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Fire Emblem: Worlds Collide Rated T (Contains Fire Emblem 6, 7, and 8.)

#1   Kuraikitsune 

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    Posted 13 April 2006 - 04:15 PM

    Elibe and Magvel; two worlds, one shared destiny. Can past, present, and future combine with an army of strangers to combat a combined darkness?

    Prologue: Winds of the Past


    ((Author’s note: For this chapter and here on out, I don’t on Fire Emblem. Secondly, this prologue is only to inform you where in the game the characters are when this story takes place. It’s dull, but it helps. The next chapter is much, much longer… just don’t always expect them to be that long. Review the first chapter, not this lame (albeit necessary) prologue. x.x This story compiles three games together; Fuuin no Tsurugi, Rekka no Ken, and Seimen no Kouseki. There are guest cameos that appear later, but it is all in due time. This chapter is currently being rewritten, and will be edited in when I conclude writing chapter 10. Enjoy, and feel free to comment!))

    The continent of Elibe is a majestic land, with the expanse of the continent littered with peaks that reached into the sky, plains that expanded farther than the eye could see, small kingdoms that dwarved the villages they ruled, and small islands, littered about the sea. The Lycian League is a but a portion of the land, but nonetheless was the home of several small kingdoms that shared a peace forged in grudgingly held promises, leaders fearful of foreign invasions, and, in Ostia and Pherae’s case, honor and pride in their lands. Bern’s wyvern riders seem to have been taking action, preparing for an impending war, all while Sacae and Ilia had vowed to defend their lands against the dragon riders that strayed so dangerously close to invading their borders, like leopards awaiting the perfect moment to strike at unsuspecting prey. And yet, in the end, both great lands were felled beneath the iron grip of the man known to all of Elibe as King Zephiel.

    The month was currently that of the Archer, in the eighteenth year since Caelin’s abdication of its lands to Ostia. The former to-be marquess of Caelin, the noble lady Lyndis, had passed away but ten years ago; a few years after her grandfather’s untimely death. She and her husband, Rath, had lived in the vast plains of Sacae, raising their daughter Sue with loving care. Their little girl thrived in the nomadic atmosphere, much like her mother had before her, and quickly became accustomed to using the bow and eventually going on hunts with them once she reached the age of six. However, a tribal skirmish between the Djote tribe and the Kutolah left the former lady of Caelin incapacitated, as an arrow had struck her where her neck met her shoulders. The wound quickly bled out, and she died, suffering from her fatal arrow. Sue’s father, Rath, had also fallen, but that was from Bern’s wyvern riders and not from a traitorous tribe. Left alone and without parental guidance at the age of fourteen, she was left with her fellow tribesman, Sin, to protect her as she ventured across the land. Now sixteen years of age, she had already met the firey-haired lord of Pherae, as well as his friend, the mage and Lady of Ostia.

    Roy, son of Marquess Eliwood of Pherae, was a young man at this point. At sixteen, he had already lost his mother… however, her death was far more peaceful than Lady Lyndis’s. His mother, oddly enough, had died from old age… even though she appeared to be no older than perhaps thirty years old. Though Eliwood remembered what Nils had told his sister before he left through Dragon’s Gate for the last time - that she would only live for perhaps fifteen years, given her incredible lack of strength and quintessence while in Elibe - he still had a very hard time with grasping his dragon wife’s death. It was true that her weak quintessence had held out longer than even her brother had expected, but he still could not forget the weak smile that had taken the last of her strength before she had breathed her last. Roy did not truly understand why she had died so soon, or why her strength had degenerated so much over the past decade and a half. Rather, he made do with standing vigil by his father, who still ailed from a sickness unknown. Some guess that he carried the same sickness that had ailed and felled the late Lord Uther, while others claim it to be the same type of poison that had been administered to the former Marquess Caelin.

    The young girl who had recently come to power in Ostia still mourned for her father, Lord Hector, who had been rescued by Roy… only to die in his arms. Lilina had not had a chance to move on, and used the grief and fury in her heart to swear vengeance on him… it was she, more than anyone else, who wished for Zephiel to fall by Lycian hands. Her mother had been away at the time, returning north to Ilia to donate more funds to their treasury. However, having seen the crimson-stained snow of the mountains and witnessing the carnage of the wyverns who had slain her people and fellow Pegasus Knights, she had abandoned all former shyness and returned to battle, Killer Lance raised. Dame Florina never returned, having taken almost an entire brigade of wyvern riders with her before falling into the snow, pierced through by a wyvern lord’s lance. Her pegasus, however, had returned to Ostia, carrying the note Florina had attached to its neck before sending it off back to her home. It was only then that Castle Ostia learned of their lady’s death, and heard of the thirty year old pegasus knight falling in combat while defending her country of birth.

    A myrmidon who had lived in the eastern reaches of Sacae, however, still kept her parents. Both Bartre and Karla still lived, sparring one another at random intervals while keeping their daughter as honed-in on combat as they were. The young girl adopted the style of her mother, leaving her father to constantly mumble ‘what if’s’ about what would have happened if she had decided to swing an axe. Becoming their equal at the age of fifteen, she still could never convince her uncle, who was once feared as the Sword Demon, to fight with her… for he, Karel, was now the Saint of Swords; and thus, he had sworn never to kill with his blade again, let alone lift his weapon against his kin.

    One set of twins had been separated for a while, only to be reunited in Roy’s army: Lugh and Rei, sons of the prestiged and infamous Angel of Death and his young wife, the magician Nino, had been left in the care of a bishop named Lucius during a young age. Lugh and Rei had been left alone since then, as their father had run off to lead those who were after his head away from his wife and twin sons… and, caring for nothing more than her husband’s safety, their mother entrusted their sons to an old friend while she scoured the lands for the skilled and infamous assassin. They never returned, even though some say they have never reunited, either. They had stayed with Chad while they were still in the orphanage… it seemed that only Lucius recognized the boy and his sandy-blonde hair as the ******* child of the charismatic Ostian thief, who had never truly recovered from the death of his true love. His heart had been forever cleaved, with his child now being the only evidence of his existence.

    Various accounts of children and their parents linked them together, but all remained the same… generations that had belonged to Hector’s Horde, past and present, old and new, dead or alive, pledged their hearts to the Lycian League, and vowed to remain astride the late Marquess’s ideals through the ages, and for all time.

    ~~

    The land of Magvel, home of the five stones of power, once took pride in their unity as a nation; five countries, nestled within one giant continent that still retained a network of peace and tranquility between them. Renais, Grado, Rausten, Frelia, Jehanna, and Carcino; lands lead in different forms of government, culture, and combat all managed to share one common goal- the protection of the Sacred Stones, which had lain dormant in this land for centuries. And yet, by one single successful spell led the continent into a perpetual cyclone of chaos, leaving many nations wondering what and why had sparked the sudden change of course and demeanor of the Grado Empire.

    The formerly peaceful king had passed on, leaving the frail and soft-spoken Lyon to rule in his place. Unfortunately, the prince had neither the nerve nor the strength of mind to control such a vast system on his own, and thus began the conjuring of the spell that would change the face of Magvel forever… the spell that revived his king, his father, and allowed the Demon King that resided in the Sacred Stone of Grado. It was then that the hostile spirit that was the incarnation of the evil spirit began the harsh takeover of his body… the frail necromancer’s form quickly became the host of the demon that had once terrorized the nations of Magvel, and sought to lay waste to the stones that kept his power in check.

    It also seemed that more spell casting was going on behind the scenes than many others barely noticed, despite the plume of dark clouds that had spread over the skies of Grado…

    Though the twins of Renais have discovered the culprits and have figured out the majority of the mystery that surrounds their childhood friend’s recent actions, they have yet to keep the destruction of the stones from occurring. As such, two have been vanquished, while they seek to save the others. Ephraim has gone off in search of a hero that had plotted and executed the efficient murder of Jehanna’s queen, while Eirika, Ephraim’s twin sister, has gone off to destroy the wyvern knight that had inflicted such a grave scar on her knight, the loyal Silver Lance, Seth.

    Even though they knew of the Demon King’s scheme, they could do nothing to stop it until the safety of the remaining stones was confirmed. Thus, they barely even knew the whole of Lyon’s newly acquired power… or the motives evil inside of him that continued to experiment with spells of the past, written in the same book that had the spell for his own resurrection.

