StarDestroyer.Net BBS

Metal armor clanked and creaked on the polished stone floors of the Cornelian Royal Palace. General Garland strode down the long hallway towards the the king's war room. He sighed to himself. Steel yourself! You're a knight. You can face him, you're the one who slew the red dragon of Lariat after all.

Yes, that incident was legendary, almost mythical. Dragons were extremely rare on the southern continent, at least in the west. The feral bull red dragon that made its nest on the peak of Mt. Lariat probably hailed from the Cardian Isles to the north. It had made a diet of the equine monsters that used to be common in the area. Once the horse population started do dwindle, it went after domesticated livestock... and their owners.

The dragon's reign of terror lasted for a full three months. Whole villages were destroyed, and Cornelia was on the brink of an agricultural disaster. The dragon had to be destroyed, but it was too fast in flight for cannons and trebuchets, and arrows and bolts did not penetrate its hide. If it was to be defeated, it had to be defeated on the ground; but engaging the fire-breathing monstrosity on foot was surely suicidal.

The original plan was to send the kingdom's best swordsman to slay the beast, with the help of the white and black archmages. The late General Perseus, Garland's predecessor, was chosen for the task. Cardinal Vias and the late Lord Rehnquist would be his support. Of the three, only Vias survived. Although he had successfully cast a hasty Exit spell, he suffered grievous injuries that even his magic couldn't heal. He retired to lead the Church shortly after, and Colonel Garland was swiftly promoted.

As the new Field Marshal of the Cornelian military, Garland proposed a new strategy; one that wouldn’t sacrifice any more master wizards. He proposed to go it alone. At first, the king refused and ordered an all out offensive on Lariat with artillery. A fortnight and several hundred casualties later, the beast still preyed on Cornelians. Now open to suggestions, the king agreed to let Garland take the Light Crystal, the most precious treasure in all of Cornelia, and face the dragon alone. The crystal was a secret that only the kingdom’s elite were even aware of. It was supposed to be a myth, a legendary fifth crystal that embodied the power of the transcendental element light, and its power was tremendous.

Garland marched into Mt. Lariat alone, armed only with his steel longsword and the Light Crystal. The battle that ensued would be sung by bards across the land. Although the story told to the public depicts Garland slaying the dragon through sheer skill, in reality he owed his victory and his life to the crystal. Although he had no magical training, General Garland was able to wield the crystal’s power to protect himself from the red dragon’s flame. Immune to the searing heat, he then used its power to blind the beast while he ran it through with his enchanted blade.

He returned to Cornelia a hero. Only twenty-four years old, he was the youngest general in the history of the nation. Sages called for him to be Lady Sarah’s suitor once she came of age; marrying the princess would effectively make him next in line for the throne.

His attention snapped back to the present as he reached the large double doors of the king’s war room. Garland swallowed. Keep your cool. Don’t over-react. It wasn’t all your fault, he will accept some of the responsibility. You’re a hero, he needs you, Cornelia needs you. Whatever he does to you, he’ll do in private.

Garland had suspected the king would be angered by the news of the debacle near Prontera, but also hoped that he would cool off a bit in the time that would elapse between Faust’s arrival and his own. The knight on guard nodded to the general and opened the door. Garland clanked inside.

It was a long, hard march through Lariat to Cornelia. Although they had encountered no fiends, the terrain and the weather made the trek miserable. The men suffered from low-morale. Had it not been for the Church’s healers, annoying as they were, it would have been a lot worse. He was thankful for that much. He had hoped he would be able to rest, bathe and have his armor cleaned before he reported to the king. He felt rather self-conscious as he glimpsed his reflection on the shimmering floor. He looked- and felt- like he’d been fired out of a cannon.

The long, mahogany table dominated the room. It was rectangular, with a more subdued version of the throne at the head. The remaining seats were reserved for the members of the elder council, but aside from Garland there were only four in the room: The king, the queen, the chancellor, and Admiral Faust.

The king nodded curtly to Garland as he took a knee. “Your Majesty.” He said weakly.

The king turned to his bride, at least twenty years his junior- the emerald haired Jayne; who was the second most beautiful creature in all of Cornelia, next to her daughter. “Dear, would you excuse us please?”

“Of course.” Jayne murmured and rose, nodding to Garland as she briskly left the room. The heavy double doors closed behind her.

The king coughed and cleared his throat. “General. Have a seat.”

Garland took the chair the queen had left, across from Chancellor Rehnquist and Admiral Faust. Rehnquist was the younger brother of the black archmage who had died the previous year, just before Garland’s promotion. He was arguably the second most powerful man in all of Cornelia, next to the king. While Garland technically had more authority, Rehnquist had more raw power because he could easily circumvent him. He did this often.

Faust, on the other hand, was senile. The old admiral was the Field Marshal until he abdicated the title to Perseus. Faust was pressing one hundred and twenty years in age, it was all he could do to lead the Navy and captain the Queen Jayne. Garland respected him as a fellow officer and a veteran of the Elven-Dwarven War, but he was a crusty old figurehead now. Commodore Roethke, who was oddly absent from this meeting, truly held the Navy together.

The king spoke up. “Admiral Faust tells me that things did not go well in the Northern Strait, not well at all.” The king gestured to Chancellor Rehnquist, who read from the parchment in front of him.

“Two ships lost, one damaged beyond salvage. Two hundred and thirty sailors killed- among them the late Admiral Roethke, an additional eighty-seven permanently wounded.” Rehnquist further unrolled the scroll. “Army casualties were staggeringly high. Four hundred and seventeen dead, fifty-nine permanently wounded. The entire township of Prontera decimated, its entire population displaced… Twenty-six cannons destroyed, and a kilogram of nitro powder wasted.” Rehnquist rolled up the scroll and smiled at Garland.

“And for what?” The kind demanded. Garland was about to speak up in his defense, but Rehnquist produced another parchment and began reading. “Two pirate frigates destroyed, three outlaw cutters sank. An estimated fifteen hundred pirates killed. No prisoners. The Nirvana and her crew, including Captain Bikke himself escaped and are still at large.”

The king turned back to Garland. “I do not find these numbers acceptable. Do you?”

“No, Your Highness.” Garland stared blankly into space, doing his best to avoid eye contact with anyone.

The king continued. “Admiral Faust’s log demonstrates that he had misgivings about your ‘plan’, that the Bikkeneers were about to surrender, or commit suicide against his blockade. Ordering the second flotilla deeper into the strait put them at an unnecessary risk, did it not?”

“Prontera’s garrison was being bombarded, and was failing to sufficiently retaliate. Additional support was necessary for the sake of the port.”

The king snorted. “So you decided to blow the port up, did you?”

“With all due respect, Your Majesty, there wasn’t a port left when I detonated the powder.”

The king nodded. “No, but there were two Royal Navy ships in the harbor. One of which you managed to hit directly. It was the same class as the Nirvana so I suppose the misidentification is understandable, but I wonder if the late Admiral Roethke would be very understanding of the little blunder that ended his very distinguished career.”

I killed him! I blew up the Commodore’s ship! Garland could have sworn his heart was in his throat at that moment.

The king resumed his relentless yet venomously subtle tirade. “My favorite part of this whole mess, General, would have to be the fact that Black Beard escaped. This debacle was a crushing defeat, and your renegade heroics made it so!”

Garland’s ears were red. “Your Excellency, while it is true that the Nirvana escaped the strait, she was hit, and we cannot know for certain if Bikke survived. Even if he did, he is vastly weaker than he was a scant few days ago. He has lost practically all of his fleet and the vast majority of his men, his dominance over piracy in the Aldean is at an end.”

“And yet buccaneers still plunder the high seas.” Faust croaked.

The king nodded. “He’s right, why should the pirates’ losses console me when ours were so much worse? WE are vastly weaker than we were a scant few days ago. The boundaries of the Cornelian territorial waters has receded, as has our control over the regions northeast of Lariat. We’re marooned on this peninsula now, and thank the gods we’re currently at peace with Duergar and Elfheim! We’d be doomed otherwise!”

Rehnquist spoke up again. “General, speaking of our neighbors, what are the chances of them taking advantage of our current plight?” Garland knew the question was meant to put him in his place, but the soldier was becoming quite adept at these politicians’ games.

“Slim to none.” Garland retorted. “Duergar and Elfheim are and have been worse off than us for years now. Elfheim is still embroiled in a bloody guerilla war with the dark elves, one without any foreseeable end, and they still have no king. Last I’d heard their prince is still comatose and the elven Elder Council is arguing over re-opening Hellfire Chasm to forge a knew royal family.”

Garland stood up and turned toward the nearest window, looking out on Cornelia City. “Duergar is worse off. Their mythril deposits have been exhausted, and they are in the midst of an ecological and agricultural disaster. The earth rot has all but killed Melmond, the literal breadbasket of that nation, and is even now spreading east.” He turned to face the king. “We maintain military and economic dominance in the Aldean. By all rights WE should be taking advantage of THEIR plight!”

Rehnquist rolled his eyes. “Not this imperialist drivel again!”

Garland ignored the chancellor and looked straight at the king. “My lord, Bikke practically owns Pravoka. It’s officially within our borders, he’s weaker now than ever before!” We could retake the city easily! It’s not aggression if we’re merely reclaiming what is rightfully ours!”

The king didn’t say anything, but Rehnquist scoffed. “This coming from the brilliant tactician who claimed that the whole world was ‘rightfully ours’ because the ancient Lufenians were human! Your Majesty, may I-“

The king raised a hand to silence his chief advisor. “That’s enough. General, you know you’re indispensable. Let’s not make me regret making you a hero. Let’s not make me reconsider your indispensable nature. Your bungling will get you killed, it’s that simple. Either you will die in battle or you’ll hang for high treason. You aren’t invincible. You don’t wear the Light Crystal around your neck anymore, and never will again if I have any say over it.”

Garland hung his head. Was his career over? Would he become another Faust and merely remain the figurehead while a few colonels ran the Army? What about his bid for the throne? Garland’s mouth was sour with bile, and tears welled up in his eyes. He clenched his mailed fists tightly. Somehow, he had never imagined knighthood to be like this.

“You are going to forget your fantasies of conquest, do I make myself clear? You are going to devote all of your energies toward rebuilding this nation and its military. You are going to stop playing the role of the dragon-slaying knight and start being an officer! Is that understood!?"

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Garland’s answer was barely a whisper.

Yikes...blowing up the wrong ship is one massive SNAFU.

Poor Garland.

I've been reading this story, and think you're doing a great job bringing the story and characters to life. I like how you've written Garland, and his eventual fall from grace. And, how you created a unique backstory for each of the Light Warriors and made them more apart of the world of Gaia. You even captured the Pirate vs. Ninja element between Bikke and Kelga.

However, there's one flaw that I feel I must point out. That's the money exchange between Astos and Bikke. 35 Million Gil is a lot of money, and it cannot be carried in a small sack, all single unit coins. To make the exchange more realistic, I think either Astos would need several of his minions (they could be seen marching behind the Dark Elf, or had invisibility cast on them for a dramatic flare) to haul in chests filled with gil coins or bullion (as a large currency sum), use a spell to teleport it in, mix in an alternate form of currency (like gemstones), or settle for a smaller number (maybe one to two million gil).

This might seem like a minor piece of constructive criticism, but I believe it's the little things that count. Especially when your trying to translate a console RPG into fictional literature. Good luck with your future chapters, I'll be following this story.

Thanks. You're absolutely right. Economics really isn't my strong point, but normally such a stupid idea wouldn't get under my radar, meh.

Fixed it to be more believable. Thanks again, and don't hesitate to go "that's retarded, you should change that" in the future.

Garland slammed the door behind him. At first, he wanted to smash and break things, but he calmed himself. That could have been worse. A lot worse. He knew that it was only because of his popularity and special status that he retained his rank. As the world became an increasingly evil place, the people needed heroes to keep hope alive. While Lukhan’s prophecy was intended to serve the same purpose, not everyone believed that the Warriors of Light would save the world- after all, it was difficult to believe that the world could be saved.

The knight drew his curtains back and looked out on Cornelia City. It was the largest and most beautiful city in the world, surpassed only by what the ancient Sky People must have built and lost ages ago. Under the full moon he could see smoke stacks, water wheels and rooftops that seemed to stretch out forever. Only the towering, mist shrouded walls in the distance even hinted to the fact that the city had boundaries. He opened his window and drew in the fresh night air. This was the greatest city in the world, the fountainhead of humanity, the city of dreams.

Garland began unhinging and removing his plate mail armor. It was scratched, dented and filthy, but he would clean and repair it in the morning. Right now he needed a bath and a shave more than anything, and a good night’s sleep in an actual bed. Tomorrow he would have a full agenda. Faust was seeing to the reorganization of the Navy after Roethke’s death; such political wrangling was likely too much for the old man, but Garland was grateful for one less thing he had to worry about. Rebuilding the Army would be his task. Commissioning the building of new cannons, enlisting and training new recruits and ordering more gunpowder from the alchemists’ guild were among the first orders of business. Unfortunately, the Army wouldn’t have the luxury to lay low while its wounds healed. The goblins were out in force, and while the capitol itself was in no danger, expeditionary forces were necessary to protect the outlying towns and villages.

Goblins. While individually they were among the weakest of fiends, what they lacked in strength they made up for in sheer numbers- numbers that were apparently without end. Where did they come from? No one knew, but what was certain was that the only thing keeping them from overrunning Cornelia was their lack of unity. For all their ubiquitous nature, the goblin nation was a heterogeneous mixture of tiny, independent and nomadic tribes. They raided caravans frequently, and sacked villages that lacked proper defenses. The beastmen were a threat to all nations, but Garland was glad that goblins were the worst Cornelia had to offer, he didn’t want to deal with the rampant ogres that both Duergar and Elfheim were subject to.

Yes, the world was in a very bad way. The number of fiends had increased exponentially over the last few years, and no one knew where they came from. Monsters had run rampant for Garland’s entire life, and the entire lives of every mortal human he knew; but archeologically speaking, they were a relatively recent phenomenon. Four hundred years ago there were no goblins in Cornelia, ogres in Elfheim, or undead in Duergar. Monsters weren’t the only problem either, the oceans of the northern most reaches of the world were ravaged with nearly constant hurricanes and tidal waves. On the western most edge of this very continent, deep inside Duergar, the earth rot consumed everything in its path. It was perhaps one of the greatest mysteries in the world, what was once the most fertile and verdant land in the world was becoming enveloped in a cancerous miasma. It started with a total absence of non-monster animal life, and then the plants died. The drier regions became barren wasteland, while the former swamps and forests became toxic bogs of fungus and mold. Melmond, the largest city on that part of the continent, was the agricultural hub of all of Duergar- which only a few years ago was the world’s largest exporter of foodstuffs on the Aldean. The earth rot wreaked havoc on Duergar’s economy, and made food a scarce commodity within its own borders. Cornelia and Elfheim were agriculturally independent enough to sustain themselves, but it was clear that the earth rot was spreading east. It was only a matter of time before the humans and elves met the same fate as the dwarves.

