Arknights story · People, A People
PA-6 Separate Exiles
Tsar Fyodor ends up trapped in Katorga with the students by a strange twist of fate. Through comms, he establishes contact with Botani, who is also in Katorga, and encourages her to take a key hostage, bringing him back to the student camp.
2 scenes, 550 lines
1. Before Operation
243 lines
...What are you doing, Mykola?
Someone was falling behind—
So you decided to break formation on the left flank? Do it over!
Good. Advance with your spears and force me into a corner.
You're too strong, Sonya. We can't budge you.
It's not that I'm too strong, it's that you are not pushing together.
You have to remember, we're not guerillas. The empire will not protect us, so we must form a fortress together.
Do you understand?
Yes, ma'am!
Hey, General! Still training?
Good news, the cannons and heavy weapons they were showing off yesterday are gone.
Nika saw the thugs moving a bunch of stuff out. Looked like weapons.
Natalya got it done, Sonya.
...I knew we could count on them.
Also, like we were talking about, Gromov sleeps in a camp inside the quarantine zone each night. Only Pavlovich lives on top of the walls.
We can smash the thugs' main force before we assault the wall.
We need more food and other supplies. Did you see their warehouse?
No... How much longer can we stretch these rations?
Three days, max. The Unbound are running short also. We owe Antosha too much already.
I got a bad history with food supplies... I can't—
Hold my hand! It'll be okay, General. We'll get through this.
We need to keep training. I got a feeling the next few days are gonna decide our fate.
Just how many are willing to fight...?
Surprisingly many. They've seen our training these last few days pay off. And the rest are willing to do first aid and logistics.
There's nothing young people hate more than injustice, is there?
You've done a good job, that's all.
What about that Fedya? He's not a student. Is he willing to join?
Hm... I'm still not sure if we can trust him.
We really don't know anything about him. But he is determined.
Fedya! I found a can of meat. Want some?
...No, thank you.
Don't push it. You haven't known him that long, you don't know he likes to be alone.
Come on, it's been a few days, we're not exactly strangers anymore.
Say, Fedya, you don't look like a student, but you don't look like a worker either.
How did you ever end up in this hellhole?
...I'm sorry, but I can't divulge that, under any circumstances.
Whuh?
Just who the hell...?
Time is short, Your Imperial Majesty. I beg you to consider it one last time.
Consider, yes—I'm considering feeding all these obese geriatrics to flesh buthidas.
That way, we'd get a windfall for the treasury by confiscating their assets, and a bunch of well-fed, succulent flesh buthidas.
Your Majesty... I completely understand your fury.
But you must understand that these old nobles are more willing to stand with you than the industrial nobles, who put clear price tags on their loyalty.
You need as many voices on your side as you can at a time like this, when you need to impress the Armies that continue to encroach upon the far shores of Lake Neva.
And that's their leverage to bargain with me?
Even my palace can barely afford heating this winter, and they want me to give them Originium to supply that unproductive Katorga Raion?
Is it those morsels of profit that they're after? No! They simply seek to emphasize their presence to me and make me bow to them. They will not get their wish!
The Grand Duchess of Far North, the Armies, and these old nobles...
When did we allow these leeches to our empire? They suck the blood of Ursus, and all it takes is the slightest opportunity for them to proclaim our weakness and claim Grypherburg for themselves!
Tell me, Witte... tell me that we can still demand their respect, that my assent to their ridiculous demands will not be seen as weakness.
Tell me you can make those old aristocrats go to war, risk life and limb in battle, and chase the Fourth Army back to where they belong—otherwise, do NOT trouble me with this matter again!
Your Imperial Majesty...
You know, Witte, sometimes, I can't help but think that there is too much rot growing on Ursus, like that Katorga they're so obsessed with protecting, and those people themselves.
Your Majesty is certainly correct. The Empire of Ursus is sick. But any doctor can tell you that one must be careful about what medicine to give the very ill.
