Chapter 8: Stitching

Three days had passed since the Test Field. Dante thought the days would be quiet, just with conversations. And he was extremely disappointed. He was being forced to write and read long scrolls at Dalia's request, learning to read maps with Crish, and also washing and ironing the clothes that came to his room for the Officers.

It wasn't difficult to wash the clothes with the machines in the laundry. He had placed the basket under his arm and went down the stairs to the first floor. He passed through the lobby and stopped. The movement was enormous. Soldiers were coming and going from the Host looking for signatures, documents, and also asking for assistance on missions outside the Capital.

Every day, a new Cadet would arrive with an Officer and be registered there. Then they would be taken to a dormitory where they would go through instructions. On the other hand, Dante was only responsible for washing clothes.

He went to the laundry and stopped in front of one of the machines. He opened the round glass door and put the white uniforms inside. He pressed the top button and sat down on the bench behind him.

A whistle sounded, and the water started to pour down. After a few minutes, it began to spin. Dante got lost in the number of rotations and relaxed his shoulders. He rubbed his eyes and yawned widely while other people passed by.

"Oh, grandpa, are you sleepy?"

Dante hadn't even heard and started counting how many fuzzes were on the armor of his pants. As soon as he reached the fourth one, a hand rested on his shoulder. Dante was happy to see Tecno; it had been days since he had heard from him.

"You look great for someone your age," Tecno teased, squeezing his hand. "I'm just kidding, you know that. I came to check how your adaptation was going. You look a bit bored."

"There's not much to do around here." Dante looked around. "But I already know which machines wash the best. I tested them one by one. That one where those girls are is crap, believe me."

Tecno laughed and pulled him out of the laundry.

"Good to see you're making the most of your time. Well, it's going to be the last time you have like this." They passed through the door, and Tecno took him to a more secluded corner with little movement. "Officer Dalia is having some problems getting you enrolled as a Cadet. They want to revoke her signature. She used to have two spots, and one was already filled, but now they're saying she only has one."

"Shit." Dante was a little upset. Not for himself, but for her. "What are they going to do?"

"I came to ask you exactly that. We don't have any more spots for Cadets. We only have spots for Recruits now. I know it sounds like the same thing, but in command here in the Capital, a Recruit is below everyone. It's an apprentice."

Tecno was waiting for an explosive or anguished response. Dante just looked at him with curiosity.

"And what does that have to do with anything?"

"Dante, it's a shitty position. Really shitty. They're going to want to put you in the worst position possible, but we saw what you're capable of doing."

"It's just a position." Dante gave a smile and a muffled laugh. "I don't want to be rude, but where I come from, I was always an apprentice. Always. I think I can handle that weight, my friend." And he patted Tecno on the shoulder. "Tell Officer Dalia I don't care about it. If that's the only way, she can even make me a squire."

Tecno was the one who laughed now.

"You don't need to. And we haven't used squires in years. Alright, I'll let her know now."

With a wave, the two said goodbye. Dante went back to the laundry and waited for the clothes to stop spinning in the machine. It was taking a while. Even for beating the clothes. It spun a bit more, and Dante got up, walking back and forth. He counted the steps from one end to the other and then came back.

It would still take a while.

"Ah, I found you."

Officer Freto passed through the door, and the soldiers around him greeted him formally. Dante thought he should do the same and raised his hand to his chest.

"You don't have to, you know," said Freto as he approached, lowered his gaze to see the machine spinning, and stood up. "They put you to wash clothes. It's a patience exercise. Soldiers hated it. I myself hated it when I started."

Dante sat down on the chair and sighed.

"I'm just bored. I used to wash my clothes at home, but everyone else seems to be doing something important."

The Officer sat next to him.

"These have been long days, I'm sure you're anxious. Officer Dalia has been moving mountains for you. So, the wait will be worth it."

"What happened with her?"

"They're just limiting a lot of the privileges she had." Freto looked at him with serenity. "A lot of people would love to have your chance, grandpa. Being chosen by her is one of the hardest things that happens. Not even the best soldiers in my platoon back then were chosen. She sees beyond what we can really do."

If Dalia had seen something in him, then it must have been more than just his ability? Dante felt a little confused. He was absolutely sure that if he had any other skill, he wouldn't have been chosen. He was far from being the best in any choice, but he had nothing more than his strength to go against the tide of good people around him.

Everyone there had the potential to be great. They just needed to train, like he did every day. He wasn't going to back down from his father's promise, so he trained even when he was alone.

But the image he had seen, of Render wielding his sword and heading in his direction, hadn't appeared again.

"I just want to help," Dante said, looking down. "Just a little more."

"Sometimes, doing nothing is helping. Remember that. But to cheer you up a bit, I came to get you because of this."

Freto pulled a whitish garment from behind him. Folded and wrapped, it hadn't even been touched or used. Dante took it carefully and placed it on his lap.