    Parting ways, neither of the twins have any idea of what fate has had in store for them… and the rest of the planet.

    -----------


    Ch. 1: New Beginnings

    (Author’s Note: Hope you don’t mind the odd pairing first featured here. Creepy to read, creepier to write. x.x It’s quite plot-essential, though, so don’t mind it. And look, I know that the time portrayal of Fuuin no Tsurugi is off, and that some of the characters are not actually present during the event I’m going to describe. I know the inaccuracies. I’ve played the game. I’m well aware of this. :P Now, without further ado….)

    “No… no… get away from me…” The princess of Renais’s frightened but demanding voice echoed through the small stone fortress that stood amidst the endless ocean of sand, backing slowly away from the mythical Moonstone of Grado… also known as Valter, one of the strongest and most feared riders of the Grado skies. A fearsome Wyvern Knight, Valter was renowned from countries around as one of Grado’s most barbaric generals… a man with an appetite for blood that was seemingly insatiable, combined with a demeanor that could only be described as borderline insanity. He was no fool, however… he had wanted to acquire his ‘ripe little peach’, and his quick thinking and effective tactics had led to this new scenario; him, standing before the shaking princess that was his prime target. He could sense the fear, coursing off of her like a river as a thin sheen of sweat glistened on her forehead from both the heat of the desert as well as the heat of his gaze.

    She was helpless; helpless to stop the country that had already destroyed two of the continent’s Stones, helpless to defend her army… and, most of all, she was helpless to defend herself. In her mind, only one thought rang true as he approached her…

    If only he was here… if only… Lord Brother, where are you?

    In Valter’s eyes, it had been all too easy… the Pegasus knights that had accompanied Eirika’s brigade were focused mainly on the shamans that had been placed near the entrance of the desert, and the blinding sandstorms had left little to no visibility for the rest of the army. The two cavaliers, Kyle and Forde, had a hard time trying to maneuver their horses through the burning winds and sand, while Innes had also stayed behind with Colm and Neimi to attack the Wyvern Knights that had so brutally assaulted their northern ranks. They had been occupied for quite some time, considering the thick hides of the winged dragons and their skilled riders. The shamans were fierce, as well, ruthlessly casting spell upon spell towards the pegasi that danced gracefully through the skies. Though the said winged horses of myth were less susceptible to magic than most other members of their army, they were still nevertheless taking small burns from the dark magic. Over time, these became lesions and burns that spread over their delicate hides, leaving them with debilitating injuries and unsightly scars that would remain for the remainder of their lives.

    Numbers were on the Moonstone’s side in this fight, and he knew it; and he was more than going to take advantage of the lordling’s lack of knowledge concerning the number and placement of his troops.

    The only thing that had truly stood in his way was that accursed Paladin, Seth of Renais. The Silver Knight was not a man to be trifled with, considering he had been the only man that had taken a hit from Valter’s spear… and lived with only a scar and pain. Everyone else had died almost instantly from the Wyvern Knight’s fearsome strength and skill, and yet the knight lived on. It was this thorn that was hardest to remove from his side… and yet, all it took was one Ranger to turn the tables on the famed knight of Renais. Once they had hit the border between the sandstorms and the stable ground that horses could freely trod upon, a mounted bowman had swept through, snatching the princess from before Seth before he even emerged from the veil of sand. Once he had discovered that she had been captured, it was a simple matter of threatening her with death that had pacified the paladin’s killing urges. A nicely positioned Fighter was all the enemy forces had needed to bludgeon the famous knight in the back of his scarlet head, rendering the man unconscious… his attention was too focused on the safety of his Princess.

    It was a costly mistake, with Grado’s forces now holding Renais’s female twin under their control. As if to mock him, his unconscious form was thrown by Grado’s armies just outside of the area, where the sand had begun… if he wanted to find his princess, however long it took him to regain consciousness, he would have to fight his way once more through the endless seas of sand before finding what they planned to be the corpse of the princess, hanging from a lance. It all depended on what Valter wanted… and whether or not he wished the girl dead. It was ironic, in a way, that they were thus able to use Seth’s unconsciousness to hold Eirika’s actions under control. Her previously wild thrashes to get away from her captors subsided, and all she could do was to look back with longing; even tears were denied her as the salty drops were instantly seared from the corners of her eyes by the bitter desert winds.

    Now, taking her inside Valter’s fort, her fate was in the general’s hands. Smiling, his gaunt face frightened her even more so than his lance had when he had brandished it before her. Her iron sword was of no use against the mighty weapon, and had been deflected with ease by the larger staff. She had struck at him with an overhead blow, making him block her attack halfheartedly before, with a sharp twist of his spear, her only weapon flew from her hands. Now, she was completely defenseless, leaving her to back away from the mad knight while searching desperately for a weapon. And now, she was left to back away from his slow but steady approach, letting a sharp gasp escape her lips as she felt her back hit the surprisingly cold, ungiving stone wall. His strides were longer than hers, and he approached her much more quickly than his slow pace had let on.

    “There’s nowhere to run, my peach. Nowhere to hide, no one to save you… do you know that I am disobeying my orders by keeping you alive right now, my pure little blossom?” Sneering at her while watching her eyes widen in fear, he moved in, letting his spear drop to the ground as he rushed forward, grasping her wrists with his hands. His grip was almost bone crushing, and left her biting back the urge to screech in pain as he forcefully lifted them over her head. She wouldn’t give him the pleasure of knowing he hurt her, and couldn’t let him know how afraid she was of him. However, her body language all but told him the pain he was causing her, and he reveled in the feeling of utmost control as he grasped her both of her raised wrists in his left hand, leaving his right hand free to stroke down her jawline, starting at her cheek. Unwittingly, she flinched from the contact. She would rather have spit in disgust, but the shock at feeling his gloved hand running down her face was simply too much for her to think of defying him for a moment.

    A moment was all he needed. Pulling her chin forward, it was all a matter of moving his own face forward before crushing her lips with his. She didn’t hide the shrill squeak of surprise that rose from her throat this time, and even let the tone of disgust clearly leak through in her outburst. Whatever curses she wished to say were muffled and rendered inaudible by his lips, and her attempts at speaking were only an invitation for him to plunder her mouth with his tongue. She wanted to gag on the bitter taste that his mouth carried, and could not even bite his invading tongue, for he kept a firm grip on her jaw that prevented her from doing so. She gasped at the feeling of his teeth as they bit down sharply on her lower lip, opening a small cut… from that miniscule injury, he mockingly licked away the tiny ruby drops that had gathered at the surface before licking his lips. Once he had released her mouth from his in favor of respiration, she screamed in disgust, trying in vain to throw her head to the side. She didn’t want to see the… thing… that had dared defiled her in such a way. What scared her was that she thought… no, knew… that this was not all that he could do to her.

    “I was supposed to slay you… and feel the Renais princess’s blood running down my hands; the same way I felt the blood of your knight. But… to ruin such a beauty…” He murmured, letting his lips glide across hers again. She turned her head to the side, but only after the first two seconds of initial contact. It was as if her actions were delayed, or in slow motion… only then, after gathering her bearings a bit, did she speak, loathing the way he now let his hand move gently across the smooth skin of her cheek. He didn’t tell her that he positively endeared her struggles, since they were so futile, and refused to tell her how beautiful she looked, masked in fear while her hair so brightly contrasted the flush of red that covered her face from the heat and lack of oxygen. Valter didn’t even bother to move, even though he knew that his wavy hair was probably aggravating the skin that covered her delicate neck.

    “You… monster…” She gasped, for she too had not had an opportunity to breathe when he had kissed her. Though she would have liked to have added a nice string of curses to her two words, her lungs would scarcely allow her to breathe, let alone speak. It was as if that one act had sapped all the energy from her body, for even her legs had not the energy to lash out to take advantage of what looked like the only moment of vulnerability that this barbarian had shown thus far. The moment of susceptibility came, but quickly passed as the small, lustful grin returned to his face.

