Destiny's Serendipity

Episode Eight: Military Excellence

A Thriller - Romance - Transgender Serial

By Jo Dora Webster

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Will Bart's investigation of Regalia's mysteries bridge the gap to the region beyond the barrier and save all on their planet?

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Richard rushed to the map, his hands trembling as he traced the newly revealed markings. "This is impossible," he muttered, his voice a mix of awe and disbelief. "These symbols... they're not from any language I've ever encountered. "

With a look of recognition of the symbols by both Bart and George, it was George who spoke first. "Bart, please run this through your assistant, like you did with the cave writing."

"Of course!" answered Bart as he got to work on the symbols. This time, he was able to give them a complete translation. All three were speechless as they read the message.

"I hope my data helps. You are on the correct path to truth. — A friend" The orb disappeared without a trace, but the new data and the message remained. They agreed that this collaboration was the start of something big. The three went out into the night after securing their new data.

Their hearts raced with excitement as they walked home through the quiet streets, their minds whirling with possibilities. The mysterious message and data felt like the first pieces of an enormous puzzle finally falling into place. As the night deepened around them, each silently contemplated how their lives might change now that they had stumbled onto something far bigger than themselves. None of them slept much that night, too energized by the discovery and too anxious to see what the next day would bring. Hours passed in restless anticipation until the first hints of dawn began to paint the sky.

The sun had barely risen over the military compound when the sound of clashing swords and barked orders filled the air. In the main training yard, two young men moved with practiced precision, their blades flashing in the early morning light. These were Raymond's other sons - Bruce and Robert - each a paragon of military excellence in their own right.

Bruce, the eldest, led a group of recruits through a complex series of sword drills. His movements were fluid and graceful, yet carried an undeniable power. "Watch your footwork!" he called out, demonstrating a particularly tricky maneuver. "Your blade is an extension of your arm, but your feet are your foundation. Neglect either, and you'll fall."

Nearby, Robert oversaw archery practice. His keen eye spotted the slightest imperfection in stance or aim. "Breathe, Cadet Johnson," he instructed, adjusting a young archer's elbow. "Feel the tension in the bow, become one with your arrow." As if to demonstrate, he readied an arrow of his own, drew back, and released in one fluid motion. The arrow whistled through the air, splitting the target dummy's head clean in two.

From his vantage point on the command balcony, Raymond watched his sons with pride. Each had risen through the ranks on their own merit, earning the respect of their peers and subordinates alike. They were living proof of the military tradition that ran strong in their family's blood.

As the morning progressed, a messenger approached Raymond, handing him a sealed message. His brow furrowed as he read its contents, his eyes darting to an empty space in the training yard where his third son, Bart, should have been.

"Sir," the messenger ventured, "shall I inform the other officers of Cadet Bartholomew's absence?"

Raymond's jaw tightened, his eyes never leaving the scene below. "No," he said after a long moment. "I'll handle this myself. For now, let's focus on the excellence before us."

As if on cue, Bruce executed a perfect disarming maneuver, sending his opponent's sword clattering to the ground. Robert's archers loosed a volley that turned their targets into pincushions.

Raymond nodded, a mix of pride and concern etched on his face. "Military excellence indeed," he murmured. "But what of the son who seems to march to a different drum?" His gaze turned towards the city, wondering what could have kept Bart from his duties, and what consequences would follow this unexpected absence.

The contrast between Bruce and Robert's dedication and Bart's absence hung heavy in the air. Raymond couldn't help but feel a twinge of disappointment, even as he marveled at the achievements of his other sons. The military compound buzzed with activity, but for Raymond, the most pressing issue was the conspicuous void left by Bart's unexplained absence.

The parade grounds bustled with activity as soldiers from various units assembled for drill practice. The air was thick with anticipation and the sharp scent of polished leather and metal. Colonel Hawthorne, a seasoned veteran with a voice that could cut through the din of battle, stood at the center of the field, surveying the gathering troops with a critical eye.

"Company, attention!" he bellowed, and as one, hundreds of boots snapped together with a thunderous report. "Today, we prepare for the annual Regalia Military Parade. This is not just a show for the civilians, gentlemen. It is a demonstration of our discipline, our unity, and our unwavering commitment to the defense of our great nation!"

Rows upon rows of soldiers stood at rigid attention, their eyes fixed forward, bodies taut with readiness. Among them, Bruce and Robert stood out, their posture impeccable, their uniforms immaculate. They were living examples of the standard every soldier aspired to meet.

Colonel Hawthorne began barking out commands, and the parade ground came alive with movement. Platoons marched in intricate patterns, their steps in perfect synchronization. The sound of hundreds of feet moving as one echoed across the field, a testament to hours of rigorous practice.

