A Mon Seul Desir III

Graham's muscles tensed. He gripped the control levers with an iron grip. He watched Leticia’s custom Grantz plod its way through the rocky terrain on the hunt for prey.

Graham took a deep breath, his eyes on the sky. His eyes then trailed to a monitor of his cheval's vitals.

[Structural Integrity: 88%]

A buzzer echoed from faraway. Leticia paused, who then turned in the direction of the noise.

“Fuck it. Here we go.”

Coleda’s voice distorted over the Lionheart’s radio.

A giant box shot up from the direction of the Lionheart’s hangar. It arced over the singed badlands until it crashed in the middle of the open badlands.

Graham’s neck stiffened when he saw its location. This is suicide, he thought.

The Lionheart’s engine rumbled under his feet, as if to answer him.

“I know.” Graham muttered to seemingly no one. “I have to put my faith in you. You won't kill me, right?”

“So you have a resupply, after all. But no matter.” Leticia’s arrogant smirk could be heard over the open comms.

She drove her custom Grantz out in the open badlands, and perpendicular to the supply box. She faced the badlands and the direction she knew Graham was going to emerge from.

She pulled out her third trick.

Leticia’s mech took on a firing stance. Talon-like appendages shot out of the Grantz’s feet, which then clawed into the ground. She bolted together two long rifles to form an elongated, but formidable howitzer-like gun.

If CWG rulings didn't forbid it, she would’ve already shot the supply box itself. But alas, she had to curb her urge.

An elderly man’s voice radioed into Leticia’s cockpit. His voice was raspy, but exuded an air of geniality absent from the girl’s.

“Master Leticia. Since Akkwood has used their resupply, shall I send in yours as well?”

“That was uh…” Leticia impatiently tapped her armrest. “Another turret emplacement, yes?”

“Yes. Your opponent is at an open disadvantage. This should secure you yet another glorious victory.”

Leticia inspected her ammo reserves and decided she had ‘more than enough’ to finish the Lionheart off.

The damage on her cheval? Well—nothing more than trifles to he ignored when facing a gnat, she thought.

She stared at the stone pillar she’d made an example of before the match. Graham’s boastings of being ‘hard-to-kill’ sounded in her head. She measured that fifteen minutes of this ‘farce’ was too long already.

She narrowed her eyes at the glimpse of her prey sprinting from cover-to-cover.

“That’s fine, Jeeves. That won’t be necessary.”

“But master—”

“I said it’s fine.” Leticia repeated, annoyed. “Or do you not have faith in me?”

“That’s—” The elderly man’s voice relented, then sighed. “I… I trust your judgment.”

Leticia winked at a man who couldn’t see it.

“Thank you. I knew you’d see things my way.” She turned off her radio, preventing any further communication.

While Leticia stood overwatch in the open field, Graham stood behind a distant pillar, catching his breath.

“If I die here,” Graham closed his eyes, a breath escaping him. “Please know this:”

“I love you, Maya.”

“W-what?” Maya’s heart raced, and her cheeks flushed red. “You mean as a fan, right?”

Graham simply chuckled.

“Take my word as you will.”

“What the hell are you saying, Hammy?” Leena turned to Coleda, who seemed to calm for someone hearing their younger brother sign their will. “Is there something I'm missing here?”

Coleda crossed her arms, then rubbed the bottom of her chin.

“It's dangerous. But he should be fine.”

“Dangerous?” Maya and Leena said in chorus.

Leena leaned in, slamming her hand on the radio panel in front of Coleda. Her brow furrowed.

“What do you mean dangerous?”

“Gram just turned off the Lionheart’s limiter.” Coleda said, emotion absent from her tone. “I just hope he can take the Solaris Drive.”

Leena’s eyes widened in shock.

“S-Solaris Drive?” She then began to shout. “That thing has one? This is crazy! He is in no way ready to handle that kinda pressure!”

“Do you really think so?”

“Huh?”

Coleda stared right into Leena’s soul. “Do you have that little faith in Gram?”

“I—I don't know. I don't want to see him get hurt like this. And if he dies? It'll feel like it's my fault.”

“Because?”

“Because I let him get to this point.”

Leena could only bite her lip.

“Gram, he…” Coleda's head, but her stare remained resolute. “At some point, we have to stop feeling responsible for someone else's life.”

“You're his sister, aren't you…?”

“Yes. But,” Coleda placed her hands on Leena’s quaking shoulders. “This is Gram deciding to grab life by his hands.”

A blue-green glow pulsed under the Lionheart’s open joints. Maya stepped closer to the radio panel’s screen, her mind gnawing at what seemed like a familiar sight.

Her eyes traced the embers of that blue glow.

“Leena… Ms. Coleda…?” Maya’s jaw dropped. “That glow. I saw it—when I crossed the Atlantic.”

“Please… come back safe.”

Graham, being an accidental eavesdropper on the open comms, only had this to say.

“If you're all that worried about me, then I got no choice.”

“Eh…?” Maya hitched, cheeks still red.

“I'm gonna win, and I'm coming home in one piece!”

Graham pushed the Lionheart’s controla to their limit. In the mere fraction of a moment, the mech darted sideward at unthinkable speeds—by cheval standards.

