Deep History

"So." Sable's voice cut through the quiet clatter of silverware. "How much does our newest member know about his companions' illustrious history with the Executors?"

Karin's fork paused halfway to her mouth. "Enough."

"Do tell." Yamada leaned back, grinning. "I love this story."

Kaguya set down her pen. Looked straight at Sable. "Three recruitment attempts. Three rejections. We explained our position each time."

"The position being that you were too good for the rest of us." Varin didn't bother hiding his irritation.

Kaguya started to respond, but Karin cut her off. "That you can all go to hell." She stabbed at her food. "I think those were my exact words during the third meeting."

"We were more diplomatic than that," Kaguya protested.

"Were we though? Because I distinctly remember you calling the council 'strategically incompetent and tactically suicidal.'"

Kaguya shrugged. "Technical assessment. I had documentation."

Elara's laugh rang like crystal chimes. "Poor Councilor Ash looked like he'd been slapped with a wet fish."

"Should've hit him harder." Karin muttered. "Did you see his brilliant plan for the southern corruption zones? 'Burn everything and pray.'"

"It's worked so far," Varin shot back.

"Has it?" Kaguya pulled out a slim notebook, slid it across the table. "Seventy-three percent failure rate in long-term suppression. Forty percent more civilian casualties than necessary. Costs twice what efficient methods would require."

Varin opened the notebook. His face went pale as he read.

"These numbers..."

"Conservative estimates. The actual figures are worse."

"She's right." Darius stared at his hands. "Too many zones need retreatment within months. Too many settlements that couldn't be saved because we prioritized speed over—"

"Easy words from someone who's never been responsible for an entire region." Ice crystals formed around Sable's fingers.

"Actually," Elara interrupted, "Kaguya spent six months in the eastern territories after Blood Marsh. Her recommendations reduced corruption recurrence by sixty percent."

"While costing half as much." Karin's voice held fierce pride. "Zero civilian casualties."

Yamada whistled. "No wonder the council wanted you. That kind of efficiency makes the rest of us look like—"

"You're not amateurs." Kaguya's tone softened. "You're working within a flawed system that prioritizes tradition over innovation."

"And what's your alternative?" The ice spread across the table in delicate patterns. "Abandon centuries of proven methods for untested theories?"

"Adapt. Evolve. Try new things when the old ones stop working."

"Like following a substitute Executor instead of taking positions you were offered?"

"Like recognizing that Ken represents something different. A chance to approach old problems with fresh perspective."

"He saved Maya." Nia's voice was barely above a whisper. "When the guild doctors wanted to burn her alive, he found another way. He saw what they couldn't."

"One success."

"Built on sound theoretical principles." Elara leaned forward. "I've read Kaguya's reports on the case. The methodology was brilliant."

Kaguya's cheeks flushed pink. "Thank you."

I watched them all, beginning to understand the complex web of relationships beneath the formal hierarchy. The way Yamada grinned when embarrassing Varin. How Elara's voice softened when she looked at Kaguya. The hurt that flickered across faces when they talked about the sisters leaving. And somehow, Karin and Kaguya had been part of this world before choosing to step away.

"How long have you all known each other?"

"Too long," Varin muttered.

"Not long enough." Darius's voice was soft.

"Since the Academy. Though some relationships predate even that." Ulric glanced meaningfully at Nia and Yamada, who suddenly became very interested in their plates.

"The Academy?" I asked.

"Where young plague doctors learn to control their abilities," Nia explained. "Though 'learn' might be generous for what some of us did there."

Yamada grinned. "Nia set the training grounds on fire. Five times."

"Yamada started a food fight that lasted six hours and required Executor intervention to stop," Nia shot back.

"That was art!" Yamada protested.

Ulric's voice held fond exasperation. "That was chaos. Beautiful, expensive chaos."

Sable smirked. "Varin tried to court half the female students by showing off his speed. Including several who were engaged."

Varin's face went red. "I was young and stupid."

Karin snorted. "You were seventeen and stupid. There's a difference."

"You knew him then?" I asked.

Kaguya nodded. "Everyone knew Varin then. He made sure of it."

Darius smiled slightly. "I seem to remember you making quite an impression yourself. Didn't you redesign the entire training curriculum in your second week?"

"It needed work," Kaguya said modestly.

"She presented a forty-page analysis to the headmaster," Elara added with obvious admiration. "Detailed recommendations for improving everything from combat theory to resource allocation."

Yamada pointed at Karin. "And you challenged three senior students to duels on your first day."

"They were picking on a first-year," Karin said defensively.

Nia laughed. "You broke two ribs and gave the third one nightmares. Poor Marcus still flinches when anyone mentions fire magic."

"He deserved it." But Karin was fighting a smile.

"The point is, we've all been part of each other's lives for a long time. Through training, through promotion, through loss." Ulric's eyes drifted to the empty chair. "We're more than colleagues. We're family."

"Dysfunctional family."

"The worst kind." Warmth crept into Sable's voice.

"Which makes your absence hurt more. When you chose to leave, it felt like losing sisters."

The silence stretched, heavy with old pain.

"We didn't leave you. We left the system."

"Same difference."

"No." Karin's voice turned sharp. "It's not. The system wanted us to be tools. Weapons to be pointed at problems and fired. You're our friends—that hasn't changed."

