,” Sonsee interjected, hoping that a third party might cool the situation.
“You want to stay in my cabin for the night?” he asked, his voice raised a half-tone as if in doubt.
“Yes, we’re traveling to Hilltop, we don’t have enough to afford the train” she affirmed. “We’re a family.”
Janna and Bleech both looked at her with surprise as she made her claim.
“A family? Do you think I was born yesterday?” the man gruffed.
Sonsee stared intensely at him, and he returned her gaze. He broke their exchange by looking out above the trees at the sun about to set, then at the children. He studied them especially for a moment before walking up to his ax, still embedded in the wall, and grabbing the handle. He was only a foot away from Gallow, who could now see his worn features, a thin white beard and a scar below his left eye. The man wordlessly dislodged the ax and stepped over to his door, turning the handle and opening it only enough for himself to slide through at an angle. He stopped as he crossed the threshold.
“You can stay the night of you’d like,” he stated, entering the cabin and throwing the door open as he turned his back to them.
Gallow turned his head to Sonsee and the others in an attempt to confirm the oddness of what had just happened; his gaze also held in it the implication of “are you sure about this?”
Sonsee nodded at him, understanding his concern, so he sighed, shrugged, and faced the open doorway.
---
The dinner was served in a huge banquet hall. The walls were painted a pristine white, framed with gold flourishes. The ceiling was at least thirty feet high, and held up massive crystal chandeliers. At the far end, a small symphony performed live pieces, presumably to serve as background noise for when the lapses in conversation would have become awkward. Gideon took his seat at one of over a dozen circular tables, and was promptly joined by five other guests, two couples and one other man. To his surprise, one of the men at the table just so happened to be the owner of the property, Governor Huxbert.
Gideon struggled to listen to the idle chit-chat made by his dinnermates, until Huxbert directed a question at him.
“Say, Captain Jepta?”
“Yes?” Gideon asked politely.
“What have you been up to recently?” A flat question, but it gave him some stimulus nonetheless.
“Well, pretty soon I’m going to go back into instructing boot camp,” he explained, cutting through his steak. “But I just recently came back from assignment.”
The others at the table gave impressed “ooo’s” while he pierced the meat with his fork.
“And, if you don’t mind, me asking,” Huxbert continued. “What was the business of that trip?”
“The business?” Gideon seemed surprised by the question, as if he didn’t consider it to be an important matter. “Well, it was just some local troublemaking in the Southwest.”
As soon as he mentioned the place, the Governor’s wife cut in to the conversation. “Oh, it must have been terribly dangerous out there, was it not? There’s always some trouble in those parts…”
“I suppose there was some danger…” Gideon looked at her for a moment, her face caked in makeup, multiple jewel encrusted necklaces hanging over an unimaginably expensive dress.
“But then again,” he added. “There were some great people there as well.”
“Great?” she spat in disbelief. “I don’t think anything great has come out of there since this country was founded…”
“You’d be surprised what that life does for some people,” Gideon replied, looking at his plate, eyes calm. “Makes some of them into fine workers.”
“For the railroad, I suppose,” she resolved the matter herself. It hadn’t been what he’d meant, but Gideon was glad that the thread of conversation had ended.
The rest of the meal passed without much fuss, until the end of the night, when Gideon looked impatiently about while the rest of the guests left. He didn’t want to be there any longer than he needed to.
“Come on,” his thoughts bemoaned. “When is that person going to show up?”
Suddenly, from behind, he received a tap on his shoulder. He whipped around to see that the hand belonged to Governor Huxbert.
“Oh, Governor,” he laughed at himself for being so jumpy.
“Captain Jepta!” Huxbert exclaimed.
“W-what brings you here?” A moment later Gideon kicked himself for saying something so awkward.
Huxbert leaned in closely and whispered in his ear.
“How many guards are here tonight?”
Without a moment’s hesitation, Gideon replied.
“Five in the front garden, three in the hall, seven in the dining hall, in the rafters. Those are only for the rooms I was in.”
Huxbert leaned back again and gave him a wide smile.
“Follow me, Captain.”