The momentum threw his body to the cockpit’s side. When he changed direction, it tossed him again in another direction like a ragdoll.

Graham’s head spun from the speed, but the adrenaline kept him alert.

[Structural Integrity: 84%]

His unit’s integrity was fading fast, even without Leticia’s help.

Trails of green light zipped between the boulders and rocky hills. The Lionheart laid at the heart of the light, at a speed of more than 200 kilometers per hour— a speed unheard of on any cheval in history.

Graham sank into his pilot seat. His early lunch began to claw its way up his stomach. His pilot suit wasn't nearly durable enough to withstand the G-forces. But all the same, he kept his eyes on the supply box.

“What on earth…?” Leticia kept track of the racing Lionheart, but to no avail. Her training never prepared her for this!

She pulled down targeting goggles agai, tracking her foe manually. But she just couldn’t—not like this.

Sweat dripped down her cheeks, neck, and chest. Was the cheval always this hot?

For the first time, she could feel just how hot her cockpit had become—or had always been.

The Lionheart emerged into the open field. It shot towards the supply box.

“There you are!”

Graham may be fast—

—But I won't miss in a straight line!

A humongous ball of solar light flew out of her unit’s howitzer, aimed straight at Graham. The recoil jolted her entire cheval back; If it weren't for the clamps on her feet, she would be on her butt by now.

Graham flickered to the side. The ball of light whipped up dust behind it. When it struck the dirt behind, it exploded like a giant stick of TNT. Sand and soil were sent into a twisted frenzy.

Following his movement, Leticia fired another. Graham darted to the side while still racing for the supply box.

Leticia grit her teeth. “You stubborn bastard!”

Another shot followed. Graham swung his shield, deflecting the howitzer round, but rupturing the SS-Shield's top half.

[Structural Integrity: 71%]

Graham zoomed in front of the supply box. He kicked a latch on its bottom side, and it began to unfold.

Leticia smirked. Her prey stood in place—just as she likes it.

She aimed at its head.

“Consider your reputation tarnished.”

At the pull of a trigger, she shot a decisive shot. The howitzer round plinked on a hard surface—then a boom. A fiery mushroom cloud exploded from Graham's location, churning dust into a small storm, obscuring his grisly fate.

Leticia smiled. She chalked up yet another victory in her mental blackboard.

But dread knocked on her chest.

The feeling twisted her smile into a nervous scowl.

When the dust cloud cleared, Graham and the Lionheart weren’t there—Not even its remains.

She knew her guns were strong, but to vaporize another cheval like that?

This would be a black mark on her record—even if accidents do happen in Honor Battle.

She turned her sights side-to-side, but couldn’t spot the Lionheart anywhere in this open field. There’s no way he could’ve gone back, right?

Then the sky around her darkened.

“It couldn't be!”

Thirty meters? Fifty meters? No, more—

High in the sky, the Lionheart had lept—A height impossible to reach by any other cheval Leticia had known.

The Lionheart held its shield, plating now fortified in a curtain of green light, on one hand. In the other, a sword of emerald light, its beam gleaming with majesty in the sun.

The Lionheart told Graham to jump.

And jump he did.

His sister told him last night:

“It carries the will of our dad. It came to us because… it wanted to.”

“It has always been yours.”

Leticia's stomach turned. She growled and bit her lip. She turned the Grantz up, but the angle proved too high and awkward—especially for a damaged unit.

She forced the rifle up, almost tearing her controls from its hinges. Leticia began to fire imprecise, inaccurate shots at the falling Lionheart.

Fire and solar light raced around and below the Lionheart. Graham thrust forth his fortified SS-Shield to block her shots. Each shot hissed as it bounced off the curtain of light, but also burned off its sides.

[Structural Integrity: 64%]

He forced the thrusters forward and downward. Graham roared as the Lionheart's engines did, flying at Leticia’s mech like a burning meteor.

A blade of light flashed across the howitzer rifle, and several other weapons, cutting them all in half. The Lionheart landed behind her.

Leticia unsteadily reached out for her weapon controls. In a flash, the Grantz turned and deployed its solar jitte dagger. She locked his solar sword between its blade and hilt again.

She aimed a rifle at Graham’s Feather.

“I told you,” Leticia mocked, confident in the upper hand. “You will learn to curb your tongue around me!”

“I won’t let you!”

Graham let go off the locked blade. He reached for the handle jutting from atop his SS-Shield.

When he pulled it, the curtain of light rushed into the handle—forming a second Solar Sword.

Leticia pulled her unit back, only to be met with a staggering stop. The iron claws, still dug into the dirt, held her down like a leashed animal.

Leticia’s blackboard of wins flashed before her eyes.

“Damn it…!”

Every ounce of grace left her. And all that was left—nothing more than a spoiled brat.

“You're cheating!!”

“You’re not getting away!”

The Lionheart’s blade flashed across the Grantz’s Feather. Iron fillings flew over the field, as he severed it in one clean stroke.

Leticia’s cockpit fell silent.

And in Graham's, no more valid targets registered.

[Structural Integrity: 59%]

A bell buzzed in the distance.

