Arknights story · Rewinding Breeze
Recollection
Mudrock brings the team to Kazdel only to find the whole team under attack by mysterious casters. To press onward, or look back into the abyss? They must make a choice.
1 scenes, 292 lines
1. Interlude
292 linesBob, how have you been?
I received your letter. I'm happy to hear you made it to Columbia safely.
We're all doing well enough. At the least, we're all alive.
Chainsmoke still wants to arm wrestle you, just once, and win. Chef remembers your bounty hunters owe him three gold coins.
It might be a little late by the time the Messenger reaches Columbia, but even so, I wanted to congratulate you.
I'm glad you could escape it all, Bob. Really.
I still remember your invitation. I'm very grateful you still remember us Sarkaz.
But—
Run! Mudrock!
Run, to Kazdel, to somewhere you can survive...!
No... No, don't say that, don't...
Mudrock—!
And never... never look back!
But...
L... Leave me, run! Run far, until Kazdel, until you... reach... Kazdel...
But it's hard to say we're doing well.
After parting with you, we headed for Leithanien.
We've gone through a lot. One mortifying thing is we're called 'Mudrock Squad' now.
You know I don't like to show myself. But the Infected in Leithanien needed help. They needed to be saved.
I couldn't leave them to their fates, Bob. Just like you'd never leave your bounty hunter brothers behind.
Why, why haven't the scouts reported back yet?
Not them too, right...?
...Don't panic.
The fog in this forest's thick. They wouldn't find us again so easily...
But, but it's been eight days, already!
And we've lost twelve of our own! We don't even know who it is hunting us!
......
Don't be too hard on anyone... Against enemies like these, it's only natural to panic. It's only right.
Mudrock?
...The one thing we can be sure is that they're casters.
My friends can be my eyes, but that's all. No way to seize their silhouettes in this fog.
But it's been non-stop fireballs, hailstones and hurricanes! They've been right by us all this time, they've... wait!
What if this days-long fog is their Arts as well? This isn't normal weather...! If they can make eyes of fire dance in the sky, they can—
Calm down.
We're leaning on the back foot, though. That's a fact.
We have no clue about their identity, their numbers, or how they're even tracking us.
The moment we leave an opening, someone gets attacked. This is some messed-up exotic guerilla warfare.
...Do Leithanian casters do this? If so, it's news to me...
I... I don't know... I've never known casters like this...
And if the Captain's tremendous gift for Arts... if the Captain can't do anything, what can we do...?
...What do we do?
If we keep pressing forward like we planned, I don't know even how many attacks we'll take before we're out of this forest—
But if we wanted to fight back, we'd be fighting unknown foes in horrible visibility and falling temperatures.
...Take two of us to secure our route ahead. Keep within 500m of us. Report back every minute.
I'll watch the rear personally.
No guarantees they're to our 'rear'.
My friends will guard the main group.
...Fine. But don't go heavy with your Arts.
We can't risk you of all people falling.
Mudrock?
...Swear to me one thing, Chef.
What?
So long as you're in contact with the main group, keep leading them forward.
Ignore whatever happens behind you... never look back.
Bob. What kind of place is Columbia?
I've heard that the Infected are allowed a life so long as they work. They form the low-cost workforce she needs to serve her limitless expansion, and nothing more.
Even so, I guess you're all very suited to the work? Is your farm big? Are the wheat fields swept in the autumn winds as beautiful as the movies say?
Though it's hard to admit, I've never seen real hops for myself.
I've asked a lot of people, and I've even sought out books on botany... so I have an idea of what hops flowers look like.
If I find my own calm corner of the world to live in, I'll write to you from there. If I do, could you send me a small sample in return?
What's happening!? What's going on!?
My skin... the crystals are moving, they're moving inside me—I—my—gaaahh—
They're... they're trying to use the Infected as Arts Units...?
They couldn't... they can't! Where the hell are the casters? These Arts... how could someone manage to do this!?
Where's Mudrock!? Is Mudrock still there!?
Are you okay?
Gasp... keep... your distance!
They're nearby, I can feel it, it's like witchcraft... No modern Arts are like this...
They're using... the Originium—ghhak—inside the Infected...!
Don't... don't waste the energy, Mudrock!
You're still... far from returning to the fertile land... You need to live on!
Hah-hah... the imagination they must have to 'use' Infected like this... Those hatted casters... they're terrifying.
...Mudrock.
—I'm here.
Take the rest of us, and live... to return to Kazdel. Yes—to return to our home—
Hah, our home...
Didn't we know deep down... we had nothing, wherever we went. As long we can live on, who cares where we go?
Grhk—Like hell I'd let my life be their weapon! Tell all the others—I died fighting!
Wait...!
......
You... Why...? No warrior's end should be by his own hands...