Garland changed into a fresh, clean robe and began to draw his bath water. It was great to be out of his armor, but he felt a little vulnerable. His feet were extremely sore from the long march, so he sat on the edge of his bed and began to apply salve to the areas where the chaffing was the worst. Plate mail was heavy, but you got used to it; Garland did, and was now feeling a little odd being able to move so freely and unencumbered. It had been several days since he’d been out of his armor. He gingerly sniffed the leather liners and winced, he removed them and tossed them in the basket for the next day’s laundry. After thinking about that a moment, he tossed some bath salts in the steaming water. He walked up to his mirror and stared at it for a long moment. His face was pitch black and smeared with soot- and his hair was a tangled mess. He certainly didn’t look like the greatest knight in the kingdom, but he looked exactly like he felt at that moment- like the worst knight in the world.

Could he really be king? The current king was old, but not incredibly so. Many in his administration, including Chancellor Rehnquist, were older than he. While many pundits criticized him for taking such a young wife, Jayne was hardly immature. Still, the king’s health did not seem to be in decline, and there was plenty of time for him to have a son- if that were possible. The Cornelian monarchy was traditionally patriarchal, and this was a serious problem for the current king. After a twenty-six year reign he had only two daughters, one seventeen and the other eight. If the king died without having a son, Sarah would become queen- and her suitor, the next king, would have to come from outside the royal family. This was not unheard of, but it was rare and rather complicated. Still, the king seemed to be in great health for his age. If it was indeed within him to conceive a son, he would have plenty of time to do so. As it was, Garland seemed like the most likely candidate for succession of the throne. He had the nobility, the knighthood and the stature. Furthermore, he was younger than Anton Sorel, his only real competition. Not only was he closer to the princess’ age, he was far more popular with the people than the reclusive and pompous count.

He was just about to disrobe when someone knocked on his door. Who could that possibly be at this hour? He turned and walked to the door to answer it, but briefly stopped to wipe his face on a towel. The knock sounded again, he lifted the latch and opened the door- and almost had a heart attack.

“Oh, Siegfried!” Princess Sarah looked astonished and a little embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t wake you, did I?”

Garland smiled. “Of course not milady, you merely caught me in a state of undress. Please, come in. What can I do for you?”

The green-haired girl saw that the bath tub was full. “I can come back if this is a bad time.”

Garland shut the door. “No, this is going to be a fairly busy week for me. This is probably the only time. What do you need, Princess?”

Sarah smiled nervously. “How many times do I have to tell you, call me ‘Sarah’.” Her smile gave way to one of troubled concern. “I… just wanted to see if you’re all right.”

Garland frowned. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I heard about Commodore- Admiral Roethke. Don’t worry, it’s not public information- but I was privy to it nonetheless. I also heard tell of the numerous other bad things that happened in the strait. You must be devastated.”

The knight’s knees felt weak and wobbly. “I’m… doing better than the dead, the permanently wounded and their loved ones.” He looked out the window and wished she wouldn’t see him like this. “I’m sorry.” He murmured.

“Sorry for what?”

“I’m a failure. A failure as a knight.” His eyes were beginning to glaze over again. His mind screamed for him to shut up, but something told him he could have confidence in Sarah. “The only reason I’m not hanging from a gallows right now is because your father needs me. As much of an incompetent officer I am, I’m still Wyrmkiller Garland and as such he needs to keep me on public display.”

“Oh, Siegfried!” Sarah walked in front of the window to look in his eyes. He turned to deny her the opportunity. “You know that isn’t true! My father loves you. He may be angry with you right now, but he knows it was an accident. He trusts you more than he trusts the chancellor. You know that right? There’s a reason he made you a general.”

“Yes, there is. I’m a better swordsman than Perseus was.”

“That’s not it! You’re brave, you’re loyal and you would do anything for him. He knows this. Even if he doesn’t agree with everything you say and do, he can at least appreciate the spirit in which it’s done.”

Her words were reassuring, but Garland wasn’t sure he could believe them. While he didn’t doubt Sarah’s sincerity, he did doubt the strength of her grasp on reality. In the dimly lit room, the Light Crystal she wore around her neck radiated brightly. He owed his life and rank to that shimmering artifact, as it granted him the invulnerability necessary to defeat the dragon that made him a hero. How he wanted to wear that crystal again, but the king’s words from earlier that day made that seem like a very distant and unattainable fantasy. “I wish I could believe you.”

Unexpectedly, she moved close to him and held his hands. “Believe it. The reason he’s so hard on you is that he wants what’s best for you. You’re like a son to him, Siegfried. The son he never had.” She looked a little sad. “I suppose in that respect you’re something to him I could never be.”

“I couldn’t possibly be his ideal successor.”

“Why not?”

Garland didn’t answer.

Sarah smiled. “Even if that was true- which it isn’t- it wouldn’t matter much, would it? If sickness takes him- gods forbid- before he has a son, I will become queen regardless. The choice is ultimately mine- I only need my mother’s blessing.” Her smile became a little devious. Garland’s face got warm. “And let me tell you right now, Anton is a good man and all, but I can’t stand him. I’d sooner marry the goblin king.”

The knight’s eyes got wide. “You- you mean that!?”

Sarah laughed. “Of course!” She looked deep into his eyes. “But believe me, it won’t come to that. My father loves you, my mother loves you, my sister loves you.” She leaned close and kissed him gently. “I love you.”

“Milady I-“

“You need your rest, Siegfried.” She smiled and opened the door. “See you soon.”

Garland stood there in slack-jawed shock as the door closed behind her. She was always so cordial to him, the only person who regularly called him by his first name. He never thought anything of it before. She loves me? A hundred different emotions began swimming through his troubled mind all at once. He really didn’t believe her in regards to her father, but he couldn’t doubt the sincerity in that kiss. He frowned and made a fist. A grim look of determination furrowed his brow. I will atone for my failures. I will prove to His Majesty that I can succeed him. From now on, I will be the greatest knight, officer, and prospective in-law he could possibly imagine!

But all that would begin tomorrow. Right now, Garland really needed to sleep.

Hmmmmmmmmm.

Captain Bikke paced back and forth along the docks of Pier Eight. Astos had made good on his promise, 35 million gil worth of hard credits, gold, precious gems and assorted treasures had been offloaded from the Dragonwillow. The dark elves masquerading as proper elves were creepy as hell, but they got the job done. The next order of business was, very obviously, rebuilding his fleet. Pravoka had some of the best shipwrights in the world, and although they weren’t cheap, they were fast. The dry docks were already teeming with workers who crawled like ants about the scaffolding. Two large, armed cargo haulers were being built. Although he would never admit to it, it was almost refreshing to have everything simple like this again. The bars were crawling with eager young scalawags ready to make a killing at sea- literally and figuratively. Although green as grass, it would be at least a few years until they got wise and started having plans of their own. Bikke would be short of experienced help, but he was ready to exchange mutineers for over-zealous youngsters for once. Especially after what happened with Otis.

Yes, it was time to tie up that particular loose end and Bikke had just the right guy for the job. “Take over.” He barked to his first mate and strode up the docks towards the pubs.

The navies of Cornelia and Elfheim, and their merchant marine fleets all seemed to have the same thing in mind- size. Apparently, the bigger you could build a ship and the more metal you could slap on her without her sinking, the better. This attitude spawned fire-breathing monstrosities like the Queen Jayne. Bikke suppressed a shudder. That thing was virtually unstoppable, but at least she was slow and unfit for the open sea.

The key to any successful pirate operation was speed. Outlaw navies had no hope of ever out-gunning the authorities. The Nirvana was simply the fastest ship in existence, and her cannons had exceptionally long range for their incredible firepower. While fairly susceptible to damage, she was perfect for running blockades and harassing bigger ships while staying at a safe distance. In short, she was the perfect marauder’s frigate. Faster than anything else out there, she could escape from anything, and nothing could escape from her. Subduing a Cornelian ship of the line or an Elven pleasure yacht had become second nature to the old pirate since he acquired the ship. The only problem was, she was far too small to haul all of the loot those big ships held. That’s where these two new haulers would come in handy. The Nirvana needed support to work, while the big haulers would need a ship mean enough to actually perform the piracy.

One of Bikke’s bodyguards, armed with an auto crossbow, leaned against a barrel. He saw his captain approach and stood. “Where ya headed, boss?”

The old pirate stopped briefly. “Where does Vargas usually hang out these days?”

The subordinate's eyes got wide. “Vargas? As in Maduin Vargas? Whaddaya want with ‘im?”

“We were sold out at Prontera. Somebody sold us out!”

“He’s a pair o’ hired fists, Cap’n. Not a detective.”

Bikke grunted. “I know who did it! I know his rough whereabouts, too! All I want him to do is rub the slime ball out.”

The bodyguard flashed a grin that lacked several teeth. “Heh, he’ll get the job done all right. Ain’t gonna be cheap though, you know that?” His eyes narrowed. “Who did it, Boss? Who sold us out?”

Black Beard turned to his body guard and snarled. “Otis.”

“Otis!? He went in the drink! No one on the Pravoka survived!”

“Seems as though HE did. Where can I find the little punk?”

“Who?”

“You cur! VARGAS, that’s who! Ye be as dense as a dwarf’s backside!”

“Ah, right.” The pirate ran a finger through his scraggly hair. “Usually loiters about the Seafoam this time o’ day. Want some backup?”

“Yeah, but keep yer distance. He doesn’t particularly abide our kind.”

Bikke strode down the streets of Pravoka in broad daylight. Virtually any other man would have been accosted by pickpockets and numerous other unsavory types, but when they saw the unmistakable three-point hat and green tunic, they gave the pirate king a wide berth. It had been a while since Bikke raided a local establishment. He didn’t particularly like doing so, whatever was good for Pravoka was ultimately good for him, so he had a vested interest in seeing her thrive. However, sometimes the locals got uppity and had to be taught a lesson. After Vasquez’s costly little tantrum the other night, the locals probably were overdue for a reminder of who owned this town. Bikke made a mental note to get on that after he hired Vargas to take out Otis.

The Seafoam Pub and Hostelry was one of the nicer places in Pravoka, and a regular hangout for wealthy merchants and power brokers. Vargas was a top-class fighter, so it only made sense for him to get drunk where the rich and famous got drunk too. Hits weren’t usually his style, but Bikke knew that he would take them for the right price. If memory served, his only rule was ‘no children’. Old Otis was no child, that much was certain. No, Vargas usually served as a bodyguard or bouncer, but Bikke had a feeling he could offer sufficient compensation for such an odd job.

“Hold here.” He told his bodyguard and went inside. The Seafoam was a fairly ordinary pub, just cleaner and with a more sophisticated clientele than usual. A roughian like Bikke looked fairly out of place here, but no one dared say anything. Everyone knew who he was. He strode up to the bar and leaned forward.

“Maduin Vargas here?” He grunted.

The barkeep nodded gravely. “Y- yes, sir.” He swallowed. “Over there in the far corner.” He gestured to where another out-of-place looking roughian sat, his back turned to everyone. The pirate stood and slowly approached the man. He wore very unconventional clothing, his trousers and robe were those of a Ryukahn monk. The sleeves were ripped off and the robe hung open, and a belt, a black belt, skirted his waist. This was the most obvious sign of all that the man was not to be trifled with.

When sitting alone in a bar, especially in a rough town like Pravoka, it was considered unwise to have your back turned to everyone. The fact that Maduin seemed to ignore everyone in the place demonstrated an amazing self-confidence. Bikke knew from experience that anyone who tried to get the jump on Vargas here was the fool, and was as good as dead. You can’t sneak up on a fully trained Ryukahn black belt.

Bikke stopped at a respectful distance. “Lookin’ fer work, Mr. Vargas?”

The ex-monk didn’t turn around. “Yes Captain, as a matter of fact I am. Have a seat, let’s hear your offer.”

“Much obliged.” Bikke rounded the table and pulled out the opposite chair. Maduin wasn’t drinking anything, he was just sitting there. His eyes closed. The old pirate sat down, removed his hat and rubbed the bald spot on the top of his head. “There’s someone I need you to take out.”

“No government officials, I hope. I just paid off the price on my head.”

Bikke chuckled. “Heh, no, not gov’t. Far from it. An old ‘buddy’ o’ mine turned out to be a dirty double-crosser. I want ‘im keel hauled.”

“You know I work clean. It will be swift and painless, but it will also be efficient and merciless. Is that acceptable?”

“Yeah, sure. So you’ll do it?”

“Who’s the target?”

“Retired sea dog by the name o’ Otis Bartz. He was my second in command ‘till a few days ago. He won’t put up much of a fight, he’s pretty good with a flint lock, but that’s about it. He may even be injured. I dunno.”

The monk opened his eyes for the first time and frowned. “You want me to handle internal affairs for you, Captain?”

“Ugh.” Bikke grunted. “Yer right, I’d normally wax him meself, the only problem is… Where he’s at right now is kinda ‘inaccessible’ to me.”

“You do know where he is, then?”

“Of course.”

Maduin closed his eyes again cracked his knuckles. “Where?”

“Cornelia City.”

The fighter’s eyes snapped back open. “That’s a little far…”

“Uh huh.” The pirate mused. “That’s why I’m payin’ half yer fee in advance, and I’ll pay yer round trip sea fare. I’d take you meself, but I doubt I’d be able to dock the Nirvana in Port Cornelia.”

Maduin sighed. “Fifty thousand.”

“Sounds reasonable.”

“Fifty thousand in advance, Captain. Your total is 100k.”

Bikke winced. Easy come, easy go. “All right, fair enough. I’m gonna ask you to do it now, though.”

Maduin’s frown became more pronounced. “Now as in… As fast as I can get there?”

“That’d be ideal. Why?”

“Well, I’ve been planning a sea trip for some time now. I have some unfinished business in Duergar. If you would be willing to let me go to Cornelia deferred, via Duergar, I’d be willing to renegotiate your final price. If I’m going that far, I might as go all the way, you know?” He sighed. “Is the target likely to move?”

“No, probably not. I think he’s got asylum there.-“ Bikke stopped short, he might have said to much.

“He’s under the protection of the Cornelian authorities?”

“I dunno, to be honest.”

Maduin indulged in the faintest of smiles. Bikke took that to be a very bad sign. If Otis was indeed under the protection of the knights, it would be hellishly difficult and expensive to hire another assassin. The tables had just turned drastically in Maduin’s favor. Bikke kicked himself mentally.

“Two hundred thousand. All in advance. You’re sending me to Duergar first, too.” Maduin’s smile widened. “And I take my time about it.”

Bikke stood up an pounded his fists on the table. “Outrageous! Not a chance!”

The music stopped and the pub’s patrons all snuck nervous glances in their direction. Maduin seemed wholly unperturbed. “How dead do you want him, Captain?”

Bikke sat down again and stroked his scraggly beard. “What’s in Duergar?”

“None of your business. Is it a deal, then?”

The pirate king growled. “Yar. He’s probably anticipatin’ me retribution. Meet me down at Pier Eight. That’s where I keep most o’ me money these days.” He stood and stomped out of the bar. Maduin sighed contentedly and closed his eyes again.

Outside, Bikke nearly trampled his bodyguard who was waiting for him. “Er, how’d things go, Cap’n?”

Bikke stopped and adjusted his hat. This had been the worst week for him in recent memory, but with Maduin Vargas on the job the pain was sure to be evenly distributed to those who deserved it most. “He took the job. Otis be as good as dead.”

*slowly raises eyebrows*

Now that's an interesting twist.

Argus stopped momentarily, leaning against his knees to catch his breath. He was in great shape, but still wasn’t used to the thin mountain air. Sarina didn’t seem to be having the same problem, but she was very accommodating of his fatigue.

“Remind me… Why didn’t we go to Cornelia City first?” He wheezed.

