Read Times of Peace: Volume 1 of the side adventures to The Mercenary's Salvation Page 40

  Turn 9

  November 9, 1989 OT (Original Timeline)

  11:31 P. M.

  Seto Sears Home, East Berlin, Germany

  “Mon professeur. The night is young, and so are its people. They dance now upon the Berlin wall, drinking and embracing each other as a unified people once more. Shouldn’t you be out with them, Monsieur Sears?”

  I… or Seto Sears.. is sitting in a wheel chair as I face outside my window, the sight plain in dreary eyes what Pierre Belmont has just described. Dozens of German citizens are celebrating, giving a rallying cry and thankful prayers in what was the greatest miracle to happen to my…no, to his people within the 20th century. This should have been a night for the man to celebrate, even as old as he now was at 88.

  Yet it was simply not meant to be, a soft wheeze rising out of the tall invalid’s chest. Letting it drop, bones plain from beneath the robe, his words seemed as ancient as him as he turned to face the orange eyed man behind him, reaching out with a hand to pull him closer.

  There was no need. Removing his hat and letting his long front bangs drop, covering the eyepatch he already was forced to use, Pierre heard the explanation of the aged wizard as Seto explained

  “My student… if things were different than even I would venture into the night, drinking it away with my family and friends. For what is a friend but two souls occupying the same body… two people occupying the same city, no longer separated but joined together…

  “Alas, it cannot be… even now I sense them coming, Volgin’s men to punish me for the defeats I dealt him in his life. The best and the worst of the West come for me tonight, and I’m afraid the latter will find me before the former.”

  I could tell the man, the one who’s memories I seemed to be living, wanted to grab something yet was afraid that should his eyes turn completely from the window, the pixies frolicking in the cool night air would go with the wind. So did Pierre, standing up and heading for some sort of chest at the south end of the dirty, canvas filled room. Seems Seto was a painter, unable to leave the house for much and occupied his time with… something.

  “Who would have thought. La tête du démon, obsessed with nothing more than the world’s smartest gambler. Why is Volgin after you?”

  “Revenge. Guile… why do men start wars but for petty reasons? The East and the West have held tournaments with their best and brightest representatives every year in games like Chess and Poker. Until his demise at Jack’s hands, I always bested his men every time in order to be our nation’s hero. Now that he has the power to send his agents in to get me… well, just one more soul sent to an early death.

  “At least the jokes on him…” Seto wheezed, almost laughing. “Germans don’t live as long as our other European brothers. No… I would have been dead anyway before five years had passed. This is nothing more than a minor inconvenience, not a tragedy.

  “Do you… have it?”

  A large briefcase was placed upon Seto Sears’ lap, Pierre opening it for the man. As to be expected, rows upon rows of the Frenchman’s favorite game were held within. Mercenaries/Monsters cards in the hundreds, if not thousands, all neatly stacked and bound together in perfect order. Many faces were recognizable… while many weren’t, still foreign and unknown to me.

  What I did know, just by glancing, is that Seto Sears had hand crafted them all. His final project, his last gift to the world as the king, no, the emperor of games.

  “The flower has been kind to me… he’s been telling me stories, inspiring me and aiding me as I worked on my gift to Jack for his kindness. Now, no matter how the boy’s stories do, mankind will have another way to learn the Mercenary’s Tale… they’ll have this, the history of all time recorded in a game that they can play… for what better way to learn than through the hobbies of our childhood…”

  “These are all of them then? Every single card, ready for reprint?”

  “All of them, from Adrian Vantel to Satan Volgin… all for you. Take care of them Pierre... once my personas have passed on, this will be all that remains of my legacy. All that can be said… of Seto Sears.”

  Pierre nodded, clasping the case shut as he lifted it from the elderly master’s lap. At peace now, the blue eyed German shut his eyes and let himself begin to drift, his mouth only needing to move one last time as the Frenchman prepared the last and final saving ordinance.

  “You always did things ahead of time. I guess you already said your prayer?”

  “I did the moment I saw the first of my people climb the wall… I have nothing more to say to the Lord I can’t say in person.”

  “Then farewell, monsieur. May you be rewarded with all that you deserve.”

  Seto never even heard the safety click off. His spirit was moving on before the bullet blew his perfect brain apart.