"When this war between Rocket and League is over, there will be ash and suffering. It will be up to the victors to build a better tomorrow for our children. But the world built on that day will be a blank slate, a blade to be reforged. Flawless. In a twisted way, it will be perfect. We're the generation that will inherit that right." The admin put a hand on his hip.

"We'll inherit the right to Arcadia. The power to make a better tomorrow."

The admin had little power, and what he did could not be traditionally applied. That was the distinction between him and his contemporaries. Bee was adept, Jayden a warrior, Fern a jester who mocked the game while pretending not to play, but Howard? He was new. He lacked authority. Weight.

All he had was rank and paper. A paper shield was better than one forged in steel, the admin had found. There was a rigidity to Rocket's hierarchy that reminded Howard of a suit of armor. Protective, yet encumbering. A warrior of the pen who fought off foes with his signature while Aurelie fought enemies with a forge hammer.

He admired the freedom Aurelie had as a grunt. The ability to solely focus on her work. That had been why he joined Rocket, but somewhere along the way he had been promoted to pencil pusher.

Yet there was a gentle strength to bureaucracy. Where warriors once had to fight for the right to make change, quiet office workers did so with much more efficiency. Aurelie was a smith, wielding an ancient art to the best of her ability in the modern age. He was an archaeologist who tried to learn from the past.

Perhaps they had both been left behind in the times. For Howard, it was best to focus on that negative rather than comment on Aurelie's father. If anything, he and his daughter were the philosophers, not Howard.

"So that's why you have an eyepatch?" The admin blinked slowly. He hadn't wanted to ask about it. His own eye injury was a sore subject. "That makes sense."

He focused on the forming spring for a spell. Eyes. Sight. Historians and smiths needed to see. Frayed nerves twitched around the socket. It occasionally felt like burning, like molten metal splashed onto the wound. An experience smiths had suffered from since the beginning of time.

"That's an excellent spring, wow!" Howard turned to Aurelie, eye sparkling. "What now? Will you reassemble the Gigaton Ball piece by piece, or forge everything first?"

---

Aurelie Lefevre

A flash of fire and metal, and thus sight was no more. It was not a grand tale, but it did not need to be. She had lost her sight fulfilling her passion, as did he. If his tale was as mundane as Aurelie's, Howard would've been able to forget his own story.

A flash of silver, a series of screams, his beloved Aerodactyl screeching. Pain.

Stop. He could control his own thoughts. A coward he was, but his sacrifice had been one of blood and passion and fervor. A proclamation of his dream, and a desire to continue chasing it. Even if that meant turning his morality to ash by joining Rocket, he would pursue that eternal love of history.

Until everything was chronicled, there was no need to stop. Until their descendants learned, there was nothing to be done.

If that meant marching forward, undying yet eternal, the admin would do so. History was a flat circle, and that meant Howard would chase his dream for eternity. Aurelie would hone her craft for eternity. That was the nature of passion. To accept any other definition was to admit that this path had been a mistake.

If Howard did that, he would break down into tears.

"I'm sorry. On the bright side, it makes costume parties easier." He attempted to cheer the smith up. "I've been a pirate for the past eight years, and it hasn't failed me yet."

Silence. As she questioned his motive, the smile slipped from Howard's face.

"They have to. They will, because it's in our nature to improve. We're creatures who revel in wanton suffering, but I have to believe that we can be better. Otherwise, we would've died out long ago."

Pessimism and optimism rolled into one. A personal philosophy so incomprehensible that Howard occasionally questioned his own logic. Yet nobody could doubt his faith in humanity, least of all him. If anyone doubted, that's when the cracks began to show. If Aurelie questioned him, he had to be confident. If he could alleviate her concerns, then perhaps he could alleviate his own.

It was better this way. He could trust Aurelie more if she were a critic. Blindly following a mantra was why mankind failed to improve.

"Shall we start on the gear?"

---

Aurelie Lefevre