Homeland

Old Isin brought two new faces with him...

She doesn't seem all that poor, going by her looks...

We need to be careful... Let's head back inside. We shouldn't pry into Old Isin's secrets.

What's this courtyard called...?

(Sargonian) 'The Sleeping Sargon.' That's what all those without a home have come to call this place...

Just like our fallen homeland, my lady. We sleep on the most extravagant corpse you can find in the whole world.

Please stay the night and wait until sunrise. Only then can we leave for the heart of Reefsteep.

The land encircled by reefs.

Precisely... Right in the center of the sea of sands.

The padishah and lord ameer chose to rebuild their city somewhere with far richer resources, leaving it a forgotten ruin, a land of lawlessness.

Be that as it may, to those who once lived in that city as well as their descendants, leaving that place behind is easier said than done.

You can hire underground Messengers to do your bidding there. They will create fake identities for you and help you leave Sargon territory.

However, your destination is quite some distance away. Old Isin cannot guarantee you will arrive in one piece.

How is Elliot doing?

He is asleep, but it is safe here. You care for him more than Old Isin imagined you would. It is proof of your kindness.

He's not going to be happy if he catches you say that.

Oh, Old Isin can see it... The anger lurking in him.

I thought you'd have met plenty of people like him. Civil unrests and skirmishes happen often in Sargon, after all.

The world may think there are many brave men with a lust for revenge, but there isn't. Most merely drown in their hatred, their rationality quashed by their anger.

I can save him this once, and only this once.

Yes... Old Isin understands... His fate lies elsewhere... and his fate is bound to that gold coin of yours.

Why 22 years?

Arts cannot give us so-called prophecies, and no mere mortal can manipulate time. Time is the mother of all fates. All Old Isin likes to do is to wager against time.

So you mean... Hm, what's wrong?

(Dissatisfied hisses)

Ah... What a beautiful creature.

Old Isin can tell. The two of you depend on one another. Old Isin can tell... it is your partner.

The two of you have traveled a long, long journey together.

Let's go, Mon3tr. Let's go see them.

Oh... You communicate... Your hearts are connected.

Old Isin can feel that... you have complete trust in this creature... as though it is your one and only friend...

Yet... you traveled on your long, arduous journey with no one but this beautiful creature...?

Lady, is this glory of yours replete with nothing but loneliness?

Loneliness doesn't affect my responsibilities in any way...

It seems we've got company. I'll go take care of them. Please stay here. Take care of Elliot.

Of course. Old Isin has ways to hide. After all, Old Isin has been hiding for far too long.

Where's Kal'tsit?

Enemies are abound. She is fending them off with her trusted partner.

You mean that weird creature...

Why are you looking into the distance like that? Are you worried about her?

No, Old Isin is not worried. She has a tenacious spirit. Old Isin thinks not even death can stop her in her tracks, that's why Old Isin respects her. Old Isin has a question for her...

What do you want to ask her...?

For the past hundred and some years... Old Isin has had the same dream again and again.

In those dreams, there stands a magnificent city among the golden sands. The city moves, and the sky seen from its towers is purer and clearer than ever...

The young pasha stands next to Old Isin, and there is always a vast, empty swath of land before our eyes. The young padishah would always begin to recount to Old Isin...

Yet Old Isin is too old... Old Isin forgets. Old Isin's crimes are unforgivable.

(He's talking to himself again...)

Old Isin has always sought this answer. Old Isin has been waiting for someone who knows of the city and its glory.

All those who had to do with the city yet live in the dream. Some have forgotten, but a great many of us still look back fondly on our homeland...

We built this city with our own hands under the padishah's leadership. A great city. Even if Catastrophes bring it to its ruins, that city is the true beginning of the Land of Reefsteep...

The Sargonians of Ibut must never forget anything about Reefsteep... yet... Old Isin has forgotten... Old Isin is unforgivable.

You've been waiting for someone... to tell you what you've forgotten in your dreams?

......

(Roars)

You're the leader of those squads... I remember you.

How did you find us, Columbian?

Sarkaz... I'm not from Columbia.

(Sarkaz Tribal Dialect)

Hmm—?!

What's going on... Are you trying to control my mind?!

Fire! Stop her Arts.

(Sarkaz Tribal Dialect)

(Shrieks)

What...? Not even the highest grade arrows could harm that monster?!

We don't have enough info to work with... She seems to be a Caster. Be careful!

Sarkaz... The Lord Ameer of Ibut hired you, didn't he?

You think I'm about to tell you?