Our Originium reserves are on the brink. You must do everything in your power to stop the forces of sedition from growing within Ursus, until we can come up with a material solution.
Otherwise, our internal conflicts will destroy us before any external foe or force of nature.
Fantastic. Great Ursus is as fragile as a Gaulish omelette, falling apart at the slightest touch.
You need not do much.
Simply placate them as usual, tell them that Ursus needs their loyalty, and that you intend to protect their interests.
I will handle the rest.
Do whatever you want, Witte.
I'm used to it. Those bemedaled skeletons and perfumed parasites stand in the way of everything I try to do... they don't care about Ursus, and they certainly don't care about me.
You can explain it to them when you attend tonight's ball.
Can't you and the Vice Chairman go for me? I'm tired.
It would be improper, Majesty.
You cannot refuse to attend the Winter Ball two years in a row. At a time like this, when people's hearts are unsettled, your subjects look to you to offer some degree of comfort—
Alright, alright, I'll go, just give me some time, please! That's enough talk. We've had too many vexations this winter already.
Leave me, Witte... please. And, I'm sorry.
Blyat! Blyat! Blyat...
Fyodor looks out the window. The streets of Grypherburg are nowhere near as bright as they were years past.
Such a cold winter... it could really use a fire.
What's this...? A power outage?
Death to the mudak tsar! Death to the mudak tsar! Death to the mudak tsar!
Bring out the bloodsucker Witte! Bring out the imbecile Fyodor!
You're looking for me? Here I am.
My, what a commotion.
Please! Stop! No more!
Shut up! How dare you insult His Imperial Majesty! Traitor!
He strikes the student's back with such force that his stick flies from his hand, falling by the wayside. Then it is fists and kicks that find their mark...
Enough, enough! He's not resisting. No need to beat him so hard.
Another traitor to the empire!
Traitor to the empire? Hah! Whose empire?
Insolent mudak! You need a beating too!
Such impudence!
How dare you hit me!
Indeed, I hit you. You may boast to your children that the tsar—
A heavy fist finds Fyodor's face before he can finish.
*Bzz*... target... escape... capture, complete! Over!
In the name of... *bzz*... His Imperial Majesty! Over!
The concealed communications device that Fyodor carries has fallen on the ground by the time he gets up. With no time to examine it, he quickly grabs it and puts it back in his ear.
......
............
...Blyat.
*bzz*...
Mayday! Mayday! Anyone hear me?
All Student Assembly members, evacuate immediately! The lead vehicle is driving towards the outskirts!
If you can hear me, answer ASAP! Botani out!
Wait—
Several policemen grab and push him into the crowd that is being packed up into the cramped trucks.
The trucks drive to Katorga Raion, to the sound of frightened crying.
And so... we were all captured.
No explanations, no promises, no food, no tents.
We were tossed into Katorga like garbage.
Don't worry! I'll help you!
The diminutive student keeps Fyodor behind him, wildly swinging the tibia of some unidentified beast at the surrounding tuskbeasts.
Stay behind me! I've hunted in the Far North with my father! I can handle these beasts! Trust me!
Look out!
Phew... they're gone. That was close.
He drops to the ground in a pile of snow, panting.
Your arm. It's hurt.
Huh? Argh... you wouldn't happen to have alcohol and bandages on you, would you?
No. But I'll find you the finest doctors in Grypherburg once we are free of this place.
Don't worry about it. It's cold here, maybe it won't get infected.
What's your name?
...Fyodor.
Let me call you Fedya, since I've helped you. You can call me Shorty. That's what my friends call me.
You don't mind?
Minding doesn't change anything... If you're not hurt, I'll go on ahead.
Wait, you're going to the wall?
Yes, my friend told me that the one in charge here lets you go if you pay up.
I put together some money. Not sure if it's enough, but I figured I might as well take the chance.
Here, you can have this ration bar. If you need a place to start a fire, the students have a camp down on the south side.
