Cross Conviction

"Alright, alright! That's enough, we're finished..."

Sturm paused mid-thrust of his fist, taking in his captain's words. Finished? After how Scharf had brutalized the rest of the Third Hunter Team? The man who had betrayed their trust and attacked them at their weakest seemed quick to relent after being caught in a disadvantageous position.

Feeling secure in his student's hesitation, Scharf took a more relaxed tone and began to speak once more. "This has been an exercise- a drill designed to test your preparedness for combat. Along with the other instructors, I'll use the information gathered during this exam to-"

The explanation was cut off with a cartilaginous snap as Sturm's fist plowed into the captain's nose, twisting his dead to the side, and splattering blood across the grass. Before Scharf could rebuke him, the swordsman pressed his forearm into his windpipe and bore down with all his weight. The captain gasped and, out of desperation, extended his fingers through the turf to clasp a round stone, which he subsequently slammed into the side of his student's jaw. The strike knocked Sturm off of Scharf and onto the ground with a thud. Before the candidate could collect himself, Scharf quickly jumped to his feet and put some distance between them.

While undoubtedly rattled by the blow, Sturm shakily rose to his feet and, despite some weakness in his knees, faced down his opponent once more. The boy was fully prepared to charge at his captain when, to his horror, he felt a familiar vibration beneath his feet. Still hunched over, Scharf wiped the blood from under his nose, apparently unbothered by the tectonic activity below.

The grass behind the captain suddenly sank into the earth and gave way to a bubbling, muddy sinkhole. Within seconds, the hole inverted into a silty dome, reminiscent of the most vile of bog bubbles. This round hemisphere continued to expand by several meters in width and height until it burst, coating the surrounding area with mud and revealing three distinct figures that had been hidden within.

Now poised behind Captain Scharf was the familiar hulking form of Grizzler, joined by an unknown, mud-addled female floating weightlessly above the giant's head. The woman was coated from head to toe in wet loam that completely covered her long robe and wide-brimmed, pointed hat. Similar to the other aggressors, her face was obscured save for two dark, hollow voids in place of her eyes. Over her head loomed a long cattail, swaying in the breeze. Its stem was the woman's only non-brown feature, save for her sickly, straw-like green hair.

It was the final of the three unwelcome arrivals that made Sturm's blood run cold, however. There, standing beside Grizzler, was none other than the shrouded knight which the young swordsman had previously done battle with. Certain of the fiend's demise at the hands of Whirlwind, and having earlier watched Grizzler sink into the ground, Sturm's first assumption was that of necromancy. Perhaps this woman, whose hat perpetually dripped globs of dark mud, was some form of lich. The overall shape of her garb was witch-like enough, after all.

"Captain Scharf..." started Sturm as his breath labored, "How could you align yourself with such a horrible thing? No matter what you stand for, fighting alongside a necromancer is the lowest of low..."

Scharf clutched his bruised, crooked nose and, with an unsettling pop, set it back into place. He then cracked his neck in either direction and wiped a few spots of dried mud from his shoulders before shooting a glance back toward the witch. She tilted her head down and returned a dark, vacant gaze. After a brief moment, both the captain and his apparent mud-cached ally turned their focus back to Sturm in unison. Scharf then stepped to the side and retrieved both his cap and his student's scimitar. 

As this was the first time that the captain had the opportunity to examine this weapon up close, he took his time eyeing it up and down, taking note of the visibility of his own reflection in the blade's obsidian sheen. When satisfied, he turned back to the mysterious, black-armored knight and held the sword out in offer. Curiously, the knight held out an open palm in apparent refusal before nodding toward Sturm. Scharf then took a deep breath and tossed the scimitar back to his student, who eagerly snatched it from the air. Sturm, still cautious, flipped the weapon around into a ready position and braced for a confrontation.

"Child..." the witch suddenly spoke out with eerie calmness, "I am no necromancer. Please be assured that the danger has come to pass. There is no more need for violence."

Her mouth, toothy with angular triangles, gave an impression not dissimilar to that of an American jack-o-lantern. It moved in a manner that didn't match the words slipping forth. Most ominously, the voice that it projected was one that Sturm had certainly heard before. Who it belonged to, however, escaped him in this moment of duress.

"Sturm," said Scharf, placing his cap atop his head, "I understand that this exercise has been difficult for you, but stress is the nature of combat. At ease. The test has resolved."

With a wave of the witch's hand, a mud creature burst from the ground a few meters away from Magnolia. Sturm, immediately identifying the threat, attempted to engage the monster but found his feet glued to the earth in a small, localized mire.

Sturm attempted to power through the retardant but to no avail. "What the hell...?" he growled, unable to move forward.

Powerless to intervene, the young candidate watched with bated breath as the abomination slinked toward his unconscious ally. Then, to his utter surprise, the creature knelt down, plucked the ring from Magnolia's mouth, and returned back to its full, towering stature. Now completely disinterested in the girl, the monster turned and shuffled off to Scharf before eagerly returning his ring. Sturm, though initially taken back, soon understood the true substance of these mud creatures.

All along, they had been under the witch's control.