“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t risk any bureaucratic entanglements. It would have been extremely dishonest to arrive at the castle without reporting to the cardinal.”

Argus stood again and sighed heavily. His breath was visible in the frigid air. “How close are we to the dwarven border?”

The white mage shrugged. “You have the map, you tell me.”

Argus removed his heavy backpack and sat on it. Meanwhile, Sarina found a nice-sized boulder. She gingerly brushed the snow off and sat down. “It’s beautiful up here.” She mused. Argus reached into one of the pouch’s pockets and pulled out the map, unrolling it as he did so.

“Looks like… We’re about three days to Duergar City, another three to Mt. Duergar itself. We should be at the Cornelian-Duergar border by sundown tomorrow.”

Sarina frowned. “There aren’t any ships from D.C. to the mountain stronghold?”

Argus shook his head. “Mt. Duergar is an extinct volcano, completely landlocked. It’s the tallest of a vast range of mountains that splits dwarven territory in two. The stronghold there isn’t on the mountain or at its base. It’s in the mountain. I’ve been there once, to see Liam’s ashes interred. It’s like an infinite network of mines, forges and natural caverns. The catacombs are infested with fiends, but Liam’s tomb isn’t very far inside- fortunately.”

The healer nodded gravely. “Sacramental burial grounds are seething with undead and demonic monsters these days. It’s unavoidable.”

“Yeah, and because of the caves there are plenty of ‘natural’ monsters as well. As if you could consider any fiend to be natural.”

“Indeed.” Sarina took a sip from her canteen. “I do hope your friend’s crystal is safe.”

Argus smiled and planned on saying something reassuring, but something turned his expression sour.

“What’s wrong?” Sarina asked.

“Speaking of monsters… We’ve got company.”

The healer turned slowly. On one of the rocky ledges was a rather large animal. In some respects, it resembled a deer, it had four hoofed legs and an herbivorous build. Unlike deer however, the hooves were solid and there was only a single spiral horn on the head. It resembled the mythical horses of ancient legend, but between the horn, the glowing eyes and the vestigial wings on its feet- it was very obviously a unicorn.

“It’s beautiful!” Sarina whispered in hushed awe.

“It’s deadly. These things are a lot meaner than they look.” Argus stood slowly, drawing his saber from its rusty scabbard. “Let’s hope it goes about its business.”

Sarina stood as well, producing her maul from beneath her flowing robes. Once again, Argus was taken by how calm and collected she looked. That just had to be a white mage technique, she was probably preparing to cast a lot of spells, after all.

The horse turned toward the two humans and snorted, stomping the ground as it did so. Its breath came out in thick clouds that looked like smoke. It wasn’t nearly as intimidating as the ogre from the other day, but the terrain was a lot more treacherous. Argus had a bad feeling about this. “Let’s get a Protect, okay? Use it on yourself too.”

No sooner than Sarina started casting, everything went to hell. As the brilliant light of her aura flared up with the use of magic, the horn on the horse’s head started to glow. The monster reared up on its hind legs and shrieked a mournful and very unsettling cry. When it came back down on all fours its eyes were glowing red and it charged, without delay, to the offending caster. Sarina noticed what was happening and hesitated momentarily.

“No! Finish the spell!” Argus dove in front of her.

Sarina complied and a familiar golden-white light enveloped him. Not one second later the unicorn impacted the protective barrier at full speed. Argus was unharmed, but the momentum had to go somewhere- the blow had knocked him back several strides. Although he was still standing, he had bowled Sarina over and she was rolling helplessly down the ledge.

Argus whirled around. “No! Sarina!” Just as he did so, the dazed unicorn turned around and kicked with both hind legs. The Protect absorbed the majority of the shock again, but not as much of it this time. Argus was knocked end-over-end and rolled down the ledge- crashing heavily on top of Sarina.

The wind was knocked out of him, but he willed himself up and off of the healer. The horse screeched again from on top of the ledge. It started gingerly hopping between stones and descending into the shallow chasm. It was obviously determined to finish what it started.

Sarina was conscious, thankfully, but a bit disoriented. “Are you okay? Heal yourself and get out of here!” Argus wheezed as he helped her to her feet. The unicorn was taking its time about descending, careful to avoid the same trauma it had just inflicted on the two humans.

She gasped for breath. “I’m fine. It seems to be overly sensitive to magic, maybe if I don’t use any-“

“Forget that!” Argus shouted. “That thing’s pissed! It’s not gonna stop until we’re granite stains! Just keep the Protect on me!”

Sarina collected herself and began to focus, the barrier that surrounded Argus began to shine more brilliantly. The horse stumbled momentarily as the magic made its horn glow again. Argus had an idea. “Cast another spell! I don’t care what, just cast!”

Sarina frowned as pebbles and rocks crumbled to the ravine floor. The unicorn was now stranded on a very small ledge. She smiled and nodded.

A blue-green aura surrounded Argus. It was Cure, he had felt the spell before, but didn’t need it now- or did he? The nosebleed he didn’t even know he had was now gone. The unicorn gave another outraged cry and reared up again. The last of the ledge gave way and the big animal came crashing down to the chasm floor. Argus ran toward the beast with his saber out, ready to finish it off.

If the unicorn was injured at all in the fall, it wasn’t injured badly. It just seemed to be even more enraged. It rose to its feet quickly and Argus slid to halt. “Oh great.” He muttered. There was nowhere for him to go now, at his rear was a cliff- a REAL cliff, the kind that led down the mountainside and towards certain doom.

“Protect Sarina! Protect!” The shield flared up again, only this time it came in the form of a large sphere instead of an armor-enhancing aura. The flaming-eyed horse charged once again. Its horn threw up sparks as it impacted the shield, but Argus miraculously didn’t give up any ground. He turned around to see Sarina straining intensely to maintain the sphere’s integrity.

The unicorn squealed and began pushing the magical sphere-with Argus inside- down the narrow ravine and towards the edge. Ice on the chasm floor facilitated this process. Argus was beginning to panic. The barrier worked both ways, he could not escape it or strike from within- he wanted to ask Sarina what he could do to help, but he didn’t want to break her focus. The barrier looked unstable enough as it was.

Sweat poured down the healer’s face as she willed against the the barrier she was simultaneously doing her level best to maintain. It was a losing battle, the horse was slowly but surely pushing Argus towards the cliff. She had to think of something.

“Get out of the way!” Sarina cried as she dispelled the barrier.

Just like that, the shield vanished and Argus dove off to the side- making a non lethal swipe at the monster’s face as he did so. He landed with his back against the wall, rolling out of the way immediately as the disoriented beast changed direction. The rock wall he had been leaning against moments before was perforated by a horn as hard as diamond. He quickly moved out of the ravine and onto the open ledge, but he didn’t gain much of an advantage by taking the fight out to the open again. “Any destructive spells you could use?” He asked plaintively.

“No.” Sarina gasped. “None that will harm the living, I’m afraid.”

The unicorn snorted and stomped- again. Argus grasped his blade in both hands and prepared to execute some brilliant improvised swordplay. Oh, as if!He thought bitterly. We’re doomed.

Just as the horse prepared to charge, a large shadow swept over it. Soon afterwards, a strong gust of wind ravaged the cliffside. Argus’ jaw dropped in disbelief as he witnessed the flight of an impossibly large beast. It was a blue, tiger-striped dragon. No, too small. It was a wyvern. Realizing this beast was ‘small’ compared to other monsters in the world was more than a little disconcerting.

The unicorn’s focus shifted immediately. It faced the flying reptile and shrieked at it. The wyrm responded with an unearthly roar of its own. The unicorn seemed to rethink its defiance briefly and looked about for shelter. Just as it was about retreat back into the chasm, the wyvern closed its wings and dove.

A blue and brown blur collided with the erstwhile aggressor and slammed it into the rock wall. Argus and Sarina held each other and the cliff face as the beast opened its wings and took flight again, this time with the whinnying horse in tow. The wyrm’s sickle-shaped talons were deep inside the unicorn but it still thrashed about. The added weight and unruly nature of its prey made the wyvern’s flight difficult. With one swift peck from its fanged beak, the unicorn’s throat was destroyed. The whinnying stopped, and the wyvern resumed its return flight. Blood spilled from the airborne corpse it carried as it soared into the distance.

“Well, that works too.” Argus tried to say it nonchalantly, but his voice cracked.

If Sarina noticed, she didn’t say anything. “Let’s get out of here- now.”

“Agreed.”

***
In a small desert region northwest of Pravoka, three travelers trudged wearily through the barren landscape. An observing party might have found the three quite comical in appearance: One scantily clad boy seemed dressed for a forest… or a sewer. He might have felt comfortable then, but the subtle ravages of the high sun would be felt by tomorrow morning. The second man had the opposite problem; he was cloaked in dark, heavy robes that would shield him from the sun… but bake him alive in the intense equatorial heat. He looked dressed for the mountains- only his tall straw hat seemed sensible for the weather. The attire of the third traveler was most ridiculous of all. While the cape and hat were not entirely out of place, the extravagant red tabard and tights would have been considered garish at a noble’s ball- let alone in the middle of nowhere.

The teenager in the lightest summer attire spoke up. “Okay, first question: Why are we marching single file? Second question: Why am I in the lead?”

An ethereal whisper sounded from all directions, but the source of it was the crotchety man in the giant hat. “Because we’re tired, Vasquez. We’ve been marching all day and, unlike you, are not fully trained acrobats.”

Kelga stopped, turned around and smiled. “So why are you dressed for the dead of winter, then? Take some of those heavy robes off!”

The black mage’s narrow slits for eyes got big and round. “I’d sooner die.” He muttered.

“You very well may, in this heat.”

The flamboyant cavalier spoke up for the first time. “Those robes are lighter than they look. They’re riddled with protective enchantments- the closest thing a member of his discipline can wear to heavy armor.”

The wizard’s yellow eyes narrowed again. “A true master of destruction requires the utmost in focus and concentration. My casting abilities would be compromised if I were to be bogged down in chain mail like you!”

Duane threw his hands up defensively. “I’m just explaining why you would willingly bake alive.” He turned to Kelga and grinned. “As for you, shouldn’t you be wearing… trousers? You live around here, you’re familiar with sunburn, yes?”

The thief returned the grin and produced a small clamshell from his pouch. “That’s where this comes in. It’s one of Zok’s ointments. It’s made from some kind of plant oil- it protects against sunburn. With this, I can run around in short pants and never burn- just tan to the point that I don’t look like a pasty white vampire like you.”

Gilles chuckled for the first time on the whole trip. “You probably do burn easily don’t you? Are you an albino or something?”

Duane snorted indignantly. “I most certainly am not! …But, I do burn easily. That cream’s not especially rare or expensive, is it?”

Kelga shook his head. “Naw.” He tossed the shell case to Duane, who deftly caught it. “Go crazy. It doesn’t take much, and it lasts long. You should take that tunic off. You look like you haven’t seen sun in like… ever.”

“No, thank you.” Duane removed his glove and dabbed some of the ointment under his green eyes. “Just for the face. The sunlight seems to reflect off the desert sand.”

“Then take that frompy hat off!” Kelga’s smile became vicious. “Let’s see if we can bleach your hair from off-white to really white!”

Gilles was laughing heartily now, his flaming eyes had narrowed to the point where they almost disappeared. “Ha! How old are you, anyway?”

Duane closed the clamshell and tossed it back to Kelga. He turned to Gilles and frowned. “I’m twenty-three. You?”

“Twenty-five.” The wizard laughed. “I should have guessed. You don’t have the face of an old man.!”

“Ha! You’re both old!” Kelga laughed.

Duane turned to Kelga briefly, then back to Gilles. “Well, at least, I have a face!”

The thief laughed uproariously. “HA! Zing! What’s up with that anyway, Gilles?”

“A layman like you wouldn’t understand! Suffice to say it’s for your own benefit, not mine.” He started walking again. “Come on, let’s go. Let’s get out of this desert before it completely fries our brains.”

The black mage walked for a few strides until Kelga shouted after him.

“Gilles! Stop! Don’t move!”

The wizard stopped dead in his tracks. “What is it?” He asked in a low tone.

“Don’t you guys hear that?” Kelga whispered.

Gilles slowly turned around. “I don’t hear anything. What is he babbling about?”

Duane shrugged. “I don’t hear anything either.”

Kelga rolled his eyes. “There’s something beneath us. Under the sand. How can you guys not hear it?”

“Oh great gods.” Gilles muttered. “Please tell me it’s not a land worm.”

“There aren’t any on this continent.” Duane replied.

“Shh!” Kelga put his finger to his lips. “It’s small.” He whispered. “Not really that small, but not gigantic either.” He stomped. The two mages strained to hear something, anything. A faint rustling and a low growl could be heard, but it was so faint it could just as well have been their imaginations.

Kelga walked a safe distance from his two companions and stomped again. The subterranean shifting was more pronounced this time. Kelga began to jump up and down. “It’s coming, boys! Get ready!”

Duane didn’t say anything- he merely drew his sword. Gilles stood there dumbfounded. “What’s coming? Kelga, don’t attract-“

Before the black mage could finish that sentence a plume of brown sand erupted exactly where Kelga had been standing moments before. Six sets of razor sharp talons thrashed at the empty space when the nimble young thief leapt to safety. He drew his scimitar and ran back to where Gilles and Duane stood, making an effort not to look at the beast that had just appeared.

It was a large, blue, six-legged lizard. It’s head was flat and round and the top was adorned with what looked like a plant- but was probably gills or antennae of some sort. It stopped thrashing and its legs splayed out. It looked to the left and right and then turned completely around in place to face the three humans.

“Don’t look directly into its face!” Kelga screamed.

Too late. The beast turned around and locked gazes with Gilles. The black mage stood there in stunned awe as its gigantic, multi-colored, faceted eyes paralyzed him in place. The monster’s eyes then flashed brightly and Gilles gasped in pain- briefly. His cry was terminated in a dry crackling sound as his whole body was turned to stone.

“Damn it!” Kelga shouted. “We’re on our own Duane! Think we can handle it?”

Duane’s answer was not in Common, but in the divine language of the ancients. Brilliant white light surrounded him and enveloped Kelga. A green mist shrouded the thief in the essence of wind. It was Barstone, a white magic spell that granted immunity from magical petrification.

“Um, what’s that?” Kelga asked.

“It will protect you from the lizard’s gaze. Distract it while I tend to Gilles.”

The basilisk charged straight for Kelga. “Um, okay.” The thief responded.

The fiend shrieked and leapt into the air. Kelga nimbly dove out of the way once again. Incredibly, he was back on his feet before the lizard was, and so he ran in to take a swipe at its leathery backside.

Blue scales and a bit of blood went flying, but the blow was nowhere near lethal. Instead, Kelga’s attack served to make the lizard forget all about Duane and the statue of Gilles. It stared at the rogue and flashed its eyes brilliantly, but to no effect. The red mage’s enchantment had worked.

“Hurry up, Duane!” Kelga called. “I think we might need his firepower!”

Duane was crouched at the feet of the petrified black mage. “Do you have any soft?” He called.

“Do I look like an alchemist!?” Sparks erupted as Kelga’s blade parried a threefold attack from the basilisk.

“You’re good friends with one!”

The thief executed an impossible spin and jumped out of the way as the lizard pounced again. “Can’t you cure him!?”

“Do I look like a white mage!? I'm not that specialized!”