Bye, Fedya—
...Wait.
Take these chervontsy. This should be enough to bribe the guards.
Emotions flash rapidly across Shorty's face. He bows solemnly to Fyodor and walks to the walls.
Please, hear me out—!
......
*Bzz*... this is Botani calling anyone who can hear me. Anyone?
Please, do you copy...?
The Council of Sixteen thugs are killing students! We need help!
Can anyone hear me? Come in, please?
Have we been abandoned? Are our cries and screams soundless?
It's a wall, not the great tundra! Why...?
(Sobs) Why doesn't anyone hear us...?
What should I...?
...Botani out.
......
(Rasping call) Attempt No. 373. Calling anyone who can hear me...
......
We are trapped in Grypherburg's Katorga Raion, unable to contact anyone on the outside...
Yesterday alone, five students died from blunt force trauma and hypothermia... there may have been more. We find ourselves on the brink of death, here in the glorious capital of Ursus.
The people who murdered my friends now sit in a room above me...
...!
Attempt No. 374. Come in, come in...
...Maybe you'll never be like that voice from the Far North, Botani. You'll never change anything.
How could I make people hear my voice, so that all these lives can be saved?
(Sound of pained vomiting)
(Sobs)
Three hundred and seventy-four... you have shown more spirit than any bureaucrat in the palaces of Deity Grypherburg.
Maybe you don't realize it, but you are doing great deeds.
...Huh?
Y-You can hear me? Who is this...?
I... I'm Fedya. I'm from Sonya's camp.
Sonya's camp... I know of it, but I couldn't go, no, I didn't dare...
I sneaked into the last truck that came here... I wanted to tell the people of Grypherburg the truth of what I saw, the cruelty and brutality that's being inflicted upon the young people here.
But nobody answered, nobody heard me... this room I'm hiding in is right in the middle of the thugs' camp...
They came in today, and they stabbed the wardrobe that I'm hiding in with a freshly-honed knife... I think I can still hear its blade trembling...
I can't come out. They'll get me for sure.
(Sobs) I can't do anything—
In that case...
Why do you keep talking?
...Why?
There are thugs all around you. The wise would remain silent and cover their eyes and ears, the wise would ignore everything going on around them...
What is happening in Katorga had nothing to do with you... you could have remained silent. You live in danger and in pain. No one would blame you.
Yet you entered the quarantine zone and risked exposure to publicize the tragedies, even though no one is listening. You believe every call you make offers hope to the students.
I can... offer hope... the students need...
Unless you have a better explanation... I've really had quite enough, listening to a brave soul lament her cowardice. I come out here just once and I seem to keep running into this sort of thing.
How many hostiles on your end?
Two.
Good. Just the two of them won't catch you. Can you hear their movements from your location? Like what they're saying, what shape they're in?
...I can hear, if I listen carefully. They keep complaining about work and yawning. They seem tired.
Excellent. The tired are less alert. They are people too; they can grow weak or careless. Even you should be able to kill someone who is badly fatigued.
That's too—
Well, it's up to you whether you do it or not. But you can run, can't you?
Tonight, once they're asleep and you can hear them snoring, run, and don't look back.
If you don't know the way, I'll guide you. I walked all the way from the wall to the camp. I remember the buildings you'll pass.
If you try, you'll find that it's not so hard after all.
...Will I continue to hear your voice?
If it gives you the courage to move...
She recalls the day she decided what she wanted to do with her life.
The smell of dust and dirt, and overheated electronics... she curled up on a chair, searching for news of Bresk—of home, amidst the haphazard and scattered frequencies.
'Next, an excerpt from the opera—'
'Hiss—'
She fiddles with the knob. She needs to hear the sound of hope, a power that brings comfort, to keep the weightless panic in her chess, even for just a moment...
—What?
'Bzz, bzzt...'
'Comrades in the mines and cities.'
'We come from the Far North.'
...That is correct, but Sonya permits my presence.