—Come out here!
Come out, right now—!
Rock echoes the wrathful Sarkaz. The colossus stands tall. Stands as if a monument to the deceased.
The frigid wind howls through the forest.
Figures seem to stand in the far distance. Or perhaps they are only broken, shuddering tree trunks.
The colossus flies forth for them.
Bob. Sorry for rambling on like this.
We've departed Leithanien. To return to Kazdel.
The journey is long. It may be dangerous. In the short time we had, I could not find a Messenger to take this letter for me.
If we can make it to Kazdel safely, and the Infected who've come with us can settle down—
—Afterwards, I might pay a visit to Columbia to see you.
Mudrock, you're okay! The others...
......
Oh...
......
Goddamn it...
We left a single forest. It cost half of us to do so...
...Mudrock.
Can we fight back?
...Mudrock?
Ah... Is something wrong?
Our pursuers... There might... be something we know about them.
Them, their Originium Arts... taking Infected lives as toys...
This sort of thing... should have long since faded into the past... but a few nobles research it, still...
They must be attendants of the towers, or Arts researchers... damn them, damn them...
...As long as they're not 'Knights,' worse has not yet come to worst.
Don't worry... At the very least, for now... we've escaped them.
The way back to Kazdel... is a long, long one.
So long that I've forgotten how my homeland looks.
Kazdel is a desolate barren. Still, some wanderers have taken to the old ruins of bygone wars. Founded towns you could call prosperous.
Resplendent cities the Sarkaz had never been allowed to have. But I'm only asking for somewhere quiet. A place to catch my breath for a while, in the middle of this age-old conflict.
...Past this mountain, we'll be in Kazdel...
From the top, we should see a great bridge, and past the river... a hundred kilometers north, a village where outsiders have settled.
...Is that where we're headed?
Mudrock, we've finished securing our route ahead. No sign of any pursuers.
Good...
......
Let's move. We'll pitch our camp on the other side of the river before sundown.
...Mudrock!
Twenty-odd of our mercenaries got attacked by that lot! We never even so much as saw their faces!
...We can't fight them. Too dangerous... Would you send your people to die like that?
We-We're sorry... we just...
No... I wasn't saying to... *Sigh*.
Mudrock?
Ah... sorry. I fell asleep...
You're exhausted.
You haven't given your Arts any rest since the attack.
I'll be fine.
*Sigh* No-one can change your mind, I've learned that much.
...You know, I'm beginning to miss the good old days, when we were fighting Leithanians we could actually see.
The Gendarmerie, the armed guards, the militiamen. Hell, even the caster regiments...
We did everything we could to avoid conflict with them... After all, they didn't want to risk going down with us.
But ever since last month, things changed.
...Mudrock, promise not to laugh at me, but I'm a little scared.
...Casters cloaking their true colors. Fearful Arts. Completely unable to protect ourselves. Where's the shame in being afraid?
Yeah. You're not wrong, for sure.
...If, and this is only hypothetical, if they were still behind us even now... or suppose they're on the other side of the bridge. What then?
......
Would we have to fight? Or—
Casters, with few exceptions, are frail. We are many and strong. They know that all too well... their Arts are strange, and powerful...
But the strongest caster is still a human. Don't be afraid.
They kept pace with our march in the forest. For a whole month, we never found any of their camps, never found any of their supply convoys, never even found a single trace of their movements...
Only lone teams, one after another, failing to returning contact.
Turning Infected into Arts Units... it's possible, but the concept itself... no, even the raw difficulty would be far too...
Ah, I see... they're experimenting.
Huh?
We're the perfect test subjects. An inexhaustible supply of them.
From their point of view, that is... all we are.
...Then who the hell are they?
Good question...
Past here, we should see the village in the basin.
The final stretch... and then we'll be...
......
Wait until the scouts come back... See how things are in the village.
Maybe this is where... we can start thinking about life afterwards.
Life afterwards? We can... finally call an end to our flight...?
...Now we lay down our weapons and begin anew?
What kind of life to live, I wonder...
Mudrock? Where are you going?
Hm... To take a look from the hilltop.
Alright. Stay in contact. We can set off at any time.
Mm.
Before I left for Leithanien, I had been putting off the question.
Was returning to Kazdel truly right? Can a new life happen just like that?
What I witnessed in Leithanien taught me many things.
There are times when fate, destiny and such become a simple excuse. A byword for all of life's unchanging paths.
I only want to live on... I want us all to live on.
Kazdel's villages... are more prosperous than before.
Cooking smoke. Wagons. Markets.
How long has it been since I last saw—hm?
Yet some things—
—you cannot run from.
Mudrock.
What?
There's fog again... I don't know if it's just the fog of morning in the mountains, or...
But either way, everyone's shaken. We need you to calm us all down.
