Hero: Part Five
After the siege, a grand funeral for all the victims of the Marvelous Siege was held at Notre Dame, followed by a long procession that passed through every island forming Miraval City. However, the professors of the Miraval Academy departed the ceremony earlier than the others, organizing a separate funeral for Mr. Anhogi and the colleagues who had fallen on the battlefield.
As tradition dictates for those who die defending the Emperor’s honor, the ceremony ended not in silence, but in celebration—music, food, and games, a joyful banquet must conclude the farewell of warriors. Hence, that day, the teachers’ lounge was crowded as no one wished to miss the moment when they would say their final goodbye to the past and start a new future. Sometimes used for conferences and sometimes for end-of-year celebrations, the vast hall could host dozens of tables crowned with trays of delicacies, surrounded by every surviving professor of the Mirval Academy, while the absent ones were present only in memory—the deaths’ coffins had not appeared anymore at such gatherings since a couple of centuries ago.
Principal Miraval personally paid for the catering, entrusted to none other than DD-Class ‘Last Supper’ Elodie De Miraval, who was his cousin and the owner of the most exclusive restaurant in all Chaotia—Le Miraval. It was the only establishment in the entire Holy Rolandish Empire to be awarded thirty-six Étoiles Bourgogne—Burgundian Stars—each bestowed by a jury of retired culinary masters upon the restaurant that created the finest dish of the year. And the results of Elodie’s elite cuisine were tremendously evident across the dozens of tables because, by adapting to the paradigms of modernity, each tray was itself a work of art.
Slices of breaded anaconda were arranged to form a flowing gown upon a mannequin-shaped platter, mimicking the shape of La Pérégrine—a tribute to the Heroine who was still fighting in the Great Dune. Dolphin, shark, and whale sashimi fill a scale reproduction of the Lost Ark—a way to mock the defeated Korinthians. And, most impressive of all, one of the Korinthian Sphinxes had been captured alive and cooked for the occasion. Now, stretched across a long table, a roasted triceratops lay in full display, sporting rich brown skin and a massive apple wedged between its jaws.
It was a feast for the eyes, the palate, and the spirit.
At the various corners of the room, recreational activities such as pool tables and a dance floor entertained the professors, a final moment of lightheartedness before returning to the usual monotony of academy life—or so they wished. Beneath their carefully maintained facades, however, they were frightened people, uncertain of what the future held. Would the war end tomorrow, or would the Korinthians lay siege again? No one knew anything for certain, except that the old status quo would never return.
“Esteban, please. I’ve emptied my entire whisky reserve last night, and I have no mental energy left to listen to your self-torment again,” said AA-Class ‘Fading Myth’ Joshua of Kent, while [Malus.Hangover.PhaseThree] still writhed in his stomach. The professor of Dueling wore an enigmatic expression in his dark eyes, allowing no emotion to surface, guarding his soul like a fortress—a mask designed to keep his social circle to the bare minimum. That being said, he wasn’t timid, but without alcohol dulling his mind’s tendency to label everything as frivolous, dealing with people’s trivialities simply exhausted him.
“I agree with Josh. You’re a war hero! Where did you put that courage?” Added S-Class ‘Fortunate Son’ Xoán Al Córdoba while leaning against the pool table. “Let me give you an example. This is you, Esteban.” He kissed the lone white ball with the tip of his billiard cue. “And the colored balls in front of you are all the women you could be getting to know right now. You can stay still and wait for them to break formation and roll toward you, or…”
*SMACK!
* The shot exploded across the table, perfectly distributing its force throughout the cluster of balls, which vanished into the table’s pockets in the exact order. Thus, the game was won in a single turn. “What are you looking at? I’m just a lucky guy.”
