Chapter Four: Knives (Reko)

Revenge will be mine.

As soon as Felix looks away from Reko, the boy dashes off, heading for the nearest alleyway. He slips into one only a few yards from the café, between the end of the market square and the beginning of the streets filled with shops.

He effortlessly navigates the dark hallway, before feeling the cold metal of a ladder's horizontal bar make contact with his outstretched hand. He climbs the ladder and ends up on the rooftop of a closed-down shop, able to see smoke rising from Basel.

The lights of Bern sparkle in the distance, and Reko's hand mechanically moves to wrap around the handle of his weapon, drawing it from its sheath. He begins running with his weapon beside him, jumping from the rooftop before landing in the grass right outside of Zürich's metal walls.

He continues running, relishing the feeling of the cold night air against his face. The ground below his feet and the trees spread throughout the landscape are only blurred in his eyes. He runs until he reaches the entrance of Bern and stands in the shadow of one of the large wooden doors that mark the entrance into the city.

Slightly elevated on a set of steps in the center of the capital lies the building containing the Grand Room. It was only hours ago when Reko pushed through the soldiers and attempted to attack the man who forced Felix to abandon his position as General of the Army.

He was able to jump onto the platform, take out his knife, and face the mysterious man. He knew what the sword in his hands could do. He knew it could kill and was also the reason Felix stepped down. Reko knew Felix could see the deaths of not just him, but those he was close with, too.

Right before he stepped down, Felix gave Reko a sorrowful smile. It was a cue shared between the two that meant Felix would die if he didn't obey orders, and if he locked eyes with Reko, he would have ended up dying as well.

With the possibility of him dying a reality, Reko faced the man with his weapon drawn. The man swung his sword at Reko's head, and he ducked, able to catch the man's left ankle with his knife. The man stumbled but swung low, and Reko had to jump back to avoid his feet being sliced off.

Unfortunately, he slipped, falling hard on his back, but held in a yell. The man flicked his wrist, and the sword rushed toward Reko without the movement of the man's arm, and as Reko rushed up to avoid the blade, he felt a searing pain in his right side.

Ignoring the pain, Reko leaped for the man, his knife in his left hand and a dagger in his right. Though not able to knock his strong and well-built frame down, he drove his dagger into his left shoulder and the knife into the right side of his chest. The man tried pushing Reko off, but the boy held onto the handle of his weapons which were deep into the man's body like a leech, before using his weakened state to push him backward.

Falling onto his back, the man let out a yell and Reko pulled his weapon from his body, and let the dagger disappear into thin air. The man flicked his wrist and Reko rolled to the side to avoid getting speared in the back by the silver sword. Jumping back up, Reko summoned a throwing knife, and snatched the golden star from the podium, but was caught by the foot.

He hit the ground with a thump but was able to twist around and nail the man in the face with the throwing knife, before scrambling up and running from the Grand Room through the mass of stunned soldiers.

The injury in his side had healed, and Reko sheathed his still bloody knife, able to see the faint silhouette of Felix outlined by the lights of the city and the twinkling stars as he left Bern. Reko debated whether to go rogue and avenge the man who had caused his commander so much pain or to follow Felix, and he regretted thinking of the first option.

Reko still remembered the day Felix saved him like it was yesterday. He was nothing more than a cold, hungry orphan, one of the many created by the civil war Finnland was thrown into so suddenly, but lucky to still be alive.

He had heard the sound of footsteps and hid for cover under the remains of a collapsed house, wedged between the ground and a few pieces of wood. Every time he heard a sound that indicated someone was near his location, he hid. He didn't want to die but knew he eventually would if he kept hiding from everyone and everything.

As he was hiding, he saw a pair of boots stop directly by his hiding spot. Two hands appeared, and then a face. Fear shot through Reko and he scuttled back, but couldn't move any further.

A gentle voice calmed him down. It came from the figure peeking under the wood, and a hand soon reached underneath to him. Reko cautiously took hold of the hand and was pulled from under the wood.

Standing there, in front of him, was a rather young boy, several years older than Reko, probably five years ahead. His pale skin was tinted black with ash and soot, as well as the white uniform that covered his skinny frame, while there were dark circles under his blue eyes.

Despite his appearance, he looked grateful to have saved Reko, managing a weak smile. He began talking in a language Reko did not know, as he only knew the language of where the orphanage he stayed: Finnish.

He knew a bit of English, as it was a universal language, but only what he was taught in the orphanage.

He guessed the man was speaking German, judging by the other soldiers he had overheard babbling while walking right by his hiding space or while Reko scavenged for food.

Finally, after understanding Reko's cluelessness was directed at his foreign tongue, he spoke in English.

"Do you speak English?"

Reko, after a second, hesitantly nodded.

"Are you injured?"

He shook his head.

"That's good. Do you know where your parents are? Did they...?"