Mm—
Yes. I can barely see the village from here anymore... fog has come.
Wait until the scouts return. Then come to me here.
We're all here.
...Do me a favor.
What are...? Are these someone's bones? Sarkaz remains?
They were small... Probably a child.
Here. It's a broken knife. Rusted. This child might've died in battle.
......
Mm... help me bury them, at least.
You could use your Arts to...
Ah. Okay...
A lot of our people sacrificed themselves for this.
Did we lose them?
...I don't know.
How's the village?
If I had to say, it's bustling with life.
There's a good few Caprinae, not to mention a decent amount of Sami people.
They've got a marketplace. Some plots of land up for sale in there. It's an old Sarkaz who used to be a mercenary, managing those. Should be able to 'get along.'
I see... Wonderful.
We're very close to the village now. From here to there, we should have no trouble...
So go and find your new lives.
...Er, Mudrock? What about all of you?
...We need to stay here. See this through to the end.
Yeah... about time we did some mercenary work.
Wait...! You mean...
Go.
Don't look back.
You—You brought us all this way back to your homeland, just to get yourselves killed now...!?
...He's right. I'm just in it to help a bunch of old bastards get one over. You're still young. Now's the time to go.
Huh? You want me to run? I'd have to twist my own damn head off for you to kick if I wanted to look back.
But we can't just—
...We won't look back. All who want to leave, can leave now.
There's no shame in it. There's no need to blame yourself... We will protect this bridge.
...Supposing this is all a false alarm, and they've long given up, we'll see you in town.
......
Warriors. Line up. Eyes forward.
We defend this bridge to the death.
What makes us think we can escape our cruel fate without a scratch?
Do we have the right to? Do we have the capacity to?
We can't escape it, any of us. In the end, we all have to raise our weapons and confront the present we built with our past.
...How many have stayed?
Why don't you look back for yourself and see?
I... I'm just a little worried...
Seriously, you... alright, someone else, then. Hey. Count how many there are for Mudrock.
Don't mess with me, alright? Didn't I tell you I'd have to twist my head off to look back?
...You can tell just by the sound of it. Not that many even left.
The fog's getting thicker... Captain, should we still keep an eye on them?
Those casters with the tall hats seriously made me want to throw up... they used the Infected slaves they had with them as their... their staves.
...It looks like the Reunion bunch are readying for their last stand. What should we do?
Imagine, the Twin Empresses ascending the throne. It's been decades since the Witch King passed—
—Leithanien still hosts lunatics who mire themselves in the Witch King's shadow.
Err... Captain, this stuff you talk about always flies over my head. Couldn't you say things a little simpler?
Hold on, Captain, where are you going?
To save them.
Whoa, that's simple alright... But saving Reunion?
I only see a group of Sarkaz defending the Infected to the end.
From Casters desecrating life on the whims of rotten nobles.
But you said they were all super powerful, right?! At least wait until our team's all together before—
No need.
They're no knights and garner no art's favor. They're jesters who flaunt witchcraft about.
Rhodes Island does not permit the desecration of Infected lives.
—Someone's coming.
Ready!
Wa—Wait, what did they... do?
That was a single push... and Mudrock's Colossus just...?
I've heard of you, in Operator Folinic's report. The Sarkaz who makes the earth dance.
I, too, am not your enemy.
The fog... cleared...
—You're not a Leithanian. You give off a very unusual feeling... and you're so young...
Who are you?
Only a Rhodes Island Operator... Only of a kind with you, a Sarkaz.
Call me Logos if you wish.
Bob, how have you been?
This letter is sent to you from the care of my new employer. I suppose sending a second letter without waiting for a reply might confuse things?
To tell the truth, the people I mentioned in my last letter may not have the chance to meet you again.
But there's no need to mourn. They fought to protect innocent Infected. As Sarkaz mercenaries, they never thought they'd get to die so nobly.
Maybe death can't be defined in terms of how noble it was. But the people who live on have no doubt in their minds. They died with honor.
We are not currently in Kazdel. For some reason or another, the moment we were about to make it, we looked back.
Maybe it was my hesitation that let so many of my people die. Or maybe their deaths were a reminder that fate follows as close as my shadow. None of us can escape it.
And so I decided to resist. Maybe I wanted to fight against every injustice in this world. Maybe I just wanted my friends to be able to live on.
I haven't sorted it all out yet. But we must walk forward. Only then can I shoulder all my past wrongs. Only then can I let so many more people who need not die, live on.
Oh, before I forget. I've heard a few things about you here. From a girl named Grani.
I couldn't find a home for my people like you did. I couldn't hold a candle to you. That's my shame.
Live on well, Bob. Maybe one day... far in the future, I'll be able to see you and your people in Columbia.