Their Circumstances

Graham stood outside his home. If his stare could burn holes in his house’s cedar door, there’d be a giant hole in the middle now.

“Well, shit.”

Earlier in the day, the Embassy of Espada City took Maya under protective custody, under the request of Leticia Crossings.

She was everything Graham could dislike in a person, but the very least, she honored her word. Made Zenonas keep his, as well. They assured him that Maya would be kept safe—from Leticia’s schemes, and Zenonas’ touch.

He prayed he’d wake up tomorrow, finding Maya untouched.

As if he’d sleep tonight, though.

The Honor Battle was tomorrow.

He had nothing. No crew, no mechanic, not even the track record to prove he could win a fight with a B-ranker of all people.

The only thing he had was faith; the firm belief that the Lionheart will see him through.

Graham opened his phone, and saw it:

Five missed calls, and 10 missed messages—all from his sister.

His head buzzed with the thoughts of what he would tell her. She must have been home now, right? If she was… his head will roll tonight.

He continued to stare at the door, his gaze then following the faded welcome mat by his feet. He’d never felt so unwelcome in his own home.

The night air bit through Graham’s shirt, sending a chill down his spine. He could sleep outside, dodge everything waiting for him inside.

But if the freezing night air wouldn’t kill him, his sister—and the shame of running from her and Maya—would.

Here goes.

Graham swallowed hard and opened the door. The living room was as it always was: brightly lit, cluttered with stray blankets. Someone must’ve been home.

On the couch was his barely dressed sister, curled up on the couch like a cat. Coleda was a twenty-something woman dressed in only a white tank top and pajama shorts. She was modest, regal even, outside their home. But inside was a different story. Sloppy, unrefined, her dark hair untied and uncombed, draping well past her shoulders.

He wanted to slip past her, but—

A floorboard groaned beneath his feet.

And like a cat, his older sister to her feet in the blink of an eye. Her expression twisted in a mix of anger and worry.

“Oh god. Gram, where have you been?”

Graham scratched a nervous itch. “Well, I—”

“You haven't picked up any of my calls, nor did you text me back. What the hell happened?” Coleda stomped forward, hands on her waist. “I told you I was coming home in the morning.”

“Sorry. Something came up.”

“Again…” Coleda shook her head. She surveyed the plaster on his cheeks, then eyed him from head to toe. “At least you don't look any more messed up than yesterday.”

“About Juri…” Graham inched the topic elsewhere, so he wouldn't have to explain what happened today.

“Him? I made sure he was toast.”

“Did you really have to expel him?”

“I don't have that kind of power,” Coleda’s eyes darted to the side. “I just vouched for it. Made sure the papers and records were all set, then, well… ultimately, it was up to the admin. And trust me, they’ve been wanting him out longer than I have.”

“I see…” Graham exhaled.

“You don't look happy about it.”

“N-no, it's just, it's so sudden,” Graham said. “He's been around me for so long and just one day, gone. It's a bit of a shock.”

“Not exactly the best influence in your life. He could've killed you, you know?”

“Yeah… I know.”

It's true that Juri was an active detriment in his life, but he was there, even as an obstacle, an annoyance. Cutting him out so sudden was like taking away cigarettes from a chronic smoker—sometimes, the withdrawal kills them.

Coleda snapped a finger. “By the way.”

“What?”

“I heard there was a commotion near our school, going all the way up to the Embassy District.” Her eyes sharpened. “I know you were there earlier today. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

“O-oh. I did hear. It was already over when I got there.”

“Is that so?”

Coleda vaulted over the couch, closed the distance, and delivered a swift, lazy, yet painless kick to his shin.

Graham hissed. “What the—Sis?”

“Liar.” Coleda tossed another candy corn into her mouth like punctuation. “The High Commissioner called.”

“Oh… shit.”

Coleda put a hand on her waist. “What, were you planning on hiding this from me?”

Graham’s eyes darted. “...For as long as I could?”

“Hell no.” Coleda crossed her arms, scowl deepening. “Do you not trust me enough to tell?”

“It’s not that. I just…” Graham shook his head, disappointed in himself. “I didn’t want to bother you with this. I messed up. Again.”