The miniature bog anchoring Sturm's feet suddenly dissipated. Because he had been leaning forward in his haste to exit the trap, its sudden absence caused him to stumble forward a short distance before catching himself. Looking down at the grass, Sturm saw a rectangular shadow materialize before his eyes. He looked up to find it cast by a folder held at arm's length by his captain. After a brief, contemplative pause, Sturm warily reached toward the file, but Scharf pulled it away at the last second.

"You're the only one still standing," said Scharf, gesturing toward Max's now torpid body.

Sturm glanced toward Max before looking back up at the captain, still unconvinced that the ordeal had truly lapsed. "You said this was a test. If that's true, and I'm the only one left, then that means the Third Hunter Team failed."

"You misunderstand..." the mud witch interjected from over Scharf's shoulder, "One does not typically achieve victory, or even stalemate, during the readiness examination..."

Eyes narrowing, Sturm stared down his captain. "And what about the other staff? Grizzler said you killed Mrs. Pauritsch."

"I might have been exaggerating," Grizzler chimed in with a shrug.

Sturm shook his head in disbelief. "No, none of this makes sense. You went from trying to kill us to acting like nothing ever happened in an instant... You're trying to fool me again."

"Kid," Grizzler piped up once more, "If you want me to kick your ass again, I'd be glad to. But the test is over so that'll be on your own time."

The witch floated by Scharf and gently touched down on the ground next to Sturm. Gripping his weapon tightly, Sturm was fully prepared to retaliate if necessary. However, to his surprise, the slimy, earthen mask covering the woman's face sloughed off and splattered on the ground, revealing the familiar, soft expression of Mrs. Sophia Pauritsch.

"Y-you were the one controlling the mud creatures, ma'am?" asked Sturm, blue eyes widening.

"I do not so control them as I beckon to the Earth," Pauritsch explained. "More often than not, the Earth is most happy to comply."

Once more she waved her hand and the nearby mud beast walked toward Sturm. It stopped just beside him, its lanky upper body looming over the swordsman's head. Sturm tensed up out of habit but was relieved to find the creature mostly inactive.

An uncomfortable look came about the boy as he turned back to Pauritsch. "We... killed these creatures, ma'am. I'm sorry, we didn't know that they were alive..."

Pauritsch shook her head, allowed the mud to roll off her left hand, and placed it on Sturm's shoulder. "These beings do not live, Mr. Sturm, they simply are. They will return when I call for them again, should they so choose."

Though Sturm didn't quite understand the implication of the mud witch's words, they provided some comfort nonetheless. The thought that had participated in the execution of another living creature as part of a simple test would have been difficult to grapple with, so it was a relief to know that this was not the case. Having composed himself, Sturm lent his full focus back to his captain.

"Captain Scharf," he started as he straightened his back and came to attention, "I apologize for assuming you guilty of treachery. I should have known better."

"Idiot..." scoffed Scharf.

Sturm raised an eyebrow but did not break his rigid pose. "I'm sorry, sir?"

"Only an idiot would apologize for defending themselves against someone trying to kill them."

"I..." Sturm intended to mount a protest but quickly thought better of it. "Yes, captain."

Shaking his head, Scharf paced a few steps before facing his student once more. "Why the hell are you at attention? I already told you to be at ease."

The boy exhaled and relaxed into a more natural posture. "Of course, captain."

"Now come on, take this damn thing so I can have a cigarette," Scharf groaned as he held out the folder once more.

Sturm quickly retrieved the file and opened it. Inside he found numerous documents detailing what appeared to be a surveillance operation. Throughout the many pages, one name was repeated over and over;

Hugo Zech.

As he continued to skim through the reports, he found some accompanied by various photographs and the occasional hand-drawn layout of a street or building. There was a grainy image of a grated drainage vent set into a sidewalk, complete with what appeared to be two distinct, glowing eyes peering out from the darkness. The next item was a full-page sketch of a young woman's face, bespectacled with large, circular lenses. Most prominent of her characteristics were two broad, mouse-like ears adorning her head. The name scribbled across the bottom of the page read "Johanna Ratzinger."

Also included in the documents was an analysis of one "Lukas Leibl", complete with an intricate breakdown of a specific model of portable camera. An attached photograph, clearly taken in motion, showed the blurred face of what appeared to be a young man passing through a crowd of people with the same model of camera outlined in the previous document hung around his neck by a strap.

"Captain Scharf, who are these people?" inquired Sturm, still perusing the contents of the folder.

Just as the captain began to answer, Sturm found himself looking into the soulless, flash-flared lenses of a military model gas mask, printed just below his nose.

"These are the dogs responsible for killing those girls."

With trembling hands, Sturm's eyes slowly shifted up to meet the monocular gaze of his captain. "T-this is... the pyromancer?"

Could this be the face- or rather the mask- of the man who had murdered Ida Weber? If so, her inability to describe her killer would be easily explained. This was Sturm's chance to finally confirm the legitimacy of his surreal delve into the apparent afterlife.

"Captain, is Hugo Zech the pyromancer?" he inquired urgently.

"He is," answered Scharf with a nod.

Sturm flipped the open folder toward the captain, presenting the masked figure. "And this is Zech?"