“Playing with you, Xoán, is just…ahhh…anyway, I get what you mean, but she has to apologize first—that’s non-negotiable!” Joshua and Xoán exchanged an awkward glance. “And it won’t take long because I’ve got the perfect plan—jealousy! I’m going to date one of Aoife’s friends and make her so envious that she’ll beg me for forgiveness. Hehe—I’m a genius!” His friends sighed in perfect unison, silently debating which pool cue would be best suited to smash in his head and smack some sense into it.
“Esteban, could you think about this plan for more than three seconds?” Josh pleaded, utterly exhausted in every possible sense by the ‘Raging Hornet.’
“NO!” Esteban declared, fist high. “Mere logic shall not dictate my heart! And besides, I’ve already chosen the perfect candidate for my plan—Miss Von Sinclair!”
Meanwhile, S-Class ‘Everlasting Spring’ Aoife Sinclair chatted and laughed about trivialities with her childhood friend at the bar counter. However, contrary to what an outside observer might think, the two women were actually engaged in a cold war.
“Aoife, I bet you feel so lucky right now,” Euphoria commented, her voice higher-pitched than usual. “Esteban fought an entire Korinthian unit alone while screaming your name. Gauston’s report felt surreal to read—like a fairy tale, with him as the prince and you as his princess…” The ‘Loving Sister’ theatrically gasped. “So lucky…”
“I never asked him to do that.” The red-haired professor grimaced at the thought, her tone shrouded in bitterness. “Moreover, one day as a lion does not erase years spent living as a sheep.” The fingers of both hands were enough to count all the times the ’Raging Hornet’ had disappointed the ’Everlasting Spring.’
“Sometimes, I wish I were the most beautiful girl in Chaotia, like you.” Euphoria’s large eyes met Aoife’s, piercing deep into her soul. “Being able to throw away golden opportunities because you know diamond ones are waiting on the horizon sounds…compelling, to say at least.” Although the two women smiled at each other, a thick silence settled between them, heavier than any open argument.
“So, when are you going to speak with either of them?” Josh asked, using his bare hand to carve off a large portion of the dinosaur’s ribs, somehow keeping the greasy slab balanced on his small plate.
“The longer you wait, the more likely someone else is to steal Aoife from you…you know…she is a gorgeous woman,” Xoán added, scratching the back of his neck.
“Everyone knows what I’m going to do if that happens.” Mr. Diaz declared this while snapping a billiard cue cleanly in two. “Who would be stupid enough to try? Gus? Haha—”
*BANG!*
The sound of the door slamming open drew everyone’s attention to the surreal sight standing in the doorway, leaving the entire room speechless—a bear in a suit holding a bouquet of flowers. Witnessing Gauston De Miraval attend a social event was already a thermodynamic miracle, but the Head Department’s hair had been cut and styled to perfection, his nails were clean white, his beard groomed, and his usually wrinkled gown was now impeccably ironed. Gus had groomed himself—a quantic miracle.
“What the hell is he doing here? He’s never joined us before,” the ‘Raging Hornet’ muttered in disbelief as the bear began marching forward, heading straight toward the two sirens seated at the bar counter.
“After the siege, I realized that life is too short to live in regret.” The ‘Eclectic Dirigist’ declared this as he extended the bouquet toward his beloved muse. “So I will no longer keep my true feelings secret. From the very first moment I laid eyes on you until now, my opinion has not changed in the slightest—you are the most beautiful woman in the world.” Gus’s tone had lost its usual idiosyncratic weariness, hardening instead into stainless steel.
“G-Gauston, I…” Aoife muttered, her eyelids relentlessly blinking like a faulty engine pump. “I-it’s all so sudden. Y-yes, we’ve known each other since our time as students, b-but this…” The ‘Everlasting Spring’ trembled, unsure how to untangle her own feelings. However, Gus frowned.
“Ahem…I wasn’t talking about you, Miss Sinclair.” Gus turned his back on her, his gaze locking onto his true target. “I meant you, Euphie. You are the woman who has conquered my heart.” The ‘Loving Sister’ stood motionless, overwhelmed by the intoxicating fragrance of the flowers.