And then, a distant voice, enthused and high spirited.

“And we have a winner!”

The battle has ended.

Everything fell silent.

The crowd just saw a titan fall. A rising star, pulled back to the ground. Their collective jaws dropped to the floor, not to mention that of the High Commissioner’s and his assistant.

In the hangar, a shocked Leena.

And Maya?

Astonished. Glazed over. The anxiety rushed out of her, pride and joy taking its place just as quickly.

Her faith had been paid tenfold.

She hopped in place. She cheered, hollered, then gave Leena a big hug. Relief washed over Leena, who then returned the hug.

And Coleda stood there, a meter away. She’d donned a smile, but not just of pride—but of relief.

And nervousness.

Out in the badlands, Graham arose from his cockpit, the warm sun bathing him under the blue sky.

Then, it registered.

The distant crowd finally broke the silence. Their clamorous cheers resounded all the way into the badlands. They weren’t just celebrating the fall of a titan, or the rise of a new star in Graham.

They cheered, because it was a damn good show.

And for spectators, that’s what the Chevalier War Games were all about.

The victory started to seep into Graham’s skin. He won. A victory—a real victory. He took off his pilot helmet and breathed deep the dry wasteland air.

But slowly, then swiftly, pain crept up. The adrenaline left his body. The toll of the G-forces, and perhaps something else, just caught up.

His stomach churned. In his vision, what was once up, was slowly going down. He tumbled back into the cockpit, and as soon as he did, a sickly belch left him. Liquids followed.

“Gram! Oh my God, you did it! You did it!”

Maya…?

“You made me so nervous. But… I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Leena…?

Their voices were blurring, a persistent ringing in his ears distorting them to near unrecognition.

His vision began to darken, his eyelids heavy. Sleepy, oh so sleepy. The nausea began to give way to languor.

“Gram? Gram. Come on back now.”

He closed his eyes and let sleep take him.

Coleda yelled his name over and over again. The girls would soon join in, but no answer would follow.

######

Age had been kind to him, but two decades had left its mark, chiseling his once rounded face into a roughness only time could leave.

Siegfried Akkwood sat at the back of a lavish, expensive brand car. In his hands was his phone, displaying footage of the last moments of Graham’s fight. The long stretch of mountain road blurred around him—the outside world didn’t matter.

When the fight ended, he leaned back on the seat cushion, and stretched his legs out. He studied his own gray business coat, eyes trailing to the ribbon which indicated him as a member of the CWG Oversight Committee.

He glanced at the car window. The sudden darkness of a tunnel allowed him to study his own face’s messy shadow and sideburns, marks of countless sleepless nights at work.

“Sir Siegfried, your son,” Another man, dressed in similar clothing, said to him. “He is a formidable pilot, after all.”

“Of course he is.”

Siegfried’s voice was gruff, yet lofty. There was a smug, cocksure arrogance to it.

“All he needed was a little push.”

A self-satisfied grin bloomed on his lips. He stared at the car’s ceiling, thinking about everything—yet nothing in particular.

“Does this change any plans so far?” His subordinate spoke in a subservient tone. “Leticia, she… she was the winning bet for several corporate shareholders. Would it make sense if we—”

“There will be no changes.” Siegfried sat up properly. “In fact, everything is going smoothly.”

“But sir, the shares—”

Siegfried sat up straight. His head turned slowly to his subordinate, his face already twisted in incredulity.

“You would value the opinions of mindless businessmen over the legitimacy of this match?”

“I…” The man’s face sank below his collar.

“Handling money does not make you intelligent.” Frustration bubbled in his throat. “These stockholders, shareholders… they’re vampires who feed on opportunity, and leave as soon as the sun of failure peeks through the curtain. They are nothing more than gamblers—only rolling the dice in boardrooms rather than casinos.”

Siegfried tugged on his subordinate’s CWG ribbon, as if to tug at the man’s very essence.

“But real businessmen? Real visionaries? They believe. Every rise and fall, every tide, high and low—it’s all part of business. I am no coward. I believe.”

He continued to pull on the ribbon, threatening to rip it off the man’s suit. The CWG mark of honesty, honor, and ingenuity, almost wasted on a man of his calibre.

“And you?” His eyes were filled with the coldness of the arctic. “Will you crawl into the shade, or face the sun?”

“I—”

The tape of the ribbon was halfway torn.

“—I believe, sir.”

Siegfried released his grip from the ribbon. He leaned back on his seat like nothing happened. His subordinate did the same, but fear had just soiled his grey pants with a puddle of sweat.

“A detour, sir?” The driver upfront asked expectantly.

“No. That won’t be necessary.”

Siegfried watched the lush greenery of New Albion come forth after the tunnel. The sun shone down on him, and blaring and bright as it was, he was not afraid.

“It’s been twenty-four years.”

“Sir…?”

“Twenty-four years too long.”

In the window was a reflection—his reflection. But behind it, another:

A man who was once shaped by his belief in love and justice. The reflection of a man, many years ago, before bitter regret had warped him into the man he is today. A man yet unpoisoned by the void in his chest.

“Sert. It’s finally time I paid you back.”