    “I wonder… what your brother would think of this; a general of the Grado army, degrading the body of his twin… leaving her completely unsuitable for marriage. The barbarian of Grado, removing the very part of the lotus that makes it holy… yes, you are my little cherry, finally ready to be picked... I have many plans for you, my flawless flower…” He smiled, purring these words into her ear as he nibbled on her earlobe before kissing her neck, making a shiver course through her body… whether it was a physical response to his closeness or to his words, she could not tell. All she knew was that her life… her body… and her future were all at risk. She could feel Valter’s free hand moving to run up and down her body as he pleased, and, with her hands held tightly above her head and her back against the wall, she could do nothing but squirm futilely in an attempt to escape his advances. All this seemed to do was encourage the defilation of her body, and she was forced again into another kiss, with the wyvern knight massaging his lips against hers as she felt his hand struggling to remove one of the clasps that held her armor in place. She could smell his sweat, feel his armor as it pressed uncomfortably against her thin body, and could feel her mind and flesh almost go numb… as if her own body was in denial of the current events.

    She did not want to see his shameless attentions to her, and did not want to believe that it was truly her that was now at Valter’s mercy. Tears leaked from her eyes as she squeezed them shut, praying to the heavens for redemption.

    Please, oh please… if there truly are gods above, let them save me from this fate! Save me from this… monster! He destroyed my home… do not let him destroy me!

    Almost as if the gods heard her plea, the entire planet was engulfed in a sharp quake, leaving both her and her captor on the floor as they struggled to make sense of what had just happened… and what kept happening. For reasons that they could not understand, virtually everyone who inhabited Magvel saw a black dot in the sky continue to grow larger and larger as their wayward world began to drift towards the sphere in space known as Elibe. And, even though they couldn’t see what was happening in the sky from their vantage point, both Eirika and Valter knew that this… petty dispute of theirs… could wait until later.

    ~

    Meanwhile, midday in the stone fortress that was known to the world as the home of Marquess Pherae, a small army had gathered within the walls of the castle. Strangely enough, the said army that had been led by Roy was almost completely silent… save for their leader. The atmosphere was heavy with tension and despair… so much so, some of the members had to leave the castle, for fear that they might buckle emotionally from the overpowering negative energies. In the Marquess’s room, there stood several people… the Marquess himself, who lay on his large bed, his son, who stood vigil by his bedside, Lilina, who had stayed a bit farther off from the pair, and a small group of others, standing just outside the door.

    A small mamkute, the pink haired Fa, tried her hardest to figure out why the air felt so odd, but could not come up with an answer. When she tried to ask her friend Sue, however, she was quieted with a shake of her head. The little dragon knew from experience not to pry when she did this, but what could she do? Pouting from indecision, she decided to listen to Sue and keep quiet. She knew nothing of death, and only a little of sickness, so it was natural for this scenario not to make any sense to her. How could she understand what she had never seen before?

    One in the room wished he never knew… never known pain, never known sorrow, and wished he had never seen death. But he had… and that amplified the pain that he felt, watching his father on his deathbed. He wished, deep inside, that he could be oblivious to the pain, to ignore it as if it never existed… that way, his heart would not be torn apart as it did now. He felt his spirit beginning to break, for his father was his lighthouse, showing him the way through his trials and tribulations throughout the years. Now, if he were to be without his beacon, he would be left in his own world of darkness. If only he could turn back time, if only he could have been at home, helping his father through the illness…

    If only, if only, if only. The words rang cruelly through his mind, leaving him to shake off his thoughts, turning his attention to the one who really mattered.

    “Father! Please, answer me.” A redheaded boy begged his ill father, shaking him gently as he still lay on his bed. Lord Eliwood scarcely had the strength to open his eyes anymore, let alone speak in coherent sentences to his caring son. The kindhearted Marquess did not want to do this to his son… it was almost like witnessing his own father, the late Lord Elbert, breathing his last and dying in his arms after his quintessence had been drained by Nergal. He had been crushed, unable to move on for some time until love had taken grief’s place in his heart. However… he did not want his son to go through the same pain, the same heartfelt burden, that he had experienced himself in the past.

    “...R…Roy.” Marquess Pherae’s brow furrowed as he hissed from a pain that struck his lungs when he tried to speak, leaving him to speak only that one word to his son. He regretted not telling the boy why his mother had died so early on, and more than that, regretted not telling Roy his mother’s true race. He was just like Fa, a naive little Mamkute, sent off to live in the hostile world of men. And yet, he had people that accepted him… a sign that perhaps Arcadia’s vision was not too farfetched, after all. His thoughts were immediately halted when a barrage of savage coughs wracked his body, leaving his mind in a red haze of pain as he felt the blood speckle against the palm he had used to block the spread of his disease.

    “Lord Eliwood!” Lilina shrieked, looking mortified by the sight of her friend’s father’s faltering condition. She had not seen her father when he died, and yet here Roy was, about to see the death of his father, when he had already witnessed the departure of hers. Her father died in combat, while his fought a losing war against disease… an unfit end, for a former warrior that fought for the safety of Elibe. The world was cruel, she knew… she would have preferred to hear of Lord Eliwood’s sickness, rather than having to see the sorrowful sight herself.

    Disheartened, Lilina caught a slight movement from the corner of her eye as both Sin and Sue bowed their heads in mournful respect, with the girl leading out the young mamkute who had never before seen the prospect of death. She was too young to learn now… to be disheartened so…if she even understood it. Klein’s eyes were lowered grievously, and for once Clarine was absolutely silent. Their parents had fought alongside Lord Eliwood in the past… the Mage General and the Lady of Violets had indeed been close friends and valuable allies with him since that horrible Second Scouring. Now, it was as if they were seeing the death of their own parents… what with how much they knew the kindhearted lord over the years.

    “Father, you can’t die! Don’t leave me… like mother did.” Having lost his composure by now, Roy now let the tears of his fury and sorrow drift uninhibited down his face, even as he buried his face in his father’s chest. He took his father’s weak form into his arms, allowing himself to at least embrace his father one last time. His mother had left them so suddenly… and here, his father was suffering the same symptoms his mother had, just before she died.

    “…” With one last sigh escaping his lips as Roy clutched his hand, Lord Eliwood breathed his last. Laying his father back on the bed, honor did not stop him from crying out, weeping bitterly before his father’s corpse. Still holding his hand and pressing his forehead against the back of it as he cried, he clenched his eyes sharply shut in a futile attempt to block out the outside world that had been so cruel to his father’s life. Only a sharp gasp from Lilina and a strange darkness that covered the room in a veil knocked him from his daze.

    It was midday, and yet something blocked out the sun… the moon was not the cause of it, as was evident by the moon, straying right beside the large shadow that had interfered with the sun’s warm rays. Whatever it was, it was truly gargantuan… and, Roy noticed after wiping his eyes dry…

    It was quickly getting larger… or closer. Looking down at his father, he smiled for a moment before, moving his hands up to his head, he removed the circlet of Pherae that he always wore, placing it atop his father’s body.

    If what I think is happening actually is… then I will be with you soon, father. Very soon.

    ~~

    Driven by forces unknown, Magvel continued its plummet towards Elibe, barreling at blinding speeds towards the other planet while occupants of its own were experiencing violent earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, and untold amounts of panic and despair. Elibe, however, remained stationary, as if awaiting its collision with Magvel. As the worlds began to brush with one another, Elibe’s oceans seemed to seethe and boil beneath the friction that the invading atmosphere caused, and the entire world seemed ready to combust beneath the heat and sheer force of the contact…

    And yet, something odd occurred… a soothing curtain of blue light instantly covered Elibe’s countries, protecting them as Magvel continued barreling into the sea. The world was not much smaller than Elibe, but still managed to completely disintegrate the core of the planet. Though tsunamis, tornadoes, earthquakes, and eruptions rattled Elibe, the mysterious force rendered them almost invulnerable from the damage of nature. Displacing the very foundations of Elibe, Magvel came to almost a screeching halt, forging a new core for the world while facing its continents side by side with the continent of the other world.

    The green light that had surrounded Magvel’s countries then dissipated… but the blue light that had covered Elibe did not. Gathering all together in one spot above Bern, a shining blue beacon stood there for but a moment before promptly exploding, showering the world in another surge of light. Forging its way into the ground, into castles, and into the sky, the strange energies had accomplished what no mortal thought possible…

    ~~

    Deep within the unending plains of Sacae, a small child was running through the sea of grass, stopping only to read a small marker that broke apart the monotony of the plains… the marble headstone read, “Here lies the Lady Lyndis; the Kindhearted Soul of Caelin and Free Spirit of Sacae”. Staring at it for a moment, the child showed no regard, committing the taboo crime of stepping upon the headstone before turning to run away. To do so was a desecration of the grave, and her elders had taught the child that a spirit would take vengeance on such a foolish soul; however, she never listened. However, something stopped the child in her tracks… more precisely, a hand clasped around her ankle that had emerged from the earth.

