Zeroth Directive

Archive II

Unlike many legally recognized organizations that maintain stable external partnerships with Rhodes Island, 'Sechin' is a paramilitary armed force currently in transition. It is neither a mercenary group, nor can it be defined as a 'security company.' It exists in a 'gray area' that Rhodes Island does not readily engage with, and we must carefully gauge the extent of our dealings with it. Furthermore, the attitude displayed by the leader of 'Sechin,' who is often seen around Rhodes Island HQ, is just as ambiguous. Continued observation is recommended. [Audio Record] 'Oh, are you asking about that big Kuranta guy with the Ursine accent? He does show up in the library a lot. Sometimes when the books on the shelves are too high up and the ladder's been borrowed, he'll even offer to help get them down—no, not just for ladies. He helps anyone who needs it. ...I know he's good-looking, but that's not why I remember him! He has a lot of scars, on his neck and on his arms, and he never covers them up. Anyone would notice that, wouldn't they?' [Borrowing Records] 'The Guide to Fincatching' 'Illustrated Guide to Abdominal Breathing' 'Drinking Your Own Homemade Wine' 'Three Thousand Ursine Folk Songs' 'Toe Care for Steed Burdenbeasts' ... The above books and accompanying videotapes were all returned within the borrowing period. No abnormalities were found. [Audio Record] 'Oh my, looks like I acted a bit too much on my own. I should've said hello to one of you first. I heard people in the cafeteria say your library had all kinds of things, so I figured I'd go find some books with pictures to read and pass the time. This place isn't like back in the village, where someone would teach you how to do those family trades step by step, but the videotapes are pretty convenient too. This week, I learned more than I used to in a whole month of summer break. 'It's comfortable staying in Rhodes Island, so that's why I keep coming back. Of course 'Sechin' is good too, but during the break, those guys all go their separate ways. Some go back to Ursus to see their families, and some blow their money on booze. We don't have much in the way of entertainment. Once we're off the battlefield, we pretty much just keep spinning in place. I'm trying to break out of that cycle now, and I suppose that can set an example for them.' Operator Viy shows an extremely strong desire to protect his colleagues in 'Sechin', as well as an unbelievable degree of tolerance. As their leader, he seems unconcerned by the possibility that this approach may ultimately lead to lax discipline and even the unit's destruction on some battlefield. 'We should get to decide how we live now,' he says. After evaluation, we can determine that they are capable of taking responsibility for their own actions, and since we seek cooperation with them, we should also bear the necessary risks. He considers protecting the comrades under his command as his own responsibility, yet also grants them his trust without reservation. The degree of unity shown by 'Sechin' would be difficult to find even among the most decorated Ursine Formations of the past. Stay vigilant, Doctor, but there is no need to be too harsh on these young people. —Hellagur

Archive III

After a period of observation, we have noticed that Operator Viy is relatively unfamiliar with paperwork. This does not mean he is illiterate or unable to write; he simply finds this sort of work 'annoying' and has a psychological resistance to it, which makes him seem inefficient when he needs to handle paperwork independently. After we noticed that his second-in-command was unable to offer much assistance in this regard either, to ensure smooth cooperation, we assigned an operator who works at the reception and specializes in drafting documents to assist him during working hours with filing reports and other such matters in a timely manner. At present, Operator Viy has accepted this arrangement well, and the two have developed a good working rhythm. [Report on Disturbance at Rhodes Island Headquarters Reception] According to our information, the banner that appeared at the reception the day before yesterday, bearing text such as 'I'm sorry, please forgive me,' was sent by a patient's family member who had long been involved in a financial dispute with Rhodes Island. It was meant to express recognition of and gratitude for the reception's service, not to resolve a relationship conflict. According to this family member, he has fully realized how inappropriate his previous harassment was, and stated that he will cooperate with Rhodes Island to settle his outstanding debts as soon as possible. In subsequent interviews, the operator who was at the reception when the banner was hung up expressed his view of the matter: this was not his achievement. While he does not know who helped resolve this troublesome problem, at least there is no longer anyone constantly shouting 'Pay me back!' and 'Frauds!' at the reception while our security personnel are unable to forcibly drive them away. Order has been restored at the reception, which is a cause for great celebration for everyone who visits Rhodes Island. ...I knew it was him the second I heard! Always looking for things to do. There was this one time when we were camped out in the wasteland with some other formations, and some snot-nosed orderly said that if we weren't Ursines, we were nothing. That night, the guy's boots got taken and hung up on an old tree 800 meters away, soaked through, dripping nonstop, heavy as rocks! Plenty of other things like that happened after. He never said anything, and he never got caught doing it, but everyone knew it was him. At the end of the day, we didn't actually want to make trouble. The Armies all treated us as expendables, and what respect do expendables need? People just follow the example set from above, that's all. But he refused to put up with it. Every time someone came looking for trouble, he had to bite back. —Oleg, Operator Viy's second-in-command [Audio Record] 'Bad memory, you know. Can't be helped. If you've got a score to settle, you have to settle it then and there.'

Archive IV

More than thirty years ago, a painter passed through a small village in the southern wilderness of Ursus, and painted a family portrait for a household that had just welcomed a newborn with thin Nightzmora blood. With the same brushwork he usually reserved for depicting Emperors and Yurodstvo, he rendered an utterly ordinary family of four from the wilderness. More than twenty years ago, Catastrophe Messengers arrived. They pushed open the wooden fence and informed the village chief of the terrible news that a Catastrophe was coming. As the village raised great herds of steed burdenbeasts, its inhabitants should have been able to evacuate in time. Only one family of three, with a paralyzed father and a blind mother, could not manage it. Faced with the dark mass of people stepping into their home, the boy raised the curved blade that had broken on the battlefield along with his father's legs, and pointed it at the noble who emerged from behind the 'Catastrophe Messengers.' His hands did not tremble in the slightest. The noble asked: You served. A child soldier? The boy said: Don't come any closer. The 'Catastrophe Messengers' took his parents away, the noble took the boy away, and the boy took his sister's belongings away. The village itself was destroyed by the Catastrophe that arrived as expected the next day. In exchange for his family's protection, the boy began to undergo grueling training, forcing his body to adapt to those violent weapons. He had been cast into the Empire's war factory, where the title of 'War Caster' would be granted to the 'luckiest' child among hundreds. More than ten years ago, the boy obtained that title and began to operate in border conflicts never recorded by the authorities, as a spy, as an assassin, as a commander, as the name he had finally been given. And when every uprising he put down was ultimately revealed to have been the result of factional purges, when soldiers who were supposed to sacrifice themselves for some great cause instead used civilians as shields, he began to question, and then defected. A few years ago, he all but carved the flesh from his own body, and finally left the army under the identity of a dead man. He returned to his homeland, already destroyed by Catastrophe, and picked a broken picture frame from the ruins. There, he began to rebuild his life, drawing on what he had learned and thought about in the army to gather a team of his own. Yet even now, he still wears the medal the army gave him, not because he believes in the ideals or loyalty it represents, but simply because he wants to. If he wanted, he could certainly sell the medal for a good price and use the money to buy some wine for his comrades. Things are unpredictable, he often thinks. When others ask him why he left the army, he simply says, 'I got tired of it.' When others finish singing a pleasant little song with vulgar lyrics, he simply says, 'Sing it again.' The boy grew from a child into a young man, and that young man brought along those who believed in him, continuing onward across this vast land. All right, nice story, but wasn't there some setup that never paid off? And what does any of this have to do with Durin? If you keep talking about Ursus, I'll have to ask you to leave. —Head of the Durin Story Circle

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