As Gideon trailed the Governor down a series of brightly it hallways, up a flight of stairs, around a few corners, and finally to a nondescript door, it seemed like any other room in a series of what one would assume were bedrooms.
After producing a unique key from the breast pocket of his vest, Huxbert unlocked the door and welcomed Gideon inside.
To his immediate right was the door to what he presumed to be a bathroom, the beds around the corner of the wall. As the Captain entered, the closed door swung open dramatically, and a knife flew at him.
With incredible reflexes, Gideon collapsed his legs and threw all of his weight to the side, pivoting right around the attack. With equal finesse, he launched his arm into the elbow of the attacker, causing them to drop the knife. His other arm reached out and he promptly grabbed the outstretched arm, pulling their body over his own and flinging them onto the ground.
Gideon grabbed the fallen knife from the ground and dashed a foot over to the bathroom, already in a fighting stance. His killer instinct raged and adrenaline began to pump through his veins, ready for the next takedown; he would bottleneck them through the entrance of the bathroom.
*Clap* *Clap* *Clap*
“Huh-?” He looked through the doorway to see Huxbert helping up the failed attacker, a man in a characterless black suit. Slowly, he stepped out of the bathroom and stepped down the short way deeper into the room.
Sitting on the bed was a man with short, well-combed black hair. He wore a white suit dotted with red spots, complete with a black tie which also matched the spotted motif.
It took Gideon a moment to process what he was seeing.
“P-President Cartwright??” he managed to choke out.
The President hopped up from the bed and jaunted over to him.
“Captain Jepta, I presume?” he asked cheerily, reaching his hand out to shake.
“I-Indeed,” he replied. “It’s good to meet you, Mr. President.”
“Please, have a seat,” the older man offered, sitting himself on a large, plush armchair. The only other chair in the room was a rather dinky-looking wooden chair, which Gideon realized was his to take.
“Now, you’re probably wondering why you got that strange letter at your door,” Cartwright put forth.
“Yes,” Gideon replied.
“I wasn’t done speaking,” The President said, blinking emptily at him.
“Oh- oh, pardon me, sir!” Gideon was terribly uncertain about the circumstances.
“Well, if you’re here, then I presume you were able to see every guard stationed at this mansion?”
Huxbert came in, “He counted off each of them exactly, no one else was able to spot even one.”
“Ah! Marvelous!” Cartwright proclaimed. “As you likely know, Captain, my elite guards are nearly undetectable; they’re masters of close-quarters combat.” He looked over at the recovering attacker, who had had the wind knocked out of him.
“And it seems like you are close to them in ability, likely greater,” the President finished.
“Thank you, Mr. President,” Gideon graciously accepted the compliment.
“Now, I’d like to tell you about why you’re here,” he began. “I’m offering you a position on my protection squad.”
“Your…” Gideon processed the information.
President Cartwright’s face grew very serious as he continued.
“This isn’t a light offer, I hope you realize that,”
“Of course, Mr.-”
“I wasn’t done.”
Gideon’s heart skipped a beat. “Pardon.”
“When I say protection, I mean protection against a very specific threat.”
Gideon was conscious of the importance communicated by the President’s voice.
“I’m letting you in on top-level information here,” he continued. “For years, the government employed a secret team of special operatives- people with exceptional abilities who with capabilities far beyond a mortal man.”
Gideon’s eyes widened. “Could he mean that these are- Vocation users?”
“When the Andeidra-Demeena War concluded, they suddenly disappeared from the face of the Earth, by which I mean from us. For many years, this mystery has puzzled us, until recent intel suggested that one of their members was detected in the South East. They have long been considered rogue operatives and a present threat to the government, including my own life.”
His words sunk into the air between them, and Gideon contemplated what had just been said for a long while.
“Gideon,” President Cartwright offered. “In a month’s time, I’ll be delivering my speech for Foundation Day, it will be one of my few major public appearances of the year. When I give it, I want you to be on guard; I’ve heard the accounts of your performance on the battlefield, you may be the only person strong enough to defeat them in the case of an attack.”
Gideon sat back in his chair.
“What do we know about them presently?” he posed.