    The woman, for the first time since her death, actually felt something. Yes, she could feel something… a warmth, and a flash of light, awakening her senses as she felt something once again building up around her. Flesh returned to her, the same muscles and flawless skin she had taken for granted in the past returned in full gusto as she realized for the first time that she could not breathe, nor could she see. Realizing she was underground for reasons she could not understand, she began her trip upward, tearing at the soil in an attempt to reach the surface. Grabbing the first thing she felt… the child’s leg… Lyn used this to pull herself up, even as the flesh that covered her fingers returned. Frozen in terror, the girl could only stare as a beautiful woman who could be no older than eighteen, rising from the grave of a thirty year old woman. The clothes she had been buried in were still donned upon her body, which scared the child even more.

    Not many people wore burial garb unless they were dead, after all. Letting out a shriek of absolute terror, the poor little girl tore away from Lyn’s grasp, almost making her fall back into the hole she had used to get out of the earth. As Lyn reached her hand out, about to tell the girl to stop and to please help her out, she paused. She had never worn such ornamental gloves in her life, and they had on them black material… the color of death. Looking down, she could not understand why she was clothed in black, nor could she remember where she had been, just before she had found herself in the earth. Furrowing her brow and remembering her daughter, she wondered vaguely if it had been another one of Sue’s pranks… though this went far into the ranges of tribal expulsion for the desecration of the grave rituals. Looking beside her, she was shocked to find her husband, doing the exact thing she had and pulling himself from the earth.

    If it was Sue’s doing, it was going to take all the might of Father Sky and Mother Earth to prevent Lyndis from strangling her. Rath, turning to look at her, promptly fell back into his grave with a cry of utmost shock. Lyn, looking inquisitively at him, wondered why he suddenly looked so much younger… as if they had returned to the days of the Second Scouring. Perhaps the earth was better for her skin than most people made it out to be, she noted, looking down at her trimmer figure.

    Rath, however, was not so laid back. He knew his wife was dead, and yet there she was, sitting before him in burial garb while still eighteen. She hadn’t so much as batted a lash in awkwardness towards her counterpart, nor did she hint about the spirits sending her back to deliver some sort of message. No, there was definitely something wrong with him. Hoisting himself up again, he looked upon her with wide eyes, reaching out hesitantly to touch her as if it was his first time again… he wanted to know if it was a hallucination, or if she really was there before him. And if she was… why?

    Lyn giggled at his odd expression, but inwardly wondered why he looked so shocked. Their daughter was a trickster at times, her being six and all. Even though she could not tell why her husband looked so much younger than she remembered… not that she minded… she could not explain why he so inquisitively touched her cheek, nor could she figure out why he was so overjoyed that he had done so. She was quickly taken into his embrace, and she could not figure out why tears of joy were running down his cheeks. Worried now, she decided to ask…

    “Rath? What’s wrong? Where’s Sue? It’s her seventh birthday tomorrow, isn’t it?” She asked, looking down at him as he visibly flinched, moving back from her. He couldn’t believe she was doing this to him… returning to a younger age, yet still remembering his daughter… was she such a woman, that she only remembered up until the day she died?

    “Lyn… you… why are you here?” He asked, looking downward for a small while. He truly wondered whether or not she was a nymph in disguise or not, considering the woman’s insistence on hurting his every hope as time went on. If it truly was her… how would he tell her? Tell her of her death, her daughter’s older age…

    “Rath? What are you talking about?” She asked. Rath looked up at her, meeting her eyes, and held her hands in preparation for what he was to tell her…

    “… you don’t remember, do you…”

    “What is it? What don’t I remember? Answer me, Rath!” By this time, she knew something was amiss…. A hunch proven correct as he held her close, whispering the dreaded words into her ear…

    “Lyn… you died… four years ago.”

    ((End of chapter 1. What do you think? Read and Review! :P))

    This post has been edited by Kuraikitsune: 14 April 2006 - 10:54 AM


    #2   Kuraikitsune 

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      Posted 14 April 2006 - 10:47 AM

      Ch. 2: New Realms

      Even as the new, fused world was still growing accustomed to its new form, the entire continent of Elibe seemed to have its foundations ripped out as similar events to Lyn’s occurred throughout the land. Those slain during and after the Second Scouring returned to life… but, curiously, it seemed only to work if they had slain another during that time. Villages that had been ravaged remained completely silent, while the gravesites of Bern were filled with the bodies of reviving soldiers. Strangely enough, similar things began to occur with an odd twist when the strange light touched those that were still alive from that time period…

      “Lord Pent? Lord Pent, where are you?” The Lady of Violets, eighteen years older since she had last taken up her bow in combat, made her way around Castle Reglay, wondering where on Elibe he could possibly be after such a quick… but nonetheless cataclysmic… event. Realizing that he would probably be in one of two places, she set off in search of the first. Moving off towards the library, which she swore was his true home within the castle, she began searching around the monumental bookshelves that lined the walls and divided the large room into a seemingly endless labyrinth. The limitless places to look within this cataclysmic cyclone of books, which had been thrown out of their orderly shelves during the contact, made it all the harder to know whether or not her husband truly was buried with his books.

      It wasn’t that Louise didn’t appreciate good literature… it was just that her husband was simply so obsessed with the acquisition of new knowledge, that was all. He promised he would stop all his terribly irksome habits as soon as they had come back from that cataclysmic fight that had occurred almost twenty years ago against the serpentine behemoth, and for a time, he kept that promise. After half a decade or so, however, rumors of Bern surfaced… and with it, old habits returned with a vengeance. Rather than staying for days in his study without so much as a peep or a bite to eat, he now waited for weeks, almost killing himself from a genuine starvation and almost lethal amounts of dehydration before emerging from his study to speak to his wife. She was just about ready to make him write his will, if he kept all this nonsense up. Closing the large, ornate doors that were both the entrance and exit to the library, she made perfectly sure that, if her sage husband was indeed in the vicinity, he would not leave without her full knowledge.

      All such thoughts went away, replaced with genuine concern as she coursed through the library. It certainly did not help that the said area was two stories tall, with stairs leading up to the eastern and western wings of the castle. Nevertheless, she continued on, stopping only when she felt the wave of azure light strike her body. Gasping as the sheer amount of energy tore at her thin form, she was thrown back from the raw force of the blow. It was odd, the way the light seemed almost solid, but passed through a person as if the said column of flesh did not exist. As soon as it had arrived, it was gone, leaving the blonde woman to catch her breath. It wasn’t easy, being thrown on the floor with such force at the age of forty-seven. Though other cultures did not see such an age as especially old, combat for a few years in youth can wear out both body and mind as if it had aged decades.

      Sitting up, the arthritis that had slightly ailed her back surprisingly did not scream at her as it usually did. Confused at this, she nevertheless smiled, letting her hand move around to rest on her back. Perhaps falling on a tile floor wasn’t so bad after all, if it could stave the pains of arthritis. Stretching, she noted that, oddly enough, she was far more flexible than she had felt in years. Reveling in this feeling of youth, she wondered truly if the floor had some kind of rune imbedded in it, to give it such rejuvenating powers upon impact… She would need to consult her husband on this one. Perhaps it was a belated birthday gift…? If so, she hoped for more like it in the future.

      Content after a while that her husband was not in the area while taking full advantage over her newfound energy and vigor (she had stayed at her desk doing too long while doing far too much paperwork, or so she was firmly convinced at this point), she was a bit disappointed that he had not been present before, shrugging her shoulders, she opened the large library doors once again, moving past her maids and servants with a smile on her face, ready to track down her husband once more.

      Beaming like the Cheshire cat, she wondered vaguely why her servants and maids had promptly dropped everything they held… including their jaws. Did she look that much better… or was there some horrendous bruise that had marred her face during the fall, even though she could have sworn that she had fallen on her back? Upon hearing comments such as, “Is that truly milady..? She looks… different, does she not?”, and others like, “Wow. What happened to milady?”, she was not quite as ecstatic as she was a few seconds earlier. Rushing past them, she strove to find her husband. If she looked as odd as she sounded, she needed the honesty of a spouse to tell her… at least until she could get to a mirror. Thankfully, she knew that the second place where she could find her elusive husband also held a crystalline mirror in it.