"Officer Dalia asked for your measurements after the Training Field," the Officer said proudly. "This is a darker outfit than we normally wear. It symbolizes your initiation. You should thank Dalia later. She sacrificed a lot for this."

Dante removed the first seal. The clothes smelled of storage. He pulled them out, and the linen clung to his skin, dragging as it tried to grip him. Freto laughed.

"This is one of the experiences we have here in the Capital. It's a bit complicated to explain, but Crish donated some of her hair to create a garment that functions as a mobile defense."

"Like her ability?" Dante was surprised. "Does that mean it heals itself?"

"Well, I also donated a bit of mine, so it has an enhanced function." Freto tugged at the collar of his own white uniform and ripped it with force. The fabric started to heal itself, reshaping and closing. "As long as you have Cosmic Energy in your body, it will keep regenerating. But for you, we had to make it a bit wider due to your body, and there's also this."

The identification tag. Identical to the one his father had at home. He took it even more carefully. The metal was cold, with his name and a number beneath it.

"My ability is 'Sewing,'" the Officer explained as Dante put the cord around his neck. "Crish has 'Repair.' She can always fix things, like she did on the Raft using her Energy. I sew anything, as long as my body can handle it. So, when you're in a fight, don't worry about your clothes. It won't try to steal Energy from you by force, like many think."

"Incredible. I've never seen anything like this."

The outfit seemed alive. Dante stood up, and it jumped, grabbing his wrist and stretching over the rest of his body. In a few seconds, the whole torso was pulled, the waist lowered, and the thick pants with black boots appeared. However, due to its whitish color, the shirt turned into a very dark purple, and he unbuttoned the shirt.

"Looks good like that," Freto commented. "You've got a good physique, that's undeniable. Everyone was impressed that you fought like that, so don't tell anyone about the recording incident."

Dante looked around, seeing no one.

"Why did Officer Dalia do that?"

"It's a long story, honestly." Freto seemed too tired to go into the details. "In short, there are projects here in the Capital that shouldn't be repeated. If they knew you could fight Felroz, it would be a huge problem. Dalia did everything she could to keep you protected."

"I understand."

He hadn't expected the Officer to do all that for him. He thought that by fighting well, many would want him. He wasn't optimistic that an Officer would like him enough to call on him, but the intention was precisely to take the spotlight off him.

"Don't be the protagonist."

The same thought his mother had. If he made too much noise, fought too much, it would be problematic for the people around him. His father once warned him about this.

"Don't let your ability interfere with any of your collective thoughts."

Dalia faced problems because of this.

"Well, no need to feel like that either." Freto stood up and pointed to the machine. "Everyone has a role. Tecno must have talked to you about them deciding to make you a Recruit. That's something no one would accept. Promotions take a long time, and a Recruit's salary is very little compared to the others."

"The money I make, I'll send to my parents in the village. It doesn't matter that it's little."

Freto nodded. Dante opened the machine door and took out the clothes. Dry, he folded them and placed them in the basket. The two left together. The clothes were very comfortable, and he had already noticed the eyes around him. The lighter white indicated a beginning, but that was exactly what he was looking for.

Of course, for the others, seeing an old man walking as a Recruit wasn't pleasant. While the older ones held higher positions, like Commanders and Generals, Dante was just a simple recruit.

An old man who had just taken his first step.

"Dalia is in the Call now," Freto said as they climbed the stairs back to the second floor. "They must be deciding on the final punishment. There were almost ten. I'll tell you something, they really wanted her to mess up. It was like a shot. They didn't even listen to what she had to say."

"Why does it seem like everyone has a grudge against Officer Dalia?"

Freto shrugged.

"Even today, Crish and I are looking for answers. Tecno is the only one who's been with her for ten years; we're just two. He must know, but he's never told us anything."

They reached the corridor. Dante took the folded uniforms and placed them on the console according to the name of each Officer who had left them for him to wash. He tossed the basket in the corner and went back downstairs with his colleague.

"We might be thrown into a mission for escort and collection at the end of the week." Freto stopped and let Dante pass through the two doors that led to the corridor of the Host. "I want you to be with Officer Dalia at all times, understood? Tecno and I are her backup, Crish always does the transition to repair the damage. Recently, a lot of people have started questioning whether she really knows how to fight or if she's just relying on abilities. She has something that many others also want."

As I do?

"My duty is to serve as a shield."

Freto shook his head, finding it amusing.

"I want you to act more like a Veteran. We noticed you have a younger characteristic, which is good because Crish and I enjoy talking to someone like that. But Tecno and Dalia lack support. They need combat support."

A Veteran? Dante hadn't even considered that possibility. Sure, during the Field Test, he'd called Tommas — probably only two years younger than himself — a "kid," but he hadn't thought that would define his demeanor.

It seemed Dalia and Tecno's problems were bigger than he could see.

