RAVAGED HEARTS | CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
"I HATE HIM so much." Io moaned into her hands as she slowly lowered herself onto the bed. Rhys looked at her sympathetically. "Why would he do that? He could have removed himself from this entire equation with so much ease by just leaving. But no, he runs right back into the den of the tiger with gladness."
Constanza shook her head. "At least this makes the mission easier."
Io said, "It hurts my brain."
"But it also saves us a lot of tracking and searching," Louis murmured. "Balances out the amount of brain cells this ridiculous course of action taken by the prince kills, yes?"
Rhys shrugged. "It does this make this mission no matter what. We can combine both operations into one, not have to divide our forces. One or two of us are set on keeping the prince in check, making sure he doesn't manage to escape. The rest of us fight the Falcons. Should work fairly simply. Much more straightforward than any other plan we would have needed to come up with."
The Enrique Zevallos twins and Adoria had already set off for Valencia, with Adoria speeding ahead to pass on the messages as quickly as possible. But it'll still take a day or two for her to return with agents if not longer. They'll have to make sure the Falcons obediently stay in place for that long.
Io trusted them to remain in Saria, but not enough for them to remain passive. They might start plotting attacks, start plotting ways out. Because they had to know they were planning a raid. The entire base might be trapped with all manners of danger.
Damn Falcons. Most agents loathed dealing with them, and for excellent reason. Once upon a time Io had treated them like any other agent, but back then she hadn't been dealing with a few dozen at once. That's just a whole new beast altogether. The last time she'd done so had been during the final raid of the Falcon's headquarters, but there were more than fifty agents in that operation—the largest she'd ever gone on. Teams of ten, going in from every direction possible.
For the world under the surface of what people usually saw, that one raid had changed the tides of the war. Once the Falcons were shut down, Melique's intelligence service had been so heavily hindered it might as well have fallen apart. With their backbone down, Meliquean forces—which had always been heavily outnumbered anyways, were quickly destroyed and beaten in battle. Soon enough, they'd gotten Meliquean surrender. Treaties were signed quickly, and peace, after more than ten years, finally restored.
That had been a monumental event. One that barely anyone knew of. Funny, how their work was so crucial, and how important, how much power they held over the world, yet so few people knew of it. Their deeds went unsung. More often than not they were criticised, said to be immoral and wrong, rather than praised.
It was payless work. Painful work. But they did it anyway. Sometimes Io truly wondered why.
"So. Our plan is just to attack, then," Constanza murmured, combing back her hair. "We'll scout out some paths."
"Most likely we'll be divided into groups of... three or four. Find that many ways to infiltrate. Though leave one squad out as distraction, probably." Io glanced at Louis. "How many agents would they send?"
"Anywhere from a dozen to two dozen. Depends on how many they can spare. Fluctuates a lot. Castrillo?"
"I'd say around the middle of that, sixteen."
Rhys nodded. "That makes twenty-three of us in total. Hopefully that's enough."
Castrillo said, "We only counted around eighteen Falcon. We'll outnumber them. Should work."
"Sounds good, then." Io tilted her head. "We should start getting back in shape. Is there anywhere in this inn we could use as a... training space?"
Rhys grinned. "I'm glad you asked, Io."
-♡-
"I FIXED THIS place up the last time I was here, which admittedly was a long time ago. I'm surprised he kept it in lace. I'd have thought the innkeeper got rid of this by now."
"I'm glad he hadn't. Why, though?" Constanza questioned, skimming her hand along one wooden dummy, clumsily made with poor artsmanship. Very clearly Rhys' work—the woman had never been good at crafts. Notoriously bad at them, really. Rhys had hands made for violence, battle, not the delicate building of beautiful things.
Some of them were more suited at... destruction than others.
Rhys smiled fondly. "Saria is a safe spot for smugglers. Some of them stop by here and enjoy the presence of a makeshift training ring of sorts. Probably lets them stroke their egos and whatever else smugglers do."
Io deadpanned, "They smuggle things."
Rhys nodded. "That they do."
Louis snorted, and Constanza shook her head good-humouredly. "We can spend a few hours here every day to get ourselves back in shape." She yawned. "I haven't gotten into a proper fight for so long."
Io agreed, tilting her head. "We've all gotten lazy."
"Not for much longer with this around," Louis nodded, glancing at Rhys. "I trust this place is wiccai-proof."