      Rushing to get to the northern Observatory Tower more out of curiosity and fear than concern for her husband, she called out his name, hearing his voice softly answering in return. Overjoyed that her elusive mate had been found at last, she rushed up the spiral stone staircase that lead up to the watchtower, feeling invigorated by both that interesting fall and the sound of Lord Pent’s voice. Strangely enough, his voice sounded confused, concerned, and younger… all at the same time. Pausing, she ran that last thought through her mind again.

      Younger? Why by Elimine did I think that?
      Shrugging it off as her hearing gone funny over the years, she rushed all the more, relieved when she hit the top of the staircase. Smiling and adjusting her ruby dress while at the mahogany door leading into the actual observatory, she opened the door. Seeing only the back of her husband’s head as he seemingly ogled the mirror, she wondered if the blast had hurt his head so much that he would become a narcissist. The very thought made her giggle… and that made her husband turn around. The moment he had done so, they both immediately noticed that something was quite amiss.

      “Louise?!”

      “Lord… Pent?!” Husband and wife stared at one another, horrified, confused, and yet exhilarated simultaneously as they gazed at each other’s faces. Their small but still noticeable fine lines had all disappeared, the silver hairs that had marred the monotony of Louise’s golden locks had evaporated, and her body appeared as if she had never borne a child in her life. Neither of them could quite grasp what had happened, and their shocked faces showed it quite clearly. An awkward silence filled the room before Louise, tired of wondering if she now looked as young as her husband, ran to the glass that hung on the wall.

      “Are we… young?!” Louise shrieked upon seeing herself in the mirror. Though grateful, yes, she was still confused… Why did they look like they had when they had fought alongside what was now the late Marquess Pherae? Why had her figure returned…? Upon that last thought, however, she decided to count her blessings. Not many women got to have their bodies back once childbirth took it away, after all.

      “Yes… yes, we are.” Still confused and bewildered, Pent could only murmur about the light, the earthquakes that had failed to fell a single house, the tsunamis that had washed harmlessly over the heads of civilians, and the fires that seemed to rage only where life was not present.

      “We… We should speak to the others about this, shouldn’t we…? And the children, as well…” Louise murmured, met only with a nod from Pent. This was quite the trivial matter… What had made them young? Considering the fact that Pent was here, the ‘bewitched tile’ theory that she had had was now thrown out the window…

      A pity, in her opinion; it would have made a wonderful birthday gift.

      ----------

      “Urgh…” Seth muttered, his eyes fluttering open but for a second before the bright sun forced them shut. Groaning slightly from a dull, burning pain that seemed to be radiating from the back of his skull, he gingerly reached back to touch it with one of his gloved hands, only to hiss in pain as the contact was met with a new barrage of raw pain. Attempting to sit up, he gave up after a few tries, making content with groaning beneath the searing sun while shielding his eyes from the burning rays. They had Eirika, his liege… he had failed in his ultimate mission. He was not to destroy the Demon King, rid the world of the dark plague that had descended upon it… no, he was to protect the Princess of Renais.

      The King had entrusted the frail, porcelain doll that was his daughter’s life into the Silver Knight’s hands, and he had failed to hold on to it when she needed to be protected the most. Now she was in enemy hands, as if a hammer now loomed over that metaphorical doll; taunting him, always ready to lower the crushing force to end the girl’s life. And he, like an overconfident fool, had allowed her to run ahead, seemingly humoring her and her claims for being able to take care of herself while being perfectly sure that he could run to her rescue in case enemies were to strike. One moment of distraction, one arrow that was aimed at an off angle; that was all it took to scare his loyal stallion. Rearing up and neighing sharply even as Seth had struggled to control him, it paid no heed even as the princess he had been following since the beginning of this journey was snatched up cruelly by a mercenary.

      He knew the memory would haunt him forever… and the pain would be a constant reminder until the large, raw flesh that had been bludgeoned would be a constant reminder of that until the injury healed. At this point, he didn’t even want that to happen, knowing that his princess could be going through ten times as much agony right now… if she was still alive.

      I’d sooner prefer to see the Knights of Renais dead than to let her suffer for my transgressions! Cursing under his breath, he tried once more to sit up, only to see a gloved hand quite literally fall into his line of vision from above. Recognizing the crest on the glove as a Renais soldier, his eyes widened horrendously before, falling back and yelling from surprise, he looked up, only to see a familiar face sneering at him from above. It appeared that fate wished to make a fool of him yet again.

      “Calm yourself, Sir Seth! Why, I could have sworn you’d seen a corpse, what with your reaction.” Laughing merrily and yet offering his hand towards his captain, Forde allowed himself to smirk and ridicule him for a moment before, letting that moment pass, he pulled Seth up. The older knight groaned from the blood rushing to the wound on his head, and felt a trickle of blood run down his scalp as he looked at his still-sneering blonde friend. Staring blankly up for a moment at the man who had so incredulously ridiculed him, he decided to let it pass; he was in no mood to rebuke others, anyway. Stunned by this odd show of behavior, Forde arched and inquisitive eyebrow; noticing that Seth did not even bother telling him to stand up straight when he slouched, what was he supposed to think, given the circumstances of his finding? Something was terribly amiss, and he was determined to see to it just what this problem was.

      “Forde. The princess… Princess Eirika has been…”

      “Yeah… we know.” Forde looked down, still smiling oddly; this left Seth to fume angrily at Forde’s easygoing nature. Forde too had been assigned the task of protecting the royal twins, and yet he smiled, knowing that senile fool of a wyvern rider… or knight, rather… had the girl now in his cruel claws? Did he not know that Valter adored the chase, and loved to hunt his prey down to torture them to their last breath, no matter how long it took or how far he had to travel? He reveled in the pain of his victims, and here his underling was, seemingly unphased by the man’s cruel reputation and his princess’s disappearance. It was enough to have the blonde tried for treason.

      “You… know. And yet, here you stand.” Standing up and leering down at the blonde knight, Seth glared at Forde, letting his scarlet eyes do the rest of the talking for him as his caustic gaze bored mercilessly into the cavalier’s gold orbs. Event though he had flinched a bit at first, the same smirk that had always been donned on the cavalier’s face returned as he gestured towards his friend, Kyle. Letting his smile do as much talking for him as his captain’s eyes had, he pointed merrily to the one that his green-haired friend held in his arms.

      “Yes, yes indeed. A job well done, don’t you think?” Just as he said this, it was Kyle’s turn to bludgeon him upside the head. It surely was an ill-timed attempt to try to encourage arguing… and then it donned on him; Forde hadn’t even bothered to mention the cataclysmic impact with the other planet to their captain yet! Seth had been unconscious throughout the rather traumatic endeavor, but was quite sure he would notice if a pegasus would lift him perhaps forty feet off the ground. They could even see castles in the distance, albeit small ones; but the sharp eyes of the pink-haired archer that had been lifted had spotted something that had made the poor girl faint. It was all a matter of letting her wake up before asking her what she had seen… so, to pass the time, Forde had decided to play a rather nasty joke on the commander… and he wasn’t taking it all too well.

      “…At least you have returned her safely. What report do you have to present on her rescue?” Seth sighed, letting the relief plainly show on his face for once. Walking over to the princess, he found she was unconscious in the other knight’s arms. Draped with her back against his arms, for it was easier to hold her that way (it also gave Forde a better view while making sure that the dutiful Kyle did not mistakenly grope his liege), her head was leaned back, with her teal strands of hair falling gracefully downwards like a cascade of water, streaming downriver before meeting the waterfall that signaled their descent. Her eyes were closed, and her breathing was steady. Seth, making sure she truly was all right, removed his glove before gently pressing two of his fingers beneath the scarlet cloth that covered her before letting them rest against her neck. Her pulse was strong and steady, albeit a bit flighty. This touch, though a sign of concern, had coaxed his inner demons awake. Unable to quite keep them at bay, he could not help but let his eyes drift a bit lower, gazing at the lack of cover that her skirt showed for a moment before quickly tearing his eyes away.