Coleda leaned on the nearest wall. “Forget that. Just tell me what happened. Zenonas called, so I know at least the basics. So don’t lie—please.”

He steadied his breath. He tapped his feet, and scratched his heel on the floorboards, hoping it wouldn’t leave a mark. Then, he spoke:

“What I’m about to say is the full, unadulterated truth. It’s gonna sound insane, but I don’t want you calling BS on it.”

“Go on. I won’t get mad.”

And so, Graham told her everything.

Maya falling from the sky—

The corporate cutthroats—

The events at the embassy, and his meeting with Leticia Crossings—

Then, the Honor Battle—tomorrow.

Maybe the only detail he left out was the Lionheart. If he started talking about it, he’d gush. But gushing wasn’t what he needed now.

He needed to survive.

“You what?”

Her hand curled into a fist. The table counter beside her looked ready for the smashing, but she forced the anger down. Losing control wouldn’t help. Not now.

“You said you won’t get mad!”

“Yeah.” Coleda stomped across the room. “I’m not mad. I’m furious. What the hell were you thinking, getting involved in all of this? As if the thing with Juri wasn't enough already!”

“I did what I had to!” Graham bared his teeth. “Or are you saying I should’ve just let everything happen? That I shouldn’t have helped? That was the Maya Hamasaki right there!”

“You should’ve called the authorities. I know you’re a fan, but whatever was going was clearly her fight, not yours.” A breath hissed through Coleda’s teeth.

“You could’ve gotten yourself hurt—or worse, killed.”

“If you were there, you would’ve done the same! Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have.” Graham clicked his tongue. “You’re only saying that because you weren’t there.”

Coleda’s glare sharpened. “And everything else you did leading up to now? You even got yourself into an Honor Battle you have no business being in. In the end, if Leticia’s as unsavory as she sounds, then didn’t you just put Maya a sitch just as bad?”

“It wasn’t me that—”

Graham’s head sank into his shoulders. He turned his gaze away.

“Maya was the one who challenged her to a fight.”

“And you agreed?”

“I can’t just walk away now. I don’t want to.”

Graham looked her in the eye.

“Because it’s Maya?” Coleda stared back.

“No,” Graham shook his head. “It’s because you didn’t raise me that way. You didn’t raise me to back down from a fight.”

Her fingers clenched tighter.

“You didn’t raise me to walk away.”

The words echoed, twisting and turning on her mind.

Then why did you walk away from the Mobile Chivalry?

The question pounded in her head.

A breath. A sharp inhale, then a slow, controlled exhale.

She studied her brother, head to toe—the way he stood, the way his breath steadied, the fire burning in his glare.

She’d seen this before.

But that was a long, long time ago.

Coleda had to push. As his sister—and stand-in mother—she had to push—away from the darkness. If something like this is what it took to return the fire of life in him, then—

“So, what now? What’re you planning to do now?”

“W-what?”

His sister never hit him, and he wouldn’t be surprised if she started now. But she didn’t.

No—how could he have even thought of her that way?

He thought maybe, his lack of faith was misplaced after all.

“I can’t bail you out now. You’re a grown man now, and I appreciate you taking some responsibility.” Coleda rubbed her temple. “But now that we’re here, what’s your game plan?”

A thought, then a pause.

Moments of silence passed.

Then, Coleda broke it:

“This isn’t just an Honor Battle. You’re up against Leticia Crossings—a B12.” Coleda fidgeted, uncomfortable at the thought still. “She’s got an attitude, but she doesn’t carry that title lightly. And you, you’re Unranked. You haven’t even passed the exam. You realize that, right?”

“I know. But it’s not impossible, is it?”

“Not impossible, but your chances aren’t very good.”

“Not very good,” Graham thumbed his nose. “But there’s a chance.”

Coleda couldn’t help but admire his blind optimism. She sighed.

“She’s got the skills, the experience, and to top it all off, a machine customized for her. You don’t have any of that. A school-issue Ryzel isn’t gonna get you far.”

“I got at least one of those covered.” Graham said, his voice rising. “The machine that brought me all the way here: Lionheart.”

Coleda froze.

That single word had stopped all thought. It echoed in her head, a hundred, a thousand times over. An eternity passed. Five seconds passed.