I see... I've been providing communications support for the Student Assembly. Any student who hears my voice recognizes me and the code name 'Botani'.
Take a break, Pavalo. Even I'm tired after hauling all those crates today, you must be exhausted.
It-It's an honor to carry Master Gromov's burdens.
Come on, you got a barony from your dad, you could grovel a little bit less.
He's long gone, and our family is...
Can you tell Gromov, I just want to leave, you guys kidnapped me—
Shut it. Yeah, I kidnapped you, big deal. Boss needed someone who was good with numbers. It's not like you've been treated badly.
You want to get out, talk less and work harder.
......
What is it, Botani?
No, it's nothing.
It's just that when I get a chance to actually listen to them talk... they don't seem so scary anymore.
Hmph. I know exactly how many good-for-nothings there are in Ursus.
A cold draft keeps blowing in from the window that will not shut, causing the rickety house to hum quietly in the night.
Sitting in front of a dirty table, Pavalo flips through the ledger to the deafening snores of his colleague in the next room, his brow furrowed.
How come I haven't seen a shadow of any of the supplies that Gromov requested...?
No, the purchase price is much higher than the market price, and the Sixteen Warriors' nominal wages are far higher than what they actually are.
Hmph. A tale as old as Grypherburg itself.
He sneers. At almost the same moment, the roaring snore is interrupted, replaced by a wet, bubbling sound, as though someone is gargling.
Dreaming about meat again? Mudak sounds like he fell into a soup pot.
The gurgling ceases, replaced by the sound of liquid dripping on the floor.
...A leak?
He rubs his dry eyes and gets up to head over to the next room.
Pavalo opens the door. His pupils contract in shock, and he drops the ledger to the floor. Deep crimson liquid is seeping from his colleague's neck.
Ahh—
Hush... your life is in my hands, Baron.
Wh-Who are you?
Th-That's not important. What's important is that I need your help.
...Your voice is trembling, and your hand's trembling even worse. Are you nervous?
Put down the knife, devushka, and we can talk about this—
No...
I-If you shout, or try to stall for time, I'll have to kill you.
Like you said, my hand's trembling. I can't promise you it won't accidentally slip...
P-Please, I have a family back home. Spare me, and I'll do anything—
...Put on this headset.
What...?
I won't keep holding you up with a knife, but if you make one wrong move... this headset represents the latest research from the Third Bureau. It can blow your head off your shoulders at any time.
The Third Bureau?! N-No, how did I get on their bad side—
Quiet... someone will tell you where to go through the headset. You will lead me there, avoiding all Sixteen Warriors positions along the way. Do you understand?
Y-Yes...
Tell me where your camp is, I'll head there...
Ha, haha—
...What's so funny?
No, it's nothing. First, tell me the buildings you see around your position—
I'm getting my very own 'mission'... this is certainly unexpected, but not entirely unwelcome.
Let me think... how do those Third Bureau freaks talk?
2. After Operation
307 linesYeremey! You're still drinking? I had to turn the chemical factory upside down to find that single crate of beer!
Get lost—
Heh, let him drink, he's had plenty of scares these past few days.
Well *hic*... I pulled through *hic*... lousy beer *hic*... totally beneath me *hic*...
O noble lord, what has brought you down so low, that you must beg a humble 'peasant' like me for drink?
No, you're a decent fellow *hic*... the best *hic*...
I'm a 'peasant' too, Yeremey, compliment me!
Forget it—*hic*!
How did we get onto this topic? It's kind of embarrassing, really.
Listen, friends, I'll buy you a crate of beer for every cup I drink here.
Sonya, Mykola, Fedya, there'll be plenty for everyone!
You alright, Yeremey?
Judging from the way he's chugging one beer after another, I'd say he's perfectly alright.
How about you save the rest of the beer for us right now, because Fedya is sitting right behind you!
Not *hic* Not tonight... after tonight, whatever you want *hic*—
Why don't you sit with the others?