      “Ah, so your eyes are attracted too, are they?” Forde teased, sneering momentarily before feeling the slap of a glove as Seth pelted him with said accessory. Shaking off the blush and pretending as if it never happened, he shot the man a look that spelled, Not a WORD of this gets to milady Eirika, understood?! However, this only seemed to cheer up Forde a bit more… before, making sure that his friend was not to be brutally murdered at the hands of a fellow Renais knight, Kyle stepped forward, coughing slightly and clearing his throat to get their attention.

      “Sir Seth; here is how the situation came to be…”

      -Flashback-

      Two cavaliers on horseback had been moving ever so slowly through the veil of blinding sands that embellished the rather harsh desert area, struggling to even get their stubborn geldings to budge and inch into the burning, chafing winds and sand. Continuously pushing forward even though the blonde kept looking back every to often for signs of his younger sibling, the man’s watchful eye was the first to catch a small glimpse of shelter from the blinding winds. With the sands lashing out and biting savagely at any exposed skin, Kyle and Forde were all too happy to be rid of the desert’s harsh sandstorms as they rushed all the more towards their goal. Though Kyle had not caught sight of the upcoming stone fortress as of yet, his friend’s smile was still visible, and his newfound determination told the other that they were close to liberation.

      Though Forde had yelled out ecstatically towards his fellow knight that he had found a place to hide from the storm until it had subsided, he knew that his voice had all but been stolen away by the greedy, howling gales that made their home in this hostile environment. The scorching sun burned almost as much as the sand, though it itself did not leave the harsh abrasions that the grains had done to their skin. Kyle’s neck was virtually bleeding by the time they had arrived at the fort, while Forde’s hair had served to protect his, however marginally. Nevertheless, it was far better to have a raw neck and a bothersome head full of sand than to have a neck that would scarcely bend without having the thinning skin break beneath the required elasticity.

      They had no knowledge of Eirika’s capture, but could tell that something was amiss when they had discovered Seth’s unconscious form but twenty minutes ago. Having left him in Innes’s care while departing, they had distressfully noted that the princess was indeed nowhere within sight or earshot. Now at the fort, they had all but rushed in, more than willing to slaughter any unsuspecting Grado soldiers if it meant escaping from the desert hell that had been just outside. The first wave came at them in a daze, as if they were surprised that anyone was able to traverse the desert realm so quickly. The normal soldiers had been quickly dispatched with well-aimed lance strikes, while fellow mounted units had proven an exceptional challenge.

      Forde, relying more on speed than on power, had his hands full while trying to combat a rogue Ranger that had clearly had a few more years of experience under her belt. When the blonde had struck out with his lance to run the other through on its tip, he found, to his surprise, that the woman had completely evaded his attack by ducking onto her horse, using the saddle for support as she leaned as far down as she could. This allowed the lance to pass harmlessly above her and, as she expected, had rendered the cavalier completely stunned and unprepared. Smiling as the brunette raised her sword, she swung it upward, allowing the blade to slice quickly through the air in an arc… had all gone well, his face would have been torn asunder, leaving a bloody mess and an unrecognizable crimson pulp in place of the charismatic features that he held so dear. Something went amiss, however, as she felt a sharp pain tear through her side… looking up at the source, she felt the lance being sharply tugged from her waist before, in a rush of pain and genuine agony, she failed to see the sword that swung towards her neck.

      Seeing her head torn asunder from her shoulders in a mist of scarlet blood, and hearing her eerie shriek echo through the air, the rest of the menial enemy soldiers had frozen in place. Unsure whether or not they could combat the two who had just felled a highly skilled unit, they began to fall back, finally breaking into a run when a mercenary, who had not moved quite fast enough, had been run through the midsection with the same spear that had killed the mighty ranger. Forgetting all vows to Grado and fleeing instead in favor of their lives, Forde and Kyle watched the entire brigade of soldiers leave. Satisfied that their work was done, they were stopped only by the soft, protesting moan that could have only been produced by one thing… a woman.

      So, of course, Forde jumped right into the fort, without any pretense as to where it might have lead or who might have dwelled there. Kyle had pulled him back, just before Valter had pulled back from his rather thorough investigation of their liege’s lips, to see if she had been worthy of his administrations. Apparently pleased with his work and her discomfort, he soon dove right back in, further exposing her to unwanted attentions as his free hand had drifted up and down her body. She could easily feel the greedy grasp of his hand, making her feel as if she were nothing more than an object to be used as she felt sudden relief; the hand that had unclasped her armor but had not removed it had left her for a minute, only to return with a vengeance. She groaned discontentedly at this, though from far away, the differences between a pleasurable moan and a displeased groan were blurry at best. Her skin had already begun to glisten with sweat, and Valter’s outer armor had been removed in favor for his slimmer, albeit less protective inner armor. The said plates of black armor were the same shade as his outer armor, with the only difference being that it did not cover his arms.

      Strangely, she could not move… it was as if her back was chained to the wall, and her legs would not lash out. Focusing instead on standing upright, she could not even force her knees to move forward, to at least put a little distance between their bodies. When he moved down to shower attention on her neck with his lips and moist tongue, a shudder ran through her body at his eerie touch. It was predatory, yet tauntingly gentle, as if he wanted to create the illusion of caring while savagely ravaging her innocence, defiling her body while claiming it as his own.

      Growling greedily at the girl he held in his arms, he pulled away the armor plating that covered her chest and shoulders, having already unclasped them before. He was not surprised to find that she was still clothed beneath, since her red shirt had lain beneath the plates of thin armor from the beginning. Finding this softer surface much more pleasing than the stiff armor plates that she had on previously, Valter could feel the captive girl squirm a bit beneath his grip for the first time since she had ceased doing so a few minutes ago. Apparently she found this extremely unnerving, preferring the rough kisses to her gradual undress at the general’s hands and wishes. Reaching his free hand behind his back, he grasped something before returning to his diligent task of keeping her distracted, so as to not see what he held…

      What she could not see but her knights could, however, was that he had pulled a rope from his armor; a rope which had been used to tie his wyvern on a regular basis. Now, he was attempting to use this to ever-so-subtly tie her hands together… and leaving the two cavaliers feeling like cheap voyeurs as they watched helplessly from afar. They could not fight the powerful knight, they knew, since his lance lay so close by… and they still did not yet know whether or not his advances were altogether unwelcome. She had ceased struggling at this point, and this made the sight look as if Valter had been more accepted by the princess. Had she succumbed to his unwanted advances, not have the energy to defy his attentions any more… or had she wanted them all along? Such thoughts ran through the cavaliers’ minds as they pulled back momentarily, speaking to each other in hurried whispers while making sure that the wyvern knight was well out of earshot.

      “What on earth--?!” Forde spat… flustered for once, the flirtatious knight was not quite sure what had occurred in the corridor, and was nonetheless extremely agitated by the tryst they had witnessed.

      “Now, Forde, calm down… there must be an explanation for this…”

      “Explanation?! He’s ravaging the princess! Ruining the delicate flower that is her innocence! Defiling the purity known as her body! And, if we don’t stop them, he’ll invade her--” Losing all composure, said knight flailed his arms about in a manner similar to a fish that had been taken out of the water… only, he didn’t even bother gasping for air.

      “Stop. Right now.” Not wanting that rather disturbing mental image of Eirika and Grado’s Moonstone in his mind while also making his friend cease such foolish talk, Kyle held up his hand to silence his fellow knight before attempting to make sense of the scenario. His princess, her hands held above her head and used for pleasure at the hands of the wyvern knight that had destroyed Renais Castle… surely she did not find such a gaunt and bloodthirsty man a possible marriage candidate.

      “She can’t have accepted this man! He’s a brute, taking advantage of a lotus!” Forde almost screamed this out, threatening their cover and forcing them to duck down as Valter’s head turned. They were pretty sure they knew the princess… but, then again, no one but her (or perhaps her brother) knew what she liked, anyway. Perhaps she loved being the submissive, and this man simply provided all the dominance that such a relationship required. It was farfetched and highly unlikely, but, then again, so was the scenario they were witnessing unfold before them.

      “Look, all we have to do is…” Pausing at the shadow that spread quickly over the land, Kyle was thrown off-balance by a sudden tremor that shook the earth, throwing them off their mounts while rendering everyone on the world unstable. He saw but a flash of green light in the sky over Grado before the worlds struck, leaving them blinded momentarily as they descended onto a new planet. The flash of heat that should have accompanied the impact was absent, staved by the pacifying light that now subsided, leaving everyone on the ground while greeting them with a new sky in a matter of minutes.