"There is no such thing as wiccai-proof. Or even human-proof," Rhys told him, walking forwards to tap a dummy on its head. "Don't use your full strength, Sanchez. Imagine what a mess that would make. Even the two of you too." She nudged her chin towards Constanza and Io. "Let your rage out on the Falcons, not on my poor, poor targets."
"We'll try," Io snickered. "Not like you can't remake these. I'm surprised they're not broken yet."
"They have," Rhys inspected one. "This isn't my handwork. Only that one is."
"Makes sense," Io said nonchalantly. "That one looks far more balanced and smooth."
Rhys glared, clearly annoyed at the slight. For some strange, unknown reason, she was defensive of her hastily made dummies and targets. Rhysa Jiang had a strange sense of pride. One Io had never quite been able to grasp, though she always felt like they were similar in some sense.
Of all the girls in the Court of Herons, Princess Irina's close group of advisors and friends, she'd always related most to Rhys. They were both survivors. They both came from an incorrigible past, one they tried so hard to escape but both failed to. One that frequently came back to bite them in the ass. But they persevered, masking their insecurities and worries with layers of sarcasm and wry bite, never once stopping or hesitating on their quest for justice and peace.
To varying degrees of success and rather different methods, of course, but they pursued the same goal.
Louis asked, "When was the last time any of you fought wiccai? Except for Voronin and Seo earlier, that is."
Rhys said, "Before I left Sai. But I assume that's not the answer you're searching for."
Louis very kindly ignored her, eyes landing on Io and Constanza. Io said, "Around four months ago." She'd had a training bout in the rings with Fayette and Adrian. She'd lost, much to her sister's glee, though in her defence she'd been extremely out of shape and nowhere near peak condition by that point.
Constanza winced. "Probably during the war."
Louis nodded. "Precisely. You two should train with us two for a bit. Get back into the mindset, the state." They'd all completely slacked off after the war. Breaks that should only have lasted a day or two became weeks, until weeks became months.
If Io had to be truthful, she missed the feeling of the weight of a blade in her hand. She missed wielding them with efficiency, because fighting wasn't just for survival for her. She made it art, she made it a dance. A dance of blades.
Rhys said, "I brought my fans."
Rhys' fan blades were infamous. They weren't the most practical thing ever, and in a proper, high-risk serious fight, Rhys usually swapped them out for normal knives, but when used with her powers they made dangerous and deadly projectiles. Rhys was lethal with them. A Rhysa Jiang with her fan blades within grabbing distance was not a Rhysa Jiang you wanted to offend.
Io truly just adored Rhys sometimes, even when she was on the wrong side of the blades, mainly because Io could usually dodge them.
Emphasis on the usually, of course. It had been a hot minute since Io had fought Rhys. And while Io had remained more or less stagnant in her self-imposed exile, placing down her blade, Rhys hadn't. As the co-Captain of the Iron Wolves, she'd frequently train with the other Wolves. Io most probably didn't stand much of a chance anymore, but she could still last a while.
Constanza grinned. "If Anita was here, she'd salivate over them."
"Precisely why I... didn't take them out while she was here," Rhys replied coyly, tapping her breeches. "She's a sweet and nice girl and all, but sometimes having people worship the very ground you stand on gets a bit... annoying."
"You might be one of the first people in the world to say that," Io muttered.
"No I'm not," came Rhys' reply. "Let's be real, everyone thinks that eventually."
"Entitled bitch," shot back Io.
Louis tilted his head. "Perhaps we could cut some of the banter and get into the fighting and training, you know, not waste any time."
Io glanced at them. "You guys go ahead first. I want to... get moving a bit first. It's been a long time."
Constanza shrugged. "Your choice. Rhys, Louis, I want to watch you two, honestly. Who'd win?"
Louis pointed to Rhys, Rhys pointed to herself. Io started to laugh, but then she choked so she started coughing instead. Once she'd calmed down, she snickered, "Narcissist."
Louis said, "To be fair, it's quite obvious she'd win. She's older, and her powers are far more combat-based than mine." Louis was an excellent scout, an excellent spy. In combat he could hold his own, but he was nowhere near the top of the crop. Somewhere hovering right under that. He usually relied on diplomacy first, fists second.
Io did the same, but usually because she didn't want to risk it. She was still human, after all.
She perched herself in front of the dummy, holding up her fists right in front of her face, almost touching but not exactly, the way she'd always been taught until it had become muscle memory. She extended one arm, shrunk it back, then extended the other. Rinse and repeat. Slow punches as she slowly started speeding up.