What about you, the conquering hero who captured the enemy?
Sonya and Antosha have been interrogating him all day. We should know more soon.
Let's hope it'll bring about the end of Gromov's tyranny...
You don't sound happy.
I've been thinking about what caused the radio blackout in the quarantine zone.
The Third Bureau has its ways.
But your equipment still caught my signal. How...?
You ask too many questions, 'Botani'... 'bookworm', indeed.
There aren't many earnest folk in Ursus these days... I can't believe I've become so nostalgic.
...I know you're hiding something from us, Fedya.
If you don't want to talk about it, I'll just pretend not to notice.
But I couldn't have brought Baron Pavalo back without you... you're the true hero on that front.
Maybe one day, you'll be a hero to even more people...
......
Fedya! Botani! Want a drink?
Yeremey sure is strong when he's drunk. He won't let me near the booze.
Well, he's finally out cold now, and I punched him a couple of times for good measure. He's not waking up for a while.
Huh?
Anyway, we've got enough for four cups. Want to sit down and chat a little? I'd love to make friends...
Sure, Pencil Stub. I think this is the first time you've seen my face?
Hah, you scared people when you showed up covered in blood, but we all relaxed when we heard your voice.
Anyway, I've got your cups. This one's for you, Fedya.
...Spasibo.
To tomorrow!
To victory!
To...
To souls happy and free.
...I cannot accept this compromise.
Unless you got a better idea. You can torture him if you want, but the only thing he cares about is his own hide.
I warned you, Pavalo is the prototypical Ursine noble.
Short-sighted, cowardly, ever dreaming of kindness and 'guidance' from above, acting harmless while pocketing all the gold and silver.
Give them a chance to catch their breath, and they will not hesitate to draw their swords against the people, and offer bloodshed to their liege lords as a gift.
Walking corpses whose expertise is self-preservation... can you not smell their stench?
We can keep arguing, or we can spend our time making more urgent plans. The intel I extracted from him includes a map of the Sixteen Warriors headquarters.
They've got lots of supplies there, and he says Gromov has been gone a lot lately. This is the perfect opportunity.
He will sell you out, if he gets out alive... you'll have every policeman in Ursus on your tail, even if you manage to get out of Katorga. Do we really want to meet again in court?
At least we share the common goal of liberating this raion right now. We can argue about the rest later.
Assaulting their headquarters is no easy task. We are willing to work with you, but we'll need to rest and regroup. Perhaps—
Understood. Once we are all set, we will move out and have Pavlo lead the way.
What do you think, Antosha?
Bring plenty of guys, Sonya. Do not underestimate him.
...Sonya?
Shh. I don't want to wake them up.
I just wanted to... get some rest by the fire.
You've done a huge service for the people here. But I'm still not sure if I'm a leader worthy of any of that.
When I got back to Ursus, I thought about living a normal life back home, but all of us are still struggling in the mud, me and all the girls who follow me...
......
I've let a lot of people down, watched my friends die... soon, I'll be leading them on another journey.
Can we go back to our old lives? Or am I just gonna fail at everything...?
You've already achieved a lot, haven't you?
...Huh?
You can have half my beer. I haven't touched it yet.
Zima reflexively takes the cup and inhales the faint scent of wheat, while faint snoring rings in her ears.
She scans the peaceful sleeping faces, red and puffy, smacking their lips in their dreams... it is the most peaceful night they have had since they came to the quarantine zone.
Boss, take it easy.
Where is Pavlovich? Spit it out!
Why did those mudaki take my cannons? Why did they cut the supplies? I want an explanation!
The magistrate will be back soon. I'm sure it'll all sort itself out.
He gave us money, and those bodyguards he has—
Blyat! I don't need you to tell me that! Pizdets!
He picks up a chair and throws it into a corner, then hears a frail, frightened chirping.
...What's that?
Gromov lifts the velvet covering the box, revealing an elaborate cage and its resident, a brown beckbeast trembling in a corner.
