Ouroboros Chapter One [Draft]
Darkness.
“Hadrian.”
There was warmth around him. It wasn’t the brutal heat he had experienced. It was the kind of heat that made you want to keep sleeping and glued you to the bed. He buried his face into the pillow, grumbling deep in his throat.
“Hadrian, wake up.”
He didn’t want to. Not after that... thing. He didn’t know what to call it. It could have been a dream, but the pain felt so real. His hand fell to the base of his neck, wanting to feel for the mark that he supposedly had. However, when he felt around, there was a bandage over the base of his neck. What exactly happened?
“Hadrian, I won’t ask you again.”
Hadrian Evaristus rolled his face away from the pillow, blinking back sleep as he looked up at a face shadowed by light. Panic bolted through him, and his hand fell to where his handgun, a Corps standard issue Lyons MK91, should have been holstered to his waist, automatically falling into a shooting stance but his hand only met empty air.
It was only when the man next to him gave a snort when it occurred to him that he was not where he expected himself to be. He was in the West Wing of Fortress Minore, dedicated to treating wounds the soldiers sustained in the line of duty. It was a sparse room he was in, with white walls, black tiles and tall, thin windows with several other beds lined up by the walls.
“Hey, hey, don’t shoot me.” His bedside visitor raised both his white gloved hands, even though it was clear to the both of them that Hadrian didn’t have a gun. “I’m Robert Darwin, at your service.”
As Hadrian’s eyes adjusted to the light, he saw the red cross of the Corps medics stitched onto the right sleeve of Robert’s white battle dress uniform. Breathing heavily, mostly from shock, Hadrian lowered his twitching hands and wiped the sweat from his brow.
“Where am I?” Hadrian rasped out. The Corps medic took the clipboard from the bedside table.
“Apparently you were thrashing and screamin’ last night. Woke the boys up good, you did.” The medic said, scanning page after page on the black clipboard. “-Clawed the base of your neck up good too.”
Hadrian blinked. Yet another reminder of what he had experienced. What exactly had he done? Evidently he had been asleep here in this plane of existence but the pain had been real enough. The pain had made him scream and claw at his own body. It was too surreal to be reality but then the feeling of being burned alive, of being battered by the elements, it was too real to dismiss as a dream.
The lights of the building flickered. Hadrian blinked in surprise, but Robert didn’t seem perturbed. Hadrian rubbed at his temples, sitting up on the bed and throwing the bed sheets off. He found a fresh shirt and coat at the foot of the bed and he reached over and began to dress.
“Don’t exert yourself.” Robert said, wagging a finger in warning. “It’s a wonder you can still talk after all the screaming. I’m confining you here in the fortress for now.” As he said that, he made a notation on the clipboard.
“The 2nd Division gets deployed to Nue at the end of the month.” Hadrian said defensively, buttoning up his shirt. “I haven’t done all my practice hours yet. I can’t get deployed to Nue with everyone else if I don’t do my hours!”
“Well you can forget Nue.” Robert stated. “Roll up your sleeve; I need to give you a shot.”
Hadrian grumbled under his breath, but he did as the medic requested.
“You just screamed yourself bloody last night. If that wasn’t post traumatic stress from fighting in that silly desert for a scrap of metal or a drop of oil, I don’t know what that was.” Robert lectured, waving a finger. “I don’t like to send potential crazies into the battlefield.” He took up a cotton ball soaked with alcohol and wiped at Hadrian’s shoulder.
“You’re being unreasonable.” Hadrian frowned at the medic as Robert wiped at his shoulder with a second cotton ball, this time soaked in iodine. “You can’t stop me from going to Nue. I have to fight too. The last deployment-“
“I’m sure your men won’t miss you if you come there later than they do.” Robert disposed of the cotton ball, took out a syringe and injected something into Hadrian’s shoulder. He then placed a bandage over it. “That should help with the pain.”
Hadrian shook his head. He searched around for his gun holster and found it neatly folded on the bedside table with his beloved Lyons still in it. Hadrian checked the internals, watching the symbols glow and crawl slowly across enchanted metal, glad that the technology was still intact.
Weapons nowadays used a rail system made of Abyssum-powered metals that fired bolts. Because of the limited grasp that the humans in Parynia had on electricity, humanity had no choice but to ask the Ouroboros for intervention.
The energy that flowed in the Ouroboros’ world, Abyssum, pulsed through each and every rail gun. Rail guns could fire any projectile, as long as it fitted inside the chamber. No gun was created without an Ouroboros’ intervention, because if the proper symbols were not written into each and every rail gun, then the entire ensemble wouldn’t work.
The Corps’ rail guns were outfitted to fire bolts; sharpened solid rounds of copper, which was abundant and easy to mine for in the city of Escycis.