Coleda looked like she had just seen a ghost.

“Sis?”

“The Lionheart?” she asked in a dull monotone.

“Yeah. That’s the cheval Maya came with.” His sister’s expression puzzled Graham. “Does that… ring any bells for you?”

She couldn’t say it.

Wouldn’t say it.

From the sweat on her brow to the flush of red on her cheek, anyone would think she’d heard the name before. But Graham didn’t think to read her that way.

“I-it’s nothing. Just the name of something I’d read before. From a story I read.”

“You sure?”

“It’s nothing, really!”

She was exceptional at reading Graham’s lies, but the same couldn’t be said of him.

He was never once to question Coleda. Graham didn’t develop a sixth-sense towards her like she did for him. Her role in his life didn’t help: a threefold role of being sister, mother, and teacher.

He didn’t think to question the form of authority he respected—wanted to respect, in his life.

And so he gave up trying to get to know her.

The result: He was unaware of the violent stirring in her.

“Neat. So does that mean you can help me then?”

“What is there to help you with?” Coleda shook her head. “There’s not enough time to teach you anything. I can’t even tell you that this isn’t your fight—because I know you chose it. You keep choosing your fights, and you—”

“The Lionheart… I need it to be at a hundred percent.” Graham let out a sharp breath. “As I said, it’s got no head. And to top it all off, it’s got no weapons. If Leticia’s as good as you all say she is, then I can’t fight her with just my fists, can I?”

“I’m no mechanic. You know that, right? Why don’t you call Leena? She should still be awake. That girl’s stuck her neck out for you all this time, so I don’t see why—”

She stopped.

At the mention of Leena, she had noticed that Graham’s entire body had drooped down.

“What is it now?”

Graham exhaled. He tried to prop his shoulders up, but he just couldn’t. “I said a lot of stupid shit to her yesterday. I can’t. I bet she hates me right now.”

Coleda crossed her arms.

“What makes you so sure she hates-hates you? Doesn’t she always sound like she hates everything?”

“I mean that’s true, but—”

“Did you ask her?”

“I haven’t.”

Coleda sighed, her volume trailing off. “Then how do you know she hates you? You read her mind?”

“I—”

“You shouldn’t assume so much of others. You’re blessed to have a friend who speaks their mind, even if they’re a little shit at it.”

Coleda let out another breath. She leaned on the wall, and let her shoulders drop.

“Fine. I guess I have no choice.”

“Sis?”

“You said that cheval’s name— Lionheart, was it?” Coleda said, her stare distant.

“Yeah?” Graham blinked.

“Pack your bags. We’re going on a little trip.”

####

“Sis… why the hell do you have all these…?”

Solar swords. Solar axes. A Solid State solarium alloy shield. A fully retractable solar spear. There was enough weaponry in this hangar to raze a small scrapyard outpost.

The whole place looked like a medieval exhibit—if the knights these things belonged to were ten meters tall and powered by liquid solarium.

Graham blinked, stunned. Did being a cheval instructor come with the license to hoard an entire armory?

“This was Dad’s,” Coleda said, eyes on the mounted weapons. “He used to go on and on about how he loved these things. Never thought today would be the day I’d be showing you this.”

Graham ran his hand at the base of the retractable spear’s handle. “You’re kidding. Couldn’t you spotted me one of these bad boys for my exam?”

Coleda pouted. “No use for that if you couldn’t handle the basics.”

“Oookay? So why show me this now? And why didn’t Dad ever—”

“Focus.” Coleda delivered a soft, sharp chop to Graham’s skull.

“Ow—hey!”

“Let’s think about your loadout for now, shall we?”

“W-what? Loadout?”

Another smack. Just enough to reset his brain.

“Ow!”

“Chevals can only carry so much before encumbering themselves. When you’re too heavy, you slow down. And when you’re too slow—well, you know the rest.”

“Right, right.” Graham nodded, his eyes glazed over.

“Think about your opponent’s strengths. Bring tools that neutralize said strengths. Then—exploit the gaps. That’s how a good fighter—a Chevalier thinks.”

She placed a hand on her hip, cocked it slightly. “Got that?”

Graham drew a blank.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Coleda groaned. “You have no idea how Leticia fights, do you?”