Pavlovich's? He didn't take his stupid pet with him today...
You, wait outside.
Yes sir!
After his subordinate has left, Gromov grins, He will bring his arrogant employer down a peg.
Rough hands reach into the cage, put themselves around the poor little creature's neck, and twist...
Gromov! I didn't expect to see you here. I heard you were looking for me?
...Why are you staring at my beckbeast like that?
What is it doing here...?
We don't see each other for a few days, and you've already forgotten? How could I go without its companionship?
Uh...
Feeling jealous? Hah, I knew you loved small animals too.
There's another one in my office that's going to breed with this one. You can have one of the babies.
......
Where's your gratitude?
Don't worry about it.
I don't suppose you came for this. What has you in such a hurry?
Gromov takes one look at the bodyguards, all of them bigger than him, and swallows the profanities that he had intended to say.
Why did you cut our supplies, sir? We're having enough trouble handling those kids as it is.
Do you remember why I hired you to manage Katorga Raion, Gromov? You were the lowest bidder.
I hope you have not forgotten this excellent quality.
Then my cannons—
Do not mention them again. I wouldn't tell you, even if I knew.
This is noble business. Do your job!
Boss! We've got a problem!
What?
Th-The students found the 'Honor Room'!
Blyat! How's that possible?!
I just came from there! Sonya is gonna get in, if we don't send help!
......
Magistrate!
Assign half our security team to him.
Yes sir!
If anything goes wrong, I will feed your pieces to my beckbeast. You understand?
Now get lost!
...Exterior is clear. Cleaning up.
These guys can fight, but they have absolutely no discipline.
Are things going well on the General's side? She should be inside their HQ by now.
The Sixteen Warriors will fight tooth and nail to protect it. We need to get over there and back them up, fast.
Let's hope Gromov has some real food here. I've had enough of cans—
His smile freezes on his face. He sways and falls by the feet of his friends. There is a crossbow bolt straight through his chest.
Yeremey's eyes widen. He sees Gromov approach with a dozen massive brutes in tow.
Hurry! Stop them!
Blyat!
Die, mudak!
No!
Yeremey's steel pipe meets Yeremey's hamaxe, and he is sent flying like a balloon.
Yeremey! No!
Your turn, cherv.
Gromov...!
You will pay for your crimes, murderer!
I'll kill you or die trying!
Blood rushes up her throat, and she can speak no more.
With great effort, Nika turns her neck to look in Yeremey's direction. She sees her friends scrambling to form a line, while Gromov has already charged inside like a monster.
I knew it was a trap the moment you said you were going to bribe Gromov and get him to let us out.
But why did I go with you... Yeremey?
Govno, govno, govno!
It's not over yet... We can cut through the back—it's faster. My men must still be fighting inside.
I'm the only one who knows the passphrase to the Honor Room. I'll hand out the weapons inside and turn this around...
The door's just ahead—
......
......
A brief silence, then Gromov leaps towards a machine on the wall.
Please speak the passphrase.
*Expletives*!
Passphrase incorrect.
Watch out! That button must be hiding something!
Matvey!
The bolt hits Gromov's left arm. He roars and manages to fend off his attackers by swinging his hamaxe.
Please speak the passphrase.
*Expletives*!
Passphrase incorrect.
*Ursine roar*!
Passphrase correct.
Welcome, brave Gromov, descendant of Igor Velikiy's sixteen bravest companions...
He whose will is unbreakable, heir to the unstoppable legendary hamaxe...
Before the recording can finish, Gromov has already charged through the facade, using the momentum to roll inside.
Leto's strike misses, destroying the annoying box instead.
*Bzz*... the Sixteen Warriors... usher... next golden age of Ursus!
Who d'you think you are?!
Gromov tries to reach out, but a crossbow bolt hits the wall in front of him, just an inch from his finger.
I recognize you, and you... the Unbound.