"Hasn't it?" Ice crystals formed intricate patterns on the table. "When was the last time we talked? Really talked, not just passing in the street or meeting at formal functions?"

"You could have visited."

"You could have stayed."

"Could we? Really? Could we have stayed and watched the council make the same mistakes over and over? Watched you all carry out orders you knew were wrong?"

"We do what we must."

"And we do what we choose. That's the difference between us."

"The difference is that you had the courage to leave. The rest of us..." Darius's voice trailed off. "We're bound by duty, by family, by expectation. Our fathers' legacies, our families' reputations. You walked away from all of it."

"We found something better." Karin looked at me with such fierce pride that my chest tightened.

"And what happens when he disappoints you? When his idealism crashes against reality? When his pretty theories fail and people die?"

"Then we adapt. We learn. We try again. That's what partners do."

"Equal partners. Working toward the same goals, combining our strengths."

"That's what we could have had. If the council had been willing to change, to evolve."

"The council doesn't evolve. It just gets older and more set in its ways."

"Maybe it's time for something new. Something that doesn't require choosing between duty and conscience."

All eyes turned to me.

"You represent that. A path outside the traditional structure. Perhaps that's why your companions chose you."

"We chose each other. All of us. We're building something together, something that works because we trust each other, not because we're following orders."

"Pretty words." Sable's voice had lost its usual chill. "But what happens when reality intrudes? When you have to choose between saving one life and protecting hundreds?"

"I refuse to accept that there's only one solution. There's always another way if you're willing to look for it."

"And when your healing light isn't enough?" Pain flickered across Darius's gentle features. "When the corruption is too deep, too widespread? Will you still hesitate to burn it out?"

"I'll find another way."

"There isn't always another way." The weight of terrible choices pressed down on his voice. "Sometimes black flame is the only mercy left."

The admission settled over the table like a shroud. Here was a man who had been forced to use his terrible gift, who carried the knowledge of when healing became impossible.

"That's why we need him." Elara's crystalline mutations caught the light. "He refuses to accept defeat. He'll keep looking for solutions when the rest of us would reach for our weapons."

"And when his idealism dooms us all?"

"Then at least he'll die trying to save someone. Instead of just trying to kill them more efficiently."

Yamada raised his goblet, his wild grin subdued but genuine. "To the substitute, then. May he prove us all wrong about the necessity of violence."

"To Ken. May his light guide us toward better solutions."

One by one, the others raised their goblets, even Sable and Varin, though skepticism still clouded their faces.

◇◇◇◇

As we prepared to leave, Elara approached me privately. "Be careful, Ken. The path you're choosing is harder than the one we walk. But perhaps that's what makes it worthwhile."

"Any advice?"

"Trust your instincts. And remember that sometimes the greatest strength is knowing when to ask for help." She glanced meaningfully at Karin and Kaguya. "You chose your allies well."

Kaguya appeared at my elbow. Suspicious timing. "Ready to go? I'd like to document tonight's observations while they're still fresh."

Elara smiled. "Your research methods are quite thorough, as I recall."

Walking back through the empty streets, I thought about the evening's revelations. The Executors carried the weight of inherited power, bound to roles they'd never chosen. And Karin and Kaguya had been offered places at that table, only to walk away in search of something better.

"So, how much of your history with them am I not supposed to ask about?"

"Most of it." Karin's tone was cheerful.

Kaguya remained silent, her usual analytical demeanor clouded by something I couldn't quite read. She kept glancing back toward the hall we'd left behind, as if part of her remained tied to the friends she'd chosen to leave.

◇◇◇◇

Back at the clinic, I found myself in the kitchen, unable to shake the memory of that butchered attempt at French cuisine. My hands moved automatically, gathering ingredients.

"What are you doing?" Karin settled into her usual chair.

"Fixing dinner. That meal tonight was educational."

"You mean terrible." Kaguya pulled out her notes from the evening.

I started with something simple but proper: real coq au vin. Chicken pieces seared until golden, then braised in actual wine with pearl onions, mushrooms, and herbs. The smell began to fill the kitchen, rich and comforting.

"They tried. But you can't replicate technique without understanding the principles behind it."

Karin watched me work, chin propped on her hand. "Already smells better than anything they served tonight."

I ladled the finished dish into bowls. The chicken was tender enough to cut with a fork, the sauce glossy and perfectly balanced. Both sisters took their first bites in silence.

"Ken." Kaguya set down her spoon. "You could quit being an Executor right now and open a restaurant. You'd make a fortune."

"The nobles would fight wars over dinner reservations." Karin went back for seconds. "This is incredible."

"Better than those fancy palace chefs?"

"Better than anyone. You take something they completely ruined and make it perfect."

"Same principles as medicine, really. Understanding, practice, caring about the result."

"Everything's connected with you. Cooking, healing, even fighting. You see patterns others miss."

"Or maybe I'm just stubborn enough to keep trying until it works."

Karin laughed. "Stubborn enough to argue with Executors and make them listen. Stubborn enough to save Maya when the guild doctors wanted to burn her alive."

"I like stubborn." Kaguya's voice was quiet. "Stubborn means you don't give up on people."

We finished eating in comfortable silence, the warmth of good food and better company washing away the tensions of the evening. Outside, the dome's barriers glowed softly, protecting the city from the darkness beyond.