Seven’s Bane
The glass walls of the Grand Hall glimmer under the silver light of the moon. The loud merriment and laughter of senators, Army officials, and Markram civilians echoes off its glass walls and throb in perfect harmony with the excitement. Colorful, exotic dishes, served to symbolize the newly conquered sector, lay atop white tables, arranged delicately in tiered platters. I make my way toward the food, eyeing it suspiciously, and find myself slightly impressed by the meticulous craftsmanship of the carved fruits. Senator Thirty-Two no doubt had humans prepare everything on display.
My eyes scan the room and I smile in amusement. Board representatives, senators, and civilians, all dressed in formal attire, bounce from one unit leader to the next, like busy bees in search of pollen. They concentrate on the most popular leaders, as expected. Still, every unit leader in sight seems to drown in the midst of the inflated attention.
I am startled by the voice of the Major General as she comes to stand next to me. “I don’t see your star protégé anywhere, Commander.”
I turn toward her and nod, noticing the flawless fit of her dress uniform. “I don’t favor any leader in particular, Major General.”
She lets out an amused chuckle. “I do hope Seven arrives soon. There are many representatives impatient to meet him.”
“I would believe so. He has won every battle in the past month.”
She scoffs, clearly bothered by my remark. “So have other units in the battle force.”
I smile inwardly, swallowing the reply I’d like to give. “That is the beauty of our battles, is it not? Over one hundred units fighting in the arena, until only one remains.”
The Major General steps around and faces me directly. “Yet, Unit Seven seems to have earned the favor of not only the people, but also the representatives of the board, more so than any other unit.” Her tone and demeanor remain unchanged as she continues. “Tell me, Commander, how can this be?”
I do not answer immediately. Instead, I let my gaze drop to her left shoulder and the two regimental stripes indicating her rank. The high collar of her white jacket, the asymmetric flap extending from her right shoulder to her left hip, and the curve of her cuffs, all piped in the black regimental facing color. The dark lines encircle her body like snakes ready to attack anyone daring to come too close. I return my attention to her eyes and find them glaring. “I am not at all surprised. Seven has always excelled beyond everyone’s expectations.”
She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, overly controlled. “Perhaps he is overcompensating for something.”
I stiffen immediately, remembering the last training exercise we supervised together. Seven had just conscripted a pair of new recruits to offset the loss of two of his fighters and was practicing sword tactics with his unit when the Major General arrived without notice, supposedly to examine their progress. The memories of the incident flash through my mind with perfect clarity.
The Major General’s gaze, though ambiguous and unreadable, moved across the training field. Something about her expression worried me. I fixed all of my attention on her black eyes, seemingly oblivious to my examination. I couldn’t find the slightest hint of her true intentions.
The Major General didn’t look at me as she spoke. “The Senator of Sector 32 has requested two fighters as entertainment for the Opening Ceremony.”
I forced myself to look at Seven and his unit. His unit had won every battle so far, and even though other units had performed just as well, his unit, unlike any other, seemed to be the crowd’s favorite. Clearly, Seven’s techniques, combined with the unexpected performance of some of his fighters, had caught the interest of the spectators. The Major General liked to maintain control of everything and everyone within her
The glass walls of the Grand Hall glimmer under the silver light of the moon. The loud merriment and laughter of senators, Army officials, and Markram civilians echoes off its glass walls and throb in perfect harmony with the excitement. Colorful, exotic dishes, served to symbolize the newly conquered sector, lay atop white tables, arranged delicately in tiered platters. I make my way toward the food, eyeing it suspiciously, and find myself slightly impressed by the meticulous craftsmanship of the carved fruits. Senator Thirty-Two no doubt had humans prepare everything on display.
My eyes scan the room and I smile in amusement. Board representatives, senators, and civilians, all dressed in formal attire, bounce from one unit leader to the next, like busy bees in search of pollen. They concentrate on the most popular leaders, as expected. Still, every unit leader in sight seems to drown in the midst of the inflated attention.
I am startled by the voice of the Major General as she comes to stand next to me. “I don’t see your star protégé anywhere, Commander.”
I turn toward her and nod, noticing the flawless fit of her dress uniform. “I don’t favor any leader in particular, Major General.”
She lets out an amused chuckle. “I do hope Seven arrives soon. There are many representatives impatient to meet him.”
“I would believe so. He has won every battle in the past month.”
She scoffs, clearly bothered by my remark. “So have other units in the battle force.”
I smile inwardly, swallowing the reply I’d like to give. “That is the beauty of our battles, is it not? Over one hundred units fighting in the arena, until only one remains.”
The Major General steps around and faces me directly. “Yet, Unit Seven seems to have earned the favor of not only the people, but also the representatives of the board, more so than any other unit.” Her tone and demeanor remain unchanged as she continues. “Tell me, Commander, how can this be?”
I do not answer immediately. Instead, I let my gaze drop to her left shoulder and the two regimental stripes indicating her rank. The high collar of her white jacket, the asymmetric flap extending from her right shoulder to her left hip, and the curve of her cuffs, all piped in the black regimental facing color. The dark lines encircle her body like snakes ready to attack anyone daring to come too close. I return my attention to her eyes and find them glaring. “I am not at all surprised. Seven has always excelled beyond everyone’s expectations.”
She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, overly controlled. “Perhaps he is overcompensating for something.”
I stiffen immediately, remembering the last training exercise we supervised together. Seven had just conscripted a pair of new recruits to offset the loss of two of his fighters and was practicing sword tactics with his unit when the Major General arrived without notice, supposedly to examine their progress. The memories of the incident flash through my mind with perfect clarity.
The Major General’s gaze, though ambiguous and unreadable, moved across the training field. Something about her expression worried me. I fixed all of my attention on her black eyes, seemingly oblivious to my examination. I couldn’t find the slightest hint of her true intentions.
The Major General didn’t look at me as she spoke. “The Senator of Sector 32 has requested two fighters as entertainment for the Opening Ceremony.”
I forced myself to look at Seven and his unit. His unit had won every battle so far, and even though other units had performed just as well, his unit, unlike any other, seemed to be the crowd’s favorite. Clearly, Seven’s techniques, combined with the unexpected performance of some of his fighters, had caught the interest of the spectators. The Major General liked to maintain control of everything and everyone within her
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