Epics of Noche 1, Anchor

EON CH 69

I WILL NEVER FAIL AGAIN.

1774, SEPTEMBER 30th FRIDAY 9:23 pm.

    Dreg entered the presidential room. Despite having a mountain of paperwork on her desk Medusa was staring out the window. She turned to Dreg and his scowl lessened.

"I know that face and it's a bad idea," he said.

"You haven't even heard what I have to say."

"It's a bad idea."

Medusa sighed. She walked towards her desk and placed her hand on a stack of papers.

"He's not ready. I... I'm not ready." Dreg said.

"Well I am," Medusa said. "Besides. Call it, instinct, but I feel like he is ready."

"It's too soon! He's too young!"

"He's old enough! I need him to join Cross."

Medusa walked towards Dreg and adjusted her tie. She brushed off her shirt, then raised her hand to the side of Dreg's chin.

"You're the one whose scared."

He paused.

"You're right," Dreg sighed. "You really want to see him again? Don't you?"

Medusa lowered her hand and turned her back to Dreg.

"I think we'd both give anything to see him again," she said. "The child who cannot die."

Dreg placed his hand on Medusa's shoulder.

"You know where he lives. We can't send Cross to a Planet Lance Cult village." Dreg said. "Even if I could go there... I'd refuse."

Medusa turned with harsh eyes, but they softened when they saw Dreg's lowered stare.

"It'd be too much for me," Dreg whispered. "I'm too weak."

She looked away.

"I know... I know better." Medusa paused. "I'm sorry."

They stayed silent for a moment. Medusa let out a loud exhale.

"We'd need to send someone close to Cross, but not directly affiliated." Medusa said. "Someone who the PLC can't claim is a Cross soldier."

"I know someone ambitious."

"You don't mean."

"It unfortunate she didn't graduate, but that's exactly why she'd be perfect for this secret mission."

Medusa placed her chin in her hand.

"I suppose your right," she muttered. "Dreg! First thing tomorrow morning, I want you to send Noche L. Grim to the Planet Lance Cult village and retrieve the immortal boy!"

Far, far away in the east, Tak de Leon sat alone in a room full of books. His silver hair brushed against white eyebrows as he put down the book he finished reading, the modern prometheus, and looked outside the window. Outside his overgrown lawn, the villagers of the Planet Lance Cult continued to expand their town.

Fingers grazed the pane of glass as eyes desperately followed the people who avoided his home. Once more his gaze drifted to the dulled brass knob of the front door. He closed his eyes and held back the cold pit that welled in his heart.

With dim eyes he returned to the chair, picked up his book, and adjusted the long scarf that hung between two giant roofing tacks stuck in his neck. He opened the book and began to read it for the six-hundredth forty-seventh time.