Arknights story · Operator Records
Traces of the Future
Kestrel and her student escort a merchant to the border, suffering a bandit raid along the way. For the price of her blood, Kestrel teaches her student what a 'bite mark' means, but unwittingly gives rise to a whole new misunderstanding...
1 scenes, 227 lines
1. Interlude
227 linesIn the dry season, the sun's ruthless heat beats down on the great land. A lifeless landscape stretches to infinity. All is a singular parched yellow.
But even in these conditions, people still traverse through these barrens in order to survive. A burdenbeast wagon makes its way through the rocky sand.
Kestrel sits at its front, looking ahead at the empty wastes. The only obstacle they've faced so far is the intense heat. Just the last leg of the trip left, and this escort mission is over.
Telara, how's the progress?
You spent all yesterday studying back there, and only came out for a few quick bites of lunch before going back. You got a feel for it now, yeah?
She turns to the girl sitting in the front with her. Telara. She's clutching a copybook, and pauses before shaking her head at Kestrel.
I'm still pretty lost, Kestrel... Understanding these designs is really hard...
Like these ones here, I can't even tell the difference between them. I never stop mixing up their meanings.
I feel like I'm a long way away from drawing out a full 'bite mark'...
Well... doesn't have to be that complicated.
'Bite marks' originated as something to remember battles by. They're our way of recording the past. What's that word those people like to use?
Uh... heritage?
Yeah, pretty much that.
As long as you know how the tribe fights, and how they see glory, then the marks basically design themselves.
I'm not asking you to be like those culture nuts and memorize what every single design means. What matters is that you have that feel.
I know, you're right, and the idea makes sense to me. But I haven't fought in any battles like you. I don't have that experience.
I'm just a kid who grew up in a sleepy little town. Earlier it was my first time even seeing armed guards.
So how am I supposed to get a feel for it...?
See, that's why I brought you out on this escort mission. Otherwise, I'd have left you with the branch office people.
How do I explain this to you... 'bite marks' are also sort of a label that stands for a warrior...
But you've never been in battle, right, so how do I explain the mindset of a warrior to you...
Oh wait, Kestrel, you've painted new marks since leaving your tribe, right?
Which means you drew up all those patterns from scratch. What was your mindset with those?
Well, I did do some new marks at Rhodes Island, but...
I never stopped being a warrior there. My life's never changed like that. Those designs are inseparable from the battle ones...
I just took the old ways and designed new marks with them.
I'm going off the way you taught me, though! Why do the designs I draw end up so wonky?
Maybe I'm just too dumb for this...
Kestrel can't help but laugh when she hears that. She reaches over to tousle Telara's hair.
Not letting you call yourself that!
And even if you don't have the talent for it, I'll still keep teaching you till you've got it.
It can be hard to get a handle on what 'bite marks' mean, but you've got this, kid, trust me. I believe in you.
Doesn't matter if you can't fight. I'll take you out to see all the legends of these barrens, and then one day you'll be able to paint a true 'bite mark' of your own, I guarantee it.
With that, Kestrel returns to watching ahead. Her vision fills with a vacant wilderness under the harsh sun. It still feels the same all these years later.
Free of Kestrel's tousling, Telara shakes her hair back into shape. Her gaze fixes on the tutor she met not so long ago.
Kestrel, can I say something? You're nothing like most warriors.
Where's this coming from?
Well—
Hey, Miss Kestrel! How are things up front?
Before Telara can finish, a Kuranta man pokes his head out from inside the wagon.
Days of relentless travel have worn into the merchant's suntanned face. The wide, toothy grin he stretches his mouth into feels oddly unnatural.
Relax, it's all clear. We'll reach the border market real soon, and after we pass through it, we're basically out of Sargon.
From there, you're free to keep going north with your stuff. Won't need any clearance.
Just like I told you when we set out, right? It just looks bleak—it's not all that risky. Plenty of merchant caravans pick this route.
Still, it doesn't hurt to be wary. I won't complain if nothing happens, obviously, but on the off-chance something does...
I've only done business a few times in Sargon. Every time I bring my stock out here and it's uninhabited barrens for days on end, I get a little antsy.
I'm a stranger in a strange land. Hiring you Rhodes Island folk is sound insurance to me.