      Unable to gather his already bundled nerves, Forde was left to stutter incoherently as he was once again caught by surprise. Quickly shaking it off, however, he was not able to remove the trembling that had spread through his hands as he struggled to regain his shattered composure. Clearing his throat as inaudibly as humanly possible, Forde moved discreetly and quietly towards the fort once more. Feeling the familiar texture of stone rather than sand beneath their boots, the blonde followed Kyle’s lead into the room. If she wanted to be rescued, now was the time to do so. Realizing that Valter was on the ground, dazed by the sudden quake, the two cavaliers leaped at their chance.

      Kicking his lance aside while his partner held the man back with a blade pointed at his throat, the haze of confusion quickly left the wyvern knight’s eyes… replaced almost instantaneously by bitterness that rivaled the Demon King’s hatred of the Stones, he allowed his gaze to do the vast amount of communicating for him before actually beginning to speak, not stopping the bitterness from entering his voice.

      “True Knights of Renais, aren’t you… you interrupted my sweet victory, just as your commander had done at Castle Renais. No matter… she has already borne my mark. Tell me…” Valter’s face contorted into a victorious sneer, “Can two such as yourselves defy fate? Already, the first of the curses has come to pass. Two are yet to arrive… can you truly expect to protect the Princess, at the expense of your own lives? Traitors lose their lives today; traitors lose their lives today.” With a triumphant laugh, the wyvern knight was suddenly engulfed in a scarlet light, which had enveloped him like a cocoon before imploding… and yet, it left no sign of Valter behind, with the exception of his echoing cackle. Likewise, his spear and the wyvern that had been tied outside had all but vanished.

      Picking up Eirika and whatever discarded pieces of armor had lain strewn about, Kyle dutifully replaced her armor, buckling it back onto her unconscious form even as Forde complained and almost turned as green as his friend’s hair… it wasn’t fair, he thought, the way he could handle a beautiful girl like that; even if he was so-called ‘more dutiful’, shouldn’t he have a shot at the girls once in a while?

      Scooping up the girl’s form, the two rode back through the desert, completely missing the glint of silver that had been present on the very spot where Eirika had once stood…

      --End Flashback--

      “…I see.” Holding back the disgust and shock that he truly felt in his heart, he could not help but sympathize with the princess’s… less-than desirable experience. He had taken the bite of the man’s lance, and knew that she hated him, as well; even so, she had been subjected to tortures that could have only been exceeded by rape… which Valter might have done, had the two not arrived in time. Shaking his head at the odd account of the quake, he could see nothing new on the horizon… however, a sharp cry from the skies told him all he needed to know.

      “General Seth…! I see a new land… just beyond the coastal borders!” Looking down, Tana almost shrieked devilishly from fear and anxiety as she continued.

      “They’re… an army is attacking my home! Frelia is being invaded by foreigners!”

      #3   Kuraikitsune 

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        Posted 26 April 2006 - 05:30 PM

        Ch. 3: Discovery

        The castles of Elibe were filled with chaos rather than order, and frantic struggles to comprehend rather than the cool, calm demeanors they each had made for themselves. Kings wronged in the past had risen from their graves, including the former king of Bern. This rose some suspicion among the court as to why he, of all people, had returned from his burial grounds… surely he had not murdered anyone, they had said, so why would he have returned? As far as they were concerned, only the murderers had returned from the grave, or at least those who had fought in what the few who had seen it had called the Second Scouring.

        Rath and Lyn had been grief-stricken at the loss of the Kutolah tribe, and could not bear to hear the loss of her fellow Sacaean, Guy. However… both he and his nemesis, Matthew, had been revived; a marvel that had been confirmed by the now-younger myrmidon’s yells of disdain and malady as Matthew’s laugh of glee and mischief could be heard in a world that he had sworn would never hear a word from his lips again.

        Hector had the most problems, in this regard. After being mortally wounded at the hands of the Dragon Generals, he had fallen into the peaceful rapture of death in the young lord’s arms before being burned in a ceremonial pyre. And thus, he had had a problem that not many of the others had faced, being buried beneath the earth. Now, he, who had been one of the largest men in his army, had been stuck, attempting to pull himself from a quickly ‘shrinking’ vase (when in fact he had been indeed reforming to his former corporeal state)… eventually, feeling the walls of the brass container threatening to shatter his newly-formed ribs again, he had used his strength to push the walls outwards, thus showering the area around him with ash as the vase walls gave way. Of course, this had left the rather embarrassed lord sitting naked and young again in the middle of enemy territory… not the best situation he could have imagined, but he had waited until nightfall to grab some clothes from a peddler and leave the country through the border of Lycia and Bern. It had been roughly a week afterward when he returned home, thoroughly angry and confused. Unlike the others, he knew of the current time, since he had died but recently… and he knew his wounds were fatal.

        Especially frantic were the castles of Pherae and Ostia, whose entire system of politics had been thrown into a state of chaos in a matter of seconds. The Marquess Pherae had been resurrected, even though only those in the room knew him to be dead… and a vicious dragon had erupted from the earth of the Pheraean courtyard. Those who witnessed the marvelous beast pull its way out of the dirt could not explain what they were seeing, and Fa had giggled at the rather traumatic sight. The naive little mamkute had believed the ice dragon to have been playing a game of hide-and-seek, and had only now finished counting. Though the others were quite confused at Fa’s sudden departure into a closet to hide, Sue had shaken her head once she comprehended the girl’s reactions, and reason for it.

        Reaching her head up into the sky, the dragon shrieked, bellowing for a moment in what sounded like pure lamentation before, lowering her head to the earth while remaining in her semi-standing position, a shuddering gasp emerged from her form. The ruby eyes of the serpent seemed to be widening as it did so, its muscular chest heaving with its breath as it labored to get accustomed to the atmosphere of Elibe. A soft sapphire glow emerged from its upper torso and, suddenly, the dragon began to shrink. The formerly monolithic terror had within a few seconds become a thin young woman with teal hair, gasping for air while holding a strange stone in her hands and clutching it against her chest.

        Realizing that there was much to discuss, but also knowing that enemies could hide in wait at any moment on the new continent, Eliwood called the nation’s citizens to his castle… specifically, those who had participated alongside him and Hector to being peace to Elibe, all those years ago. Though time could not turn back, it appeared that they all had been given a second chance. As for why, however… they could not tell.

        ---

        Riding the waves of the sapphire sea that was still churning slightly from the meeting of the lands, the Davros once again set sail; only this time, the target was not the twice-visited Dread Isle, but the new continent that had descended upon Elibe. Fargus had been all too happy to take them aboard… even though the Port of Badon had mixed feelings about his return from the grave, they nonetheless endorsed the voyage in the Marquess of Pherae’s stead. Fargus was a bit confused as to his returned strength and Eliwood’s returned youth and health, but welcomed them aboard once more with open arms. Because the eastern side of the new land was littered with jagged rocks, they had sailed around the continent, looking for an adequate place to land on the western coast.

        Lilina had chatted happily with her mother and father before boarding, whilst the others of the later generation filed a bit more cautiously on board. Parents of said generation coaxed them on board with little problems, but that left a more crowded ship for the pirates to deal with. Dart seemed to have no problem with this, however, and simply threw rascals that were too noisy below deck. Not surprisingly, first Clarine, then Serra were tossed there first. Even though Clarine was Pent and Louise’s unruly child, it appeared that her Aunt Serra had had a much greater effect on her behavior than either of her well-mannered parents.

        Lucius stood by the stern of the ship, looking out into the distance while a hand gingerly touched a spot just below his rib. Gasping at the contact and the slight pain that it had initiated, he had turned in time to see the ruby eyes of his long-time friend filled with concern that would have otherwise been invisible to all else who beheld his deceptively cold gaze. Raven, knowing what must have happened to him in his absence, had silently motioned to his sister, who had likewise approached to lay her hand on his painful wound. Though it should have gone away upon his revival, the spear that had felled the bishop had still been in his body when he awoke… thus, the spear had jutted out from his body, and had yet to heal. Now, though, with the soothing energy of the valkyrie’s hands coursing through the ailment, he could feel torn muscles and injured nerves mend, and could feel the pain subside as a wound he should never have taken closed. The memory had caused him far more pain than its physical counterpart, however, and this continued to ail him long after the kind-hearted healer and her brother left his side. He was a bit aggrieved when his young charges did not remember him, but made no moves towards trying to reassure them of his identity as the caretaker of the Araphen orphanage.