The Corps possessed two sizes of ammunition for the rail guns they currently had in service. 5.56mm for the Strohl MK51 and the Reylan & Treka MK6-A, and 9mm for the Lyons K19C-A and the Reylan & Treka MKP10-A.
Even though the scholars of Viraris had dismantled almost one of every kind of rail gun that the Ouroboros had created, they still couldn’t figure out the symbols that enabled the rail gun to function.
So, the scientists had tried to make their own rail gun, the Gauss rifle, which was named after its inventor, Carl Gauss. Hadrian had only heard about that gun. It used coils to fire metal projectiles, but it took more time to manufacture, was made with some materials that only came from the Nue Desert, had more expensive ammo and took more energy to operate.
Hadrian snapped the bolt chamber of his Lyons shut, giving the gun a little pat. “I don’t want to stay here.” He added, buckling the gun holster to his belt.
“But you are going to.” Robert replied crossly as Hadrian wore his olive green coat and rolled up the sleeves. He looked around again to find his rank bandolier that dictated his status as both a soldier of Escycis and an officer.
For lower ranking men, they wore a brown leather bandolier. For officers like Hadrian who possessed limited power, they wore a blue soldier bandolier. Medics like Robert wore a white and red bandolier, while higher officers wore a black bandolier. Only the Kommandant used a red bandolier.
“I’ll tell the Kommandant, and you know he gets mighty riled up if it’s a personal matter.” Robert pushed his white medic helmet up. “You’re too reckless with your own health, Hadrian.”
“I’m fine, and you-“ Hadrian looked up from buttoning his coat. “You wouldn’t dare.” He hissed out, wishing that his throat hadn’t felt like a cat scratched at it. “I-“
“Officer incoming!”
Hadrian muffled a curse, springing out of bed with his rumpled clothes and the soldier bandolier hanging limply from one shoulder, fist snapping to his chest over his heart in the Corps salute as the entrance to the room opened without warning.
“Kommandant, sir! What a surprise.” Robert Darwin said with mock astonishment in his voice, looking over at Hadrian with a small, mischievous glint in his green eyes with his fist over his heart as well. “I thought you were inspecting the troops in the parade grounds.”
Kommandant Mazarhu entered Hadrian’s line of sight. He was a middle-aged man, with raven black hair and equally dark eyes. His own uniform was like Hadrian’s own, only that it was jet black, with red shoulder insignias and a red soldier bandolier. A red beret was tucked in his belt. His sidearm, a specially modified Perugini CK7, was holstered by his side in a supple black leather holster. His main gun, a Reylan & Treka MK6C, was slung over his shoulder, muzzle pointing down.
The Kommandant ran a hand through his raven black hair, his dark eyes scanning the area. “I just thought to visit.” He said with a slight shrug of his broad shoulders, smiling at the young man. “How have you been, Hady?”
“I’ve been better, sir.” Hadrian said. “But I can still work, sir.”
“You might want to fix yourself up before you return to your duties.” The Kommandant asked with a grin, tilting his head. Hadrian gave a grunt and then proceeded to fix his disheveled appearance.
“Can you tell me what happened?” The Kommandant asked, his grin now replaced with a small frown. “I heard you screamed out enough to wake the dead.”
“I feel fine, sir.” Hadrian replied politely.
“You sound like my pet bullfrog.” The Kommandant said with a small tinge of amusement in his voice, poking Hadrian squarely in the chest.
“Despite my voice, sir, I still would like to return to my duties.” Hadrian replied, tilting his head.
“Ah yes.” The Kommandant said with a small nod. “Your dedication to your duties is indeed commendable.” He gave a small smile. “Of course, I will let you return to duty-“
“Sir, thank you, sir!”
“-Provided, Hadrian, that you stay within the Fortress, at least for today.” Kommandant Mazarhu said with his lips quirked up in a smile. “That would be an order, yes?” The Kommandant reached over and placed a hand over Hadrian’s head, ruffling his hair.
“Of course, sir.” Hadrian said, gritting his teeth.
“I’m glad we understand each other.” The Kommandant said, dipping his head. “Now, if you will excuse me, gentlemen, I have a delivery of foreign food to demolish in my office.”
“What is it this time sir?” A nearby soldier asked with a lopsided grin. Kommandant Mazarhu laughed. “It’s something called... nah-cho! I’m not quite sure what to make of it though. It doesn’t smell like anything I know of.”
“That’s why it’s foreign, sir.”
“Yes, yes.” Kommandant Mazarhu said as he turned on his heel and left, his voice echoing in the room. “I suppose so. Do you have any cheese? I heard you eat it with cheese.”
After three days of being coddled in the West Wing, Hadrian had enough. As soon as he could leave, he did. He made his way through the halls of Fortress Minore, going past portraits of previous Kommandants and renowned members of the Asantea Military Corps that hung on the walls. The amber light of the afternoon sun descended from the high windows, bathing the ancient halls of the Fortress in subtle warmth.