Haha! Didn't peg you for the cautious type. Still, no worries. If anything happens, I guarantee you won't suffer a scratch.
Prioritize my goods, not my life. It's not easy for them to make the trip.
Not your life... what?
Look, whatever, I'm not digging into your mind. Just sit inside and get some rest, and I'll wake you up when we're at the border market.
That not-quite-natural smile plays across his face again, and he nods and retreats back inside the wagon.
Alright, I hear you. I'll just sit in here and be patient...
The merchant's speech is buried under the rattle of the burdenbeast wagon's wheels. Kestrel and Telara share a brief look, then break into their own grins.
Go sit in the back with him, Telara. The sun'll be at its worst soon.
You'll figure out your 'bite marks'. But sitting out here getting baked isn't gonna help, and I can watch the road just fine on my own.
Once we're at the border market, we can get back to working on it. Sound good?
Yup!
Move it!
The oasis where the border market lies comes into view on the distant horizon, exactly when a horn sounds the charge.
The burdenbeasts come to a quick halt at the sound, and Kestrel's hand flies to the hilt of her sword. In closes the din of galloping through sand, fast encroaching.
The merchant peers out in agitation, the sweat on his face cold against the heat of the desert.
Miss Kestrel, this... this isn't normal, right? Did we run into...?
Why are we stopped? Can't we shake them?
No. Not unless you're willing to dump all your goods.
And running is the least effective thing you can do against these guys. Just makes the outcome worse.
Your best option is to hide in the back. Don't let them get to you.
Telara! Whatever happens, stay in the back. Keep yourself hidden.
The wagon stays silent save for Telara's brief affirmation. Kestrel grips her sword. Her eyes train on the silhouettes as they draw near, through the whirling sands.
Miss Kestrel, I don't think these are your average two-bit highwaymen...
If you want to haul your goods out of Sargon with your arms and legs attached, you get back in there and hunker down like I said to.
They're not gonna lay a finger on you while I'm still alive.
Fine... fine...
Heeding the instruction to protect his assets, he promptly retreats back in with a half-croak.
(They're low on numbers... and they're a scattered team. Probably roaming bandits from along the border...)
(This is what they came for. Merchants making the crossing...)
The fleet-footed bandits press closer without hesitation. Kestrel can see the light of their eyes beneath the shroud of their headscarves.
But their raised machetes glint brighter, caught in the sun's blinding rays.
Who's ready for another round? You guys don't have a hope of touching me!
The assailants surrounding the wagon fall back a few steps in spite of themselves, for their opening assault has produced a fresh bandit corpse at Kestrel's feet.
The burdenbeasts lift their hooves in anxiety. Kestrel pulls the reins taut, sword in her right hand. Deep red blood drips from its serrations.
You picked the wrong prey. Run while you can, or else you get this sword through your throats too.
Doesn't matter what's in this wagon, you're not laying a finger on it today.
Kestrel punctuates the declaration by lifting her sword high. Its fresh carmine catches vividly in the vibrant sun, and the few bandits still remaining all shrink away at the sight.
The bandits only fall back so far. The wagon is still surrounded. Kestrel can still see the hardness in their eyes. The fear hasn't routed them yet.
(They're not even that strong. I could see myself taking them all out on my own.)
(But if these guys are fugitives at the end of their rope...)
...
She reassumes her battle stance, and the bandits facing off against her raise their machetes once more.
Their second rush comes lightning fast, and standing before them, Kestrel recognizes she's not their target.
The wagon!
A machete slices at the two burdenbeasts in the front, and the startled animals rear back, whinnying and thrashing madly in an attempt to escape their reins.
The wagon is promptly flung to one side by the bucking beasts. Though Kestrel keeps the bandit's attack from landing, she's helpless to stop the wagon from overturning.
Whargh!
The girl tumbles from the wagon clutching her exercise book, and all the loose sheets held between its pages scatter across the arid ground.
Telara! Watch out!
While the burdenbeasts kick up dust, the bandits continue pressing in. The bandit leader seizes on his chance, swerves to one side, and charges at Telara.
No!
Kestrel looks down at the ground by her feet, at a shuddering Telara clutching her hair, as well as the bandit leader whose throat she just skewered.
But behind her, another bandit, sprawled on the ground a moment ago, is now up. While she's turned to check on Telara, the bandit's machete swings for her back.