In a corner of the grounds, a group of soldiers meticulously polished their ceremonial weapons and adjusted their dress uniforms. Every button was shined to a mirror surface, every crease sharp enough to cut paper. The attention to detail was painstaking, but necessary – in the parade, even the smallest imperfection could be noticed.

As the morning wore on, the complexity of the drills increased. Soldiers executed precise turns and formations, creating living geometric patterns on the parade ground. Flag bearers practiced their routines, unfurling the colors of Regalia in sweeping arcs that caught the sunlight.

Amidst the coordinated chaos, Colonel Hawthorne's keen eye spotted a gap in one of the formations. He frowned, consulting his roster. "Where is Cadet Bartholomew?" he muttered, his eyes scanning the ranks for Raymond's youngest son.

The absence was glaring, a disruption in the otherwise perfect order of the drill. As whispers began to circulate among the troops, Colonel Hawthorne made a mental note to address this issue with Raymond. For now, though, there was a parade to prepare for."

Adjust formation!" he ordered, and the troops seamlessly closed the gap left by Bart's absence. The drill continued, but the question lingered in the air – where was Bart, and what could be more important than his duty? As the sun climbed higher in the sky, the parade ground continued to pulse with activity, a living testament to the military excellence that Regalia prided itself on. Yet, for those who knew how to look, there was a small but significant piece missing from this display of precision and discipline.

Cadet Bartholemew Copernicus, usually front and center during morning drills, was conspicuously absent from his post. His fellow cadets exchanged knowing glances but maintained their stoic expressions as training continued without him. The whispers of his unexplained absence rippled through the ranks like a subtle current, though none dared voice their concerns aloud. As the morning progressed, the gap where he should have stood seemed to grow more noticeable, a void that spoke volumes about the changes brewing beneath Regalia's carefully maintained surface. The day marched forward with mechanical precision, yet that single disruption in the usual routine hinted at deeper currents of dissent moving through the ranks

As the military compound buzzed with activity, Bart found himself in a secluded corner of the city, far from the parade grounds. His uniform lay neatly folded in his quarters, a silent accusation of his dereliction of duty. Instead, he wore civilian clothes, his face partially obscured by a hood as he made his way through the winding streets of Regalia's old town.

Bart's heart raced, torn between the weight of his responsibilities and the urgency of his current mission. In his hand, he clutched a small, intricately carved box – the same one Richard had revealed to him and George just days ago. Its contents had shaken their understanding of Regalia and the barrier to the core, and Bart couldn't shake the feeling that time was running out.

As he approached a nondescript building, Bart glanced over his shoulder, ensuring he wasn't followed. He knocked on the door in a specific pattern, waiting with bated breath until it creaked open, revealing a dimly lit interior.
"You're late," a gruff voice greeted him. The speaker, an older man with a scarred face and piercing eyes, ushered Bart inside quickly.

"I'm sorry, Erion," Bart replied, his voice low. "It wasn't easy to slip away unnoticed. Especially today."

Erion raised an eyebrow. "Ah yes, the grand parade. Your absence will be noted, young Bartholomew."

Bart winced at the reminder but pressed on. "What I've discovered... it's worth the risk. We need to decipher this now." He placed the box on a table cluttered with maps and strange instruments. As Erion examined the box's contents, Bart's mind wandered to the parade grounds. He could almost hear the rhythmic marching, see the gleaming uniforms, and feel the pride radiating from his father and brothers. The guilt gnawed at him, but he pushed it aside. This was bigger than military drills and family expectations.
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"This is... extraordinary," Erion muttered, his eyes wide as he studied the artifacts. "Where did you get this?"

"That's not important right now," Bart deflected. "Can you make sense of it?"

Erion frowned, his fingers tracing the strange symbols. "It will take time. And Bart," he looked up, his expression grave, "if this is what I think it is, it could change everything we thought we knew about Regalia and the barrier."

Bart nodded solemnly. "I know. That's why I'm here instead of at the parade. But Erion, we need answers fast. I don't know how long I can keep this secret."

As they bent over the mysterious artifacts, Bart couldn't help but think of the consequences awaiting him back at the compound. His absence would not go unnoticed or unpunished.

But as he watched Erion work, deciphering the clues that could unlock the truth about their world, Bart knew he had made the right choice. The future of Regalia might depend on what they discovered here, in this dusty room, far from the pomp and circumstance of military parades.

Across the city, the military ceremony was already underway, its precise rhythms marking the passage of time like a metronome. The morning sun climbed higher as Bart delved deeper into the mysteries before him, each moment spent away from his post adding to the weight of his decision. His fellow cadets would notice his absence by now, and soon the questions would begin.

