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When transport arrived at 4 the next morning, my suspicion mounted. The mercenaries were overly-cautious in boarding me, insisting they carry the gear without my assistance. I took one last look through the hatch, breathing deep the crisp, pine-heavy winter air. I felt as if I’d left something… something very important behind. Of course, everything I supposedly owned was with us… but… still…

The transport took us over an endless sea of pine, interrupted here and there by the occasional forgotten edifice and warehouse. Their existence went unexplained… curiously as did the mission we were returning from. I almost asked about it twice, but thought better of it. If they hadn’t told me by then, I was better off not knowing.

Sai Reedling’s mansion was more than extravagant. From the outside, it looked like some sort of boxy, modern art sculpture composed of many large horizontal rectangles. As we came closer, one could see the large, pale blue windows that broke the pristine white in places.

The security, as I perceived it, was beyond acute paranoia. Whatever lay within, it was of some fundamental importance.
At least, to Sai Reedling.

I was escorted immediately out of the transport, upon landing on the vast front lawn. The guards on either side of me wore white suits and curious white sunglasses with seemingly-opaque white lenses.

I took in as much as I could from the clean, white interior of this mystery-man’s vast abode. The men were rushing me along so swiftly, it was awkward to move my feet fast enough between them. 

They stopped at the open doors to an elevator, releasing my arms. I stepped inside, turning as the doors closed. I guess that’s as far as they ever went. I should have felt honored, but I was still very deeply confused.

I watched the numberless panel climb as the floors went by, thinking of the three that “rescued” me.

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Renti’s eyes were the most memorable. They were bright yellow-orange circles with tight black points for pupils, set in dark olive skin. He had a strange hair color, bordering on a dark teal, and with the shape his scruffy haircut took, I almost expected to see the odd feather sticking out. He appeared to be the brawn of the trio, wearing his beat-up pilot jacket- so old it almost didn’t look like leather anymore. Just old, brown parchment.

Gella was a short little thing. She stood a foot shorter than myself, always huddled in that black parka. I had envied it. My fur and the uniform seemed to do little against the cold. What I could see of her hair was musty brown and frizzy, and she always had a curious, secretive look to her black eyes.

Datanyan stood second-tallest to Renti; a thin, refined man not much older than 20. He had an accent that made you want to punch him. Very proper, very pompous. His reddish hair was always combed back, and his blue-green eyes always seemed to be looking down at you. I only saw him in his plump white jacket at that point, and still didn’t know the toned body beneath it… but what I did see of his skin was pale. An aristocrat’s skin. In fact, I expected the man I was about to meet to look and act much like Datanyan Beswick.

I was wrong, but not by much.

When the doors opened a few moments after they had closed, I was met by two maids, unsurprisingly clad also in white. They ushered me into a room where they took my measurements and gave me an outfit I was to put on. Very strange. I did as I was instructed.

The dress, to me at least, seemed oddly revealing for a mercenary reporting to her employer. It was- of course- white, made from a flowing material that felt like water against my fur. Not cold or wet, really. Just… flowwy. I tugged at the neckline, covering as much embarrassing cleavage as possible. 
Maybe they mistook me for some visiting aristocrat?