Kestrel, your back!
We need to find something to staunch the wound!
It's fine as long as you're safe. I can't let them lay a finger on you.
Gather up all those 'bite marks' you drew. I can walk off a wound like this.
But these are... look, even if you don't think they're total messes, now there's blood all over them.
We should hurry to the market and get your wound looked at instead of worrying about these. They're just scraps... You're still bleeding...
Glancing at the bloodstained worksheet in Telara's grasp, Kestrel's only response is to quietly pull the girl to her side, and take the sheet from her hands.
Fresh blood wells forth from the wound on her back, staining the white-painted patterns on her skin red.
Telara, the very first 'bite marks' were painted by warriors in their own blood.
It was so we would always remember the blood the warriors shed, their sacrifices.
People started using paint instead long ago, but the significance of it has never changed.
My 'bite marks' will forever remind me of my responsibility to protect. A non-lethal wound like this will heal before you know it. There's no need to worry.
But... what about the merchant...
I'm alive, I'm alive. Scared me to death, though.
The traveling merchant pokes his head out once more from the overturned wagon. His hair is frazzled and his clothes in disarray, but he seems to have escaped any harm.
Thank the heavens all the boxes were strapped down properly. The goods are alright.
Miss Kestrel, are you alright? Can we still make it to the border?
No problem. The only issue is that the two burdenbeasts got hurt. I know this is the final stretch, but we can't force them.
Someone needs to make a run to the market, and get the wagon back in order.
I'll go, Kestrel.
The bandits backed off for now, but they can't have gone far. No way I'm letting you go alone.
But... leaving you here isn't safe either.
How about this, Telara? Take my sword, and get to the market fast.
They've learned a lesson in blood. They won't try anything against anyone holding the sword that spilled it. It'll protect you. And guarding the merchant will be easy for me back here.
Your sword... okay, no worries, I'll make it to the market safe!
Be careful with your wound, Kestrel. Don't overexert yourself.
I'll be back as soon as I can!
Having an attendant is a real lifesaver, isn't it, Miss Kestrel?
Student? But you haven't been teaching her any combat skills. You're one unique warrior, I'll say that much.
*sigh* No, never mind. Let's just get the wagon sorted out for now.
She picks up Telara's fallen copybook off the ground, carefully places the bloodied 'bite marks' back between its pages, and lets out a long, slow breath.
What a close shave, running into that nonsense right before our destination. Thank goodness I thought of hiring a bodyguard before I left.
The wagon needs repairs, and I've had to swap in two fresh burdenbeasts, but at least my wares are all safe.
Miss Kestrel, a toast not just to our safe arrival, but in honor of you!
Hiring your protection was the best money I've ever spent in my life! Here, cheers!
Oh... sure, cheers.
As long as you two are safe, that's mission complete for me.
And I guess taking on that gang of desperados is something worth celebrating.
Kestrel toasts, but her gaze is drawn to the side, to Telara silently studying her copybook.
Gulp... pahhh! That hits the spot!
Hey, I've been curious, Miss Kestrel. What is it that you and that little apprentice of yours keep fussing over? Drawings?
Oh, you mean the 'bite marks'? Yeah, I suppose they're a kind of drawing. Only we Sargonian tribesfolk practice these, no one else does.
Not that many people even know how to draw them these days. I've been meaning to pass the technique down. That's why I took in Telara as a student.
Oh, so barely anyone knows of this practice anymore?
Yeah. Every member of our tribe knew how to paint these designs, once upon a time...
Now... there's a few lucky survivors like me out in the wilds, but they probably don't have anyone to pass it down to.
I had no idea it was such a rare thing. No wonder you put your life on the line for her.
I can see there's real value in these things, just like my wares. Ha-hah!
Value? No, that's not the reason I'm fighting for them at all.
Besides, 'bite marks' are priceless, and Telara is especially priceless for agreeing to come with me.
She abandoned her comfortable life just because she was willing to travel with me...
I wouldn't say 'abandoned'. It's not like I wanted to spend my whole life in that town.
It was nice enough minding my parents' shop, but you can't just cling to the past forever. That's what I think.
So when Kestrel took on a delivery for our place, I asked if she could take me as a student.
I once met another group of kids your age. But all I taught them back then was how to fight. It's my fault they never learned what mattered more...
