Chapter 16: Discontent
Arbus blinked slowly as he stared up at the high dark ceilings of the Hold's top floor. His emerald eyes scanned the repeating golden carvings lining it—showcasing a signature moment in the history of the Renegades, and the start of their unstoppable rise. It was an image of a Mornan dressed in rags, surrounded by various species as they stared up at her—or more precisely, the small glowing shard clutched tightly in her hand. The very first Heart Shard and the origin of the Renegades over twenty thousand years ago.
Several long minutes had elapsed since Yome and Bridge left the room behind Ophilia. He knew they had most likely already left the moon by now. He felt slightly saddened by that. He was going to miss them somewhat, even though he wouldn't admit that out loud.
After their exit, the Sentinel had simply asked him to take a seat, if he wanted to.
Arbus took him up on his offer, taking one from the corner of the room and placing it next to Bastian's ornate study table.
After that he remained silent, waiting patiently for the Sentinel's questions that he knew were coming.
But for some reason, Bastian hadn't said another word since then. He was instead watching Arbus like a monitor, with his hands clasped under his chin. An unreadable expression rested on his face and bright purple eyes.
The corner of Arbus's lips curved downward as he finally turned to Bastian.
"Forgive me if I'm being rude, Sentinel. But, may I ask what I was called here for?" he asked finally as his already strained patience ran out.
Bastian didn't answer him immediately. Instead, he let out an audible breath as he smiled softly. "Don't be so formal with me, kid. I thought I already told you that the last time we met?"
"You did," Arbus replied. "But I would rather not make any assumptions about your thoughts on me, considering the last nine months I've been in this organization."
Bastian tapped his finger against the armrest of his chair. "Ah, you're mad at me." He sighed. "I suppose that makes sense from your perspective."
"That's not possible, Sentinel. How would a lowly sentry like me have the guts to feel such a way toward someone of your might and status?" Arbus replied again, the bite in his tone slightly more noticeable.
"I get it already, sheesh." Bastian grunted. "I remember what I promised you. And I know that I failed to deliver. That was solely due to the council's interference, but I should have predicted something like that before boldly proclaiming things to you six years ago."
Arbus resisted the urge to grunt in annoyance as he stared at the Sentinel with narrowed eyes. Six years ago, in his meeting with Bastian, he had been promised a fair chance and support from the Sentinel himself when he was ready to join the Renegades. That meeting had been what set the trajectory of his life after the incident.
He had given his all, his very best, to training until not even his ability could counter the exhaustion. Over and over and over again. Enduring the grueling trials of his master—Trip Tarr, whose secret job was to push Arbus so far that he would give up on his dream.
After years of training until not even his Master could find a logical reason to hold him back—Arbus joined the Renegades, expecting to get far fast even without the Sentinel's help. He knew with his skills and potential alone, he'd be able to ascend in a flash with his own merits.
But he hadn't even been given a chance. The Renegades had kept him in limbo for four months after he turned in his registration. Just when he was thinking of reapplying, he finally got a response, causing him to become excited. That was when he was posted to the main station on Terytl-B, a planet where nothing substantial ever happened. That was, of course, until today.
While stationed there, he was sent on countless mundane missions that quickly became a routine for him. From patrolling in a certain region to helping citizens in the towns nearby with their heavy work.
He saw sentries come and go in the span of a few months, either getting reassigned or being promoted to knights. After nine months, he was the only sentry still present from his original batch. It wasn't hard for him to realize that his acceptance into the organization had been a farce, and that they had no intention of letting him become anything more than a simple sentry—stuck doing grunt work until he got fed up and quit himself.
He was also forced to endure the hatred and scorn from each new batch of sentries as they came, pressuring him even more.
Bastian let out a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I'm sure you must have endured a lot. But my hands were tied. It was already hard for me to get them to agree with you becoming a Renegade in the first place. Especially Nash."
Arbus tensed up slightly at the mention of his grandfather. It had been years since they'd spoken. After the events of Hai, it seemed as if his grandfather always did his best to avoid him, even while helping him in secret.
Arbus was sure that it had been his grandfather who sent Trip to look after him—even if his old teacher always insisted otherwise. He always argued that he had decided to retire from the Renegades himself, leave his grandfather's side, and move all the way to Tarok moon on his own whims. But Arbus wasn't dumb enough to believe that.
Arbus had begun blaming himself for it at some point, wondering if what happened had been the final straw for his grandfather to distance himself from him.
A melancholic emotion appeared in his eyes for a moment, quickly vanishing in the next. "Then like you said, don't make promises you can't keep," Arbus growled in a low voice, unable to control himself anymore. "If I have no future in the Renegades, then just tell me. I'll find another way to achieve my goal. I won't simply allow myself to be restricted or suppressed anymore. Not by my grandfather, and not by the council."