“Well,” Cartwright prepared his thoughts. “When they were under our jurisdiction, they were officially called the ‘Fang Team.’”
“‘Fang’?” Gideon replied, curiously.
“After their leader,” Cartwright affirmed. “He was known colloquially as ‘The Tiger.’”
“What was his real name?” Gideon pressed.
“Unknown,” Cartwright looked down at the floor. “Their true identities were all kept secret to everyone but the special personnel who gave them orders.”
“And who was that?”
“A single man who served as the direct pipeline to them, he was killed shortly before they vanished from our trace.”
“Where did these guys come from? Aren’t they much older by now?”
“The Tiger was the first of them recruited, and was the one who would personally recruit members.” The President answered. “As for their ages, it’s possible that some of them died, but it’s equally possible that in the time since younger members have joined their ranks.”
Gideon thought for a moment more.
“And you think I’m the only one who can stand up to one of them?”
President Cartwright looked at him gravely. “I ordered these people to do jobs that wouldn’t have been possible with an army of our average men, but you…” he paused a moment. “I think you are above the average man.”
Gideon stood up from his chair.
“I’ll do it.”
His voice was strong and resolute, dominance emanated from his expression. Cartwright received his stare and returned a grin.
“Fantastic!” he exclaimed suddenly. “Standby for further information, and remember, ‘It’s Better To Be Cartwright Than Wrong!’”
Gideon cringed internally.
“His campaign slogan…?”
---
“Have a seat,” the man suggested as the group entered his home. He didn’t look at them, but gestured to a few chairs scattered about the cabin.
It wasn’t a terribly large single-room lodging, but it was more than enough for one person. There was a stone fireplace at the left side, a stove and kitchen at the right. At the back was a small bed next to a wooden chest. A window on the right wall was placed above a table situated with a lone chair. Overall, it was a modest, personal space which this man was used to sharing with himself.
“Don’t mean to be rude, sir,” Gallow disclosed. “But I don’t think we ever caught your name.”
The man was already at his wooden kitchen counter, chopping up vegetables and boiling water. He paused for a moment before answering.
“Ansel.”
Gallow stared at him quietly. Janna and Bleech had already taken seats in the cabin, and noticed his curiously intent expression. Sonsee stood behind him in the doorway, and followed his look. After a moment, she closed the door, breaking his concentration. He looked back to see her stroll into the cabin proper, leaning against the left wall and looking out the window as the sun started to set.
Gallow and the others spent about twenty minutes wasting the time away, until suddenly he heard a clinking sound from behind him. He turned around in the seat he’d taken to see that Ansel had set the table for five. The older man looked over to see his surprised expression.
“Well, you’re hungry, aren’t you?”
Gallow turned his head around to gauge the reactions of his companions, all of whom had at least a trace of a surprised feeling painted onto their faces.
“It’s just…” Gallow laughed to himself as he stood. “I guess we weren’t expecting a meal.”
“Who do you think I am?” Ansel shot back with a hint of insult in his voice.
Nobody answered, because as soon as they were seated, they realized the smell of soup was wafting through the air.
“Oh man…” Bleech commented to himself as he tasted the cuisine.
Gallow took a spoonful and fed himself.
“Oh my God,” he proclaimed. “What’s in this??”
“Tomato, basil, onion, carrots, and a few other spices,” Ansel replied.
“You mean you made this with only vegetables and some spices?!” Gallow exclaimed. “That’s incredible! Where did you learn to cook like this?”
The older man was quiet for a moment before he said anything.
“I learned this recipe in Doga.” His voice was solemn, like he didn’t want to answer.
“Doga?” Gallow replied. “I’ve never heard of it, where’s that?”
“It’s far east of Klouve.”
“Far east?” Gallow thought for a moment. “But that would put it on the other side of the world!”
“Indeed…” Ansel explained. “Many of the poor farmers there didn’t have access to meat, really anything beyond these basic ingredients.”
“What were you doing there?”
Ansel didn’t say anything for a second.
“I traveled a lot in my youth.”
He was a man of few words, which began to annoy Gallow, who was beginning to become increasingly interested in his story.
