AGG: Rise Sword Side Stories

Clarent 1

“Huh, what are you doing here?” The familiar voice startled me, and I peered up from the tome I’d been studying. Clad in clothes that would’ve had the whole Round flush in shame, Xenovia Quarta stood before me. The Exorcist Saint looked to be the very height of impropriety, as even passersby of the current age gaped at her visage. “Aren’t you and the rest of the swords on vacation?”

It took me a moment to find my tongue.

“I find relying on magic to be foolish, so I am endeavoring to learn how to utilize a steed of this modern age.” The Exorcist was an exercise in juxtaposition. With all the grace of a harlot, she is deemed the greatest champion of the Holy Church. The same title was once held by Arthur himself. The woman, baring her midriff and legs for all to see, didn’t seem to fit the mantle that was draped upon her shoulders. “One of the flying chariots will suffice.”

“Huh. So, you’re learning how to pilot a VTOL Jet? Why bother when one of our Communicators can do it?” Quarta took a seat by my side. Without a semblance of modesty, she placed her arm over my shoulder, peering at the material I was studying. Her gracious bounty pressed onto my shoulder. I did my utmost best to ignore her impropriety. “Why go through the trouble of going through that doorstopper?” 

“Better for one to earn through their own merit than that of others.” One can only truly rely on one’s self. Relying on a single critical foundation, having a single piece be the cornerstone of every strategy, is a foolish concept. Arthur’s reliance on Avalon was his undoing. I did not intend for my Liege to suffer the same fate. “I am capable of learning, of becoming adroit in all manner of abilities that could aid my Liege, so I shall.”

“Ah, I get it. You want to be Song’s safety net. His backup plan.” Quarta took a moment to consider my words, but soon nodded to herself. “Smart, since you’re always in the back line.”

I nodded in acknowledgement of the compliment. 

For a brief moment, I wished to let our meeting die then and there, however that would be the very height of discourtesy. Despite Quarta’s mannerisms, she’d done me no wrong. Avoiding discourse with the Exorcist, simply because of her appearance, was unacceptable. 

So, I inquired of her.

“And, you? What is your purpose in this military base, Quarta?”

“Oh, well, I’m here to hijack an Advanced Strike Fighter. I’ve always wanted to take one for a joy ride.”

Pardon.

“Pardon?”

“Yeah, you can be my copilot. They’re built for two anyway!”

I found myself picked up by the scruff of my suit.

Pardon?

…

“This is very illegal and very wrong.”

“I asked for permission.”

“You were denied.”

“I didn’t need it.”

The contours of the Advanced Strike Fighter were predatory to the eye. It was far from the simple constructs mages used to take flight in Camelot’s time. This was a construct of science, technology, and innovation. Introduced decades ago, it was meant to “Outfly and Outfight Devils and Angels.” Perhaps, in its initial incarnation, that was an empty boast. That was not the case now. 

The ebony dagger boasted a chassis composed of secret alloys capable of surviving the depths of a thermonuclear explosive, but was nonetheless shielded through arcane means that could survive the shock of such a blow twice over. 

Its original incarnation was capable of Mach 4, but that has increased two-fold with the integration of arcane enhancements and newer technologies. 

In terms of weaponry, it once wielded fusillades of emitters for light that scorched whole plains, but now boasted temporal misalignment diodes that struck targets continuously with impunity.

In theory, a thousand Advanced Strike Fighter Mk. 10’s could have killed a Monarch, but they were better used slaying millions of creations across the world. 

Only two thousand human beings, merely trained and altered for the purpose of piloting these magnificent weapons, managed to accomplish a feat that gods would’ve been pressed to match.

How could I not admire them?

They are proud and noble weapons who do their work without praise or commotion.

“I see that you’re a woman of fine taste and culture as well.” Quarta’s compliment takes me aback. I realize that I have been staring at the greatest weapon system created by mankind for too long. How improper of me. Turning my gaze upon the Exorcist, I found her hooking her Communicator into the shard of darkness’s maintenance port. The cockpit hissed open to reveal two simple seats. I’d nearly forgotten; these newest models could be guided by thought alone. “Well, let’s go. We’re going to need to give this back in an hour or two. If we go any longer than that, this little joke’ll turn into an international incident.”

“I want to fly it.” The words leave my lips before they cross my mind. Quarta make a face of consternation at my declaration, but I persist. No, there shall be no honor spared in this moment. “Manually.”

The Exorcist balked at my declaration.

“Holy shit. Are you serious? You’re going to fly this manually!?”

“I am not human. I am a sword capable of tracking and guiding millions of allies and enemies.” I leapt upward and set myself on the front seat. At a motion, controls appeared before me. They fit well into my hands. The seat adjusted to me, as did the rest of the cockpit, until I was nearly one with the plane. I barely felt the shock-absorptive gravity manipulators come alive. “I will do more than fly, Xenovia Quarta.”

Barely registering her settling as my second, I focused on the machine’s roaring heartbeat, the vista of stars before us, and the Earth so far below. 

Completing pre-flight checks in an instant, I willed the machine forward.

“I will soar.”

Thus, I activated the engines in full burn.

The Arcology disappeared from our surroundings in an instant. 

…

I had my face in my hands. How could I be so foolish! Shame crawled through every inch of my body. Why did I do such a thing!? I’d done away with every ounce of caution, disregarded every thought of propriety, and hijacked a military steed! It was unforgivable, regrettable, and—

“I’m telling you, Song, you need to buy Clarent a jet!” 

Quarta wouldn’t cease praising me at all!

To my Liege, nonetheless!

“Leaving her as a sword is a waste! She was born to fly; I tell you!”

How could Occisor and Masamune be so graceful in their human forms? Every inhibition was thrown aside, every emotion came to the forefront of the mind, and instinct overcame thought at every opportunity! Though they had beauty and dignity, I could barely stop myself from committing acts bordering on treason!

I needed to apologize, I knew that I did, but I couldn’t find the ability to muster a single word to my Liege. 

Of course, as I floundered to find my tongue, my Liege decided to speak, thus ridding me of all my thoughts. 

“Did you enjoy yourself, Clarent?” There was no malice in his voice. Truly, my Liege asked if I enjoyed myself. Nothing more. Nothing less. No duplicity was to be found in his tone. A smile even played upon his lips. “Do you truly want a jet?”

At his query, my face heated, to an extent I’d never thought possible. 

“Nay, my Liege! I-I do not require such a thing!” 

“Oh? Are you sure? I’m sure that I can get you one if I asked politely.” Oh, he was committing himself to that damnable act once more! The strategy, which I was incapable of defending against, was returning in full force!

“Say yes, Clarent! You were born to fly!” Damnable slattern! Be silent! Begone from here! It is due to your machinations that I must undergo this embarrassment! “Song can get whatever he wants as long as he asks! Do it! Do it! Do it!”

“I-I refuse! I do not require such a machine purchased for me!”

“Hmmm? Are you sure, Clarent? Quarta is correct. It will be done, as long as I ask politely.”

“Just imagine it! An ASF MK. 10 just for you and me! We can fly everywhere, wreak havoc, and eject right into battle, while it goes straight home!”

Try as I might, I was unable to have either of the two cease, or hide my scarlet face behind my gloves. 

Still, I endured their teasing. 

If I succumbed, I will be forever embarrassed by the machine that would surely arrive tomorrow.