Arknights story · Medjehtiqedti Bound
ME-8 Divine Revelation
Titi steps on stage for the opening play to the exchange ceremony, but someone has replaced the prop dagger with a real one. Xanthos appears in the nick of time and puts his question to the crowd.
2 scenes, 291 lines
1. Before Operation
98 linesSuch beauty! The warm winds welcome the gentle waters of Delphi through the mountains.
Upon ruin and rubble we have built our temple. Now the sacred flame burns bright, in the fragrance of flowers and incense.
The songs and legends of heroes have given us courage to gather here this beautiful day—
Remember how greedy outlanders invaded our land, enslaved us, and silenced the song of all.
But our faith held strong. The outlanders could not break our will, nor chain our free souls.
We, the people of Minos formed in union, our faith and will victorious.
Now, we drive the last outlander from our soil!
As she recites the lines, Pallas seems to see the old First Temple and the mountain-rimmed gardens through Kereseira's own eyes.
Once, the people who had lost hearth and home gathered before Kereseira, just as the citizens of Athenius gather before Pallas now, sitting and standing.
They are all holding their breaths, waiting for the most important moment—
The moment that comforts the hearts of all Minoans and shows them that the long night and nightmare have passed, and the beautiful future that the divine revelations and heroic stories spoke of lies before them.
The last outlander is here.
Her heart beating wildly, Titi steps on stage, slowly but firmly.
This is what she has chosen, her play and her role.
There are words that she must say, things that she must do.
I repent for all that was done by us, our fathers, and their fathers before them.
We have trodden upon soil that was never ours—whether by choice or under the guise of compulsion—out of greed and baseness, out of fear and cowardice.
The hands that should have nurtured families tore the families of others apart. The spears that should have protected their own nation were pointed at innocents.
We must pay for all that we have done.
Your dagger, my lady.
......
Kereseira picks up the executional dagger.
The weapon has accompanied Kereseira ever since she hung her harp on the laurel tree.
Years of fighting have taken their toll in the form of chipping across the blade, but the tip remains sharp enough to take a life.
The outlander relaxes as Kereseira prepares to make her move.
As dramatic music begins to play, Pallas, playing Kereseira, hesitates a little.
Titi suddenly recalls the soldier who gave the blade to Kereseira. His face was covered, his figure unfamiliar, and his motions somewhat halting.
Was he one of the actors that she picked for the play? Titi begins to feel unsure.
The stage of the theater is wide and empty. The audience seems so far away, but Titi can hear their clamor. Are they excited about the play?
—'Kill her! Make the invaders pay!'
Or was it for the Sargonian standing before them in the theater?
She looks up at the dagger in Pallas's hand. The tip of the blade, which should have been made of rubber, reflects a metallic gleam in the sun.
......
All must end here.
Only then can we retrieve the harp from the laurel tree, drink fine wine, and return to the mountains and land that nourished us.
The play must go on. She must believe, believe in her friend, in the heroic spirit of the Minoans.
Titi closes her eyes.
Despicable! Disgrace!
Have you no pride, Minoans? Have you no honor?
Have you no heroic spirit?
The audience falls silent.
They slowly part to let a tall figure through, walking towards the stage with dignity and resolve.
He walks on stage, and kicks the Agamem soldier standing in his way to one side.
Swapping the dagger to make a murder look like an accident... since when did Minoans learn such underhanded methods?
Now THAT is what I wanted to see. A surprise, something unexpected.
Of course, it would have been interesting too if you hadn't held yourself back.
Athenius's business should be handled by the citizens of Athenius... we should trust Pallas, even if this man didn't make an appearance.
Please excuse my impetuousness.
Astynomos! What in the padishah's name is going on?!
It is an insult to have a Sargonian play such a—a denigrating role! And what did the man mean when he talked about the dagger? As an emissary of Sargon, I cannot allow—
Kindly collect yourself, Kýrios Behnui. It was Kyría Mashayer's own decision to play the role.
It is hardly becoming of an emissary to shout like this during such an important occasion, when the dust has yet to settle.
Xanthos...
So you never left Athenius...
Xanthos remembers the day when he raised his oar at the Sargonian he had tied to the tree.
But then he heard the horn of victory coming from the foothills, and the joyful Liberi brought news of the truce.
