After an hour's trek through the Danlashian capitol of Lundirk and a stealthy entry into the outskirts of the military base where the Sand Dollar awaited, Ace stood huddled inside the trailer of a supply truck, surrounded by metal crates and wooden boxes. The vehicle jostled and jolted over the bumpy road before finally hissing to a halt. Ace inhaled deeply as the engine died off, and the cargo trailer fell into a dead silence. 

With a click, the men outside unlocked the trailer and creaked the doors open. A pair of soldiers stepped inside. Their powerful flashlights pierced the darkness, causing Ace to hug the corner, a smirk creeping to his lips as he glanced at the remote in his hand. 

The soldiers recoiled with widened eyes as a white tuxedo shirt leapt up at them. As it settled back down and bounced on an innocuous spring, their shoulders dropped and eyes narrowed, but then they gained another reason to be fearful. Ace leapt out of the darkness and tackled them both to the bed of the trailer, shoving handkerchiefs in their mouths as their heads slammed down. 

"Gotta save those pearly whites of yours." he said calmly as he rose to his feet and kicked each man consecutively in the head. 

After searching their bodies for anything he found useful and pocketing those items, Ace calmly strolled over to the open doors and leapt down. A single soldier stood guard in the back of the vehicle and widened his eyes at the man's appearance. Ace shrugged and snatched one of the double doors. He slammed it into the man's face, and he collapsed onto the gravelly ground. 

A dozen pairs of footsteps came rushing over at the sound, but by the time they reached the spot, Ace had already slid under the truck and emerged near the cab. With only the driver remaining at the front of the vehicle to witness, he swung his door open, yanked the man out of his seat, and threw him up onto the hood. He fell off, cast a terrified glance Ace's way, and opened his mouth to scream. 

Ace glared and grabbed the back of the man's head. He scraped his face into the gravelly ground before stabbing into the back of his neck with a Danlashian-made dagger. When footsteps raced back to the front of the vehicle, Ace slipped underneath again and yanked another remote from his pocket. 

He clicked a button. Sounds of gunfire echoed from the bushes several yards away, beside a pile of shipping containers. All but two soldiers hurried away to investigate, drawing another grin to Ace's lips. 

The dark-skinned man slipped out from underneath the truck's cab and appeared behind the pair of soldiers. As they spun to face him, he snatched a coil of rope hanging off the taller man's belt. 

"Mind if I borrow this for a sec?" he asked as he swiftly tied the end into a coil and threw a loop around his neck. Ace tugged the loop tighter until it fatally constricted the man's breathing. 

The other soldier unholstered a pistol and fired at Ace, who calmly held up a wrist and blocked the bullet. Smashed into pancake shape, the useless projectile bounced off his jacket sleeve. 

"Forbachean metal-woven fabric. You like it?" Ace mocked, tossing his second blade into the man's protruding gut and kicking it deeper inside his body. "Y'know, these conversations are always so delightfully one-sided." 

Ace swiped the man's pistol, shot the three nearest overhead lights, and tossed the empty gun aside. With a sheet of darkness covering the area, all nearby soldiers waved the penetrating beams of their flashlights around erratically, in a desperate attempt to discover his location. But the master of stealth had already slipped away, deep into the shadowy cloak of darkness. 

******************** 

Keira sat in a somber silence. From her armchair beside Sila, she watched the beaming dancers float across the floor. For the past half hour, she'd occupied herself with nothing but merely watching. She'd been approached multiple times by smiling councilmen who'd complimented her beauty and entreated her to dance with them, but her answer to every last one of them had been the same. 

Invariably citing clumsiness and inability as her reason for refusal, she turned each man down. In reality, the opposite was true. Her feet were nimble, and her body, graceful. But the activity always brought back memories. 

Keira sighed and bit her lip, closing her eyes in an attempt to hold back the tears. Jedrek really was something else. she told herself, But why'd he have to change? He couldn't have always been that way. There's no way I was that blind...right? 

"Melancholy." Sila snapped, snatching Keira from her thoughts. 

She glanced over at the robot and peered into its lifeless eyes. "What's it to you?" 

"Observation." 

"How keen of you." Keira muttered, her bitter sarcasm sharp as a knife. 

Sila nodded. "Ace?" 

"What about Ace?" Keira gasped. "You're right! I haven't seen him since he stepped outside...an hour ago!" 

With that, the green-eyed brunette marched onto the dance floor, ignoring the longing looks of the unpartnered young men on either side. She strutted right up to the middle of the floor, where Aaron and Wendy swayed in time with the downtempo music. 

Aaron glanced over when Keira tapped his shoulder. "What's up?" 

"Do you have any clue where Ace's at?" 

His brow furrowed as he slowly released Wendy. "I don't. I see you're still wearing his jacket, though." he remarked light-heartedly. 