Kestrel downs her drink in the trailing silence, then stares somewhat distantly into her empty glass.
Knowing what you have to protect... You could say I hadn't fully figured it out back then.
Fascinating, fascinating! This is the first time I've ever heard such a story.
The previous bodyguards I've hired were certainly up to snuff, but combat was all most of them knew. I've never met one like you before.
What do you mean? There's warriors like me all over the desert. Most people just fail to see a warrior's true side, that's all.
I say that, but...
Ah, whatever, let's drink! Telara, put your book down and raise your soda for a toast with us!
The escort mission's complete. This is your last chance to say goodbye.
Yes, one more round of drinks! I've still got to make it to the next town before sundown.
Empty your glasses, and we'll bid farewell!
Took the words out of my mouth! Here!
Cheers!
Oof... This Sargonian tipple can really knock you sideways... At least I didn't try to match Miss Kestrel's drinking pace.
What an interesting person she was. And their desert artform seemed quite distinctive too, not to mention how rare she says it is...
Alright, one final inventory, and then I depart.
Box quantity... labels... all fine.
Hm? What's this...?
One week later, in a market somewhere in Sargon.
Here, this is your cloth. And the red one here is yours. You can pay in a moment, let me tally it up!
Perfect, that's exact change, and then—
Friend! Excuse me, friend!
Sorry, can I show you these for a second? Do you know where I can find someone who can draw these?
At a draper's stand, a totally foreign merchant makes his excited inquiry as he brandishes a paper sheet filled with patterns.
Anyone here will do. If you find me someone who can draw these, I have a supremely handsome reward for you!
Hm? What is this...
The draper gives the designs a puzzled squint, before pulling a disdainful look at once.
Where the hell did you get this from? These are those 'bite marks' the tribesfolk draw on their bodies.
Yes, yes, yes, that's exactly what they're called! So could you find the two people for me who can draw these things?
These designs are worth money, you know! I'm willing to pay big, I'll pay buckets, if I can find them and have them draw a few more!
Sir, I think you might've been swindled. I can tell at a glance these 'bite marks' are all messed up.
These things are a tribe's heritage. You draw them according to something. What you've got there is wrong—the colors are wrong, the patterns are wrong.
Show anyone else if you don't believe me. No one will tell you the designs on that sheet look alright.
And even if they were fine, they're still just a way for tribal warriors to record their battles. What kind of price are you hoping to fetch with these?
No, no, they're hot commodities in collectors' circles right now. The duo left a legitimate specimen in my wagon, and I had it taken off my hands for a high price in Columbia.
Her name was, what was it... yes, Kestrel! Help me find her—
I told you—
Away from the draper's stand, in the bustling market crowd...
Telara, that mark you drew yesterday was beautiful.
Not that anyone's done a design like it before, but compared to all the ones you were trying to copy, it's a huge improvement.
I feel like you've suddenly gotten it.
Don't you remember, Kestrel? After the merchant left that day, you kept drinking and drinking.
We talked about so much that night... not anything to do with 'bite marks', but I remember one thing you said really clearly.
You said you were forever a warrior, but you wouldn't be fighting forever.
And that got me thinking, maybe 'bite marks' are the same. They can be more than warriors' records of the past.
Really... you can look at them as a kind of blessing too. Just like the pattern for protection the chief taught me.
No, Kestrel, what I mean is, I want to draw everything we see. All of it.
Sargon's people, its wilds, and every story we come across. Maybe we can use 'bite marks' to convey all of those.
Not in blood, and it doesn't have to be in special colors, or with designs set in stone in the past...
...
Hahaaah!
I'm SO glad you came along with me, Telara!
I see now... everything the chief did for me. Everything. That's what it all meant.
Meant... what?
You know, it's really simple.
I'm not in a hurry to head back to the branch office. We've got time to do some more wandering.
I want to see other places like you do. Not just the barrens, but the people and things in places even farther away.
Let's figure out how to create some new 'bite marks' together!
...
Sounds good to me, Kestrel!
Let's go, then! First up, crossing these barrens!
Kestrel points a finger to the distant horizon, and the two cross the bustling crowd with a grin and make for the wilderness ahead.
In the market crowd under the searing sun, a foreigner waving a piece of paper misses the two of them like cities passing in the night.