The frightened Sargonian stumbled and fell as he fled. Xanthos's comrades held him back and prevented him from killing the prisoner.
Slowly but surely, resentment began to build within his heart.
Life and vitality were gone from the soil of his homeland, but the marks that the Sargonians left behind linger.
Their banners, their landmines. The dam they built, which killed the river, became an indelible scar upon the land.
He saw many Sargonians make a hurried retreat towards the border on his way to Athenius.
He never joined the Minoans who threw rocks and spat at them, because it was not enough.
In Athenius, he rowed his ferry on the Delphi Canal day after day. He watched over the ebb and flow of the canal, but he could not keep the river of his own heart in check.
Rage roiled in his heart, seeking an opening.
Now, the opportunity that he had waited for so long has finally come.
He clutches his oar.
I, a criminal thrown into the death cell awaiting trial, have waited an eternity for this moment.
No matter what punishment awaits me for all these reasons—
I will stand before the Sargonians and my own people, with nothing to hide, and ask my question of you!
The audience is hushed. Even the haughty Sargonian deputy falls silent.
I lost my home and my dearest friend in the war.
I followed in his tracks and saw countless of our own at death's door along the way.
The dreams we once had were trampled underfoot by the invaders, never to be rebuilt.
Why, I ask the invaders, did you set foot on this land that did not belong to you?
And what makes you think you can shamelessly come to Athenius just a few years after the truce, acting like nothing ever happened?
He looks up at the two people in the middle of the stage. The Sargonian woman opens her mouth, but closes it without saying anything.
Pallas lowers the dagger.
My people, I am surprised how quickly you forget.
Did a century of colonization and oppression leave nothing behind in your hearts?
The Sargonians destroyed our homes and cities, distorted our culture, extinguished our language.
Is this memory not enough for you to be on guard against the Sargonians?
How could you cast the past aside? How dare you continue to deal with them?
Culture? Exchange? Fine words!
They're not just taking the technical data from the construction of the Three Poleis, but the blood and sweat that we shed when we built them!
They're taking away evidence of their crimes, rewriting history, creating an illusion of Sargonian friendship to wipe away the memory!
All of you are accomplices and accessories!
Xanthos looks towards the audience. The Sargonian deputy is furious, while the Astynomos of Athenius is utterly impassive, as though she fully expected him to be here.
Kassandra is looking at him with a worried expression a short distance away, while his apprentice, Lykeion, is watching from the shadows in a distant corner alongside his old classmate.
The two people on stage look stunned. He does not know how much of it is an act, and how much of it is his own imagination.
Lying beneath their feet is the soldier whom he kicked aside, looking equally surprised.
Yes, the war is over. It seems like we could forget all the hurt and pain, and begin a new life.
So we dug out the divine revelations, dramas and legends from old paper piles, built temples and altars, and thought we were continuing the legacy of the heroes.
Does a life of leisure really bring inner peace? Do pale words really comfort the departed?
I see only conspiracy, scheming and selfish desires. Where is the spirit of Minos? Where is true heroic spirit?
All is silent. Then, the Sargonian woman steps forward.
I can see the frustration and yearning in your eyes.
You want to cross swords with the Sargonians, face to face. This is your heroic spirit.
Here is your chance. Come. As a Sargonian, I owe you this battle.
2. After Operation
193 lines(It's been a long time since I last felt hot blood flowing in my veins.)
(Not since I left the battlefield and left my homeland have I...)
His vision begins to blur from the loss of blood. Everything seems covered in a white glow, and he instinctively closes his eyes.
He hears the song of a harp, but he does not know from whence it comes.
He forces his eyes open, and sees himself in an unfamiliar space. He seems to be floating in mid-air, people passing in front of his eyes without acknowledging him.
It is as though he is in a dream.
I will never work with the Sargonians! Beat me, torture me, kill me if you want—
But you won't get one word out of me about the guerrillas!
So there are guerrillas.
...Skata!
Why are you so angry? I thought Minoans liked logic. That's what the stories of heroes all say.
Are you trying to butter me up? I'm not talking!
No need to be so on edge. Just wanted to have a conversation. I don't like interrogating people either.
But I'll be reprimanded if I don't spend enough time in here. Nothing I can do.
......