The beast shrieked in rage as the nimble thief continued to dodge its strikes. It pawed the ground and hissed. Kelga responded by dashing forward and striking with his cutlass. It was an amazingly precise hit, but once again, the lizard was only wounded and enraged, not seriously injured.

Just then the rogue’s considerable luck ran out. He executed a feint that the basilisk did not fall for. Likewise, the lizard made a mock charge that caused Kelga to dodge an attack that didn’t exist. By the time he was in the air the lizard pounced on the exact spot where Kelga landed.

The thief was on his back with the basilisk right on top of him. It was still sprawled out from its flight and had yet to start clawing. Kelga didn’t want to give it the chance. The sharp scales scraped on his bare legs as he kicked as hard as he could. The lizard was heavy, but not insurmountably so. It was also in the process of standing up when Kelga kicked.. This produced a gap large enough for him to crawl through as fast as he could.

While he was on his feet in no time, the lizard recovered even faster. As Kelga dashed away the basilisk made another triple swipe at his backside. Kelga yelled in pain and surprise as his tunic was shredded. His leather armor absorbed some of the damage where it was hit, but blood started pouring from the areas the armor did not protect.

A bright, blue-green divine aura struck Kelga seconds after the attack. The bleeding stopped and the lacerations were mended immediately. Kelga turned to cheer Duane on, but he was not the only one who noticed the interference. The basilisk made a hard right and dashed towards the red mage, shrieking wildly.

The fencer had anticipated the enmity, however. Just as the lizard closed the gap Duane made a broad, horizontal slash with his fleuret that countered the fiend’s attack with a forceful blow. The lizard was knocked aside, but unhurt. Duane’s powerful strike had cancelled out the pounce, but his relatively light rapier suffered from the same problem Kelga’s weapon had: The lizard’s hide was simply too thick.

“Your turn to play with him!” Kelga shouted. “Keep him off of me, I’ll handle this!”

Duane didn’t have the slightest clue how Kelga would ‘handle’ the situation, but he didn’t say so. Although he was an exceptional fencer, it took all of his concentration to parry the constant attacks of the six-legged beast. He wouldn’t be able to cast any spells while locked in this deadly game of cat and mouse either.

Kelga dashed up to the sedimentary likeness of Gilles, still frozen in his initial surprise at the sight of the basilisk. Years of pick pocketing in Pravoka made snatching the purse off of a statue ridiculously easy. He rummaged through the mage’s possessions as quickly as he could. Why Gilles needed so much useless and disturbing detritus was beyond him, but there just HAD to be something of use in there.

AHA! THERE! Kelga’s mind shrieked with glee as he spied a small vial of soft potion. He unstopped the cap and removed the long, gold needle inside. Without wasting another moment he jammed the needle into Gilles’ arm as fast as he could. Golden light began to shine from the countless tiny cracks that formed in the statue’s stone. The petrification shattered and turned to dust as Gilles gasped, understandably very disoriented from being turned to stone and back. He glanced around and briefly took stock of the situation.

Kelga pointed to the basilisk. “Kill it! Kill it now!”

The black mage shook off his confusion briefly and started chanting in the obscure, hermetic language of the ancient Order of Chaos. He held his hands out and clapped them together. Blinding white light coalesced into razor sharp ice shard that shot towards the lizard at blinding speed.

Duane gasped in surprise as the frozen missile impaled the beast from the side. The magical, absolute zero projectile penetrated the basilisk’s hide easily and ran it completely through. The lizard shrieked in pain as it began to freeze solid. It’s six legs thrashed about as its body contorted in sub-zero agony.

Shortly after it stopped screaming, the basilisk shattered to pieces.

“That was AWESOME!” Kelga cheered, slapping Gilles on the back.

“Yes, well, I couldn’t have done it without you.” The black mage mumbled.

“How did you cure him?” Duane wheezed as he sat down right there in the sand and ice, gasping for breath.

“Gilles had soft! I borrowed some.”

Gilles started patting himself down. “Where’s my pouch?” He looked over to where his purse lay upturned in the sand, his scrolls, bottles and assorted unmentionables blowing about in the desert wind. “My things!” He ran over to the pile and started collecting his belongings.

“You’re welcome.” Kelga muttered.

Good battle XP, good character XP...

Level up!

Apologies for the lack of updatedness lately. I've been in a creativity-deficient rut lately. Must be pretty bad when I can't even flesh out a pre-existing story. I think I've got most of the plot kinks worked out though for the time being. It's going to get a lot easier once the game actually starts. The real challenge from that point will be trying to keep it from being too predictable.

My brother's almost as lazy as I am, but the character illustrations *are* still on the way. I bought him new stationery and everything, so he's running out of excuses.

In other news, I hate the way dwarves talk.

*****

Two humans looked decidedly out of place as they maneuvered up a crowded mountain road to the dwarven stronghold of Mt. Duergar. Argus clanked laboriously as he walked along, he had recently purchased a suit of iron platemail armor- complete with a new sword and shield- in Duergar City. He had pawned off what little valuables he had brought with him, as well as his old saber. Unfortunately, it still wasn’t enough to pay for the new equipment in full. Sarina had graciously delved into her own pocket to make up the difference. Argus swore to pay her back as soon as he could, but she wrote off the debt as making sure her defenders were well-equipped.

The pair were deep within dwarven territory, so it was not at all surprising that the majority of the people they passed were dwarves. Some wore heavy armor that put Argus to shame while others wore the extravagant robes of merchants or the rugged yet practical tunics of miners. Mt. Duergar was rich in mineral wealth; iron, copper, zinc, silver, gold and- until recently- mythril could be mined in abundance there. Smoke poured from countless stacks that protruded aboveground but actually originated several kilometers beneath the surface. The forges of Mt. Duergar never slept, the semi-nocturnal dwarves worked tirelessly crafting the finest weapons, armor and tools on the Aldean Sea.

“I really hope the Earth Crystal is where you say.” Sarina murmured softly as she padded daintily up the cobblestone road. “It would be tragic if it fell prey to grave robbers…”

“You really need to quit worrying about the crystal.” Argus replied. “The dwarves keep their tombs secure, there isn’t really much that’s more important to them than their burial grounds. Liam was a blacksmith, not a gem collector, and no one else really knew about the crystal but me. I told you, the most we have to worry about are undead.”

“The undead do not worry me in the least.” The healer replied with firm conviction. Argus wondered what it was about zombies and ghosts that made them less of a threat than dragons and giants. Sarina slumped her shoulders slightly and sighed. “I’m sorry for fretting so much, Argus. It’s just that I don’t think you realize the true significance of this artifact. In fact, I am probably ignorant of the Light’s true significance.”

“Okay then…” Argus mused. “Once we retrieve it, then what? We take it back to Cornelia and report to your boss, this Cardinal What’s-His-Face? Then what?”

“Vias is undoubtedly far more knowledgeable about the Prophecy than I. I am sure he will know what do , or at least know who does. In fact, Lukhan himself currently resides in Cornelia City. The Cardinal may even bring us before the great sage…”

“So this Lukhan guy, he’s the leader of the church then? The head white mage person-guy?”

Sarina shook her head. “No. Sage Lukhan is not officially affiliated with the church, nor is he a holy man at all per se. He’s the single greatest philosopher and prophet of our time. The Prophecy itself actually goes back hundreds of years, but it was Lukhan who discerned the final details of the legend and restored the people’s hope that it would actually come to pass.”

Argus bit his lip. “I’m sure the starving people of Melmond can feed their kids fables and fairy tales.” He muttered.

“It’s true that the disaster is unevenly distributed, but it is a problem that faces everyone. Duergar’s plight will soon become the plight of Cornelia and Elfheim. Don’t forget that this is just the power of earth, as well. There are still three other great forces that are corrupted.”

The fighter looked thoughtful for a moment. “I’ve got- or will get- the Earth Crystal, you have the Water Crystal, there’s two more left right? What are they? How will we find them?”

“Assuming we can secure the Earth Crystal, the Fire and Wind Crystals still remain at large. I wouldn’t even begin to know where to look, I can only hope Cardinal Vias or Lukhan can point us in the right direction.”

Argus nodded. “Okay, assuming we’re like, the chosen ones or something, doesn’t that mean that there are two more people out there we need to find? Are we supposed to team up with them to rid the world of evil or what?”

“I’m sorry, Argus. I really don’t know much about the legend. I admittedly didn’t place much stock in it before, and had actually assumed the Light of the Sea was a stand alone relic. Let’s concentrate on one thing at a time. For now, I’m just going to trust in my own destiny.”

The two walked in silence towards the main gates of Mt. Duergar. Although the average dwarf was pretty short by human standards, the cavernous opening was absolutely enormous. On either side were two towering statues of ancient dwarven heroes. More modern constructs, namely a fortified gate, accented the cave’s ominous appearance. Two dwarven warriors in resplendent golden armor stood guard on either side of the gate. One carried a great axe, while the other wielded a halberd. They wore helms that obscured their faces, but their beards protruded out from beneath their masks. The two guards nodded cordially at any dwarf who deigned to enter the stronghold, but when the two humans approached they stood shoulder-to-shoulder and crossed their weapons together.

“Lali-ho there, bonne lassie!” One dwarf growled at Sarina. “What brings ye to Mt. Duergar, finest place in all the world?”

Argus felt slightly indignant that the guards had addressed Sarina and not him, but it stood to reason. She was dressed in the unmistakable red and white robes of a church healer. His dingy armor made him look like her cut-rate escort- which wasn’t that far from the truth.

Sarina smiled and bowed politely. “My friend and I are paying our respects to a mutual friend who is interred here. We’ll be visiting his tomb if that’s possible.”

The dwarf with the halberd snorted. “There be no humes buried here, understand? This be sacred burial ground for dwarfkind only.”

“He was a dwarf.” Argus replied haughtily, annoyed.

The guards were unperturbed. “So ye’re on personal business then? Ye don’t come on behalf o’ the human empire?”

Sarina’s smile didn’t weaken in the least. “No, I assure you, we’re not on any official church business. This is a strictly personal matter.”

The first dwarf spoke up again. “That’s actually kinda regrettable, really. We were hopin’ the church would respond to oor request, but this is a little soon for ‘em, come ta think of it.”

The white mage frowned. “Why? Is something the matter?”

“Aye. There was a bad quake yesterday, I’m amazed you didn’a feel it- but I guess I had heard the capitol was unaffected. ‘Twas pretty bad here, though…”

“…How bad?” Her voice betrayed genuine concern.

“Oy, pretty bad.” The other dwarf replied. “We haven’t even begun to inspect the catacombs for damage. The forges an’ refineries will recover, there weren’t any serious injuries, but the mines… The mines… Many deaths…”

“I’m so sorry.” Sarina spoke softly. “Do you need assistance searching for survivors? Do the injured need attended to?”

The guard shook his head. “This is a state matter, you’d best be about yer business. Thank ye kindly lass, but if the church didn’a send ya, there’s not a lot we can ask of you.”

“Think nothing of it. We’ll do whatever we can to help.

Argus’ jaw dropped. We!? he mouthed silently. Sarina ignored him.


The other guard nodded and whistled. Another soldier emerged from the darkened cave and joined the other two. The guard barked orders in Dwarfish to the newcomer, then turned back to Sarina. “Thank ye kindly for yer offer again, lass. Truth be told, we really could use yer help, he’ll take you to the Chief. He’ll send you two where ye’re needed most.”

At the entrance to the mines complex, workers dashed to and fro, desperately trying to clear away rubble in the vain hope that anyone who survived the initial cave-in would still be alive. The two soldiers led Argus and Sarina to a makeshift platform where a youngish-looking dwarf barked orders over a megaphone. The lead guard called up to the official, who was apparently the chief engineer they had been told about.

Instead of using the ladder, the stout man leapt from the top of the platform, his sturdy legs absorbing the shock of the impact perfectly. “What is it? I cannae be interrupted at a time liken this!”

The lead guard nodded slightly. “Chief Nerrick, these humes have volunteered their services in findin’ oor kin.” He gestured to where Argus and Sarina stood, looking rather uncomfortable. “A proper white mage and ‘er bodyguard. They came to help.”

Nerrick nodded to Sarina. “Ye’ve been sent by the church in Cornelia then, eh?”

Sarina shook her head. “My name is Sarina Alexandra, and this is my friend, Argus Baron. We’re actually here on personal business, but we’d like to help in any way we can.”

The engineer was visibly pleased, but he merely nodded sagely at the healer. “We’re in yer debt, lassie. There’s plenty o’ wounded aboot. Sergeant, take her tae the hospice. There won’t be much there that yer magic cannae fix, ma’am.”

Sarina bowed as the guard led her away. Argus started after them but Nerrick called to him. “Nay so fast there, laddie. Ye’re no magician, are ye?”

Argus stopped and slowly turned. “No, I’m just a traveler.”

Nerrick nodded. “And a brauer hume blacksmith there never was, if memory serves. Ye’re Liam’s boy, nay?”

“…Yes. Why? How do you know Liam?”

“I don’t, regrettably. Not personally, at least. We had a mutual friend and colleague, I hear he spoke fondly o’ ya.” Nerrick grabbed a pickaxe off the cavern floor and gestured for Argus to follow him. “So ye’re a fighter now, eh? How’s that workin’ oot for ya?”

“Well, I haven’t been adventuring long. My hometown was recently destroyed and I’m helping Sarina with a… very important mission of hers. What exactly are you going to have me do here, Mr. Nerrick?”

“Oy, just call me ‘Nerrick’. I’d liken you tae help search fer survivors, if you would. The quake opened up some previously unexplored caverns. We think they may be a shortcut to the ruined mines, but they’re lippin’ o’er with gruesome monsters.”

“…I’m gonna have backup, right?”

“Of course, I wouldn’a send ya in alone. Truth is, I need all the mer I can spare just clearin’ the rubble. Yer stoot boy, but ye’re no dwarf. You look like you’d be better suited fer security than haulin’ rock.”

Argus didn’t say anything for a long time before he spoke up. “I thought this volcano was extinct and the region geologically stable. Isn’t this the first earthquake in hundreds of years?”

“Aye. 'Twas a pretty bad shake, it was. Oor geologists have concluded that Mt. Duergar’s as dead as it e’er was. The quake was caused by the land she sits on, not the volcano she used tae be. Many died yesterday, and many more are still missin’. We’ve gotta find ‘em before it’s too late. Production’s at a standstill, but aside from the casualties, the worst consequence is bein’ the state o’ the canal. Namely, it’s not there no more.”

Argus stopped abruptly. “The Duergar Canal was destroyed!?”

“Aye, it was. The landslide filled ‘er in like there ne’er was one tae begin with. The Aldean’s literally a giant, salt water lake now. …And Melmond’s cut off from the mainland. This be compoundin’ their current problem. We’ve been dependent on imported foodstuffs from Cornelia for some time now. With travel by sea now impossible, this may be Melmond’s death sentence.”

“What about the roads? Hrothman’s Pass?”

Nerrick shook his head. “Destroyed in the quake as well, they were. Western Duergar’s practically it’s own country now. As soon as we’re done cleanin’ up ‘ere, oor first prioty’ll be reopenin’ the canal.” He stopped short as they reached the entrance to some very foreboding-looking caves. Nerrick shouted something in Dwarfish and another guard came out of the darkness. Argus nodded as Nerrick introduced him.

“This be Argus Baron. Go easy on 'im. He’s a hume, so he's mighty frail- don't let the armor fool ya. He’s graciously offered tae assist in the search ‘n’ rescue. And in the monster ‘disposal’.”