“Just where abouts have you been? And I mean every place.”
Ansel looked up finally from his soup, they made eye contact for a moment as he hesitated.
“Well, to start with…”
For about five minutes, the older man listed off every country and region he’d been to as the eyes of the table’s occupants grew wider and wider. He named countries near and far, small and huge, quiet and treacherous, and several none of them had ever heard of, even the well-read Janna.
“Ansel,” Sonsee begged the question. “Just how old are you?”
“Sixty-five.”
Gallow nearly fell back in his chair.
“What?! No way!!” he argued. “There’s no way that you’ve seen that much in a single lifetime!”
“Maybe it seems that way to someone like you,” the older man replied. “Who’s stayed in one place his whole life, like most of the people in this country.”
Gallow drooped a bit. “You got me there, but you should know I’m from Fenway.”
“An average city,” Ansel commented.
“Hey!” Gallow took offense. “Fenway’s a great place! We’re the only ones who make gillespie the right way!”
“Gillespie is a Logean dish,” he explained. “Fenway was founded by Logeans, but they make it just as good if not better in Loge.”
Gallow drooped again. “Alright, you got me again.”
They ate quietly for another few minutes.
“Excuse me, Mr. Ansel,” Janna suddenly asked quietly. “It’s just that it’s been on my mind…”
Ansel raised an eyebrow as she spoke.
“But if you love to travel so much, what are you doing here in this valley?”
“Well…”
Ansel again collected himself before he answered.
“When I was a boy- must’ve been six or seven- I told myself that I was going to see the whole world…” He looked off as he monologued. “When I was that age, I watched my mother die of sickness, and my father turn to me and say ‘I hate this world, it’s an evil place, Ansel.’”
Sonsee had crossed her arms by this point, and was listening quietly.
“I knew that he was upset, he never recovered from her death,” Ansel continued. “I trusted my father, but I questioned him. I knew there were lots of beautiful things in the world, lots of things I was told God gave us, so I resolved to myself that I would see the whole of it. Only then could I make a decision on whether or not this world was an evil place.”
“What did you find?” Sonsee’s curiosity was burning, though she didn’t show it.
“I saw a lot of things…” Ansel said. “A lot of the beautiful things. I watched and felt things that could have only come from God… that much I believe.”
“And the world?” she prodded.
“I came to this conclusion,” he declared. “The world is not an evil place, the world lacks good or evil, it only is what it is.”
He turned to look at the rest of the table, finally.
“People, however, are evil.”
“What?” Gallow said in confusion.
“An animal cannot commit an evil act, because it doesn’t live based on morality. A human being lives in groups like societies, and societies are only able to function because of morality.” Ansel was very articulate and precise in his wording, he’d clearly thought this through for very long.
“If there is no morality in a society, we devolve into murder, theft, and rape as soon as the community becomes overgrown.”
“Overgrown?” Sonsee questioned.
“The point where there are so many people that one person’s identity becomes diluted,” Ansel explained. “We cease to feel any meaning in our grand schemes, and the worst parts of humanity are allowed to grow out. In that environment, we’re bound by our morality, not our natural inclinations, and because humans are the only animals who act on morality, we’re the only ones capable of true evil. I couldn’t live with that possibility anymore, so I came here.”
The table chewed on his thoughts for what seemed like a long time before he finished.
“While I was in the East, I learned that the closest one person can get to perfection is to grow closer to God, but the people there did it in a way that was so confining and traditional I wanted to choke. I decided that I would look for God here, outside of the frameworks that held people like that back. Call me a woodcutter.”
Gallow thought for a moment before replying. “So… you don’t like people very much?”
Ansel’s expression got a little lighter.
“I don’t usually like to mingle with a lot of people from outside.” He sighed and continued, “Sorry for coming off like I did when you appeared, I just felt like my space was being invaded.”
“It’s alright,” Gallow assured him. “It seems like you opened up, though,” he smiled.
“To tell you the truth,” Ansel replied. “I never would have told you four all this if it weren’t for you.”
“M-me?” Gallow questioned.
“While I was preparing dinner I saw you looking at the paintings.”