He jumps back and punches a brick on the wall, causing two transparent 'walls' to drop down between Gromov and the others.
I originally designed this 'prison' for Pavlovich. I never thought I'd be its first prisoner.
Did you think a single pane of glass would—
Zima punches the glass, only to be knocked back several steps.
Something's funny about this glass!
The Third Bureau's shiny new toy, a new type of material that not even the tsar has seen... makes you wonder, doesn't it? Who did they make it for?
Better find yourself a landship if you want to break it... haha!
Gromov sits down on the floor, panting, but relaxed enough to begin tying his shoelaces.
We don't have much time... reinforcements will be here any moment. The guys outside can't hold for long.
There must be a way!
The Sixteen Warriors... wait a minute!
Why are there two of the same hamaxes here in this room?
The sixteen heroes who fought alongside Igor Velikiy were the bravest and strongest warriors of their time...
The street thugs who took their name forged a hamaxe in imitation of the legendary weapon, only to find themselves unworthy, lacking the strength to lift the glorious weapon.
Therefore, Gromov put the 'authentic' weapon on display, and carries a replica.
You're crazy! No one can swing that thing!
You'll only hurt yourself!
Sonya, do you need help—
Botani's jaw drops as she watches Sonya smash the display glass and raise the hamaxe into the air. She can almost hear Sonya's bones creak at the stress.
Zima slowly walks towards the impregnable glass wall, dragging the hamaxe behind her.
No... no, no, no, no, no!
No!
This is for all the people you murdered, all the evil you've allowed, the judgment and punishment that you've dodged all this time... this is for pissing me off.
Any last words, Gromov?
How—How could you possibly lift it—
The words have hardly left his mouth before Zima brings the hamaxe down. In the brief moment that it takes to find its mark, Zima seems to feel it grow lighter in her hand.
No longer the stuff of legend, nor an artifact that should sit in a museum collecting dust, and certainly not the plaything of a murderer—
It is power.
The power to resist, to sweep aside obstacles, to cut open the path of life.
It has no opinion, no position, no intention, no emotion.
It is life's primal roar, the first drop of blood that the heart pumps with each beat. It ignores all the complicated things in this world. All it does is—
Fight!!!
Sonya... we're saved.
The thugs ran for the upper walls once they saw Gromov's remains.
Good work... I know everyone fought bravely.
Do a head count, take as many supplies as you can, and the fallen—
Sonya! Sonya! Over here!
Keep your people in check!
She can't stop me. No one can.
Your Well Born death will make Ursus a better place, Baron.
What are you saying—help me!
Calm down, Antosha!
I told you, Sonya, I will not suffer any of these leeches to live. Whatever value they might offer can only extend their lives for a few hours.
Allow them to live, and it will be our friends who die. It will be the workers in the mines, the farmers in the wilderness.
At the moment of death, his pathetic life will offer its last worth, and atone for his sins.
No. You're wrong.
He only has value if he gets out alive. That'll tell the other opportunists like him that we can be reasoned with, that they can negotiate.
The empire isn't one big thing, it never was. This is how we'll trip them up, exploit their differences, and get what we want as fast and easy as we can.
And my goal is to see all oppression gone from Ursus, from all of Terra.
I swore upon the future of this land that I will break its spine with my own hands and await a new dawn upon its ruins.
I do not kill these leeches for vengeance. I kill them so that this teetering house of cards will collapse more cleanly.
Killing a former noble who has already lost everything, begging for his life like a beckbeast...
You think a death like that means anything?
All I know is that this is a country where the freedom of the wealthy is built upon the corpses of the poor.
Every one of them we kill is a life saved.
You're out to smash things, but you don't get that breaking stuff is just a means, not an end.
Rubble's not enough. We need unity. We need people, people who will stand with us and fight injustice when we need them most.
Really? Allowing a man like this to live is the greatest injustice to those he has exploited.
Enough, Sonya. Botani caught this man. It is your right to do with him as you please.
