The Starlight Lancer

Chapter 118: The Auditorium of Remembrance

"Every lancer dreams of having their likeness erected on this hallowed ground, but so few prove themselves worthy of such an honor."

—High Lancer Esteba Pondool

Zaina stared at a plaque in front of a half-built statue. It read, "The Auditorium of Remembrance welcomes the likeness of High Lancer Girxorgian of Clan Ra-Folgoth, a lancer whose compassion, loyalty, and bravery knew no bounds."

All around were massive statues of lancers from ages past, each with a plaque to commemorate their achievements. Instead of all that lancer history, Zaina was focused on the twenty-foot tall feet and legs in front of her, those of her fallen friend. Maybe she hoped being near Gir's statue would somehow help her know what to do next—where to go.

She glanced at Gizmo, still in low-power mode, and sighed. What could possibly be so important that he tried to hide it from the Order? It has to be something big. Do I even want to know?

Her eyes returned to Gir's lower half set in stone. "Gir... was this—did you want me to find this? Was this a message, or a mistake?"

She lowered her head. If it's a message from Gir, and he wanted me to find it—I think I owe it to him to do so. But where do I start? I don't even know where to go for glyph repair besides where I've already gone.

"It's gonna be tricky," she said to Gizmo in a soothing voice, "but I'm going to figure out what's wrong with you and get you fixed."

Maybe the manufacturer could help—she tried to remember the term Valsi had used; was it VRZ? VZR? ZVR? So much of what she'd said sounded like techno-babble, making it difficult to recall specific things.

There's gotta be a way to find that out, right?

A voice, one she hadn't heard before, interrupted her mental option-weighing. "Hey!"

She jumped, not expecting anyone to talk to her—unless they had foul motives. She turned toward the sound's origin. Instead of a threat from some ne'er-do-well lancer, there approaching between the statues was the floating hover-bed of a scholar.

What is this? Am I in trouble?

The hover-bed came close enough that Zaina was able to see the occupant—it was a thin Korelbaran male, a humanoid with long, pointy ears, spindly blonde hair, pale gray skin, and eyes on either side of his head. His large hands were folded over his stomach. He looked young for a scholar, with barely a tinge of white in his hair or wrinkles on his skin.

"You wouldn't happen to be Zaina Quin, would you?"

His voice was friendly, which put Zaina more on guard. "Uh—yes. Why?"

A smile spread across the Korelbaran's thin lips. "I—wow. I—okay. I'm sorry, I'm—I'm a bit—I mean—"

Zaina raised her hands and said, "Are you okay? Am I in trouble or something?"

"Okay? Yes. And trouble? Goodness, no. I'm sorry—I'm a bit excited. I've been hoping and waiting to meet you, Zaina. Can I call you Zaina?"

"Sure," she said, starting to worry. Where was this going? "What should I call you?"

"Ah! I haven't even introduced myself. Sorry about that. My name is Baeus of Balevan, but my friends call me Baeus. I was hoping you would, too."

"What, call you Baeus?"

"No, be my friend!"

Zaina's eyes narrowed. "Why do you want to be my friend?"

"Well—to be honest, I'm fascinated by history. All history, mind you, but I feel that not enough focus is placed on marked history. It's under-studied, and I want to do my part to correct that. I'm only a scribe right now, but I'm working on an original text compiling information all about the marked, their history, and how they fit into the wider history of the Nova Rim!"