“I don’t.”

“Of course not…” Coleda shook her head. “Didn’t think you’d be keeping up with CWG news.”

“Not really… Sorry.”

“And you were so hellbent on getting into the Mobile Chivalry. It’s in your best interest to stay informed.”

Graham stepped sheepishly. “I was busy with other things—you know.”

“No matter.”

Coleda clapped once, sharp and commanding. Graham snapped upright.

“Okay, listen up!”

“O-okay!”

“Leticia Crossings is a B-ranker, known for impressive marksmanship.” Coleda made a finger-gun and mimed firing. “Most fighters, especially ones from Espada City, fight up close. She doesn’t. She plays the range game.”

Graham crossed his arms, looking off. “How far of a ‘range’ are we talking?”

“Fifty, hundred meters—depends on the terrain and what she’s packing?.”

“That’s really far… how am I supposed to fight back?”

Coleda tapped her forehead.

“As you may or may not know… Unless they can blow off your entire head, they still need to come in close and cut your Feather off. Marksmen struggle when someone gets in their face. Get in close, and you’ll—just maybe—stand a chance.”

She paused, then nodded.

“Draft this in your head.”

The match was to be fought in a Duel format—one one one. Popular among spectators, but less forgiving for pilots of differing skillsets.

Most official Honor Battles were fought in Duets—two-on-two. After that came Duels, then the less common, but more chaotic Trios.

Graham was on his own. No backup. No sister. No miracles—for now.

The rules of Honor Battle were simple on paper:

Every cheval had a long antenna mounted to the back of its head, called a Feather.

The Lionheart’s Feather curved slightly, tucked neatly behind the crest to avoid strikes in head-on clashes. Though, that was standard issue for most mechs.

The feather’s job was to constantly broadcast a signal to all other participating fighters in the field. A beacon saying, “I’m still in the fight.”

That signal was called a Tag.

If the Feather got sliced clean off—or if the cheval’s structural integrity dropped below 40%---the Tag stopped.

The fighter would then be removed from the match.

The match ended when time ran out, or when one side lost all its active Tags. Whichever side had the most still tagging, won.

Though for Duels, there was usually no time limit. Duels were, very usually, strictly until one of them was removed the fight.

Graham had to remove Leticia's tag by either severing her unit’s Feather, or damaging her cheval enough to get her under 40% integrity—easier said than done. Especially when his opponent could start sniping him from more than a hundred meters.

Even getting to a range where he can do either consistently was a challenge.

Graham had never fought any battle, with Coleda or otherwise, having to close a gap. There weren't any ranged armaments in the armory either—and even if there were, he sure didn't know how to shoot a gun—in and out of a cheval.

Battling Leticia on her own terms would be suicide.

“What about that?”

Graham pointed at the tall, triangular, shield planted on the wall—a Solid-State solarium alloy shield—an SS shield, for short.

“...That one?”

“Couldn't I use that to close the gap?”

He stepped in for a better look. Up close, he spotted streaks of brown, smudges of soot along the grooves. “Burn marks?”

“Wear and tear.” Coleda paused, then sighed, her gaze lingering on the shield far too long. “That one’s seen its fair share of battles.”

“Is this gonna hold? If it's this battleworn, then—”

“It'll be fine, I'm sure.”

In Honor Battle—in battles between chevals, there were certain restrictions—most of them in place to keep things competitive… and, to an extent, survivable.

As the sport matured, so too did the safeguards.

Most weapons emitted focused beams of solar energy, powered by Solarium Crystals—hence the name ‘Solar’ for all these weapons. Everything in the battle ran on sunlight.

Cockpits, by contrast, were made from dense, black Solarium alloy—spheres so tough they might as well be indestructible. Immune to solar penetration, and nearly impervious to blunt trauma. A pilot could be hurled across a field in one and come out relatively fine, save for a few bruises.

Only certain weapons were allowed: blunt ones—clubs, maces—or solar based arms. Solid blades, pointed metal spears, live ammunition—those were forbidden. Too dangerous.

Solar weapons could cut through cheval armor just fine, but they couldn’t breach the cockpit.

Which meant—

“That shield should hold.”