What are you doing, Mashayer? Are you so stupid you can't do something as simple as interrogate a prisoner?
I'm on it, sir!
Piece of trash. Some noble. Pah.
The prisoner watches as his interrogator jumps up from the ground nervously, while his superior leaves after casually hurling a few words of abuse.
Both seem used to such a situation. It is as though the officer cusses and abuses the guard on a daily basis.
The guard's complexion is young and pale. He is thin and mild-mannered, very different from the villagers' impression of Sargonians.
The prisoner warns himself not to let his guard down.
Sargonians are cunning. Perhaps the two of them conspired to put on an act.
Well, I have to act like I'm interrogating you.
Could you... say something? Anything.
Anything? I've got a litany of curses for you. I could go on for days.
...Let's talk about something else. Something nicer, something that can help us forget about our struggles and helplessness... tell me some Minoan heroic stories.
I know some of your legends from ancient books that I collected, but they're not easy to find in Sargon.
......
You already told this story a couple of days ago. I remember.
Tsk.
Anything else? Think!
(Weren't we just putting on a show for his superior? Why is he taking such careful notes?)
(Why would a Sargonian love Minoan legends so much? Is there something not right with this guy's head?)
You've only told a hundred or so. There must be more stories and legends in the land of heroes.
(Trying to provoke me? Not falling for that!)
Fragments you heard from the elders as a child are fine. It doesn't need to be complete or popular.
The kind of story that would make a little Sargonian girl dream about Minos... there must be more, right?
(Skata... well, if that's what he wants...)
(I'll just make one up. It's not like this idiotis Sargonian could tell.)
Alright. Let me tell you about Siopi, the silent hero.
It is the strangest experience the prisoner has ever had. No one would believe the story if he told it. He decided to take it with him to his grave—
If he ever gets out of here.
Bloody bother. Finally got him off my back for the day.
I didn't know I was so good at making up stories. I should become a bard if I ever get out.
If I ever get out... Is that a crack in the door?
Did that ilithios forget to lock the door?
It has been a long time since he last saw the stars. It almost feels like he is dreaming as he breathes the air of freedom again.
Is he out? Is he free? Just like this?
Useless trash! You've been in that Minoan's cell every single day, and you haven't gotten one scrap of intel about the guerrillas?
S-Sorry, sir. I've been taking records, but he contradicts himself every day. I... I'm afraid nothing he says can be trusted.
I knew you couldn't get anything done! Incompetent fool!
I'll interrogate him tomorrow while you watch and learn how things are done in the lord ameer's army!
Y-Yes, sir...
The fugitive hears the guard and his superior talking in the distance. He hastens his movement through the bushes.
The movement seems to have drawn the attention of the Sargonians.
How did the prisoner get out?!
After him, Mashayer, you worthless shit! You are DEAD, if you don't catch him!
Hearing the sound made by the skinny guard's ill-fitting armor sets the fugitive's heart at ease.
He knows a single Sargonian could never catch him, on this Minoan land.
He takes one final look back as he escapes the Sargonian camp.
The fugitive sees the frail guard stumble and fall. The guard's luxurious armor, probably an heirloom, weighs him down so much that he struggles to get himself off the ground.
Or perhaps... he just wanted an excuse to not get up?
Did he really forget to lock the door, or did he finally find an opportunity to leave a crack?
The prisoner does not know.
The only thing that the prisoner knows is that he will never forget the time he spent at the Sargonian camp, and the ridiculous-looking Sargonian.
......
(What... is this?)
It's my father.
Xanthos turns around in surprise, and sees the Sargonian woman, standing in the same vision as he.
There is surprise on her face, yes, but also nostalgia and poignance.
I know he came to Minos in the lord ameer's army, but was sent back to Sargon for his incompetence. He would have received a heavier punishment, but what little glory the House of Mashayer had left protected him one last time.
He never really... achieved anything, and it wasn't a surprise that he would mess up after he was conscripted. He didn't like to talk about his time in Minos, and I never asked...
I didn't know this was where those stories of the Minoan heroes he told me came from.
He's very different from my image of a Sargonian.
Yes. He was always weak and soft, never talking back even when insulted to his face... I always wondered why he loved heroic stories so much, when he was the furthest thing from a hero.