Reko stayed silent. The man's expression became empathetic.

"I'm sorry. You'll be able to find a family of your own in the military. The Army General requested we train orphans and other children who are old enough to serve so they can at least survive through their earlier years.

You'll survive through this and grow into a promising soldier; I can tell just by looking at you," the young man gestured for Reko to walk beside him, which the boy followed with an expression of disgust.

The military, at his young age? Though it was certainly better than being left to die, couldn't he be transferred to another orphanage somewhere nearby, or in another country? Why join the military now?

Nonetheless, Reko trained tirelessly once he was admitted. He trained every day, regardless of if he was sore or injured. Reko never knew why he trained so diligently, but he assumed he wished to protect Finnland if it was ever able to fully recover from being pulled down into another war, civil or otherwise.

While in the military, Reko's experience with different weapons was examined, and he was able to try his hand at a few he had never seen before. Swords, bows with arrows, maces, spears, and the usual pistols and rifles were all weapons he wielded. But he found he was most comfortable with smaller blades, like daggers and knives.

He honestly preferred knives over daggers, probably due to their use in many other tasks and activities than daggers. Reko also discovered he had a natural knack for cooking, so he appreciated how quickly a knife could be used as both a weapon for killing and a tool for chopping.

He knew he was one of the best recruits and could tell the other recruits and Felix agreed. Today, Reko had a feeling that he would revive an award or even a promotion earlier, but Felix stepping down crushed his forethought.

And now Reko stands, in the shadow of the right-most gate marking entry into Bern. He debates whether to march into the Grand Room and slaughter the man who stole the title of General of the Army but shakes his head.

If he were to do such, even though there was a high probability he would come out to be victorious, people with relations and connections to that man and maybe a whole organization would be after Reko's head.

He continues past Bern and spots two young men walking towards Fribourg. They both appear foreign to him; their dress is unlike anything Reko has seen. Odd sweaters that cover their necks, and blue pants with rips on the knees. Where did they come from, and why were they here?

Reko, his knife still in his hand, silently glides over the ground and follows the two as they walk. Eventually, the boy on the left stops and turns around, taking a quick step back once Reko raises his knife, poised to strike if he has ill intentions.

The second boy turns around as well, glances at the knife then looks Reko over as if assessing his own choice of clothes and posture.

The tense silence between the three causes Reko to turn his knife in his hand, watching as the moon and stars reflect light off of the blade when the three align.

"Greetings. I don't believe I've seen you around here before. My name is Aaron, and this is Ace Secara. We are on our way to the White Cathedral. Everyone, there is extremely generous, and would be willing to provide you with shelter, food, and water," Aaron speaks first, gesturing to the boy beside him as he mentions his name.

Reko narrows his eyes and tightens his grip on the knife in his left hand. He steals a glance down at his clothes. He was still in military uniform, that of a recruit. Did they think he was from another war-torn nation?

"As Aaron said, my name is Ace Secara. I am a traveling merchant and act as a messenger for the White Cathedral and its members. Are you in the military?"

Reko glares at Ace, but nods.

"Of which nation?"

"Schweiz," Reko replies quietly, almost inaudibly.

"The military of Schweiz? Isn't your General of the Army Felix Adelric?" Aaron stumbles backward as Reko points his knife in his direction.

"Did you tell that man to make Felix step down from his position? If it was you, I'll slit your throat right here and now," Reko hisses, with no regard for the surprised Ace beside him.

Aaron searches for the words to speak, and finally vigorously shakes his head.

"N-No, it wasn't me! It was my superior, Grayson! I don't know any more information than that, I swear! I don't know who the man is, or what Grayson's motivation is," Aaron speaks quickly, his voice unstable.

Reko tosses his knife, catches it by the handle, and lets it rest in his hand by his side.

"Why don't you find out this Grayson's intentions, and tell me what they are? If you do, I'll spare your life, and maybe Ace's too. Or, I might not. It all depends on how satisfactory your answer is," Reko proposes, and Aaron has no choice but to nod.

"I will try my best to get an answer out of him. But please understand-"

"Understand what? That this man won't give you an answer at all? That he will threaten your life once he grows too suspicious of you? I don't care what excuses you make now; all I care about is the answer I get a week from tonight," Reko turns on his heels and leaves the same way he came, disappearing under the cover of night.

Aaron bites his lip and glances at Ace, who shrugs his shoulders.

"He looks harmless, but he has quite the mouth."

"A mouth that could get him killed. But...he looks familiar. Now, I've seen lots of boys on my travels, but he seems too familiar. We didn't get his name, though," Ace moves his right foot around as he talks.

"Let's keep going to the White Cathedral. I don't want to face Grayson's fury any day of the week for any reason," Aaron looks around before continuing towards the fading lights of Fribourg in the sunrise.

Words and phrases used in this chapter:

Schweiz- Switzerland