5: Family Affairs

Location undetermined

Duquesne’s Fate, Ver Sayles

30/7/-1

-2Lt. Duskaryen Sylvanwood-

-Cavalry Lance Commander, Allegheny Irregulars-

Duskaryen sighed and shifted a machine gun around in her lap as she sat in the back of the speeding pickup truck. Serah was not gentle on the gas or the brake, and Kreiya’s protestations at her comrade’s driving punctuated the roar of the wind as the trio roared across the barren wilderness. The badlands near the northern tundra of Ver Sayles known as Duquesne’s Fate were largely unpopulated, but the proliferation of rich magnetic ore deposits throughout the region obscured surface scans and provided a haven for illicit activities. The Allegheny Irregulars were not surprised, therefore, when they were contacted by an anonymous group claiming to share a “mutual interest in a free Ver Sayles” asking to meet there. The concern raised was entirely due to these individuals requesting Duskaryen Sylvanwood by name. Remy hadn’t initially known how to respond, having never even asked Dusk for a surname. After a heated discussion, the CO granted her clearance to meet the contact, but only with an escort. Now, as the trio rounded a bend and disappeared into the network of canyons that spread through the area, Dusk appreciated her commander’s concern. Serah slowed the pickup to a crawl to better navigate the narrow path forward, and then came to an abrupt halt as they turned another corner to face a dozen heavily armed soldiers. Dusk hopped out of the pickup bed before her comrades could leave the vehicle, and waved her hand to them to remain inside the truck before moving forward, machine gun at the ready.

“If you’re here to take me back, let the others leave. Otherwise, I’m going to make a mess.”

A tall, slender man with the distinctive pointed ears that set Dusk and the other Remnants apart from the humans of Ver Sayles stepped forward. He wore a saber on his right hip and a pair of ornately crafted laser pistols on a harness across his chest, but held his hands up in a gesture of nonviolence as he approached the Lieutenant and her still-seated comrades. 

“Even if I brought you and your mercenary friends back, we’d all be hanged for desertion. We pose you no threat, Duskaryen. We merely seek to follow your path, and live in peace with people who only wish to coexist.”

Dusk shouldered her machine gun, shook her head, and sighed. As she waved Serah and Kreiya over to join her, she dryly chuckled at the leader of the Remnants’ deserters.

“My path? My path was to be left for dead by our warlords and scooped up by a half-insane crew of… well, basically pirates…”

…Back at the Firebase, Remy scowled, but was unsure as to why…

“… and I have yet to find even a glimpse of this peace you claim I’ve inspired you to pursue. But if you truly want to see this planet liberated, Remy’s definitely your man. If only because he’s the only one crazy enough to try. So why ask for me?”

Dusk was sizing up the leader, trying to contemplate what it was that had her uneasy about him. When he responded with a hushed quiet in his voice, she understood entirely.

“It had to be you. We aren’t just any deserters… we were in the Shrouded Legions. You know what our job was. It’s why I know who you are. Knowledge was our sword, and you know what lengths we were expected to go to in its pursuit. We asked for you, I asked for you, because I needed to look one of my own in the eyes and tell them how wrong we were.”

The mercenary felt an involuntary shiver through her spine. The Shrouded Legions were the Remnants’ “black ops” units, classified as military intelligence but also an internal affairs force. They were not known for their gentle treatment of their own people, much less the humans they were often tasked with interrogating. Due to their prior acceptance of former Remnant foes into their own ranks, the deserters had hoped the Irregulars may be one of the only resistance groups who wouldn’t shoot them on sight. Duskaryen struggled to contain her disgust and disbelief in her cold response.

“Well then, tell me who you are, and how wrong you were. It would serve you well to remember I’ve seen the latter with my own eyes.”

The man turned his gaze to the ground, but fought with himself to bring it back to meet the mercenary’s own blistering stare.

“We were indoctrinated to believe that humans were our enemy in a war of extermination. Barbaric and cruel, with no regard for the sanctity of life. But through the entirety of my service to our cause, I have only seen barbarism from our ranks. I cannot wash the blood from my hands. But I will no longer choose to dirty them further in the name of lies.”

Dusk shook her head at the man’s story and let out a low whistle.

“Strong words, well spoken, but meaningless from one without a name.”

The man’s gaze dropped again, but did not return. His response was mumbled, almost grunted, as if he had to physically shove the words from his mouth.

“My name is Gabriel Alfayed, Senior Inquisitor, Third Legion. My father is the Grand Steward of Ver Sayles, Uriel El-Amin Alfayed.”

Kreiya and Serah were two steps too slow to spare Gabriel the right hook Dusk placed perfectly on his jaw as he shared this revelation, and the Hag cackled while the Valkyrie readied herself to respond in the event he stood up with retaliation on his mind. However, the man simply sat up and wiped the small trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth.

“I’ll take the fact that I’m still conscious as a successfully negotiated surrender, then?”

A smirk broke through Duskaryen’s scowl as she uncrossed her arms and slowly reached out a hand to the son of Ver Sayles’ conqueror.

“Are you kidding? Remy’s gonna have a blast with you. This could be the first time I’m excited about taking a prisoner, Gabe!”

Gabriel’s eyes widened at the mercenary’s excitement.

“I… am concerned.”

Duskaryen simply smiled.

“Good! You should be.”