She shrugged. "It's comfy. But that's irrelevant." 

Aaron laid a hand on his sister's shoulder. "I'll go outside and take a peek. He might just be off somewhere, being all reclusive." 

Keira stood with Wendy, and the two women watched Aaron disappear through the doors. A couple minutes passed, and he returned with a shrug. 

"No sign of him." he said when he'd returned to earshot, "I mean, he did say his thing was stealth, so maybe I just didn't see him." 

"Or maybe he abandoned us already." Keira retorted with a roll of her eyes. 

Wendy nodded. "I wouldn't be surprised. He seemed quite dodgy anyway. He certainly gave off the vibe of a bloody traitor." 

"Yeah, maybe." Aaron replied. "If so, that's just another burden off our shoulders." 

Keira nodded. "That's for sure." 

With that, she descended into the sitting area, while Aaron and Wendy resumed their dance. 

******************** 

Baird set his favorite mug down on the dining table and pulled out a chair. He slid into the one across from where Brant sat in a solemn silence, hands folded and eyes closed. Hannah sat beside him, looking over an atlas with her lips poised to grin as soon as a need arose. 

After clearing his throat, Baird placed his elbows on the table, and leaned forward with his face resting on his folded hands. "So, Falcon—" 

"Don't call me that." Brant snapped, his eyes still closed. 

"What, then?" Baird asked challengingly. 

"My real name. Brant." 

"That would've been good to know from the start." Baird remarked, glancing at Hannah, "So, maybe it's just the writer in me, but I much prefer an open book to a closed one. It's disconcerting to have this...vessel of secrets lingering under my roof." 

Brant opened his eyes, sighed and crossed his arms. "What do you want to know?" 

"Well, first off, until...literally just now, you wanted to be called Falcon. One of the Alcontean gods. What in the world—" 

"It's a long story, which you began by killing our blessed Emperor Pietrovo two years ago." Brant spat through gritted teeth. 

Baird removed his arms from the table and took a sip of his tea. Unfazed by the sharp words, he maintained both eye contact and silence. 

"See, Pietrovo was a very...secular man. He was too busy in his own affairs to remember to acknowledge the gods, if indeed he believed in them at all. Liberal as their judgements are, I believe even the gods would disapprove of many of his actions." 

"Without a doubt." 

Brant glanced at Baird sharply. "But alas, he died at your hand. So enters Emil. Even at his young age, our current emperor is heavily religious. His belief is that the Empire's current downgrade is a result of the secularization of its society. His solution? Bring the gods back." 

"Through artifacts?" Baird asked as he ran a finger along the rim of his cup. 

"Partially." 

Baird narrowed his eyes. "Partially?" 

"Yes. See, a very rigorous training serves as a preface to this quest for divinity. Emil had his priests handpick individuals to undergo training to become gods." 

"And what does this...training...entail?" 

"A lot." Brant said, "Rigorous physical training, for one thing. We had to undergo training more intense than even the Special Forces have to do." 

Baird smirked. "And it really shows. You're meaty." 

"Ain't he?" Hannah chimed in. 

"Alongside our physical conditioning," Brant continued, "we had to study the ancient texts, with a focus on whatever god the priests determined we were fit to emulate." 

"Falcon, in your case." Baird said, more thinking aloud than intending to communicate. 

"Yeah. And of course, we had to make pilgrimages, excruciating long ones, to the various shrines. On foot, mind you." 

"Why couldn't ya drive or somethin'?" Hannah asked. 

"It's considered irreverent. As if we're above our ancestors, that we should have to do any less work than them." 

Baird nodded. "Okay, so you underwent this extreme physical training, and studied the religious texts, and made pilgrimages. Is that all?" 

"Far from it. See, it was a funnel scheme. Many were chosen to be Falcon, because only one was expected to survive the harsh preparation process." 

Hannah gasped. "Ya mean...people would...die?" 

"Exactly." Brant said grimly, "That gives you an idea how intense all this is. And even after all that, we had to undergo enhancements." 

"Enhancements?" Baird asked. 

"Yeah, and it varied depending on what god we'd been picked to be. So in my case, I got tons of eye surgery to enhance my vision to beyond human levels. Lots of smaller things too." 

Hannah closed her book and leaned forward. "Like what?" 

"Well, I used to be shorter. They did some complicated procedures to increase my height by a foot." 

"Really?" Baird asked with widened eyes. 

"Yeah, really." 

Baird scratched his chin. "Okay, so there's 26 gods, and you said there're multiple contenders for each one, so we've got...possibly hundreds of people after these artifacts?" 

"No, not at all. Way too many people die in the training. Also, we're not allowed to go artifact hunting until we've completed the entire course, and we're the last man." 

"So how many 'last men' are there?" 