But, if you are willing to work with them, then this is where we part ways. The Unbound will work with you no longer.
Don't be stupid, Antosha!
You're burning bridges, hurting your own cause, and putting the people who follow you in danger!
The Unbound don't follow me. I am simply their advisor.
All of us have gathered here of our own volition, to act in every corner in Ursus where oppression exists, to help those who suffer fight back against the cruelty of the nobility.
Anyone is free to leave, if they don't agree with me. Anyone can remove me.
Antosha turns around to seek Matvey's gaze.
This is a habit that he developed when they left school together, whenever he says something, goes somewhere, or kills someone.
Matvey always casts a supporting gaze from behind, helping him affirm that he is sober, and walking the right path.
Even Ukusik knows that Matvey will tell Antosha when he goes wrong.
But now—
......
There is no one there.
There you are, Matvey.
Yes.
Matvey is standing in the snow. He takes a bloody cigarette and puts it in his mouth, only to cough violently at the acrid smoke.
...I never knew you smoked.
I never knew you killed for the sake of killing.
Some of them may be criminals who have yet to be judged. But they are not monsters doomed to be slain.
You unleashed violence upon them, but allowed them to escape judgment... law and order have no place in your heart.
...You've told me that dozens of times. But there's no better way to uphold justice for the ordinary man. Unless you—
No, Antosha.
You are an aristocrat, and an Ursine. Every time I saw you kill someone, I couldn't help but wonder if they were actually men, just like you.
But you never gave anyone else the same opportunity you had.
Matvey puts the burning cigarette in the snow, with the others that have fallen upon the white, soaked and crushed beneath the heels of passersby.
Then he turns around, walking the path from whence he came.
...I didn't kill Pavalo.
But Matvey is already far away.
Antosha... are you fighting with Matvey?
No. Don't ask questions like this.
Then... can I go and see Rosalind tonight? She told me she'd tell me stories about her time in Kjerag after we beat Gromov.
No, don't go there.
What about tomorrow?
Not tomorrow either, Ukusik. Don't go there anymore.
But aren't we gonna fight together to tear down that wall?
We will...
But Sonya has her path, and we have ours.
We will learn which is the right one.
At any price.
......
What are you doing, Fedya?
A head count, and preparing food for tomorrow.
Head count... how many did we lose?
At least several. Possibly dozens. Some are still being treated.
I was happy that I finally did something that was absolutely right... but in the end—
Things didn't seem to get better. We lost so many friends... and split with Antosha's group...
Did I really make things better for people, Fedya, like that voice from the Far North? Even just a little bit?
You mean that criminal wanted for illegal broadcasting?
...Yes. You did the right thing.
But I don't think you need me to judge what you've done.
Fyodor lights the campfire that has been out for a while.
He digs out a lonely potato lying in an ash heap, puts a wooden skewer through it, and begins to roast it.
Because what really matters isn't what I say... but how you view yourself.
Should I consider that a lecture?
I don't know... maybe you're right. No. Maybe I'm right.
That night, we sat together by the fireside and roasted potatoes just like this.
That was the first time you joined the circle of students, chatting with them, talking politics, discussing literature...
That was the first time I saw with my own eyes the people I only knew by voice.
It was wonderful...
...Your efforts were never futile.
Huh?
......
'That night, we sat together by the fireside and roasted potatoes just like this...'
Pencil Stub...
Yeremey...
Nika...
Shorty...
This is for you.
Fyodor's hands cannot stop trembling. The hands that gave the chervontsy to Shorty...
The hands that saved lives...
The hands that wrought countless deaths...
Fyodor cannot describe his feelings in words. He can feel his excitement, and genuine fear...
By the time Fyodor wakes from his reverie, the campfire has been reduced to a small lick of flame, trembling in the darkness.
One side of the potato is burnt, while the other side is still raw.
'Tomorrow will come'...
Such a simple prayer.
......