Some basic warming up. Most likely she wouldn't be finding herself using punches in the fight, but it was still useful. A knife, a good blade was basically just an extension of one's limbs anyways, was it not?
She started mixing it up, though she kept her punches and kicks light, barely skimming the surface of the dummy. Control and restraint were both important things. When she was a child Lady Kuroki had told her both were her greatest weaknesses. So for years she'd tried to curb her impulses, until they became part of her, something she did without nary a thought.
She was a girl molded by all these lessons, all these experiences. She'd learned some, but she hadn't learned others.
She dodged an imaginary blow, delivering what should be a crushing blow towards the dummy's abdomen. In reality, it was a jab that stopped mere millimetres away from the target. She let out a quiet breath.
Once upon a time, this had been her lifeblood. This had been the way she'd survived. The world was deadly and the world was cruel and sometimes violence was the only way out.
Now it felt almost... foreign.
It would get better with time, with consistent training. And maybe even better once she got into a proper fight or two.
For now, though, she'd be patient. All things took time.
Louis and Rhys had already gotten into the ring, so Io took a moment to watch. Bare fists, no weapons, powers were banned as well, mainly because that would just be extremely unfair to Louis.
Constanza was the judge. The moment she announced the start of the fight, Rhys and Louis went pouncing at each other. Rhys struck first, and Louis dodged with exceptional grace. Rhys landed on the ground beside him and didn't even hesitate in a punch towards his guts, which Louis took but immediately returned with a hook on Rhys' left cheek. Io winced. Louis' hooks fucking hurt. She'd been at the receiving end of them once or twice, and back then he'd just been a teenager. She shuddered to think of what they were like now. But Rhys was Rhys, so she continued onwards, pressing back with renewed rigour.
Louis lashed out with a low kick, probably hoping to catch Rhys out and trip her, but Rhys saw it coming and leapt backwards. She bared her teeth in a wild grin. "Too slow, Sanchez."
Louis just rolled his eyes and continued onwards, which was as good a response as could be. Sometimes, the things Rhys said didn't deserve a response. Io occasionally felt bad for the Iron Wolves. Suffering under Rhys' constant quips and biting remarks could not be good for one's psyche.
Might explain why most of them either had the exact same attitude as Rhys or were so bloody cranky half the time.
But back to the fight. For a few moments both retreated back to their sides of the makeshift ring, sucking in a few well-deserved breaths of fresh air.
Constanza booed them, yelling, "Come on! Fight!"
Io watched with a small smile on her face as Louis charged forward. The next few seconds were a complete blur as kicks and punches were exchanged, returned and countered. It was a deadly dance of limbs and sweat and violence. It was art.
Louis' first mistake was pressing Rhys a bit too hard. One slower punch gave Rhys the chance to parry the blow with one of her own. His second mistake was not backing up immediately after that, but continuing with his string of attacks. Rhys, who had taken far less blows over the course of the fight and had conserved more strength. While the fight started off equal it was clear who was dominating the battle near the end.
Louis conceded the fight. Rhys and Constanza let out a whoop, and Io chuckled. As the three bustled around, Io redirected her attention to the target.
Time to continue.
-♡-
COMBAT WAS, IN theory, something you wanted to avoid at all costs. But for some of them the rhythm was calming, the realisation that you were doing something, that you could train your entire mind onto this one simple thing, that razor-focused concentration was... comfort.
Louis had always thought Io was one of those people. He wasn't. Never had been. He was a skilled fighter but he did not live for it. She did.
Long after Castrillo—who'd started being a damned more civil around him—and Rhys left the makeshift gym, he remained, watching Io. He wasn't sure if she realised what was going on around him. She probably did, just didn't care. She blocked it all out, leaving only a sliver of awareness for the rest of the world to keep her safe.
Or maybe she was so invested and allowed herself to do so because she knew he was watching over her, standing vigil.
It brought him the slightest bit of comfort, that she still believed in him that much.
Their earlier conversation had been disastrous. Truthful, but disastrous. He didn't think she was actually hurt or offended by any of it, but he still ought to be a bit more... careful.
Just in case. He didn't want to do any more irreparable damage than he already had. That would just be far, far too much work. And while he was willing to spare much effort into regaining Io as a friend, there also was a line he wouldn't cross.
Sometimes, you had to know when to give up.
Louis was nowhere near that yet, though. At least he didn't assume so–he could be very wrong, of course, but he didn't think so. He had some degree of faith over his own judgement. Confidence, he'd decided a few years back, was a very useful thing. Even when you didn't know something, you could lie and bluff your way into avoiding it. He wasn't precisely sure how helpful that would be with his current predicament, but it'll probably help with something.