“Yeah? So what?” Gallow was still confused.
“Paintings?” Janna suddenly interjected. “What are you talking about?”
Ansel looked at the wall opposite where they were seated, where Gallow saw several paintings hung up. Janna looked at Bleech to make sure she wasn’t losing her mind; he gave her a look that said ‘I don’t know?’
“Gallow?” Sonsee was also confused as to what was happening. “What do you mean?”
“You mean you guys can’t see the paintings on the wall?” He replied. “They’re right there!”
Ansel said nothing as they sat bewildered around him.
“Wait…” Gallow thought aloud. “[NAVIGATOR]!”
His spirit body left his physical one with a burst of energy like electricity.
“Are you telling me…” he trailed off.
Navigator could see the paintings on the clearly, but his tangible form saw only a blank wall. What seemed like more than a dozen portraits of people, scenes, landscapes of all different kinds. It was a veritable art gallery of his travels.
“Do you mean that I saw those paintings with my spirit eyes?” Gallow asked in disbelief. Ansel only gazed at the wall with him. “But that means that you’re…”
Ansel finished his statement. “They’re a product of my Vocation. I take it that you’re the only one amongst the four of you who can see into abstractions?”
“I just didn’t realize that you’d have an ability…” Gallow explained.
“While traveling the world, I met a lot of people, and went a lot of places. I think in every place and person there’s something valuable to be learned, so I took those things and encapsulated them into those paintings. It keeps me comfortable knowing that I’ll always have a piece of those memories in my soul…”
Bleech had bitten his tongue, not wanting to speak for most of the exchange, as he would rather let the adults talk, but now he could no longer hold back what was on his mind.
“Mr. Ansel?”
“Hm? Yes?” the older man engaged him.
“Where do you think you’ll find God?”
Ansel had an answer ready immediately.
“I didn’t think I’d find him in this valley. I know I’ll find him in myself, but I won’t be able to do that until I leave the framework that he’s created. After all, even if you can’t see those paintings, you know that their creator was my soul, and I exist well outside them.”
He found the right phrase in his mind.
“A painter doesn’t exist only within his painting, does he?”
For the first time on the whole journey, Bleech smiled. His three companions looked at him with a kind of shock. It was the kindest, most honest smile imaginable, one most people reserved to themselves and kept away from others.
“Mr. Ansel,” he stated. “I think you’re closer to God than anyone else.”
Ansel’s head tilted back in his turn to be surprised. All at once, a similar, warm smile came over his face.
“Thank you, young man, that’s very kind.”
---
Outside, a bird was perched on the branch of a nearby tree. Its feathers were black, save for a single golden one on its wing. It watched through the window of the cabin and flew off, traveling for several minutes until it was out of the valley.
It flew under the moonlight until it spotted its reconnaissance point, a uniquely shaped large rock that formed a “C” shape. It descended towards man lying in wait beneath the curve.
His age was indeterminate, though he couldn’t have been older than his 30s. His white hair was shaved, and what remained he styled into a large, unkempt mohawk. He wore a leather vest over a black fishnet shirt which looped between his index and middle fingers so that it fit his body tightly. His pants were a similar net design, and he wore very small leather shorts beneath. At a glance, it was an outfit which seemed tailor-made to expose as much of his skin as possible.
“Birdy?” he cooed in a pleasant voice as it landed on his outstretched finger. “What did you find?”
The bird cawed and pointed its head in the direction of the valley.
“Oh? Are they camping out?”
Two caws.
“They’re still moving?”
Two more caws.
His eyebrows raised.
“So they’re… staying with someone?”
One caw.
A smile curled at one side of his face.
“I know you get bullied a lot where you’re from, little birdy, but you really are quite helpful.”
If a caw could be described as affectionate, the one the bird cried in response certainly was it.
“There, there, I’ll give you a special treat when I’m done with this job,” he promised while stroking the bird’s neck. “But this is all the special treatment I’ll give you. Even now, I’m starting to feel like a pervert…”
He released the bird and turned in the direction it had pointed to. With incredible speed, he leapt off the rock and into the cool night air.