“Griffin Tails…” Euphie whispered in disbelief, clutching the bouquet tightly to her chest as she caressed the fur-like texture of its petals. “Flowers that only grow on the highest peaks of the Highlands—thirty-seven of them. How…”
“For you?” Head Department Miraval beamed. “That’s a price I’m willing to pay.” He bowed and extended his hand. “I’ve reserved a table for two at Le Miraval tonight. Would you like to come with me? It would make me the happiest man in the world.”
“It’s impossible!” The tender moment was abruptly shattered by an annoying hornet. “I’ve been trying to get a slot at that place for months, but they told me every table for the next three years and seven months was booked!”
Gauston gave him a pitiful smirk. “Yeah, you are right Esteban. They have actually tried telling me the same thing—those fools.”
The furious expression on the ‘Raging Hornet’ delighted the ‘Loving Sister.’ “All right, Gauston, you’ve won,” Euphie revealed, softly smiling. “I accept. But be warned—I’m a very demanding woman.”
“I couldn’t ask for anything better.” Gus rose. “I’ll pick you up at 10 P.M.. Be ready for the most wonderful evening—and night, if I'm lucky—of your life.” And just as suddenly as he had appeared, he left, leaving a storm behind him.
Immediately, Euphie was surrounded by her female colleagues, all voicing their shock at her acceptance of the bear’s invitation, while Aoife remained petrified, still processing what had just happened. “I know the rumors surrounding him,” Euphie admitted, holding the bouquet closer. “But have any of you ever seen Gus put that much effort into anything? And yet, he did all of this—just for me.”
***
“Everyone out of the ship and line up—NOW!” The Marian guard fired a warning shot with his Gaussbow, and the hundreds of filthy passengers packed onto the deck hastily evacuated the vessel, funneling onto the base of a metal platform that extended across multiple levels, rising toward a ceiling lost in darkness inside a vast warehouse.
Although traveling from Suarez to Miraval City had become relatively fast and safe in recent years, avoiding Korinthian patrols in the waters of the conquered Pacific Sea required certain sacrifices, one of these being personal hygiene. Now, a nauseating blend of hundreds of toxic odors exuded from these poor souls, saturating the already rarefied air of a secretly constructed dockyard hidden deep within Port Island.
“We’re tired! We want to rest!” A rebellious member of the human cattle roared at one of the guards, demanding basic rights after nights spent sleeping beside the feces of his fellow travelers.
“He’s right! I want a shower—now!” One by one, the other sheep joined the chorus, shattering the warehouse’s silence with days of accumulated frustration. And although armed, the guards were vastly outnumbered, exchanging uneasy glances and raising their Gaussbows at the incoming mob.
“Welcome to my kingdom, you dirty mass of human waste.” A guttural voice echoed throughout the secret port, redirecting the crowd’s fury away from the dogs below and toward the shepherd towering above them from a higher level of the metallic structure—the first thing everyone noticed was just how fat the man was. “You’re all here in this hellhole to trade twelve years of your lives, breaking your backs in complete isolation from the rest of the world in exchange for what a wageslave earns in a lifetime while sitting in a comfy office.” Chaos got injected into the crowd, and from his vantage point, they looked like ants to that fat man who was now spreading his arms like Adam in a church painting. “My name is Massimiliano, and I will have the pleasure of overseeing your social rehabilitation.” He concluded with a little bow.
“The Miraval Family pays us—so fuck off! I’m not going to be exploited by a fatass like you!” A young, but profoundly stupid, immigrant voiced his honest opinion of the Uomo d’Onore, prompting the other sheep to echo his bleating.
“How dare you speak like that to our boss?” The guard closest to the man shoved the barrel of his Gauss gun deep into the immigrant’s mouth, finger twitching on the trigger.