Yet here, amid ancient texts and cryptic data, he felt closer to the truth than he had ever been on that parade ground. The consequences of his choice would come soon enough, but for now, the pursuit of knowledge demanded his complete attention.

The parade ground fell silent as Colonel Hawthorne's sharp eyes scanned the formations. The absence in the third row of the honor guard was glaringly obvious, a void in the otherwise perfect lines of soldiers. He frowned, his mustache twitching with disapproval.

"Lieutenant," he barked, summoning a nearby officer. "Where is Cadet Bartholomew?"

The lieutenant swallowed hard, his eyes darting nervously. "Sir, Cadet Bartholomew has not reported for duty. We've checked his quarters and the infirmary, but there's no sign of him."

Colonel Hawthorne's frown deepened. "Inform First Scientist Raymond Copernicus immediately. This is most irregular."

As word spread through the ranks, a ripple of whispers and sideways glances disrupted the disciplined atmosphere. Bruce and Robert, standing at attention in their respective units, exchanged a brief, concerned look. Their brother's absence was not just a personal failing; it reflected on the entire family.

In the observatory tower overlooking the parade ground, First Scientist Raymond Copernicus received the news with a stony expression. His assistant watched nervously as Raymond's fingers tightened around the brass telescope he had been adjusting.

"Sir," the assistant ventured, "shall we delay the parade?"

Raymond's jaw clenched. "Absolutely not. The parade will proceed as planned. Rearrange the formations to cover Bartholomew's absence."

As the assistant hurried to relay the orders, Raymond's mind raced. Where could Bart be? What could possibly be more important than his duty, especially on a day like this? The disappointment and anger warred within him, tempered by a flicker of worry he couldn't quite suppress.

Down on the parade ground, the troops scrambled to adjust their formations. Bruce took charge of his unit, barking orders to close ranks and maintain precision. Robert, leading the archers, ensured his team's focus remained unshaken by the commotion.

As the drums began to beat and the parade commenced, the absence of one cadet was hardly noticeable to the cheering crowds. But to those who knew, to the family that prided itself on both scientific and military excellence, it was a glaring failure that would have far-reaching consequences. Colonel Hawthorne, marching at the head of the parade, couldn't shake the feeling that this was more than a simple case of dereliction of duty. In his years of service, he had come to trust his instincts. And right now, those instincts were telling him that Cadet Bartholomew's absence was just the tip of a much larger, more complex iceberg.

As the parade wound its way through the streets of Regalia, the question hung in the air, unspoken but omnipresent: Where was Bart, and what could be important enough to risk everything he had worked for?

Raymond Copernicus, watching from his lofty perch, felt the weight of both his scientific responsibilities and paternal concerns pressing down on him, as he pondered the implications of his son's mysterious absence.

Below the observatory, the military ceremony continued with mechanical precision, each unit moving through their practiced routines like the gears of a well-oiled machine. The sharp commands of officers cut through the morning air as formations shifted and changed with fluid grace. Raymond's keen scientific mind couldn't help but appreciate the mathematical perfection of the movements, even as his thoughts drifted repeatedly to the conspicuous absence in the ranks. His hands gripped the brass railing of his observation post, knuckles whitening as he forced himself to focus on the spectacle unfolding before him rather than the growing void of questions surrounding his youngest son's disappearance.

As the parade reached its crescendo, Bruce and Robert's units took center stage, showcasing the pinnacle of Regalia's military prowess. Bruce led his infantry in a flawless display of close-order drill, their movements so precise it seemed as if they were a single organism rather than individual soldiers. The crowd gasped in awe as the formation seamlessly transformed from one complex pattern to another, each transition smoother than the last.

Robert, not to be outdone, commanded his archers in a breathtaking demonstration of skill and coordination. At his signal, a volley of arrows arced high into the sky, their fletching catching the sunlight. The arrows descended in perfect unison, striking targets arranged throughout the parade ground with pinpoint accuracy. The spectators erupted in cheers as the archers quickly nocked and fired again, creating an intricate aerial dance of shafts and feathers.

From his vantage point, First Scientist Raymond Copernicus watched his sons' performance with a mixture of pride and unease. Their excellence was undeniable, a testament to the family's dedication to both scientific and military pursuits. Yet, the empty space where Bart should have been nagged at him, a visible reminder of the growing distance between him and his youngest son.

As the crowd's applause echoed through the streets of Regalia, Raymond couldn't help but wonder: while Bruce and Robert were here, upholding the family's honor, what path was Bart choosing? And would that path lead him closer to the family's legacy, or further away?