No wonder... no wonder he told me the story of Siopi the silent hero so many times, the hero who kept a secret for thirty years...
He planted the seed of heroes in your heart.
I have high hopes for you, Medjehtiqedti Nasutu Mashayer.
It is an honor.
Do you understand why I appointed someone like you to lead the mission, someone so young and inexperienced?
You must have your reasons.
You're much smarter than your father was.
The House of Mashayer was a noble house with a rich tradition, and I was on good terms with your elders.
It pained me to see the family fall on hard times under your father, who was frail and idle.
I arranged a cushy post for him in the lord ameer's army in Minos, safely away from the frontlines, and he almost got himself into a court-martial.
When Minos came up again after all these years, you were the first person I thought of.
Young Medjehtiqedti is much sharper than her father, I thought. I'm sure she will have no trouble bringing a harp to Minos and bringing back a few blueprints that belonged to Sargon to begin with.
You'll do a fine job and do your family proud, won't you?
Yes, exalted padishah! I loved the legends of Minos, and I've wanted to see true heroism with my own eyes since I was little. I'll make sure the Minoan mission goes perfectly!
The padishah said a bunch of flowery words to me before I left, but I never understood why he made me the head of this mission.
I guess it's because it's easy to get rid of me, if something goes wrong.
And I had no idea that those 'blueprints' contained such detailed records.
Frankly, I don't really care about doing the Mashayer name proud.
I came because I wanted to see this land that I've always been fascinated by with my own eyes, to chase the legends that I've only heard about...
Or perhaps, I wanted to find some answers about my father...
What is this land of heroes that father talked about really like, and what is the heroic spirit really like? I wanted to learn, to find out. That's why I came to Minos.
Have you found the answer?
Yes. What about you?
I...
I was once like you, Xanthos.
Pallas?! You too...
I've seen with my own eyes how our people died shielding their comrades from the Sargonians, and heard the screaming of the wounded being amputated in village huts.
Hate flowed in your heart and mine, in the hearts of every Minoan.
Even now... in my heart...
I know.
But have you ever stopped to think why we love to drink?
Besides the sweet fragrance of wine and the joy of harvest that it represents, the inspiration and joy that it brings us...
Besides all that...
It's also because it makes us forget, if only for a while.
Too many things trouble us and make us hurt, but we can't forget them completely, because to do so would be a betrayal, so we drown ourselves in drink, seeking a moment's forgetfulness.
But then... I had to leave Minos.
You're Pallas, aren't you? The medics told me you often drink here.
Yes, I am... what is it?
You're Minoan, right? You've been in the Lachedamon competitions? Do you know Dikaiopolis, the Blood Knight? Did you ever fight him?
No... but I've heard of him. A Minoan Infected who participates in the Kazimierz Majors, I think?
Well, actually, the 'competitions' in those two places are not quite the same thing...
But they're both clashes of physical ability and skill, aren't they?
Mm... well... uh...
I knew it! The principles of strength are the same everywhere! The Blood Knight must be strong because of his Minoan upbringing!
I wanted to meet the Blood Knight, but he's retired now.
Still, it's an honor to meet another Minoan master! Can I have your autograph? Anywhere's fine—how about my t-shirt?
...(Quietly signs)
Thank you so much!
So... do Minoans have a special way of training?
I heard you love drinking. Is this part of your training? Accelerating blood circulation with alcohol and increasing explosiveness?
The medics also say you can fall asleep anywhere! This must be a way to save energy! You only fully utilize your physical ability when necessary!
I see! This is why the Blood Knight was so explosive!
Er... these are just my personal habits. I don't know how the Blood Knight trains, but I doubt...
I get it, I get it, just fantasizing about things. Did I get carried away? I hope I didn't cause any offense.
...It's alright. You really love Dikaiopolis, don't you?
Yeah! I lost all hope after learning that I have Oripathy, but the Blood Knight gave me the will to live again.
I watched recordings of his bouts so many times! I've even started training myself, hoping to join an Infected Knightclub someday.
He was the one who blazed the trail for the Infected in Kazimierzian knightsports, paving the way for the Radiant Knight's return to the tournaments!
His bout with the Radiant Knight was one for the ages! I was there for it, and I cried when they took the podium together.
I wasn't sure why I cried. Maybe it's because I saw a flicker of hope for the future.