"Only six." Brant replied, "Only six of us completed the entire preparation process and currently hunt for artifacts." 

"Who?" Hannah asked. 

Brant inhaled. "Albatross, god of endurance, Buzzard, god of death and disease, Cormorant, god of the waters, Dove, god of peace and mercy, and Eagle, god of blades. And formerly myself, of course." 

Chariya's voice suddenly cut through the air from where she lurked in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room. "So we only need to take those five men out, and the problem is solved." 

Brant snapped his head back and leered. "Not at all! Emil's intent on this. He'll pour the Empire's total population into this, if need be, until he gets the gods back." 

Baird nodded. "Even if you kill the current Dove, a new one will arise." 

"Exactly. That's why I stand by my previous statement. The artifacts must be destroyed." 

"Why?" 

"Without it, they're no gods. They're just super soldiers at best, and failed lab experiments at worst." 

Baird squinted. "Well, even with the artifacts, they're no gods." 

"You can nitpick my terminology, Amergin, or you can listen to what I'm telling you. I thought you wanted an open book." 

"I do." 

"Then stop critiquing the word choice." 

Hannah giggled. "He's an author, Brant, that's what he does!" 

Baird smirked. "That's right." 

"Well," Brant said, "what more do you want to know?" 

Baird shook his head and rose to his feet. "That's it for now, I think. Thanks for the explanations. I'd better check on my wife." He took a few steps before he spun on his heel to face Brant and Hannah again, "Oh, and lights out in about an hour, just so you know. We try to start winding down at 8." 

Brant nodded. "Alright." 

With that, Baird walked away and started up the stairway. He smirked as he overheard Hannah lecturing Brant on the inaccuracies of a certain map in the atlas she'd been perusing. He'd never had a real sister, or any siblings at all, but Hannah often made him feel as if he did. 

******************** 

Chariya glanced at the clock from the couch she sat in. Only vaguely familiar with the strange moving hands' way of time-telling, she studied the glassy surface for several seconds before finally figuring it out: 7:30. 

She sighed and slipped her communicator from her pocket. It would be good to check in with the base in Jasmidian one last time before bed. 

Chariya tapped a sequence of buttons and waited while it made a whirring noise. She raised an eyebrow as the sound continued for a full ten seconds. Chalking it up to their greater distance from the base, she momentarily calmed herself and inhaled. Then ten seconds turned into a minute. A minute became two. Chariya cancelled the call and tried again. No luck. 

"Hannah?" the princess called, "Could you come here?" 

After a shuffling of footsteps, Hannah appeared around the corner. "What is it?" 

"Try to call the stronghold. My communicator is not working." 

"Alrighty!" Hannah said, pulling hers out of her pocket and dialing the same code. She glanced up as Brant appeared at her side. 

The whirring sound droned on for Hannah too. As with Chariya, two minutes later, nothing had happened, and she tried again. No success then, either. 

"Weird." Hannah said, biting her lip. 

Chariya rose to her feet and paced. "Very strange. Are they ignoring us?" 

"Maybe..." Hannah trailed off. 

"Or perhaps," Brant began, "they've been silenced." 

"Silenced? How?" Chariya asked, crossing her arms. 

"Let's be realistic. I'm a valuable man to suddenly lose. Our forces are gonna be combing that area, searching every nook and cranny to find me, and you think your stronghold won't be searched? They know I was there, staging an attack against it. So that's undoubtably the first place they would look. And surely, they wouldn't suddenly decide to have compassion on your men, who have caused so much death and misery for everybody." 

Chariya only had a quick glare, just a second in duration, to give Brant. Then she turned away, her mouth agape and eyes watering in shock. Despair sunk into her heart, causing her to drop to her knees where she stood. She prostrated herself and offered mournful supplication to her god. 

******************* 

A/N: I hope you enjoyed that one as much as I did writing it! That Ace segment especially was loads of fun on my end, and I hope that came across. 

If you did enjoy, please don't forget to vote and comment. Thanks! 

But yeah, from Ace's stealth to Keira's melancholy, Baird's *ahem* interrogation, and Chariya's realization, there was a lot in that chapter. I guess it'd be interesting to know, is there one or more of those you feel more invested in than the others? 😁

As for my random question, my original choice of question was only seasonally relevant. (I wrote this the morning of Thanksgiving where I live.) But then I realized, gratitude has no schedule, so I can generalize! 😂 

Anyway, name the first three things that come to mind that you're thankful for. 

(Let's go...in the order I think of them, parents, saxophone, house. WOW, pretty accurate, to be honest. My subconscious knows what's up. 🤣) 

Alright, hope you have an awesome day, and I'll see you Saturday! (Or whenever you see the next chapter. I suppose you could be reading this after the fact.) Anyways, enjoy yourself, and God bless. Until next time...farewell. 😁👋🏻