Coleda’s fingers twitched, like she was shaking off a thought she didn’t want to voice.

“Hmm? What's wrong?” She wasn’t subtle—Graham caught it instantly.

“No, sorry. It's nothing.” Coleda straightened up, clearing her throat. “Let's focus on you.”

“Hold on, sis.”

He looked her dead in the eye.

“You know something about the Lionheart, don't you?”

Graham wasn’t the straight-A student people wanted him to be, but he was still a smart kid. He was observant—one look in the eye, and he’d caught you in a lie.

Clever, observant, but transparent himself.

Just like his mother.

Coleda’s shoulders slumped. “...You can see right through me.”

“Not as good as you can through me, sis.” Graham shrugged. “But I like to think I can.”

If Graham couldn’t get a bead on his sister’s emotions, then at least he could catch her in a lie.

“The Lionheart…” Coleda’s fingers clenched into a fist, as if to crush the bitterness of a faded memory.. “This armory—the shield—all this. It’s just like dad said…”

“What dad said…”

“The Lionheart—it had to be yours. Always had to be.”

####

“He did what?!”

Leena tumbled out of bed, her hair a mess, blanket still tangled around a leg. She’d just checked her phone first thing, and found a message that’d ruin her morning:

[Honor Battle Notification]

[An Honor Battle will be held between:]

[(U)Graham Akkwood vs [B12]Leticia Crossings]

[Battle format: Duel, Single Round]

[Location: Espada City South Exit, at 13:00]

Still in her pajamas, she threw on her long fur coat, thick-framed glasses, phone clutched in one hand, and bolted out the front door.

She dialed Anton’s contact.

Anton picked up just one ring in. “Yeah, I heard!”

“What's going on? Why is this idiot—”

Leena tripped on a crack in the sidewalk. She caught herself, barely, but her toe flared in agony.

“Oh for fu—” She hissed through her teeth. “C-Can we get Graham on the line?”

“It's no good,” Anton’s distress crackled over the phone. “I've been calling him since this morning, and nothing!”

“And his sister?”

“Straight to voicemail. Can't reach her either.”

“Tch—dammit.”

A few blocks in, Leena stopped, out of breath. Sweat drenched her pajamas and the near-noontime sun did the rest.

What was she doing, running through the streets like some lunatic?

What was she hoping to achieve?

Did she think Graham was just going to materialize, read to take a mouthful from her?

I need my goddamn coffee.

Looking around, she made a note of her location. The clothing shop, the giant e-billboard, the crossing—she was close.

Just around the block was that little cafe she always went to. She’d take her favorite dose—when she had a big day ahead, or when she was royally pissed.

Today was both.

She weaved through the crowds, ducking into alleyways, slipping past all the suits and students until she reached the storefront, a familiar white cup logo mounted like a crown above the glass.

While she expected a line, she’d never have expected this.

A wall of people in crisp black suits.

What is this, a funeral?

This wasn’t right.

An Honor Battle was coming up in two hours. Shouldn’t everyone be swarming the bars to go betting, like the good Astonians they were?

Who the hell went for iced coffee before betting?

No, wait—

Men. Women. Sunglasses. Earpieces. Bodyguards?

What, is there a celebrity here?

Not soon after—her answer.

Auburn hair. Red, oriental-style dress. Her favorite iced coffee in hand.

Maya Hamasaki stepped out of the cafe like she owned the place. Her hair caught the morning wind. Men—and women—in black surrounded her, watching for every speck of dirt that would threaten to touch her.

At first, Leena didn’t recognize her thanks to her bright dye of hair, but the moment she noticed the way her face was built, the way she strode, and the way her own gut twisted at the sight of her—

—She knew.

Leena’s glasses drooped.

She wasn’t far off the mark after all.

“Maya…?”

The girl stopped. Leena’s voice rooted her in place.

“What…?” Maya blinked. Her voice trembled with recognition. “Leena…?”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“O-oh…” Maya stiffened. Sweat bloomed against her perfect skin. “Long time no see—?”

Leena knew it.

She’d already done the math.

Maya. The security. Graham getting roped into a duel that made no damn sense.

“You did this,” Leena said, voice low, but certain. “Didn’t you?”