No... The Ibuti Lord Ameer has a deep, personal grudge against Victoria. I only got a brief glimpse, so it's possible I'm mistaken, but the arrows just now were indeed Victorian.

Looks like your real employer... The current padishah, Murad, is far more crafty than I expected.

A patient ruler, fanning the flames between the different forces without a care in the world. Perhaps he had anticipated the plans of the Columbians and the local lords ameer all along?

Heh, you know about the padishah, and still you dare come to Sargon? I'll never know what's going on in you Columbians' heads. What, you got Originium in your brain?

Padishah Murad wants just the box and nothing else. Give it to us, and all of us get to leave this place alive.

You haven't destroyed it, have you?

Only because it isn't mine.

Heh... You're a stubborn one.

The Ibuti Lord Ameer's self-righteousness earned him the padishah's anger. I have no idea who hired those Columbian mercenaries, but I can at least tell you they won't be putting up a fight anymore.

This pointless war is coming to an end soon. Padishah Murad gave us the authority to bring all this to an end.

If that were the case, why would an almighty Sargon padishah hire mercenaries to do his bidding here, instead of sending his personal guards?

This has got way too much to do with Columbia, after all, but none of that matters to you and me right now. You got a decision to make here, Operations Adviser.

All you gotta know is that there's no one coming to save you in this desert.

(Lightly stretches body)

(Watch out for that creature. No idea what it actually is, but it's gonna be tricky to take it down.)

(Sarkaz Tribal Dialect)

—!

You—

—No, it can't be! This isn't just normal Arts—

Devil speak? You're a Columbian! How—

(Sargonian) Enough!

(Sargonian) Talk to us in Victorian or Sargonian, or else we'll shoot!

Are you from Kazdel?

Kazdel...?

Just a bedtime story for kids. I have no idea what you have to do with Sarkaz, but this doesn't change anything about the situation we're in.

Be quick with it and hand the box over. All the padishah wants is the tech.

This will set off the beginning of Sargon's destruction. Padishah Murad is not a scientist. He doesn't understand the devastation it can cause.

He doesn't need to understand, nor do we.

Is Sargon your homeland, Sarkaz?

I've lived in Sargon for as long as I can remember.

We snuck around in the back alleys and hid our horns, and we lived in the filthiest of places.

Picking up arms is the only way we get to eat. It's simple. All of us are practically natural-born Infected. It's do or die, and that's what drives us.

Tsk—So what are you saying?

Only Sarkaz with a firm will can escape the ancient language's influence. The language itself is a kind of Sarkaz witchery. What's the source of your conviction? Your mission, or your greed?

Well, I gotta admit... Your mind trick might actually have worked. I still haven't ordered anyone to open fire. I'm still chitchatting with you with all the patience in the world, even.

All I can see before me is a Sarkaz trying his best to survive using the simplest method he knows.

(Looks around on alert)

Enough of this crap. I thought you were a Columbian mercenary leader. Stop pussyfooting around!

Padishah Murad won't allow any Sarkaz to know his dirtiest secrets.

You fought off all the other squads vying for this trophy. Don't you suppose the lords ameer's men were not among them, masquerading as mercenaries?

And between the exorbitant amounts in taxes and the lives of a few Sarkaz assassins, what do you think Padishah Murad's choice will be?

Of course we're aware of that, but if we let you go now, does that mean we'll be raking in even more dough, or our Oripathy will be cured right away?

Don't get the wrong idea. We live at the padishah's mercy. We don't have a choice.

Perhaps I can give you a choice.

(Sarkaz Tribal Dialect)

Hmph—You want to turn us against him, and you want us to serve—

—Serve Kazdel... a place we haven't so much as seen...?

Don't make me laugh, Caster! The Sarkaz homeland? There's nothing there but a bunch of ruins! You bookworm types should know better than any of us just how much is left of Kazdel!

(Get the Casters ready. Focus your fire on that monster. You two, we'll take the bitch down the first opportunity we got.)

Too bad. Looks like negotiation's not on the table anymore.

This isn't even negotiation—Tsk, what is this even, mercy? You're the one who's surrounded right now!

Yeah, you're right... You know how to strike fear, but if we don't give the padishah an answer he's satisfied with by tomorrow, we aren't going to escape death either.

Just like I told you, we don't have a choice.

Open fire!

What's that behind the smoke...? Is that the monster?

Not even a scratch...?

You, 'Kazdel' Caster. What are you?

———

You didn't have to be someone else's tool.

I want to live.

Besides, this is how it's always been. A Sarkaz has no right to dream about the future.

Draw your blades! Attack!