The guard extended his bulky hand and Argus took it. “Pleasure tae make yer acquaintance Mr. Baron. We’re gonna need all the help we can get. Follow me, please.”

“Good luck, laddie!” Nerrick shouted as Argus and the guard descended into the darkness. “Ye’ll need it.” He whispered under his breath.

Lousy oath...

Kuja wrote:Lousy oath...

If you're talking about the White Mage, it's "Stupid Oath".

"How's in goin' up in 'ere, lassie?" Nerrick shouted to Sarina as he entered the hospice. The room was a wide-open cavern chamber that the elders of the Mining Guild and their subordinate engineers used to plan projects. After the disaster, it had been converted into a makeshift triage.

Sarina Alexandra looked up from the operating table. The dwarven surgeons were plenty capable, but they couldn't match the antiseptic and accelerated healing properties of her white magic. Thankfully, she had taken on a primarily supportive role- for the dwarves were far from medically ignorant.

"I think I have things under control here, Chief." She answered. "It's just as I was taught- dwarven physiology is not so different from that of an elf or human. In fact your people seem to respond to my magic more readily. That's some impressive vitality."

"That's good tae hear, lass. Are there any moor dead? Any moor permanently injured?"

Sarina mopped her brow with her loose-fitting sleeve. "No fatalities, fortunately, but some of the casualties are regrettably injured beyond the scope of my training. Your engineers seemed to indicate that toxic gasses were vented from some of the collapsed shafts. I've so far been unable to dispel the poison, as it's symptomatically different from monster venom. The effects don't seem to be fatal, but it will be some time before they can breathe normally again."

"Ye've done all ya ken, lady healer. We're ferever in yer debt." Nerrick removed his hat and bowed hastily.

"Nonsense chief, it's good practice. My only regret is lacking the full repertoire necessary to really be effective." Sarina tried to offer a reassuring smile. "So that's my report. How's the search and rescue going? Any more survivors?"

"All the patrols are in, except the monster sweepers. So far nothing. I jes' hope any one still trapped dies quickly."

"And the canal?"

Nerrick winced, and Sarina suspected that this was the worst news of all- at least from a dwarven perspective. "We've... hit a rock." Nerrick replied. "The excavation is practically over. We cannae bluiter that rock without high explosives- and we don't have any."

"I was under the impression that Duergar's alchemists were renowned for advancements in explosives."

Nerrick nodded. "Aye, we have gunpouder. Gross loads o' gunpouder. But there be iron ore in the collapsed mountaintop. We need nitro- and we're clean out of the raw materials to synth it. Same as mythril."

"I'm sorry." Sarina said softly. "I wish there was more we could do."

"Nonsense. You've been a great help 'ere, lass. I'm sorry we've interrupted yer li'l vacation. In fact, you kin be about yer business now. The immediate crisis has passed."

Sarina nodded. "Well, okay then. Where's Argus? You said the searches have all returned?"

Nerrick glanced about nervously. "Aye, the searches are back... all 'cepting his. We haven't heard from his party yet, but they're not that long overdue. Maybe they found somethin'?"

"Maybe." Sarina said evenly. "Maybe not. Which way did he go?"

"You don't need to put yerself through any more trouble, milady. It's dangerous down there."

"I'm perfectly capable of defending myself. Where was he headed?"

Nerrick maintained his nervous look. "Aye, well- I sent him to inspect the caves that appeared after the quake. Specifically, the ones that made a sort of 'back entrance' intae the catacombs."

"The catacombs? We were headed there anyway. Can you take me there?"

Before Nerrick could respond, an armor-clad dwarf dashed into the room. "Chief Nerrick!" He gasped. "We've an intruder in oor midst! Someone whacked the guards at the catacombs and went inside!"

"The devil!?" Nerrick looked back and forth between Sarina and the guard. "Whacked!? As in killed? Was it a fiend?"

"Nay, not killed." The guard explained as he caught his breath. "Just knocked oot. Probably grave robbers takin' advantage o' the quake!"

"They're in danger." Sarina unfastened the hammer from her belt and strode down towards the guard. "Can you take me there?"

The guard nodded and turned to leave, but Nerrick shouted after them. Sarina spun on her heels, fed up with patronization. "What!?" She demanded. "Something's not right. My friend is in danger, and I may be the only one who can help him! And I'll be damned if you're going to stop me!"

"Sarina?" Nerrick asked plaintively.

"What!?"

The dwarven chief engineer strode over to the far wall and removed something from an ornate shelf. He then walked down the embankment to meet her. "Take this." He said, and handed her a weapon. It was a hammer not unlike her own, but it gleamed with silver-blue brilliance.

"Nerrick..." Sarina said softly as she took the weapon from him. "Is this mythril?"

"Aye, it's stronger an' lighter than the bronze ye've been using. It's also more reactive to magic, as you should already know."

"Thank you. Truly, thank you. I don't know what else to say." She turned briskly to follow the guard out of the chamber.

"And Sarina?" Nerrick called again.

"Yes?"

"Good luck, lassie."

The healer nodded gravely and marched outside.

***

“Got another one!” Argus shouted to the two armored dwarves that had accompanied him for the entirety of this fruitless trip. The two soldiers clanked as they dashed up to inspect the latest corpse. It was an ankheg, a giant centipede-like insectoid monster. This one was fallen from the same deep slash marks that had marked every carcass they had encountered thus far.

The two dwarves mumbled amongst themselves in their native tongue. Argus really, really wished they would use Common around him. Although he had lived among dwarves for the better part of his life, Liam had never taught him the language. He had always called it a ‘dying tongue’ and hardly ever used it himself. Even when other dwarves came to visit and spoke to Liam in Dwarfish, he would respond in Common.

So far, they had seen several dead monsters and had not encountered a single live one. The deep slash marks suggested a clawed beast of incredible power. Fiend-on-fiend predation was not uncommon, but when monsters killed each other they usually did so for sustenance. Simply leaving an otherwise intact corpse to rot was very strange behavior indeed.

Aside from this mystery, which they were currently investigating, the search party had been a complete waste of time. Not a single survivor was found, and as it turned out these newly revealed caves did not connect to the mines. They did connect to the catacombs, however, and that was their current location. The group’s secondary task had been the elimination of any monsters in the caverns, but something incredibly tough was doing that for them. It was at Argus’ behest that they investigated the cause of these attacks, but he was beginning to wonder if that was such a good idea. A twelve meter bug lay eviscerated before him, after all. Not to mention the dead minotaur they had spotted a few caves back.

“Same scratch marks.” The ranking dwarf muttered. ‘Scratch’ was quite the understatement, but then again neither of the two guards seemed all that perturbed about such a monstrosity roaming around beneath their city.

“Does this give you guys any new info? Have any guesses about what we’re up against yet?”

The sergeant shook his head. “I don’t know of any monster with claws like that. At least not around here…”

“We’re in the catacombs, could it have been some manner of undead? A demon?”

“It’s possible, but these gashes sure are clean. They look like they’re made by metal if you ask me…”

“Metal…” Argus mused. The more they learned about this enigmatic monster slayer, the more of an enigma it became. “Well, we’d better go back and report this to the chief, you suppose?”

The sergeant nodded. “Aye, we shouldn’t be in the catacombs anyhow. Oor original task is complete, let’s head out.”

Just as the three were about to head for the exit, a loud shriek erupted from the darkness. It was another ankheg, but it didn’t sound like it was the attacker. Argus swallowed and waved his torch in the direction of the noise. “Well, I think we’re gaining on it.”

The two dwarves didn’t say anything, they just brandished their weapons and started marching in the direction. Argus fallowed. His longer stride made it easy to keep up with them, but their pace was brisk nonetheless. When they reached the ankheg, it was already dead, and their was no trace of whatever killed it. It’s waxy, hardened carapace was shredded and its wicked looking mandibles lay severed on the tomb floor.

“I have a very bad feeling about this.” Argus muttered. One of the dwarves crossed himself. Argus looked around and couldn’t believe his luck: The heavy stone door that dominated the far wall was adorned with unmistakable glyphs. This was Liam’s tomb! It would be pointless to come back later when he was this close now.

“Guys, this tomb belongs to a friend of mine. I left something really important inside when he was first interred. I’m going to get it back now. Is that a…!”

Argus took a closer look at the tomb door. It was cracked open ever so slightly. “…Problem?” Argus finished his original sentence and dashed up towards the opening. Pale blue light filtered out through the musty air. Faint shuffling could be heard inside. Something was in there and chances were it was whatever had been killing the monsters.

“I’m going in.” Argus drew his broadsword and slowly approached the opening.

“Ye’re daft, laddie!” The sergeant whispered after him. “That thing’ll cut you to ribbons.”

“Then go get help.” Argus replied. “This man was like a father to me, the only real father I had. I’m not going to let his grave be plundered by fiends!”

Wordlessly the two dwarves dashed away. Argus briefly second-guessed the wisdom of dismissing his support, but it was worth the extra reinforcements, he decided. He sidestepped through the narrow gap. Whatever this thing was, it couldn’t be very big. Maybe it was humanoid?

Argus set his torch in one of the two stands near the door. One already had a lit torch. It was impossible for it to have been burning for four years. Something- someone must have just lit it. Despite the two torches, it was still quite dark in the tomb and his eyes strained to make anything out. What he could make out was a tall, humanoid shadow standing irreverently atop a heavy brass chest. It was a man, a human. He wore ornate yet sporty blue robes and carried multiple weapons. A long metal staff was strapped to his back while nunchaku hung from his black belt. Most prominent of all were the gigantic steel claws attached to his hands by the gauntlets he wore. The man smiled faintly as he removed the claws and fixed them to his belt.

“Just what the hell are you doing here!?” Argus barked.

“I could be asking you the same question.” The fighter replied.

“Hah! My foster father is buried here, and I’ve come to reclaim a keepsake of mine I had buried with him.” Argus narrowed his eyes and raised his shield. “Your turn.”

“I’m just after some levistone. My monastery recently excavated an airship and are trying to get it running again.”

Argus rolled his eyes. Metal that floated in the air, ships that sailed in the sky. “Nice try. Liam was a blacksmith, he wouldn’t know anything about such a thing. Now what are you really here for?”

The monk’s faint smile turned into a full grin. “This.” He produced a long silver chain with an amber colored crystal set in the pendant. He twirled it about his fingers blithely. “And now that I have it, I’ll be on my way.”

“Not if I can help it.” Argus took a half step forward.

“Trust me, you can’t.”

“I will try.”

“’Try’ indeed.” The monk pocketed the Earth Crystal and brandished the long metal staff. He nimbly vaulted to the far end of the tomb and down to the floor a few strides in front of Argus. He began twirling the staff around with impressive dexterity. Argus bellowed a war cry and charged; his shield held out in front of him and his sword held high.

The monk started backpedaling until Argus had him in a corner. He then held his staff horizontally and deftly guarded the warrior’s first strike. Sparks flew up but Argus didn’t waste any more time he drew back and this time went for a thrust. The monk twirled the staff again, parrying what would have been a lethal blow. As Argus was knocked off balance, the monk went on the offensive. He executed a broad swing that hit nothing but shield- but despite the successful block Argus was knocked several steps back.

From that point on the monk’s attacks were swift and relentless. A counter was impossible, it was all Argus could do to block and parry every strike. He’s toying with me. Argus thought. His suspicions were confirmed when the grave robber knelt down and made a swift, wide swing parallel to the ground. Sparks flew up as Argus’ boots were struck hard. His legs were literally knocked out from under him and he went down- hard. The monk then brought the pole up to bear for a vertical downward swing that would have ended the fight, but Argus parried with his sword. He did his best to push upward against the superior strength of the martial artist- trying and failing.

Without warning the monk let up and took a step back. Argus swung his blade at his adversary, but it was a wide miss. He scrambled to his feet as quickly as his armor would allow, but his attempts to do so were answered by a powerful kick to the abdomen. The kick sent Argus across the room and he crashed into the far wall- landing in a sitting position.

The grave robber laughed and put his staff way, bringing out the nunchaku. He started twirling them around. A blow to the head from THAT would certainly ruin his day. Argus was beginning to wish he wore a helm.

He willed himself to his feet, but as he was doing so the monk stopped twirling his weapons. He instead swiftly made fists and thrust his arms out, stabbing them into the air in Argus’ direction. The air rippled as it was rended by an invisible shockwave. That shockwave struck Argus like nothing he’d felt before. He’d made a crater in the wall from that blow even. The fight was over. He had no idea how many ribs were broken- but there was no way he was standing up again without some white magic.

As if the gods had heard his thoughts the familiar aura of Cure enveloped him. He could feel the massive internal trauma retreat with the pain as his strength flowed back in. He took a deep, unobstructed breath and rose to his feet. When he did so he was pleasantly surprised to see Sarina standing in the doorway. She shimmered with the golden light of a Protect spell.

The monk seemed just as surprised to see her- but oddly enough didn’t attack. Argus took the initiative and charged toward him as Sarina laid a Protect on him too. The grave robber’s attention returned and he swiped at Argus’ head with his weapons. Every blow hit, but to no effect- the barrier absorbed the damage. The last thing on the monk’s face before it was bashed in by Argus’ shield was a mixture of surprise and confusion.

Rock on!

Even though he was a bastard, I've gotta give that monk some props for killikng the ankhegs. I hate those little bastards.

Sarina fastened her new mythril hammer to her belt and tucked it under her robes. “Thank you for not killing him.”

Argus glanced down at the twitching mass of monk he had just laid waste to. “Wait, he’s not dead?” He drew his sword. “How sloppy of me.”

“No!” Sarina cried. “Don’t kill him!”

“Why?”

“I… know him.”

“You ‘know’ him?”

She hung her head. “We were born in the same city, our families are- were- closely affiliated. I visited him at the Ryukahn Monastery several years ago on holiday. That’s while we were still training. We were… good friends for about a month or so, and then I had to return to Onrac. I sent him letters and such, but never got a response. Upon my graduation I returned to Crescent Lake to learn that he had been excommunicated from the order. The Ryukahn monks are among the most lethal fighters in the world, strong in both body and spirit. Many of their creeds and precepts run parallel to that of my own order. Everyone was so tight-lipped as to why he was branded a heretic. To this day I never heard anything definite, only rumors.”

Argus frowned. “Do you think him being booted out had anything to do with him being an evil bastard?”

The monk made a wet snorting noise on the tomb floor as he tried to breathe through a shattered face, still unconscious.

Sarina was quiet for a moment. “…I suppose it stands to reason that he became a freelance adventurer, it’s the only real practical application for his training. Conventional militaries are eschewing martial arts in favor of steel, magic and gunpowder these days. It’s just… appalling. Tomb robbing is so out-of-character for him. The Maduin I knew was kind, if a bit reserved. He was not irreverent in the least. He could be passionate at times, but only with the best intentions. How could he have sunken so low?”

“Why don’t you ask him?” Argus shuffled over to the brass chest and sat down with a heavy metal impact. “What did you say his name was?”

“Maduin.” Sarina replied, kneeling before the fallen foe. “Maduin Vargas. You’ve heard of him?”

“Nope, never. I just thought- oh, yeah!”

“What?”

Argus stood up again and walked over to where Maduin lay. He kneeled with Sarina and fished through Maduin’s pockets.