"So, you want me to act like an old man around others?"

"Exactly. The idea became clearer because we know you've got the guts to face Reinald." Freto pointed at him, suddenly stopping, his expression shifting to a more serious one. "Which, by the way, you shouldn't do openly. He's still an Officer aspiring to become a Captain. Dalia doesn't need help against him. Actually, she needs help against the rest. Now, you need to report to Officer James Rodd. He'll inspect the weapons since we're leaving in a few days. Tecno still thinks you need a melee weapon."

Dante looked at his hands. His ability would undoubtedly raise concerns if exposed to allies. Even though they were allies, they still felt like enemies to Lady Dalia. The simplest solution would be to use a staff, just like his father had taught him.

A sword wouldn't be ideal. During years of training, martial arts had been his focus, but bamboo staffs had always appealed to him for their speed and resilience — and, of course, the beatings he'd taken.

"And after that, I wait for you?"

"I believe Tecno will come to talk to you."

Dante nodded. The two of them walked into the support wing — a large hall with raw marble flooring, columns arranged in distant circles that didn't support a roof. It was open, with clouds drifting across the daytime sky.

In the center stood a strong man in a yellowish uniform, though it was a dirty yellow, almost like soil. Freto stopped walking, and Dante continued toward him. The man, even with his back turned, raised his head and turned around. He held a broad-bladed sword in one hand while the other rested on the hilt. He didn't seem impressed or excited by what he saw. He merely turned and placed the weapon back on its stand.

"So, you're the old man Dalia said would come. That uniform doesn't look great. Crish and Freto must've done a lousy job to give you such poor material, huh?" He chuckled, standing tall again.

Dante stared at him sideways.

"What nonsense are you spouting, man? Poor material? They literally had to shave part of their hair to give me this outfit, and you're talking trash?"

I'll need to be a Veteran. A grumpy old man. Just like my… father. Dante let out a wide laugh.

"Ha! I get it. You must've tried for the last spot on Lady Dalia's team and didn't make it."

"I'm an Officer, you idiot. Officer James Rodd."

"That's your excuse?" Dante touched his face, feigning emotion. "Tecno, Crish, and Freto are Officers, but you couldn't even make it as one? That's truly a shame. For you to speak of them like that, you must be really bitter."

James's teeth ground against each other. He couldn't have been more than thirty years old but acted like a child. It was obvious he didn't like Dante or Lady Dalia. Dante didn't care much about the insults aimed at himself, but mocking the uniform he'd received with such care?

No. That wouldn't do.

"Weapon Officer, then. Hand me a weapon. That staff next to you," Dante said, extending his hand. "I don't have time to waste with someone who doesn't even realize they're at a disadvantage. Come on, don't waste my time, kid."

The veins in James's neck bulged, and he took a step forward.

"You think talking to an Officer like that is right, old man? Listen closely to what I'm saying—" He raised a finger in Dante's face. "If you dare speak to me like that again, I'll have you arrested and make Dalia eat crap for the rest of the year."

Dante leaned his head slightly closer and whispered,

"I only respect those who respect themselves. If you want a fight, I'll give you one… kid. Here's the deal: if you beat me, I'll crawl naked through the Capital. But if I win, Officer James will buy me a brand-new staff." He lightly tapped the Officer's chest with his finger, still chuckling. "So, what do you say? A fight without titles, just a fair exchange like men should have."

James's eyes darted away, and Freto raised both hands.

"I've got nothing to do with this. He's the one challenging you."

James let out a snort.

"Fine. I was looking to hit something old anyway. Let's head to a simulation area. I don't want the soldiers seeing an old man get beaten."

Dante let him go first and waited for Freto to approach.

"You didn't need to push so hard," Freto said, watching James's stiffened back. "He gets angry easily, but he's not an easy opponent. He's been training every day since I got here as a Cadet. I know you've got more experience, but don't underestimate him."

James walked up to Sergeant Marques, who was looking at a table, and said something. A door formed to the left, and he entered. Freto and Dante were about to follow when Tecno appeared, walking down the hallway.

"What are you doing?" His eyes narrowed. "Didn't James just go in there? What are you two up to?"

Freto raised both hands in surrender.

"It wasn't me, sir."

Dante raised a hand in a wave.

"Officer James made a bet with me. Can you believe it, sir? He said if I beat him with any weapon, he'd buy me a brand-new staff!"

Tecno didn't look convinced at all.

"And if he wins?"

"That's not the point," Freto said, laughing. "Better not even think about it, sir. But I want to watch the fight. Crish is somewhere nearby; I called her. Can we?"

Tecno sighed and nodded.

"Let's go. I step away for a while, and you two pick a fight with the worst of the Officers." He pointed at Dante. "You'd better win this, old man. Dalia already has enough problems with these Officers gunning for her."

Dante's laugh was somewhat unsettling.

"He'll get what he deserves for insulting us, sir."