I guess he's the kind of hero the Minoans talk about!
He's Infected. According to conventional Minoan wisdom...
Do Infected heroes have some kind of special title in Minos?
No... But he's a hero, yes. No one can deny it.
Traditions don't stay unchanged forever, Xanthos.
The stories of the heroes defined and shaped who we are. Yet, because heroes arise from among us, we in turn possess the power to define them and to reshape what it means to be a hero.
I learned that after I left Minos.
......
Our goddess of victory is back!
I heard you destroyed another Sargon cavalry unit that tried to sneak across the border?
I told you not to call me that when we're in the village... it's embarrassing.
It was the title that we gave to Pallas...
Whoever leads us to victory is our goddess of victory. That's what Pallas said when she left—
'You can use this overblown title however you want, if it scares the Sargonians.'
As long as we still have our 'Goddess of Victory', you'll keep the Sargonians away.
Yeah... although Sargonian raiders still come every now and then, since she signed that 'Non-Aggression Pact' with Sargon's border tribes on behalf of the villages in the area...
The raids have been getting fewer and fewer after we won a few victories. It's all thanks to the reputation of the 'Goddess of Victory'.
Besides, inheriting Pallas's title makes me feel like I can't give up, which helps me pull through in tough battles.
It doesn't just scare our enemies; it also inspires our own.
Yeah, that's what heroes are for.
The village of Akroti... brings back so many memories.
It's very much like my homeland.
All the villages of Minos are alike. The same soil nurtured us.
But it's not just because of the same soil that we're a single nation. It's because we know the same stories.
Only we, upon seeing the olive branch, remember how the hero Pheidippides ran from Athenius to spread the news of our victory over the Sargonians to the other cities.
He was carrying the olive branch of Athenius, and so it became the symbol of victory and hope to us.
This is what truly belongs to us, something that outlanders and invaders cannot take away.
As long as we keep living, we'll carry on these stories, and change the traditions so that the legends of Minos's heroes may continue, that the spirit of Minos may continue.
Minos is wherever we are.
......
It is a strange scene that unfolds before the eyes of the citizens of Athenius and the guests from Sargon and other city-states.
It is an exhilarating battle. But when the oar-wielding Minoan warrior's blood falls upon the strings of the harp in the hands of Kereseira's statue—
The ancient harp begins to make a sound, like an old machine starting up after a long slumber, its gears slowly beginning to turn.
As the harp begins to sing, the trio on the stage slows down, entering a trance-like state, sometimes angry, sometimes sad, sometimes laughing, sometimes weeping.
When the Minoan challenger is finally overcome by exhaustion and slumps down by the statue's pedestal, the other two on stage finally break out of their trance.
They look around themselves in confusion before running towards the challenger, reaching out to him to try to help him up, but getting no response from him.
The shouting, the cheering, and the angry yelling have all ceased. Those present begin to realize that they have witnessed a miracle.
The harp that stopped singing after the Sargonians invaded has returned to where it belonged, and declared—
The tradition continues, and a new chapter is written in the stories of the heroes.
The harp's music echoes in the sky above the square.
Xanthos looks up.
The autumn sun is painfully bright, but for some reason it seems to bring back dim memories, back to the day that he said goodbye to Ithakos.
Do you believe that the guerrillas can defeat the Sargonians?
Even though we've been losing for a century?
(Nods)
I haven't received any divine revelations, and I can't tell the future. I can't even leave with you.
But I will promise what I can.
I'll protect our village, our houses, our farms and flowerbeds. Perhaps we can go to Athenius, where you came from, once you're victorious.
I'll still be a ferryman, ferrying you to your workplace at the temple on the other side of the city as the sun shines upon the Delphi Canal... I've been imagining the scene ever since you described it to me.
...Are you listening, Ithakos?
Minos is in for a cold winter this year, brother.
Yes. But the spring will be all the warmer for it.
He finally remembers what he said to Ithakos.
And he remembers the warm smile on Ithakos's face at the answer.
The pain and anger of losing a dear friend had clouded his memory and caused him to forget what was most important.
But things will get better, when spring comes and war is over, when life gets back on track.
The wounds of the earth will heal, and the snowmelt from the peaks of Heria will continue to flow, bringing flowers and reeds home.