“The crystal…” Sarina murmured as Argus produced a silver chain exactly like the one she wore- except for the stone of course. “He was after the Earth Crystal? This is your friend’s tomb?”

“Yes and yes.” Argus stood up and examined the artifact in greater detail. “I have no idea what he wanted with it. He wouldn’t tell me, and I wasn’t about to let him get away with it, either.”

“This changes things.”

Argus looked at her cockeyed. “I don’t see that it does.”

“Well perhaps not then, but I think we would be well-served to get some answers” Her inspection of Maduin’s trauma complete, she stood and started casting Cure.

Argus turned away from the greenish-blue flash and the sickening sound of Maduin’s facial bones re-aligning themselves. The incantation complete, Argus turned to see Maduin sit up, gasping. Before the ex-monk could even take stock of his surroundings, Argus’ blade was at his throat.

“Anything clever and you die. That simple.”

“Argus that isn’t necessary.” Sarina walked around and knelt down in front of the recovering man. “Long time no see, Maduin.”

Despite the Cure spell, Maduin was obviously suffering from severe head pains. He winced and squinted at the healer before him. “Sarina? It really is you, then. Long time indeed. Can I stand?”

Argus removed his blade from Maduin’s throat and took a step back. “Be my guest.”

Sarina crossed her arms and frowned. “I wish I could say it’s good to see you again, but these are rather unpleasant circumstances you’ve brought to bear. Tell me, are you really a petty grave robber now, or do you just make it a habit to interfere with destiny?”

Maduin sighed. “You still believe the future is static? And here I thought Ryukahn was bad.”

“Answer the question.” Sarina ordered coolly. “What do you want with the Earth Crystal?”

This statement apparently surprised the monk. “You… know of it?” He patted himself down quickly before resigning himself to the fact that it had been confiscated. “You knew what you had in your possession and you left it here!?”

Strangely enough, Sarina smiled, apparently relieved. “No, it belongs to Argus here. He is the rightful bearer of the Earth Crystal as I am the apparently destined to be the aquamancer.” She produced her own chain to illustrate her point. “That makes us two de facto Light Warriors.”

“By the gods…” Maduin whispered. “Two of the four, do you know where the other two are?”

Sarina shook her head. “We’re fresh out of leads. Destiny brought the two of us together, and now we must make haste to Cornelia to seek the cardinal’s guidance. Would you accompany us, then?”

“What!?” Argus couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “This bastard tried to kill me! He violated Liam’s grave and almost single-handedly made this entire trip for nothing! Now you want him tagging along?”

“Heroes are not born, little man, they’re made.” Maduin sneered at Argus contemptuously. “You won because of her magic, you’re no match for me. You being a Warrior of Light while I am not is equal parts absurd and insulting.” He extended an open hand to receive the relic. “Come on, why don’t you pass on the burden to those fit to carry it?”

Argus’ ears were burning red. “Why don’t you lick my arse before I break your face AGAIN!?”

“Why don’t you both grow up and stop acting like squabbling little children!” Sarina shouted. Both fighters withered at her rebuke, apparently both believed to have had her favor when they clearly did not. “Maduin, I don’t know what iniquitous thoughts you’ve been entertaining during your years in exile, but you do NOT interfere with destiny- not on my watch. Argus is the geomancer, not you.”

Argus crossed his arms and grinned smugly until Sarina whirled on him and jabbed a finger into his cuirass. “And YOU get over yourself, boy. You’ve got some real talent, don’t get me wrong, but he’s a Ryukahn monk- or rather used to be. Did you miss that part about their order being lethal? That wasn’t hyperbole. He could very well kill you where you stand, and would have, had it not been for me. There is all kinds of power, Argus. Just because we’re the chosen ones doesn’t mean we arrogantly turn down support from those with formidable strength.”

Argus appeared a hand’s-breadth shorter. “You’re right.”

Sarina turned back to Maduin. “So what, you’re some kind of mercenary now? Stop at nothing to accomplish your objectives? Would you mind telling me why you resorted to such brutality?”

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.” Maduin sighed. “I wasn’t going to kill him, really I wasn’t. I had no idea it was really his and he really knew of its significance. I traced the crystal here, and thought perhaps I could become one of the Four. My mission is nothing less than the restoration of the world. If I am not one of the Four, I will do my best to assist them.” He broke gazes with Sarina momentarily. “And I have some business to attend to in Cornelia, anyway.”

“So it’s settled then.” Sarina smiled pleasantly. “Our next stop is Cornelia City. We should get out of here before we attract unwanted dwarven attentions.” She turned to the two men. “Can you boys put your initial encounter behind you and get along? I would hate to have to baby-sit a couple of rowdy teenagers all the way back into human territory.”

Maduin extended his hand to Argus once again, this time in a decidedly more amicable gesture. “It appears we met each other on unpleasant terms, maybe we should start over? I’m Maduin Vargas, Ryukahn Black Belt and former white monk. You’re not half bad, actually.”

Argus took his hand and shook it firmly. “Argus Baron, self-taught fighter and former blacksmith. Those were some impressive moves yourself, I might add.”

“Aww…” Sarina cooed as she stepped out into the gloom. “You boys are so sweet when you play nice. Saving the world is so much easier when you’re friends with your fellow heroes- or at least not trying to kill each other. Let’s get out of here. I’d like to see the light of day again.”

Argus’ ears were burning red. “Why don’t you lick my arse before I break your face AGAIN!?”

*bursts out laughing* Great line. GREAT line.

It's nice to see your back writing this story. Once again, I'll say how much I like that your weaving the first Final Fantasy world together. From mentioning Maduin's order being in Ryukahn, to incorporating the destruction of the canal and mentioning it's impact on the world's economy. You've taken what was once a list of random events and locations, and made an actually setting. The characterisation of the people are remarkable as well. Question, are the names you've chosen random (I know the gameboy version has that option); or was it intentional.

I've noticed that in some instances, the characters referred to unable to cast certain spell because it's a level X spell. It's not a grave problem but I see it bordering on game mechanics; just like if Argus would say he has 200 HP. And if people reference something in a game mechanical term, then it's ruins suspension of disbelief. You can refer to spell levels, but my advice is to think of a better way to phrase; especially if you just want to say the mage can't cast the spell.

Example

go from wrote:“Do I look like a white mage!? That’s a sixth level spell!”

"My only regret is lacking the fourth level spells to really be effective."

to this wrote:"Do I look like a white mage1? That sort of magic is beyond even my superior will."

"My only regret is lacking the conjuring skills to dispel the more fatal toxins."

Just my two cents.

Rhoades wrote:Question, are the names you've chosen random (I know the gameboy version has that option); or was it intentional.

Yes and no. All of the first names are part of the GBA's random naming feature, but I kept doing it over and over until I got ones that sounded right (I didn't want a female black mage, for instance). As may or may not be obvious, these random names are Easter eggs from later in the series. The last names I made up- In the case of Duane and Sarina I used Soul Calibur characters that fit their personality. Argus' last name is just another one of the random names (real creative, I know) and Vargas was Sabin's very brief rival from FFVI. Kelga and Gilles' last names came from nowhere.

I'm kind of torn on the whole spell level thing. I guess it does sound a bit like game mechanics, but I don't think it's all that out-of-place from a setting standpoint. Anyone can use magic, so it makes sense for spells to be arranged according to their power, complexity and difficulty. I probably could phrase it better, though. I'll do that. Thanks.

Darth Raptor wrote:Yes and no. All of the first names are part of the GBA's random naming feature, but I kept doing it over and over until I got ones that sounded right (I didn't want a female black mage, for instance). As may or may not be obvious, these random names are Easter eggs from later in the series. The last names I made up- In the case of Duane and Sarina I used Soul Calibur characters that fit their personality. Argus' last name is just another one of the random names (real creative, I know) and Vargas was Sabin's very brief rival from FFVI. Kelga and Gilles' last names came from nowhere.

Really, I though Argus and Sarina's surname were named after key nations in Final Fantasy 4 and 9, respectfully. And I noticed Maudin's name after someone related to one of the main characters in FF 6. I pointed this out, because it nicely adds to the atmosphere, without being too obvisous.

The king’s ball had quite a turnout that night. Garland leaned against a polished marble pillar and sipped his champagne as he listened to the orchestra play Wanderer of the Stars, a pleasant and light-hearted song that was perfect for dancing. The knight gazed out over the ballroom floor at the garishly dressed aristocrats in their ridiculous frocked suits and white wigs. Garland wore his armor, the same suit of armor he had worn practically everywhere since he was promoted to general. It was actually the trademark bluish armor of a dragoon- a bit light for a knight, but he preferred the mobility afforded by the lighter plate mail. His armor had been specially cleaned and polished for this occasion, of course, but he still looked decidedly out of place. The horned headgear that was the mark of his knighthood sat atop a head of long, blonde hair that attracted more than a few glances from the womenfolk. He continued to stare.

His Majesty was prone to throwing celebrations with little-to-no rationale behind them but a desire to celebrate. Pundits found this decadence to be distasteful and it was a ripe and omnipresent target for criticism, but tonight was actually a special night- the most festive Garland could remember since Sarah’s seventeenth. Tonight marked the beginning of an ambitious project to rebuild the drawbridge over the Northern Strait. The bridge had been lost long ago to a combination of weather and aquatic monsters, and its loss was one of the many things that turned Pravoka into a lawless den of thieves. With the bridge rebuilt, land trade with the remainder of Cornelia’s protectorates would become commonplace again, and the Royal Army would be able to march right into Pravoka. He smiled. The chancellor may not allow acts of aggression against our neighbors, but the king will soon see the wisdom in retaking Provoka. Its anarchy is a blight, an embarrassment before the elves and the dwarves. They fall prey to that city’s pirates as well.

One figure in particular caught his attention: A gorgeous, emerald-haired girl in the most resplendent gown he had ever seen. He locked gazes with Sarah from across the room. She smiled at him and he nodded back ever so slightly. For a moment it seemed like she wished to cross the room and speak with him, but she was intercepted by a well-dressed noble in red. While she maintained a pleasant façade before Count Sorel, one could read the disappointment and annoyance in her body language. Garland couldn’t fault her for that, he had been lucky enough to avoid the count on most of these gatherings- he seemed to have a disdain for military types- but what few exchanges they did have were barely civil, let alone pleasant. The man was an insufferable boor. Rumor had it that he drove his own brother into self-imposed exile.

Garland sighed as Sarah apparently accepted Anton’s offer to dance, but he was content with watching her do so. He sipped his drink in silent admiration of his unofficial fiancé’s gracefulness. He wanted her- badly. The Light Crystal shimmered brightly as she spun and twirled. Garland lusted after that as well, but to a lesser extent.

“Gorgeous, isn’t she?” A tall figure approached Garland from behind, seemingly out of nowhere.

The knight whirled around, genuinely surprised. “I beg your pardon?”

Garland had never seen the man before. He wore an extravagant but subdued fencer’s outfit with a dark blue cape. His long, red hair was pulled back into a braid that spilled out over his high collar. The bright, fiery shade of his hair contrasted sharply with his pale, colorless skin and dull green eyes.

The man gave Garland a sharp, predatory grin. “The princess, of course. She is possessed of a beauty that elves would claim impossible to cultivate in a human.” He extended his hand. “General Garland, I presume.”

“You are correct sir.” Garland took his hand. “Unfortunately I have no idea who you are.”

“Lord Berne of Melmond, but you can call me Raxle. I’ve heard a lot about you, Wyrmkiller. The stories and songs do indeed impress.”

“They are greatly exaggerated, I’m afraid.” The knight frowned, seemingly lost in thought. “Melmond… You’re from Duergar then? And you’re…”

“…Not a dwarf, no.” Berne finished the sentence for him. “It is a little known fact that Melmond has a majority human population- whom I represent. It can be thought of as a small piece of Cornelia in the midst of the dwarven west, or at least it could have been a scant few years ago.”

“The earth rot.” Garland nodded. “Is that why you’re here?”

“Regrettably yes. This is a lively party, but I am on official business.” Lord Berne took a sip of his red wine- which Garland thought looked a little thick. “I am here to see the king about emergency relief for western Duergar. My people are starving.”

“Have there been any breakthroughs concerning the cause of the miasma?” The knight inquired, genuinely concerned. While Duergar’s weakness was of no concern to him- in fact he welcomed it- the earth rot’s spread showed now sign of slowing down. If it maintained its current pace it would reach western Cornelia in two years. What’s more, dwarven scientists had noticed an acceleration in the rate of decay.

“I am afraid not, unfortunately.” Berne sighed heavily. “’Tis a disaster of monumental proportions, what they don’t tell you is that Melmond is regularly sacked by fiends during the night. Undead are everywhere. It is all we can do to keep our walls in one piece, let alone food in our stomachs.”

“The Devil’s Tail used to be among the most fertile regions in the world.” Garland mused.

“Indeed, but the once verdant hills and forests are nothing more than barren wastes and toxic bogs now. I fear my people may be doomed.” Berne smiled reassuringly. “But I don’t see how this concerns an eastern knight like you. How are things here in Cornelia? The king plans to reunite his nation with the far east. This is most exciting.”

Garland nodded. “Agreed. The far eastern lands are officially Cornelian territory anyway, but without the means to enforce them our laws mean nothing. By rebuilding the drawbridge our territory is virtually doubled.”

Lord Berne chuckled softly. “The region between Pravoka and Cornelia is quite fertile, if memory serves. Perhaps the king plans to build agricultural colonies to compensate for what used to come out of my province?”

“It’s hard to say exactly.” Garland sipped his drink. “Just bringing order to Pravoka will be worth the effort, the piracy caused by our negligence is felt by your nation as well, my lord.”

The orchestra concluded their song, and for a moment Sarah looked as if she wanted to do something else. Unfortunately for her, Count Sorel had other plans and didn’t loosen his grip. She found herself in his embrace as a decidedly slower song began. Garland found it very difficult to suppress his anger; so difficult, in fact, he failed.

Berne’s sick-looking eyes widened as the crystal glass shattered in Garland’s mailed hand. Champagne dribbled down to the floor along with shards of broken glass. Fortunately for Garland, only Berne seemed to notice- the sound was drowned out by the music.

“May the gods spare me should I ever draw your ire, General.” Berne mused, impressed.

“My apologies sir…”

The aristocrat smiled. “Nonsense, Wyrmkiller. You’re young. It’s as plain as a clear night that you want her- I must say I can certainly sympathize.” Berne’s smile became malicious. “The real question is: What are you going to do about that?”

Garland shrugged. “There’s not a lot I can do, sir. Not without the king’s blessing.”

“Have you asked him?”

“…No.”

“The implications of a love affair with the princess are grave indeed, General. You’re the greatest knight in your kingdom, and being in bed with Lady Sarah makes you next in line for the throne should something happen to His Majesty.”

“I’m aware of this.” Garland said softly.

“Perhaps I can be of some assistance then.” Berne spread his hands in a magnanimous gesture. “Not to brag, but I’m quite well-versed in the art of seduction. Many women and a few men have fallen before my charm. I’m sure with a few pointers you could make the princess love you too.”

Garland locked gazes with the baron which made him uncomfortable. “She already does.” He replied.

“Excellent!” Berne grinned. “Then the hard part is over. A secret love is the most exciting kind, in my opinion, but a shadowy affair with the princess will be bereft of the… additional perks of the relationship. You do want to be king, don’t you?”