“Stop, Leonardo. It’s their first day—let’s keep an open mind.” Big Max’s order was calm, almost bored. Then, without hesitation, the guard stepped back into position, leaving the ungrateful soul to spit and hurl insults at the man standing above him—the more the ant flailed, the more Don Pittoresche seemed amused.
“You are completely wrong because the money you’ll receive in twelve years won’t come from the Miraval coffers—it will come from mine.” He clapped his hands, and from the levels below, dozens of Picciotti emerged, each carrying a triangular suitcase. Another clap, and the bags were opened, putting to show the thousands of banknotes into view. “One bag for each of you. That’s what the Miraval Commonwealth paid you to work here.” Big Max picked up one sack and overturned it, letting the bills rain down at the sheep’s feet.
Hands greedily scrambled against each others for the money. “Is this a joke?” However, a few seconds of mental arithmetic shattered their excitement. “This isn’t even what I made in three years!”
“Absolutely correct.” The Don clapped again. “This won’t even cover a third of what you were promised.”
“WHAT?! They lied to us?!” The young man screamed as fear froze the crowd in place.
“You were never supposed to receive that much Marini in the first place.” Big Max shrugged. “Still, I wouldn’t have attracted so many of you without this bullshit, would I?” His smirk was answered by the most pitiful expressions despair could sculpt.
“I want to go home, bastard! I won’t be your slave!” The cry spread like a disease.
“Calm down, you losers.” Big Max sighed. “I’m not stupid enough to believe slaves make for good productivity since my clients are very demanding regarding the quality of their toys. So, I found a solution that benefits everyone.” He lazily gestured to the suitcases. “I’ll take this money to add them to a common fund, merging your future with those who came before you by making the most profitable deals on the stock exchange. And after twelve years of wise investments, the returns will give you everything you were promised, plus a bonus—depending on your individual performance and market health. In short, you’ll have enough to pay your debts, the interest, and secure a comfortable retirement for you and your sons—all in exchange for living inside a perimeter in this marvelous city.” The tension dissolved, replaced by relief and then enthusiasm fully visible across their faces. “Good. Now you’ll be divided by competence, and don’t bother lying—we already know everything about you.”
As the immigrants obediently followed the instructions, placing themselves into the queues formed by the guards, Big Max decided to enjoy a cigar before returning to his office. However, his protégé ruined the moment.
“Boss, there’s another thin—” Before Mr. Della Gherardesca could finish the sentence, the red-skinned man beside him stepped forward.
“Mr. Pittoresco, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” The unexpected guest removed his large cylinder, crushing it against his armpit to shake Marian’s hand with both of his own, perhaps with a little too much enthusiasm. “I want to thank you for the trip, which went much more smoothly than I expected.” He was slender, far taller than all the Marians, dressed in an elegant but worn raincoat that looked weird due to the Native trinkets adorning it—griffin feathers, serpent bones, and strips of leather dangled from his shoulders—and his leather gloves, which bore tribal symbols painted in animal blood.
“Niccolò, who the fuck is this?” Big Max abruptly broke the handshake, bad-eying his disciple for once again violating the rule about never allowing anyone to meet him without an appointment.
“Miss Di Mario asked me for a favor when we stopped to refuel at Maria,” Mr. Della Gherardesca explained. “According to Giulietta, he carried a letter of presentation from La Requine herself, asking for our help in transporting this man to Miraval City. And don’t worry—I was paid very well for this simple task.” Throughout Niccolò’s explanation, the Native man kept smiling at Big Max, putting on a show of his wooden teeth and frog-like eyes, sending cold shivers down the Marian boss’s spine.
“Why the hell would he want to visit a war zone?” Big Max inquired, but before Niccolò could answer, the Native man flung his raincoat wide open, revealing a vast assortment of herbs, animal parts, potions, and all other alchemical ingredients one could imagine.
“I am what your civilized souls would call a doctor. My tribe's elders have sent me to Miraval City to help one of my people to find…
"Himself!"