The Fortress was arranged so that the entire compound was built around the parade grounds with a manmade lake behind it. A majority of the Fortress itself were made out of white marble, a costly gift from the Sovereign. With a tall, wrought iron fence separating the Corps from the rest of the world, it seemed like the city of Escycis was in a firmly different plane of existence.
“What am I to do?” Hadrian grumbled under his breath as he stopped to a halt near one of the massive balconies overlooking the manmade lake. He gripped the railing and watched the sun’s light reflecting gently off the pristine blue waters of the lake. Everyone in this fortress knew that Hadrian would rather be working.
Just as he was about to walk away from the balcony, his vision flickered and his ears suddenly became overwhelmed by the sea of voices that he experienced the night before. Clamping his hands over his ears, he stumbled away from the balcony.
“Leave me alone.” He muttered to himself, eyes wide with terror, wondering if the pain was going to come here too while he was awake. “This isn’t real. Just leave me alone-“
His eyes were fooling him. The bright afternoon sun kept flickering on and off, his world spun around so badly he didn’t know where to step and fell down, still with his hands over his ears in a futile attempt to stop the voices from invading his mind.
Contract... formalize... complete...
The voices kept on speaking, getting louder and louder with every passing second until Hadrian was sure he was going to be deaf by the time this was over. He was on his knees, his eyes screwed shut.
You... I cannot.... this plane...
“No, no, no, no-!” He shouted. “Get out of my head! I don’t know what you are, I don’t care! Just get out of my head!”
The other voices stopped just as suddenly as they came. Hadrian looked up hesitantly, wondering if he had gone deaf, until a voice pierced his mind once more.
Our Contract must be formalized. The Mark must be completed. Allow me to complete it.
It sounded like Archanus the Favored’s voice, but less imposing and more welcoming. Hadrian thought heard his own voice underneath the new voice, and he wondered if he had gone insane. He looked around, wondering if the new voice was coming from somewhere, but it seemed like he was the only one on the balcony at the moment.
I cannot materialize in this plane properly. The voice in his head stated with a kind tone. I need you to accept our Contract.
“What if I don’t?” Hadrian asked tentatively.
Then- The voice was starting to crack. I cannot... The voice trailed off, and suddenly Hadrian felt a great weight lift off his head. He waited for a few minutes, just in case the voice would speak again, but it seemed like the voice was gone.
Frowning to himself, he moved back into the hallway. If another incident like that happened, he didn’t know if he could somehow stop himself from throwing himself off the balcony.
He needed help.
“Kommandant, do you have a minute, sir?” Hadrian ventured, looking up at the imposing solid oak door leading into the Kommandant’s office. He raised his brown gloved hand again, knocking on the carved door frame with his fist. It took a few minutes before the door opened.
“Enter.” Kommandant Mazarhu’s voice drifted from the room. Hadrian peered around the door into the Kommandant’s office.
The Kommandant’s office was decorated according to the current Kommandant’s taste. Before, in Kommandant Stanislav’s time, the office was the picture of its owner’s spartan nature. Kommandant Stanislav didn’t bother with carved wood and bookshelves and portraits like Kommandant Mazarhu did.
Hadrian saluted when he saw the Kommandant with both feet propped up on the surface of his desk, which was cluttered with various toys and fountain pens. The older man brightened up visibly when he saw Hadrian, a smile on his handsome face. “Hady.” He said while returning the salute. “I didn’t expect you to show up in my office.”
Hadrian entered the office, closing the heavy doors behind him. “I need to apply for leave, sir.” He said with a polite tone.
The Kommandant tilted his head. “Leave? To the city?” He leaned back into his chair. “You’re not working are you?”
“No sir. I’m applying for recreational leave.”
“Then what are you still doing here?” The Kommandant asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I want to run it through the proper channels sir.” Hadrian said slowly, moving to stand squarely in front of the Kommandant’s desk. “I would prefer it that my status as your godson doesn’t give me any edge in the Corps.”
The Kommandant swung his legs off the desk, boots landing hard of the stone floor. “You’re so dutiful.” He said with a bored look and a pout on his face, flicking a toy off his desk as he slumped forward.“So upright.”
“I was trained, sir.” Hadrian replied with his hands clasped behind his back, boot heels aligned and touching. “I think you would know that.”
The Kommandant hid his face into the crook of his arm, waving his other hand idly in the air. He gave a grunt, his voice muffled by his arm and the desk. “But I expected you to be more fun because of your mother.”
“Sadly, you did tell me I took after my father.” Hadrian said with a wry smile.
“Sadly.” Kommandant Mazarhu agreed. He took his face out of the crook of his arm. “Now, what were you talking about?”
