** Bandit

Fear may be a close relative to truth

Nobody knows how to shut up about him.

Chrys Corday this. Chrys Corday that.

Everybody and their mom keeps spouting.

Chrys Corday’s on the run! The scandal!

I do not care.

Chrys Corday is a good for nothing deserter. Well, that’s half true.

Chrys Corday killed the other general. You’re giving him too much credit.

Charlotte Corday did it.

My friend.

A farmer who sat with the breeze.

Her name doesn’t mean anything to the people. She’s a nobody. If she’s lucky, she was a “radical”, which is just an uninspired term for “rebel scum”. Chrysanthemum, on the other hand, was a general. Dastardly is the only word you can really use to describe him. Unfaithful to every degree. Lazy supervisor but ruthless when it came to rounding up recruits. Somehow, the embodiment of sordid cantaloup was related to one of the only honorable individuals in my life.

She said she’d do it, and then Harse was found dead the day after. So I think you get my drift. The surname Corday keeps fueling a nonsensical conversation.

Nobody took the news well.

They told me to stop blaming myself over their March for Remembrance. Just because I was there doesn’t mean that I killed one of our Anchors. They kept repeating. It wasn’t your fault Lilith got shot. There was no need to leave everything behind.

I wasn’t sure where they got that from. This wasn’t about our protest. I had no physical strengths. I hadn’t really been fully committed to the cause until the protest. I was just another mouth to feed, hiding with them in their cottage. I was going to make sure justice was served, even if it was from the inside.

They said I was always welcome back. They forgot to mention that was as long as I didn’t kill any of our own. I couldn’t promise much, but I said I’d try. I didn’t have the heart to tell them I wasn’t doing this to be their informant. I genuinely needed to learn how to fight. Even if that meant a trip to hell.

--

“Teach me how to make a sword.”

The girl with black hair stood facing the instructor who wore a bird mask.

“Return to your quarters, Catherine,” he ordered. “You shouldn’t be up this late.”

Catherine grumbled. “The knights would benefit from having an extra blacksmith around. I want to make a sword.”

“Curfew.”

She was about to protest once more until another figure entered. “Is this one giving you trouble?” The voice came from behind.

“Apologies, sir. She got lost. There is no need for disciplinary action.”

Catherine slowly turned around and saw the stranger. The top half of his face was covered by an animal mask with bright green pupils, and the lower half of his face was a gas mask. General Fox. She knew who this was.

“Very well,” said Fox. “Allow me to walk her back.”

The instructor nodded.

The general started. Catherine reluctantly followed. Both had left the training grounds and walked along the dark hallway.

She felt like he was eyeing her. Did he recognize her from the protest? She stuffed her hands into her uniform’s pockets so he wouldn’t notice how stiff they appeared. Those of us who went missing were involved in coordinating the protest. The March for Remembrance.

Finally, he whispered. “What were you really doing?”

Catherine hesitated. “I wanted to ask about the weaponry.”

“Is that true?”

“Yes.”

“...Are you seeking an apprenticeship?”

She nodded. “Yes. Preferably before the spring graduation.”

He stopped walking for a minute, and turned his head. She remained facing forward. “You should ask your instructor during the day. Or switch tracts.”

She kept staring at the distant wall ahead. “I don’t want to completely switch tracts. I’m scared of losing my progress.”

“If your instructor was willing to protect you, you’re at a point where you’ll retain your skill.”

“Really?”

“Yes. But please refrain from breaking your curfew unless it’s an absolute emergency. The consequences will not be so gracious next time.”

“I understand.” They both stopped in front of the door. “This is where my section sleeps.”

Fox nodded, and stepped back. “Get some rest. Goodnight.”

She opened the door and slowly closed it as he walked off. She kept it open a crack, and watched. He was far enough away now. She swung it open and swiftly caught it to prevent it from creaking. Then she tip toed off.

Halfway through her apprenticeship, Catherine’s frequent disobedience for the curfew had been pointed out by the peers she thought had been asleep. She was able to claim that she had been required to work the blades at night. She “didn’t want her apprenticeship to interfere with her combative training”.

That worked. Until it didn’t.

One night the girl wasn’t so lucky. The Madame had caught her breaking into the food supply. Catherine had tried explaining that she was hungry and intended to take a small amount of food.

Her eye was pulled out.

Everything was pitch black.

The sting I felt was excruciating.

I saw it. I saw what had happened.

And then she wrapped a blindfold around everything.

I remember wailing. Resisting. Loudly. I think it must’ve bored her. She put something in my mouth. I don’t know. I just remember I couldn’t scream anymore. No matter how much I tried, nothing came out, and I think that itself was truly terrifying.

My arms and legs were wrapped in chains. I couldn’t move.

Then I heard the door open.

Just kill me. I tried to yell. You made your point. I’ve been punished. Enough already.

“Hey…”

I stopped struggling. It was a kid’s voice.

“Are you…” Then she stopped. “I’m sorry.”

I didn’t get the deal.

“What’s your name?”

I tried to speak.

“Rin?”

I was impressed the girl even made out anything I tried to say.

“My name’s--”

A voice called for her to come back. She seemed panicked before quickly promising, “things will get better-- I’ll enforce changes..” before running up and away.

It was a curt conversation, but she was the only somewhat pleasant thing about that memory.

During my suspension, I recounted this to a few of the other ranks, and I referred to the kid as ghost girl.

There’d be jokes about how maybe the ghost saved me after all. They all told me I have no idea how lucky I am. They say I should be grateful I have strength. Since I’m “not so useless”, I won’t be discarded.

Obviously I know I’m lucky.

I would’ve been at the guillotine if I was caught smuggling supplies to the other Revolutionaries those nights. My affinity. My real companions. I wasn’t here to be their spy, but that didn’t mean I could ever abandon them.

Sometimes I feel bad for the ghost. Poor kid probably thought I was trying to get a midnight snack.

My full punishment for my “insolence” is still being decided. It’s been suggested that I take part in hunting Corday if I want to earn a full pardon. Sure. But he’s never gonna be found. And if they let me wander out to “search” for him, I’m never coming back.