—————————-

Meanwhile, at Raythanya’s…

Remy Duciel sat at the bar, Leah at the stool beside him. He stared down at their shared ashtray, and beckoned the bartender over.

“C’mon, Ray… I’m on the job. Lemme get that whisky before I get this call.”

“Gimme a second, Duciel… I’m on a call. Long distance.”

The mercenary sighed, and after watching Rialto Duquesne talk to himself in a corner for a few moments, reached behind the bar and grabbed the bottle of scotch he had requested. Pouring himself a drink, he turned to his wife.

“Leah, I’m getting worried. Kreiya radioed in when they made contact, but it’s been twenty minutes now. Takes me five minutes to get Azrael’s reactor warmed up in this cold. If I let Dusk and the others walk into a trap…”

“Remy. Just last week, I watched Duskaryen throw you five feet across the lounge for eating the last slice of pizza. If she can’t handle it, you wouldn’t do her any favors trying to jump in. Plus, you sent Kreiya and Serah with her for a reason. If something goes sideways, they’ve got it.”

Remy took a swig of his drink, and turned back to Ray. The bartender’s steely blue eyes almost seemed to glow in the dim light of Raythanya’s as he continued his own call, oblivious to his customers in the moment.

“Kid, you’ve got a kind soul, and I love that for you. But there are times in life you’ve got to become the whole damn problem. This is gonna be one of ‘em.”

Remy smirked a bit, and pointed an errant thumb back at the bartender as his attention returned to Leah.

“I don’t know who he’s talking to, but he’s right. At least, I hope he is… gods know that’s what we’re doing here, babe.”

Mrs. Duciel grinned, and placed a reassuring hand on the knee of her comrade-turned-husband-turned-commander.

“Yeah, it is, babe. But it’s better than just taking the shit forever, isn’t it?”

Leah shot Remy an impish grin, before drawing back her hand from her husband and slamming it on the bar.

“RIALTO! Clear your damn comms and close our tab! We gotta go do a wellness check on our mercs.”

Ray Duquesne jumped, startled by the woman’s sudden escalation. He raised a single finger, first the middle, then the index, the latter indicating he’d be with her shortly.

“I gotta get back to work, kid. Just know… look, I know you think I’m full of shit, but it is really me, and your mother and I are proud of you, Indy.”

Finally, Ray made his way over to the Duciels.

“I’m sorry about that, Mama Bear. Kids, you guys get it… anyway, it’s on the house tonight. Remy, take that bottle, as a gift. Just don’t be a stranger, kid. You’re doing the right thing out here, and I’m always happy to help a good rebellion out.”

Rialto Duquesne pulled a smoke out from behind his ear, and lit it before absentmindedly waving the pair off.

“Go on, kids… and Remy, I warmed ol’ Az up for you already.”

“I’m not sure how that’s actually possible, Ray. But I don’t think I want to ask.”

The bartender just smiled.

“You wouldn’t believe me. Nobody ever does.”

—————————

Fifteen minutes later, the Duciels were two miles from the rendezvous point. Azrael was running more smoothly than ever, one more odd occurrence to add to Remy’s growing “Ray list” of strange happenings surrounding the eccentric barkeep. While the terrain and magnetic interference usually rendered indirect sensors useless, Commander Duciel was able to clearly locate the truck in which his team had arrived. Remy and Leah maintained course until they were both able to see the crowd of deserters a small distance from Dusk, Kreiya, Serah, and a tall, thin man of otherworldly origins. Mama Bear pulled her motorcycle alongside the team’s pickup truck, but Remy walked Azrael right up to the group.

“My name is Colonel Remy Louis Duciel, Commanding Officer of the Allegheny Irregulars. These are my mercs, and you’re all late. Consider this a wellness check, as in ‘well I hope you’re not up to malarkey,’ because I’ve got enough ordinance for my own shenanigans.”

Before anyone else could answer, Duskaryen stepped forward, pulling Gabriel Alfayed along.

“Stop trying to be intimidating, Remy. We are fine. I even brought you a present. This guy says he’s Uriel’s son. I figure you’re gonna want to have a little talk. He’s a Shroud… so you don’t necessarily have to use words.”

At Dusk’s revelation, Remy’s cockpit hatch opened, and he hopped to the ground below, barely avoiding injury due to the overzealous leap from nearly fifteen feet.

“Uriel’s son? Well shit, Duck, that’s gotta sting for the guy. But hey, kids. They’re rebellious. And let’s not get too excited for the torture. We’ve all done a few black ops in our day, my guy. If you really want to embrace the smart play in this fight, I’m not gonna just ruin that for a good time!”

Gabriel winced, and then he saw Remy Duciel laughing hysterically. Confused, he raised an eyebrow at the mercenary. Noticing this, Remy continued.

“I’m fuckin’ with you, mon cher. I know all the lies they tell you, pal. I know you expect us to do things like roast prisoners to supplement our shitty rations. We don’t. I mean, the rations are shitty, but your people are way too gamey for that, and Ver Sayles has deer. And chickens.”

The CO looked back at Kreiya and Serah before returning to his mech.

“Leah’s calling Oak in for air transport. I’ll meet you all back at the firebase. I’m gonna take the scenic route.”

Kreiya piped up. “Don’t drink and pilot, commander.”

“Don’t worry, hag. I’ll stop to drink.”