“Well there’s that and the fact that if she ends up with someone like that foppish bastard, I’ll need to be extremely careful. A love tryst that includes myself and the future king and queen does not appeal to me in the least. I’ll probably be dispatched to the front of the Elven Civil War if Sorel becomes king.” Garland turned away and tried to give his most reassuring smile. “But the king is in good health, he may yet have a son.”

“I must confess these monarchies seem a bit uncouth to me.” Berne sipped his wine. “My understanding of your customs is admittedly very lacking, but should the king die is the decision not Lady Sarah’s?”

“It is.” Garland nodded. “The king’s blessing certainly couldn’t hurt though.”

“We come back to seduction then.” Berne replied. “The corridors of power are wrought with those who would sabotage you, General. If you want to remain on top you’ll need more than your past deeds and Sarah’s love to keep you there- lest people like him should usurp your position. Seduction, my friend.”

“What would you suggest then, Raxle?” Garland found it foolish to put his trust in this acquaintance but the smug grin on Anton’s face and the king’s tirade from the other day were fresh on his mind. He was desperate.

Berne’s smile disappeared. “That depends on what you are willing to do, Wyrmkiller. Think carefully before you answer. Treason is treason, but betrayal goes both ways. Would the king betray his own daughter by disregarding her wishes? Would the king betray you, after everything you’ve done for your kingdom but for a few unfortunate mishaps? I suppose before I answer your question you must answer mine. Would you really be willing to serve under anyone other than the current king?”

Garland nodded. “Yes, should the queen bear a son.”

Berne shook his head. “No, I mean are you willing to serve under a suitor of Sarah’s that is not you?”

“…No.” Garland’s response was barely a whisper.

Raxle hissed. “And what are you willing to do to keep that from happening?”

“Whatever is necessary.” Garland couldn’t believe the words were coming out of his mouth. They bordered on treason, but for some reason he just didn’t care. He had enough of politics, of being a figurehead. He had enough of keeping his love for Sarah secret. The thought of serving under an adulterous lecher that was her husband in name only made him ill. Raxle’s right. He thought. I need to start looking out for myself from now on. He shuddered as Berne put his arm around him in what should have been a friendly gesture, but seemed more than a little possessive.

“And so you must seduce the king then.” Berne whispered. “You must use everything under your command; your nobility, your knighthood, the Army itself if necessary. Leverage it against your foes and maintain your dominance in His Majesty’s court! Seduction, Wyrmkiller. Seduction. There are many kinds.”

“What you suggest seems more akin to rape.” Garland’s knees felt weak.

“I haven’t suggested anything yet.” Berne released the knight and smiled. “Should you fail I have something that will help keep you on top, I-“

“Lord Berne? The king will see you know.” A knight appeared and snapped a smart salute to Garland before hustling off.

“Another time then, General.” Berne cracked his knuckles. “You must seduce the king into seeing you as his ideal successor. I, on the other hand, must seduce him into seeing my people through the coming winter.” He bowed gracefully. “Adieu.”

“Where can I find you?” Garland called as the man strode towards the king’s chamber.

“Don’t worry. I’ll find you.” Berne didn’t even look back.

Ooooooh, now this, this is fascinating. I think I can guess who Berne is, but I'll keep that to myself and see if I'm right.

And now we see Garland's slide beginning to deepen a bit. I really like these parts, Raptor, I look forward to them more than anything else.

Keep up the good work!

The cool night air was refreshing. Garland walked toward the balcony rail and leaned against it; gazing out at the city he was born and raised in. It was bright for how late it was, the full moon beamed down on the city of countless lights. Despite all of the illumination thousands upon thousands of stars could be seen in detail. They glittered like gems and spanned the full spectrum of size and color. Meteorites streaked and exploded in the cloudless sky. The knight sighed; the vista was so serene, so peaceful, so boring.

The monotony of the last few weeks following the skirmish in the strait was wearing on him. He wasn’t born to attend parties and schmooze with nobles. He did not attend the academy to sign orders and reorganize the city watch. He did not master swordsmanship to stand guard as the Royal Corps of Engineers rebuilt the drawbridge. While the serenity of the balcony was a welcome change from the stifling ball inside, it was still leagues from where he wanted to be. Garland was a knight, a warrior. His place was on the battlefield, personally leading the Army on crusades to bring glory to the greatest nation in the world.

He allowed himself a faint smile. He could get used to the throne room too, but he wouldn’t be an invalid like the current king. Administrating the kingdom and collecting tributes could be handled by the chancellor- which would certainly be someone new. He had no intention of maintaining the current advisory council. No, someone more like-minded than Rhenquist would be chancellor. Garland would be known as the general-king. He would lead the largest army in Cornelian history to unprecedented glory. Duergar and Elfheim would cower before its might and the nation’s sphere of influence would expand to include the northern continents. Although the other nations were in a vastly weakened state Cornelia still lacked the manpower necessary for a comprehensive conquest. Conscripts would be needed.

Garland shook his head violently. What was he thinking? This was no time to indulge himself in fantasies of conquest and a seat on the throne that may never actually be. Chancellor Rhenquist called them ‘delusions of grandeur’ and as it stood, under these circumstances, Garland had to agree. He was the Field Marshal, the Grand General, the highest ranking knight in all of Cornelia; but he was still just a knight- and one with a career that was in a very bad way. The only things he had going for him were his popularity with the people and Sarah’s love for him. He never dreamed knighthood would be like this. As a squire he trained in the sword and dabbled in white magic; always believing that he would be sent to vanquish fiends and protect his people. The politics and intrigue of His Majesty’s court were distasteful to him, as was the fact that he had grown quite accustomed to them in recent months.

No, this was a dangerous time for him. He had to maintain focus. Raxle Berne’s words from earlier that night echoed in his mind. He had many enemies, he could not maintain his passive-aggressive attitude and remain first-in-line for the throne. Above all, above all, he had to repair his shattered reputation before the king. ‘Seduction’. What did it mean to seduce the king? Berne said that Garland would have to convince the king that his ideal successor is him and him alone. It was simple in concept, but the implications of the process were mind boggling. Garland knew what he had to do, but he had no idea how to do it. He would need Berne’s help, that much was clear. The man seemed more than willing to offer it as well. Garland suppressed a shudder. How could he trust a man he had only met, and briefly at that. He didn’t just trust Berne with his reputation and career, depending on the man’s true plans Garland’s very life could be at stake. Why? How could it come to this?

Garland had never feared death. He had put his life on the line countless times; against fiends, against dragons and against pirates. War did not frighten him, but somehow the idea of hanging for high treason terrified him. No, he was a knight. He could not abandon his oath of chivalry so lightly. His ascension would be a legitimate one. A coup would be a last resort. Last resorts. Berne mentioned something about a contingency plan. What could it possibly be? Failing to convince the king of his ideal nature was a very real possibility- especially in light of the recent ‘mishaps’ as Berne called them. What then? How could he possibly-

“There you are!” Princess Sarah til Cornelias stepped out onto the starlit balcony. Her green hair shimmered in the moonlight, as did her resplendent gown and diamond-studded tiara. She was, in short, the most beautiful creature Garland had ever seen. “What are you doing out here? I wanted to dance with you!” She approached him and kissed him gently. “Is something wrong?”

“Not at all, Sarah.” He tried to smile reassuringly, but her eyes told him the attempt had failed.

She clasped her fingers around his, the chain mail gauntlets made it awkward. “Is it about Anton? You know I want nothing to do with him. The man is crass, arrogant and just… Ugh! It took forever to get away from him.”

The knight chuckled nervously. “That’s not it. I mean, there’s no problem Sarah, really. Parties just aren’t all that enjoyable to me. I came out here to get some fresh air, away from all the pomp and noise.”

Sarah turned to gaze out at the stars. She put her arm around his waist and leaned her head against his shoulders- gingerly, as the big metal spikes made that maneuver awkward as well. “It is nice out here, Siegfried. When I was a little girl I always used to gaze up at the stars. Did you know that the ancient Lufenians counted and named every one? The names have since been lost, of course, but they had telescopes far more sophisticated than ours. They could see stars we cannot see now. You know what else?”

“No, what?” Garland said indulgently.

“My tutor told me that each star is a sun- just like the one that burns in our own sky. Our world spins around the sun, so there must be other worlds like ours around the distant stars! Isn’t that amazing?”

The knight frowned. “So there may be people in those worlds looking into their night sky… and our sun appears but a tiny yellow pinpoint to them? Fascinating.”

“This world is vast, Siegfried. Full of wonders. The heavens, however, are apparently infinite. The Sky People, the Lufenians, they reached for the stars… and just before the civilization fell… they’re rumored to have touched them.” She was quiet for a few moments. “It’s truly sad that their achievements are lost. I would so love to fly, among the clouds, among the stars…”

“The Golden Age of the Sky People proves what humans are truly capable of.” Garland nodded, mostly to himself. “Gods willing, we may again one day rule the skies.”

“How is it that birds and insects fly, Siegfried? Is it magic? Almost everyone I talk to says no, because only monsters and people can use magic. Of course things like dragons use magic to fly, but if mundane things like birds can take flight, why couldn’t a machine?” She looked down into the castle courtyard briefly. “There has to be a way…”

He turned to her. “Why are you so preoccupied with this, Love?”

“…Oh, I’m just bored, really. Hours of talking to Anton- by ‘talking’ I really mean ‘listening to him brag about boring drivel’- and then making the obligatory rounds to: Lord So-And-So of Wherever and Lady What’s-Her-Face from Who Cares. You’re always interesting to talk to, Siegfried. That is, in the rare event we get to talk like this.” She tightened their embrace. “It’s nice.”

It was nice. Garland stood there and held his fiancé, gazing at the moon, the stars and the city. He was consumed by infatuation, and he didn’t care. This was too perfect. He wouldn’t change a single thing about it- or would he?

“Sarah?” He said softly. “Is this enough for you?”

She loosened her grip. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, are you satisfied with me? With what we have together? I mean… Actually, I don’t know what I mean. Do you ever want something… something more?”

She gazed into his eyes and kissed him. It was a long, deep kiss and when she was done she merely smiled at him. “I thought you would never ask. Where do you want to do it?”

Garland blushed. What was she? Oh, that. That wasn’t quite what he had in mind, but since he had no idea exactly what he had in mind, he decided it was sufficient. “I… I love you.” He stammered.

She kissed him again. “I love you too, you know that. Gods willing we can find a place to express it in ways that words cannot. You have no idea how bad I’ve been wanting this.”

“Me too, but…” He turned away from her, looking out over the cityscape again.

“But what?”

He sighed. “Sarah, I’ll be honest. I’m worried. I’m worried about my future, about our future. Don’t for a moment think I only want you to get to the throne-“

“I don’t think that!”

“Let me finish.” He sighed again. “But if I don’t become king, and you don’t get a brother…”

“If I don’t get a brother you DO become king, Siegfried.”

“I’m afraid not, unless…” He turned and looked into her eyes. She met his gaze with one of intense confusion and mild apprehension. “Unless I fix things. Do you understand what I’m talking about?”

“I think so…”

“Just promise me.” He took her hands in his. “Promise me you’ll be with me, you’ll stay with me, no matter what happens.”

“I promise.” She said solemnly.

Garland smiled. “Good.” He kissed her. “That’s all I needed to hear. I can take the rest from this point on. With you by my side, nothing can stop me.” He glanced briefly at the Light Crystal that hung on a silver chain around her neck. “So… did you have someplace in mind?”

She grinned mischievously. “The stables. To the stables! Now, General!”

“Yes, Milady.” He bowed and walked away.

GARLAND. ROCKS.


Oh, and just to let you know, when I saw the name 'Darth Raptor' on the most recent poster for the Fanfic Forum, I went "Yaaaaaay!" and promptly raced in to read.

Kuja wrote:Oh, and just to let you know, when I saw the name 'Darth Raptor' on the most recent poster for the Fanfic Forum, I went "Yaaaaaay!" and promptly raced in to read.

No!

I'm glad you guys are enjoying this, because I certainly am. It's a lot of fun to write, and if it's that enjoyable to read then... damn. I must be doing something right!

This is it. The cycle begins:

*****

Garland steeled himself as he lifted the latch to the king’s private study. Rain and wind buffeted the far window and lightning flashed as the knight stepped inside. The king sat at his massive oak desk, scribbling on a parchment with his quill pen. He didn’t look up to acknowledge Garland as he closed the door behind him.

“You wanted to see me, Your Majesty?” Thunder from the previous, and apparently distant, lightning flash rattled the window.

“General.” The king still didn’t look up, he merely pointed to one of the chairs with his pen. “Have a seat.”

As the king continued to scribble Garland grabbed a far chair and hauled it up to the desk. He glanced about the room nervously for a moment before sitting down. His bulky armor made it a tight fit. The king continued to write whatever it was he was writing, and left Garland in silence for what seemed like forever. The only sounds to be heard was the thunderstorm, the scribbling pen and the clock on the far wall. Garland had a very, very bad feeling about this.

He had been in the library researching some very basic white magic when Chancellor Rehnquist approached him. The chancellor seemed ecstatic when he told him the king demanded his presence. The knight knew Rehnquist enough to know that he virtually had a slipknot about his neck at that moment. Berne’s words from last night seemed hollow and meaningless as the king sat before him. Garland could never remember a time he was so intimidated by the potentate.

The king finally spoke up. “Did you sleep well?” The king was never one for small talk, and the implications of that question frightened what little color remained in Garland’s face. He couldn’t! How!?

“V- very well, Sire. Thank you.” He stammered.

The king of Cornelia had apparently finished whatever document he was composing. He returned the quill to the ink well and looked up at the knight. His smile was bereft of any real warmth whatsoever. “Glad to hear it. While you were sleeping, there was an incident in the city.”

“An incident?”

“Yes.” The king’s fake smile disappeared. “Is the name ‘Otis Bartz’ familiar to you at all?”

Garland nodded. “An ex-pirate. Formally Captain Bikke’s second in command. He was the informant that told us Black Beard’s fleet would be in the Northern Strait. It was because of him we were able to set up that ambush.”

“So your mind is not completely defunct, then.” The king looked down at his hands. “Were you aware he was, until recently, living in Cornelia City?”

Garland nodded again. “Asylum was one of the terms we negotiated with him. We-“

The king cut him off. “Next question: Why was I not aware that a dangerous criminal was living in the upper-class part of town under guard by Army forces?”

The knight’s confusion was intense. “It was my understanding that these were the arrangements we agreed on.”

The king pounded the desk with his fist. “We NEVER deal with criminals like that! You of all people! We had the intel! There was no reason to make good on our end of the bargain. You stepped far beyond your authority there, General. This is the last straw!”

Garland still had no idea what was going on. “Your Majesty, I felt that if we followed through with the arrangements, it would serve as an example to any insiders we dealt with in the future. Criminals would be more willing-”

“Spare me your mindless, self-important drivel, Garland.” The king hissed. “What’s come over you lately!? It’s as if you’re going out of your way to undermine me and use the authority I give you to do the opposite of what I would do!” The king leaned across his desk to get closer to Garland’s face. “Last night the mansion you provided to Bartz was destroyed. Apparently Bikke was well aware of who tipped us off. Intelligence tells me there was a sizable price on the man’s head. Well, you got your wish. He was hit.”

“D-Destroyed?” The knight’s voice was far from stable.

The king shrugged. “The city watch tells me it was black magic. Very advanced black magic. Fire elemental. Bartz’ mansion was incinerated instantly. A charred skeleton inside matches the dimensions of his description. He’s dead, but so are the six knights you provided to be his personal bodyguards.”