Io hadn't bothered with weapons of any kind for the entire session, even when the rest of them had started donning knives and daggers. None of them used guns, since they could all aim like the devil and it would be far too loud anyways.
He wasn't sure the target had been touched for the entirety of Io's little training. Every time her skin almost made contact with the dummy, she stopped and pulled by. She was training her restraint. Her control over her own movements, her own body.
He didn't make a sound, didn't disturb her. Just silently watched until she finally paused for a split moment and glanced behind her. "You planning on standing there all day?"
He shrugged. "Why not? Not like there's anything better for me to do."
"Huh."
She went back to her training. She didn't show, didn't reveal any signs of exhaustion, but Louis could tell she was getting impatient. She was trying to wait him out, he realised. She wasn't going to leave this damned room until he did.
Fine. Two can play this game, and he most definitely wasn't the one having physical exertion. It was a game of will versus stamina.
That was fun. Did she really think she stood a chance?
He probably did, Louis thought, considering her extremely low opinion of him. The thought stung, but the only way to go around that was to prove her wrong. He hadn't exactly managed to truly do that so far.
In his defence, no opportunity had revealed itself, and proving oneself wasn't exactly something that could be done by the snap of a finger. For starters, it was subjective, and more often than not ended with some sort of bodily maiming on the prover's part.
As desperate as he was, he didn't particularly want to lose an arm or the sort on this journey to redemption in Io's eyes.
They were pretty eyes, though. Strong eyes. When she was younger they sparkled, as if she was filled with enthusiasm and all the things in the world that were nice, as if they hadn't seen the worst of humanity. The scum of the scum. Now they were ice and stone. They were steady and reliable and spoke of trust and matureness. You took one look at her and knew that she was someone who was capable.
They both stayed that way for ten minutes. Twenty minutes. She then turned around again. "Do you genuinely have nothing better to do?"
"Nothing better than this."
"Watching me train."
"It's fascinating. You're a fascinating person."
She let out a strange, indecipherable sound. "Right." She looked a bit annoyed but pushed no further. Her fatigue was starting to show, but she did not hesitate in turning back to the target.
This time she lasted five minutes. Instead of just turning her head, she spun her entire body around to face him. "Seriously?"
"I'm very serious."
"You need Hongyun."
"Your goddess will not save you. Besides, you're not even religious."
Io shut her eyes, clearly exasperated. "It's an expression of speech."
Good-humouredly he replied, "I realised."
"So why did you take it literally?" she pressed, crossing her arms across her chest and levelling him with a glare.
He shrugged. "It's funny."
Io raised one brow, clearly annoyed but not wishing to visibly show so. Too bad he could read her emotions like an open book. She hated that, probably, but knew there wasn't exactly much she could do about it.
She drawled after a long moment of silence, at the pace of a bloody snail, "I've realised, over the years, that doing things because it's funny rarely ends well."
"Oh?"
Io sighed. "If I wasn't exhausted I'd challenge you to a fight." The thing was that at her peak, Io probably could beat him. Even though he was physically stronger, faster and more durable, she had experience, strategy, years of fighting ingrained in her mind. But she was already tired.
Still, he taunted, "Why not?"
She glowered. "Seeing as I've trained for the past three hours, I hardly think that's fair."
He flexed his fingers. "I've sparred against both Castrillo and Rhys multiple times."
"You're wiccai."
He tilted his head. "I thought that didn't matter to someone like you."
Seemingly unable to muster a proper response—maybe her mind had been exhausted along with her body—she simply hissed in response.
At moments like this, Io seemed almost like an wild animal. A cute one pretending to be vicious, and actually capable of causing some damage, of course, but still a cute animal.
Now he was just getting off-track again. This time for absolutely no reason. Io said, finally, "Maybe tomorrow. I'll spar with you tomorrow."
"Sounds good to me," Louis grinned. "You want an audience?"
Io shook her head.
"What," he teased, "scared?"
She turned to give him one last blank stare. "In your dreams, Sanchez. Simply don't want to embarrass you when I knock you on your ass."
The words felt eerily similar to something she might have said long ago, when they were still friends. But the attitude was wholly different now.
But at least some things still remained the same. That was already more than he could ever ask for. The road to redemption is long and hard, and despite Io's visible response...
He had a feeling he was already more than halfway there.