"It's not."

The boy's blood ran cold. He was so close to validating his otherworldly experience. Everything lined up perfectly. This had to be a mistake.

"Please, Captain Scharf, are you certain?" Sturm pressed on, "This has to be the pyromancer. If not, then who is this?"

Raising his nose, Scharf glared down at his student with skeptical intrigue. "I wasn't able to confirm that one's name. I don't know who he is, but he's a member of Zech's little Communist kill squad. Why are you so insistent on that being Zech?"

Taking a deep breath, Sturm attempted to reign in his buzzing mind. "I'm not, I just..."

Sturm paused, considering the potential ramifications of his next words. If he explained his true reasoning, Scharf might doubt his sanity. Even the captain, for some reason, had faith in his explanation, there would be no telling how Pauritsch, Grizzler, or the still unknown black-armored knight would take such a revelation.

"It's... nothing, captain, I'm just exhausted and this is a lot to take in," Sturm answered, feigning confidence.

The suspicious look in Scharf's eye made his doubts clear, but regardless of this, he chose to move past the issue. "Very well. Grab Magnolia and bring her back to the dorm. I've got Gustavo. If Max won't wake up, kick him. He's fine."

With that, the captain made his way to Gustavo, hoisted him over his shoulder, and, with a deep breath, started back toward the academy's main entrance. Sturm took a step toward Magnolia but stopped almost immediately. He'd have difficulty waking Max if he were already carrying the girl. As such, it made more sense to rouse the calciumancer first. After arriving at his friend's side, he knelt down and shook Max with one hand. 

There was no response.

"Hey, Max, get up," he said aloud.

"Mr. Sturm," Pauritsch spoke up from behind, Grizzler and I must tend to our own students now. It was a wonder to see the Hurricane's son in action and I do so hope to enjoy the privilege of seeing you grow into a worthy successor to your father. Goodbye for now, dear."

"Yeah, keep your head on a swivel, kid," added Grizzler, "It'd be a shame if you never made it to that point... That's not a threat, by the way."

Sturm turned to see the instructors off. "Oh, well... Thank you, sergeant. And thank you... um..."

"I never served in the military, sweetie, don't worry about that," Pauritsch explained with an awkward smile, "Ma'am will do just fine."

"Of course," said Sturm, "Thank you, ma'am."

Grizzler and Pauritsch made their exit, leaving Sturm to return to his duty of retrieving his allies. With Max still asleep, the swordsman considered applying Scharf's suggested method of awakening him. Sturm raised his foot in preparation for a modest kick but was immediately nudged from behind. He turned and found himself face to face with the mysterious black knight. Memories of their combat flooded his head, causing Sturm to reach for his sword. However, just as the candidate's hand made contact with the weapon, the knight waved his hands in mock surrender. Slowly, the unknown man grasped the edges of his helmet and removed it, steel mask and all. 

He was young, likely no older than twenty-five. His eyes were a similar blue to Sturm's and he bore golden-blonde hair. 

"Pleasure to formally make your acquaintance, little Hurricane," he said with a smile as he held out his hand, "Lieutenant Keil, the Black Knight, at your service."

Careful not to appear rude, Sturm shoved aside his hesitation and shook Keil's hand. "A pleasure to meet you as well, Lieutenant."

"Sorry about earlier," Keil explained with genuine regret in his eyes, "I know we exceptionals heal quickly and all, but it still doesn't feel right drawing the blood of a comrade."

A comrade? Though Sturm was unfamiliar with Keil, the way he stated his title made it quite clear that he was an ordained and active Iron Knight. For such a man to address him as an equal was a great honor, and one that Sturm did not take for granted.

Keil glanced past Sturm toward Max's comatose body and shook his head with a grin. "I know, how about I make it up to you by helping you get your pal inside?"

The young candidate was at a loss for words. Was this truly the same vicious warrior that he and Whirlwind had encountered earlier that morning? Then it hit him.

It wasn't.

"Wait... when Whirlwind defeated you earlier..." Sturm started in a hushed tone, "There was nothing in the armor."

Keil gave a hearty laugh and a slow nod. "Yes, that's true, and I do apologize if you found that unsettling. I promise you that I am no ghost, nor am I an anomaly, or anything in between. I simply have the ability to control metals remotely."

"A whole suit of armor?" Sturm asked in awe, "With that level of precision? That's incredible."

"Please!" Keil urged, swatting the air as if he were striking down the physical manifestation of the boy's compliments, "I'm nothing compared to your father. You should be proud of him, but don't put me on an undeserved pedestal!"

It was clear to Sturm that Lieutenant Keil was a special sort of soldier. Despite his immense combat prowess, he remained exceptionally humble. In this moment, Sturm found himself gazing upon the exact sort of knight he wished to become.

"Now, I'd prefer not to lay hands on a lady I don't know without permission, so I'll carry your friend here inside while you tend to the fair maiden if that's quite alright with you," said Keil before kneeling down to retrieve Max.

"Oh, of course, Lieutenant," Sturm replied. "Thank you, I really appreciate the help."

"Enough with the formalities, friend! Keil will do just fine."