Siegfried Garland swallowed. His throat felt like it was filled with rocks and he wanted nothing more than to fall on his sword at that moment. “Who?” He whispered.

“We don’t know. We haven’t had a black archmage since you were promoted, so it’s obviously a foreign job. The only vague suspects are dark elven guerillas, but why they would have any interest in Bartz is unknown. Dark elves are religious zealots, not mercenaries. They live on top of more wealth than they’ll ever need. The fact is, we don’t know who did this. Whoever it was, they were an extremely powerful sorcerer, and a very thorough hitman. Several hundred thousand gil richer now, no doubt. He or she left no trace, but I wouldn’t exactly call it a ‘clean’ job, at any rate.”

Garland hung his head.

“Which brings me to my favorite part of your latest and, I daresay, greatest faux pas. The blast was so intense that it took out the neighboring houses. Sixteen innocent men, women and children died last night because of you. Another half dozen are missing and still unaccounted for. These weren’t just peasants, either. They were nobles. Nobles! Many of whom were descended from bloodlines several ranks above your own!”

Even if Garland had anything to say, he couldn’t say it. His face was on fire and his vision blurred. His throat had constricted into a tiny hole through which he could barely breathe. The malaise he suffered from was several orders of magnitude greater than the one he had felt when he realized he accidentally killed Admiral Roethke. It was over. It was all over. Not even Berne could save him now- assuming he had been able to save him anyway. Everything that went through Garland’s mind last night seemed like a fit of drunken delirium now. Reality came crashing down on top of him, and it was all he could do to keep from being crushed by it.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” The king demanded.

“I- I have nothing to say.” Garland wheezed.

His Majesty snorted. “I thought as much. Chancellor Rehnquist recommended you hang, but that seems a bit excessive for a hero like you- even if you are an artificial hero I created with my daughter’s crystal. No, I still have use for you, Garland. You’re an exemplary swordsman, and you have academy training. I spoke with ambassador Ulara of Elfheim last night. They gain no ground against the dark elves, and they requested military assistance. We’re publicly neutral in their civil war, of course, so I won’t be mobilizing a large force to assist them. I did pledge assistance, however, but until this morning I was at a loss for how to help them. I now have my answer, and your punishment. You’re going to Elfheim. They will use you as they see fit. If you want to return to Cornelia, I suggest you fight very hard. Hopefully, for your sake, there will be a new king on the throne by then.”

The king stood. “Siegfried Garland, in light of your transgressions and incompetence in service to the crown, I am revoking your rank and hereby relieve you of command of the Cornelian Royal Army. You will retain your knighthood, but you will never again serve as an officer. Gather your belongings, you leave for Elfheim in the morning. Now, get out of my sight.” The king sat back down and brought out a new sheet of parchment.

Garland didn’t say a word. He stood and exited the room. As he stomped down he hall towards his wing of the castle his despair and anxiety gave in to rage. Wordless, thoughtless, white-hot rage. He couldn’t put his anger into words if he tried. He felt betrayed, he felt lots of things, but love of king and country was no longer among them. His mailed fists were clenched so tightly he couldn’t feel his fingers. He couldn’t see through the tears that streamed down his face as he passed soldiers, scholars and courtesans who did their best to act like they didn’t see him. He rounded a corner and collided with some scholarly-looking fool. Garland shoved him aside and kept on walking. Bystanders started murmuring nervously amongst themselves as the ex-Field Marshal passed.

Finally, he reached the door to his quarters. He grappled with the latch- awkwardly, as his fingers were still without feeling. His room was pitch dark inside. For some reason the maid must have left the curtains drawn. He didn’t care. Slamming the door behind him as hard as he could, he heard the hinges slip out of their mounts. In the oppressive darkness of his room Garland screamed. He screamed and sobbed. His ravings were punctuated by invisible thunder that rattled the windows. The knight went down to his knees, then sat on the polished marble floor. Jerking his gauntlets off he finally tended to his raw face with his bare hands. Garland’s mind tumbled between rage and despair, until the two coalesced into a third, unique emotion: Hatred.

A shadow on the far wall suddenly came to life. “I told you I would find you.” Berne’s voice echoed in the spacious apartment.

“Berne!?” Garland’s voice was hoarse. “Is that you? How did you get in here!?” He stood to his feet and strained to see anything in the darkness. All he could make out was a humanoid shadow.

The shadow blithely raised a hand and made a dismissive gesture. Suddenly the fireplace and every candle in the room came to life in response to Berne’s signal. In the flickering firelight Garland could make out Berne’s pale face clearly. His eyes were bloodshot, but his face held the most genuine look of sympathy Garland had ever seen. “Are you ready to claim the throne?”

Garland laughed bitterly as he sat down on the edge of his bed, shaking his head violently. “It’s over. I’m barely a knight, let alone a general. I’m being sent far away, I may never come back.” He suppressed another sobbing fit. “It’s over.”

“No.” Berne extended his hand. “It’s just beginning. We didn’t get a chance to finish our conversation last night, Wyrmkiller. I have prepared for this possibility, as unfortunate and unthinkable as it may be. I am sorry to see you cast out like yesterday’s garbage, but the king has sealed his fate. Join me, and your ascension is all but assured.” His red eyes narrowed. “As is the king’s demise.”

“I can’t.” Garland gagged. “I can’t do anything. I just want to die.”

“In your current condition, yes, I don’t doubt it. You are suffering from the philosophical shortcomings of conventional knighthood. You are trained to be the perfect footman, the perfect defender, the perfect pawn.” He leaned forward, still holding his arm out expectantly. “May I see your sword?”

Garland stood and unsheathed his blade. It gleamed in the firelight, a steel longsword. Nothing special, very ornate, but without the Light Crystal it was just an ordinary sword. He handed it to Berne, who held it like it might defile him.

Berne wrinkled his nose. “This is not the sword of a conqueror.”

The knight didn’t say anything, he merely sat back down on his bed. Berne stepped back and tested the blade, his look of distaste did not waiver. “This is the sword of a pawn, the sword of a lowly lapdog. You… you must master the dark sword.”

Garland shuddered. Dark knights were outcast fighters who combined swordsmanship with dark magic. Dark magic was not to be confused with black magic, although it was technically a kind of black magic. The arts of the dark sword were forbidden in Cornelia, and for good reason. The evil power dark knights possessed was beyond imagination, but they had no control over that power. As they mastered the art the art mastered them, and they became consumed by darkness. In short, the dark knight was the opposite of everything Garland had trained to be thus far. It promised unparalleled power, but at the cost of his very soul.

“I could never…” Garland’s voice trailed off.

“Hmm?” Berne looked at him cockeyed. “Never train in the dark arts? Why not, Wyrmkiller? What have you got to lose? Although your circumstances are unfortunate, I agree, they actually make matters of securing the throne so much easier. Seduction is useful, I will be the first to admit, and damned satisfying…”

Thunder rumbled across the sky.

“…But when you can take what you want by sheer force it seems so frivolous. I was going to teach you how to convince the king to give you his throne. Now it appears I will teach you how to take it from him. Again, it’s unfortunate that it has come to this, but it’s so much easier this way, believe me.” He turned to look into Garland’s blank, expressionless face. “Take the princess.”

“What?”

“Sarah is yours. You love her, she loves you. Don’t let anyone stand in the way of that. The king has betrayed you, Garland. The king has betrayed her. If you won’t do it for yourself, and you won’t do it for me, then do it for her! Do you think she wants to marry that Sorel prig? Do you think she wants to see her valiant knight sent away to die in a foreign war?” He tested the sword once more. “Those who resist change will be left behind. The moon is setting on His Majesty, and the reign of Wyrmkiller Garland and Queen Sarah approaches. Soon the whole world will know your might! I know what you need to get you there! I know where you can find it! Take it, I entreat you!”

Garland was silent for a long time. “…What do I need?”

Berne bared his unspeakably white teeth in a malicious looking smile. “I told you. The princess. Take the princess. She is the protector of the kingdom’s most powerful treasures. You have tasted the Fifth Crystal’s power before, haven’t you? If you wield it again, nothing can stop you.” The tall man stroked his chin. “And, if you get the Lute, nothing can even get to you.”

“Sarah’s Lute? The hereditary treasure bestowed to each princess? What does that have to do with anything?”

Berne turned toward the fireplace. “It is an enchanted instrument. I am sure you know something of magical songs, yes? It is how bards can take to the battlefield without being eaten alive. This one is special, however. It is tied to the Fifth Crystal’s power.”

“The Light Crystal?” Garland asked.

Berne hissed. “No! The Fifth Crystal. There are four prime elements, I wouldn’t expect you to know this, because you’ve only trained in white magic. White magic is almost exclusively light-based. Black magic, on the other hand, runs the spectrum of the elements. The four prime elements; earth, fire, wind and water govern the two secondary elements; ice and lightning. These six are, in turn, governed by the two transcendental elements; light and darkness. Light and darkness are in eternal opposition, and both occupy the Fifth Crystal, but never at the same time. As you have observed, the Fifth Crystal is currently under the domain of light- incompatible with the powers you seek. You must take it back and reconfigure it. You must embrace the darkness that will give you power over all! Mundane AND magical!”

“But how?” Garland stood again. “I’m no mage, and as you pointed out I know nothing of black magic. How could I possibly re-align the crystal?”

Berne shook his head. “You don’t need to be a mage, Garland. The crystals’ power is extrinsic. It can be used by anyone. You’ve used it before, no? The knowledge is already there at your disposal. You merely have to summon it.”

Garland nodded emphatically. “Very well. I will take the crystal, and the lute. What then?”

“Not just the artifacts!” Berne looked like he was suppressing a smile. “The princess! She is your true prize, those relics are just accessories. If you hold the princess, you won’t even need a human army. The king will listen to your demands.”

“You want me to hold the woman I love hostage?”

“Is there something particularly unscrupulous about that? You won’t turn her over, of course, but it will keep the Army from hunting you down like a dog and killing you without hesitation.” He gave in to his smile. “The king may even exchange the throne for his daughter’s life. He doesn’t know about you two, does he? He won’t suspect you to be unwilling to terminate her life.”

Garland nodded. “But what’s to stop the Army from staging a rescue? Where could I go that’s safe?”

“Well, you can’t hide, that’s for sure. You’re a general, or at least you have the necessary experience. With an army of your own you could turn those ruins in the north into a makeshift stronghold.”

The knight frowned. “The Chaos Shrine? What’s there? And where in Pandaemonium would I get an army of my own?”

“Where in hell, indeed.” Berne smiled. “With the Fifth Crystal, you can summon fiends from the netherworld, and control those that already infest this world.” He cleared his throat. “To answer your previous question, the Shrine holds ancient treasures that will be invaluable to your quest for dark knighthood.”

Garland paced back and forth. “So I take Sarah, and her treasures, and go to the Chaos Shrine? There I command an army of fiends to protect myself and demand the king surrender the throne unto me?”

“Precisely.” Berne answered. “It is so much simpler this way, don’t you agree? And once you are there, your ascension to dark knighthood will be completed. The first step toward you becoming the conqueror you’ve always dreamed of!”

The knight stopped pacing. He nodded with conviction and resignation. “Very well. I will do what must be done, for Sarah’s sake. For MY sake.” He turned to Berne. “Taking Sarah will not be easy- even in the unlikely event that she chooses to come willingly.”

Berne nodded towards the door. “Well, here she comes now. Your move.” He returned the sword to Garland and opened the door to his closet, stepping inside as a knock sounded at the door. “Use the crystal’s power to escape.” He whispered. “I will join you when I can.” The closet door closed silently.

“Siegfried?” Sarah’s muffled voice sounded from outside. “Siegfried, are you there?”

“Come in.” Garland answered coolly.

The door opened and Princess Sarah entered the room. Her face was red and streaked with tears. Two armed guards followed her inside and eyed Garland’s drawn sword nervously.

“Siegfried I heard-“ She stammered. “I heard terrible things. Father’s not- I’m just so confused! What do we do!?”

One of the guards spoke up. “Lady Sarah, you’re not to have any physical contact with him.” He turned to Garland. “Sir, I’m sorry to say this, but could you sheathe your blade? We don’t want any trouble.”

Sarah didn’t let go. “I just want to say goodbye! Let me say goodbye!”

“You don’t have to.” Garland’s voice was cold as ice. “I’m not going to Elfheim, and where I am going, you’re coming with.”

Sarah looked up at him. “What?”

The two soldiers looked at each other, and then at Garland as he firmly but gently spun her around to face them. They drew their sabers as he held his blade to her throat. “Siegfried, what!? What are you?” She gasped.

Garland hushed her and smiled maliciously at the guards. “If you don’t want any trouble, stand down. Sheathe YOUR blades and get the hell out of here. This doesn’t need to concern you.” He reached down and removed the Light Crystal from Sarah’s neck.

“We can’t do that, sir. Please, think this through rationally. You can’t do this! Where would you go?” The soldier looked terrified, but resolute. “Let the princess go.”

Garland sneered. “I have thought this through rationally, and I will go wherever I damn well please!” He pressed the cold steel of his longsword against the frail flesh of the girl’s neck. “Now. Stand down, Sergeant!”

“You are under arrest, sir!” The sergeant turned toward the other guard. “Get reinforcements, now!”

Without warning Garland tossed Sarah onto his bed. He bellowed a war cry and charged for the guards, they held their sabers up defensively but they couldn’t parry his larger weapon. In a few deft strokes they were cut down amidst a flurry of blood and cries.

“Garland!” Sarah screamed. “What are you doing!? What’s happening to you!?” She leapt from the bed and backed into the corner as he approached. “Who are you!?”

He grabbed her by the arm and hoisted her to her feet. “I am who I’ve always been, Love. But now my loyalty lies with you. My loyalty lies with us. Your father is dead to me, and soon he will be dead in every sense of the word.” He held up the crystal in his hand. It glittered with bluish-white light. “And with this, nothing can stop us.” He smiled at her, it was an alien smile that strangely enough did not contrast with the bloody corpses on the floor. “Remember what we shared last night? Remember your promise? With you by my side, I can do anything. I will do anything for you.”

“I- I didn’t mean murder!” She sobbed.

“Hush. Soon this will all be a bad memory.” He raised the crystal above his head and grasped it tightly. He grimaced as he focused. The bluish-white light faded and faded until the crystal went completely dark.

“What are you doing to it!?” Sarah demanded.

Garland didn’t answer. The crystal suddenly radiated a dark blue, almost violet light. Its radiance was far more subdued than it had been previously, but the power the crystal now emitted seemed to distort the very air around it. Purple, electric tendrils traveled from the crystal and ran up and down his arms. Garland smiled.

“You’ve corrupted it!” Sarah moaned.

Rushed footfalls could be heard outside. As a platoon of guards rounded the corner Garland held Sarah close, and held the Dark Crystal out to them. They drew their blades and chattered amongst themselves in confusion as they took in the grizzly scene.

Garland once again held his blade to Sarah’s throat to keep them from immediately rushing him. He didn’t want to waste more of his future minions than he had to. “Give the king a message.” He called. “Tell them I have his daughter, and if he values her life he will abdicate the throne to me.”

Without warning the radiation from the crystal expanded in a dark sphere that enveloped both Garland and Sarah. It warped all of time and space at that tiny focus point and shrank into nothingness. When the sphere had dissipated, both Garland and Sarah had vanished.