“Recreational leave, sir, for next week.” Hadrian supplied helpfully. “I’ll be doing the paperwork later on; I just thought to ask you first.”
Kommandant Mazarhu slumped forward again. Hadrian’s brow furrowed as he looked at his godfather.
“Sir?”
“I’ll do the paperwork.” His godfather said, opening a drawer and taking out some paper, a rubber ink stamp, a red ink pad and a fountain pen.
“Sir, I must insist-“
“You’ve been working too hard.” The Kommandant said, signing his name on the paper with a flourish. He scanned the paper’s text again before he took up his rubber ink stamp and jammed it onto the ink pad.
“Sir-“
“You’re too stressed.” The Kommandant said, rolling his eyes, waving his hands for emphasis. Hadrian watched little droplets of ink fly off the rubber stamp and land on the little toys. “Like father, like son, both taking their duties too seriously-“
“Sir, I-” Hadrian tried again.
“Why so serious, anyway?” His godfather piped up, mashing the rubber stamp onto the paper firmly. “You’re young; you can have a little fun. Honestly, I think your father would want some grandchildren-“
“I am only twenty, sir.” Hadrian said, incredulous. “The Kommandant is suggesting-“ He tried to look for the words as his face began to redden, making vague gestures in the air before his godfather looked up from reading fine print.
“Oh get the stick out of your rear end.” His godfather said, signing his name again in the spot he stamped on. “Hand me the seal, won’t you?” He pointed to the dry seal press on the far side of his desk.
“I will not.” Hadrian said, annoyed.
“Why not?” The Kommandant asked with an innocent look on his face. “I’m simply filling out a form.”
“It’s my form.” Hadrian said, pointing to himself with his thumb. “And I’m supposed to be the one doing it. Besides, you’re close enough to get it yourself, sir.”
“I’m your godfather.” The Kommandant said with the same tone of voice Hadrian had. He pointed at himself as well with the ink stamp. “I can do this if I want to. Besides, this is a gigantic desk.”
Hadrian held back the urge to tell the Kommandant it was his fault he picked out a big desk and chewed at his lip.
“As you wish.” Hadrian sighed, finally relenting, sliding the dry seal press over to his godfather. His godfather flashed a boyish grin.
“See, there is some of your mother in you.” The Kommandant said with a relish, placing the dry seal onto the paper. “Done! I’ll be keeping this now.” He said, tucking in the sheet with his other paperwork. “You can go at the end of this week,” He said and flicked another toy off his desk. “which, by my reckoning, would be tomorrow.”
“By your leave, sir.” Hadrian saluted, turned on his heel and left.
As he made his way down to the ground level of the Fortress, Hadrian stopped to look outside the window. The sun was setting, the world welcoming the dusk and then the dark. His little argument with his godfather had made it too late for him to go into Escycis. So, before he went back to the barracks and to his bunk, Hadrian stopped by the balcony where the voice had talked to him. He stepped out to the balcony, taking off his gloves and tracing patterns onto the railing with his fingers, watching the sun fade into the horizon.
“I don’t know if it’s real.” He said to himself, rubbing at the back of his head. His fingers brushed the bandages at the base of his neck and he blinked in surprise. Carefully, he probed around the area. It didn’t seem to hurt when he prodded at it, so he slowly peeled off the bandage, wincing when it stuck to the hairs on his neck.
Finally, the bandage was off. Hadrian’s hand made its way to the base of his neck.
He stiffened. There were raised edges on the base of his neck, like a deep wound that scabbed over. He traced the pattern with his fingers, trying to imagine what it looked like. It felt like two concentric circles with a multitude of symbols in the center of the smaller circle. The two circles didn’t seem like perfect circles. It was like a snake biting its own tail, with a raised bump on two specific spots on each circle.
“What is this...?” He said, face screwed up in concentration. As he tried to imagine the words the symbols were meant to stand for, the thought suddenly occurred to him.
“Raguel... the... Adamant?”
You called me.
The voice suddenly entered his mind. Unlike before, it didn’t sound bizarre. There were no other voices. There was only this clear, crisp voice, as if someone was standing next to him. Stunned, Hadrian spun around, looking around him, but there was no one there.
“Hello?” He asked hesitantly. The empty hallways sent back his voice. Feeling chills up his spine, Hadrian tried to run, but he suddenly found that he couldn’t feel anything in his body anymore.
You called me, bearer. I have come.
Before he could react, Hadrian was engulfed in white light, the wind around him gathering like a miniature tornado, whipping objects around him. As the men in the Fortress struggled to understand why wind suddenly sped through their halls with immense force, the light around Hadrian grew brighter and brighter.
As suddenly as the light and wind had come, it left, and Hadrian was no longer standing by the balcony.