        Just like him, Priscilla also was haunted by ghosts of her past… ghosts that mainly took the face of the one love she could never have, and dreams that reminded her of his departure. Over and over again she had experienced his leaving, and every night, old emotional wounds were torn open again and again; never once had they been allowed the chance to heal, and not one night had since then had she been graced with a peaceful night’s sleep.

        Meanwhile, across the vast deck, Roy had stood alone with his father and began to adjust to the sudden… events that had come to pass. While joyous, the young lord kept in mind that not all miracles lasted forever.

        “Father, are you sure this is wise?” Roy had asked hesitantly, a bit unnerved to see both his father and his mother before him… let alone at the same age as him. It was odd to call this man his father, now that he appeared only two years older than him, at most. He could truly see the resemblance that others had claimed him to share, though, but that did not put his mind at ease. Grateful but confused, he had only recently returned from the council that most of the nations had called together, and friendly faces greeted them with renewed youth and vigor. However, several faces had been seen as gaunt, as if they had never wanted to return from the graves they had so peacefully lain in for so long. For the most part, the majority of them were ecstatic at regained youth… but those who were revived were met only with confusion.

        Lyndis and Rath had an extremely hard time adjusting to life again. Though it was not as if they had forgotten their native tongues or knowledge, they had passed away a few years ago and had not heard the extent of Bern’s treachery. Rath had at least known of the attack, as he had died in the assault that had ruthlessly felled Sacae beneath the iron fist of Zephiel… but Lyn could not bring herself to grasp that the child they had rescued in the past would rise in malevolent glory to strike down the prominent nations of the world. Not only that, but the amount of time that had passed made it hard for both mother and daughter to recognize one another… it was a dire emotional blow for both, not being able to distinguish their own kindred amidst the reunited army. Florina, having woken up in the Tomb of Royalty within Ostian grounds, had been so terrified of the corpses surrounding her that she had shrieked… which allowed the others to find her. No one who revived had any knowledge of their deaths, remembering only the dire events beforehand and assuming that they had survived through miraculous healings.

        Sin had greeted Rath with a bow of his head, and the older man had cautiously returned the gesture before, silent as always, he pointed towards Sue… a test, more than anything, to make sure he was more interested in protecting the girl than making her his future bride. Upon seeing the slight but nonetheless evident hints of a blush that had crept up to the younger teenager’s cheeks, the father of the Sacaen girl shook his head momentarily before patting the bow that he held vigil at his side. If he was to court his daughter, or so the tribe had dictated in the past, he must be able to defeat the bride-to-be’s father in combat. Looking to see if her father was in the vicinity as he looked around - since Rath clearly did not look the proper age to be Sue’s father - Sin shrugged, leaving it at that. If he saw her father, his nonchalance told the older man, he would challenge him to fight someday. Deciding to let him wallow in his ignorance, Rath shook his head once again before turning and walking away from the younger man, moving farther along deck towards the stern of the Davros.

        All of this was communicated in absolute silence, leaving others but Lyn and Sue wondering what they were miming or mimicking when others’ backs were turned… after all, no one but the two could really tell whether they were talking to one another, mocking others, or putting on an act, just for the sake of confusing other members on board. Roy, having noticed this going on for a while now, decided not to pry as he heard his father’s far less labored voice respond to him with the same gentleness he had remembered from his earliest days.

        “Yes, Roy… I’m certain. We can trust them… they’ve taken our army to Dread Isle twice before.” He smiled a bit as he saw Roy’s eyes widen from the mere mention of the supposedly forbidden land, and would not have believed it if Dart had not nodded a bit in response. The said pirate was now crossing the deck, and heartily shook hands with Eliwood once again with a cordial expression on his face. He was happy for several reasons… one, he had never planned to see him again, and two, he was surprised at how close the continents were to one another. One could swim, if they could brave the hostile currents that ran between them. The third reason was that his daughter had just returned from Ilia, having been knighted just recently.

        “Ahoy, landlubber… never thought I’d be seein’ you again. And same with you, lass.” Dart smirked, craning his neck a bit to see a nervously smiling Ninian hiding behind her husband. She was still in her dancer’s attire, ready as always to perform the dance that had rejuvenated her friends for so long… even if she hadn’t performed the sacred ritual in several years, it was as fresh in her mind as if it had last happened only yesterday. Something seemed amiss, though, even though the reason for it never quite registered until that feeling returned to her… her abilities returned with a vengeance, and so did she once again feel what had saved their lives countless times in the past.

        A sudden cold pang struck the ice dragon’s heart, and the death-like chill that had quickly coursed through her spine told her something that she should have foreseen beforehand… and she noted that the little mamkute, Fa, had noticed this as well. The small dragon girl - who had formerly been frolicking about on deck and marveling at the strange, salty breeze and the ‘big water’ that surrounded them as far as they eye could see - had paused suddenly; her glistening emerald eyes turned feral as she whipped around, snarling as fiercely as she could towards the sky. Though the smaller dragon did not have the same true power as Ninian, she could nonetheless hear them from far off, and could see them if she tried hard enough. Others were convinced that they shared the same power, when in truth, the small one simply had more acute senses than her senior. She had heard the wings of pegasi beating in the distance, and had heard them drawing their lances. Sure enough, she saw their snowy forms flying gracefully towards their ship.

        “Fa sees danger! Fa hears danger!” The small girl yelled, letting her soft, white wings with blue tips emerge from her back as she continued pointing frantically to the eastern side of the ship. Pegasus knights poured out of a large tower, yelling something as they approached the ship. Realizing there would be no time to communicate unless aerial units would dispatch a message, Heath quickly leapt onto his wyvern before taking to the skies. The said winged knights scattered at his approach, fluttering like butterflies away from him and stopping only when he lowered his lance; even then, because of Grado’s heavy use of the winged serpents, the Frelian knights were extremely wary of this newcomer.

        Patting Hyperion’s coarse neck gently, Heath could hear his partner’s nervous growls as he looked to and fro between the snowy pegasi that flew before him. The green-scaled wyvern had seen many such knights in the past, and all had fallen beneath its owner’s lance… but still, it did not like how they darted around so quickly, flitting through the air like flies as he himself preferred a more straightforward approach, choosing to cut pegasi off from possible escape routes before seeing their mangled corpses obey gravity’s absolute law. Now, however, he was forced to fly in an almost stationary fashion before them, making sure that the said horses did not swing around to strike his back. The wyvern was as paranoid as his comrade, ready to strike out at any and all units who approached him without his knowledge.

        It was said that wyverns and pegasi never truly took masters, and such was the case in this pair. While Hyperion and Heath could be considered friends of sorts, they were more concerned about having another pair of eyes watching their back than having a partner to talk to or socialize with on the army’s spare time. As such, the paranoid duo was synchronized in an odd fashion, with each watching out for the other while knowing the other watched their back, as well. Pegasi, on the other hand, were simply paranoid that their riders would have men touch them. The winged mounts never liked men, and that was true here, as well. The pegasi fidgeted beneath their riders, clearly not wanting to be in the company of a ‘dirty’ human male. Realizing that the only way to end the tension was to speak to them himself, Heath cleared his throat and began to speak.

        “Peace! We mean you no harm. We are inhabitants of the continent across the sea. May we see the land that has now become one with ours?” Heath asked, keeping his tone as professional as possible even as several of the pegasus knights scowled at his wyvern. He noted with a little bit of worry that none of his own pegasus knights had arrived to back him up, and wondered if he was fighting a lost cause. An air of suspicion surrounded the opposing knights as one of them began to speak.

        “We have no need of foreigners here!” One of them shouted, only to be silenced by a superior officer.

        “Silence! Allow me to speak with him.” Urging her pegasus forward with a nudge of her legs, one of their number approached Heath and Hyperion, making sure to remain just outside of lance distance, should he choose to attack. The woman appeared to be in her early twenties, and yet carried a regal air about her that suggested that she had led this force for a few years, at least. Shaking her head at the knight who fell back, her azure eyes communicated her silent apology as she returned her gaze towards Heath. Her teal hair flew about in the slight but varied air currents that rushed around them, with only the ponytail and circlet that lay in her hair keeping the strands from interfering with her vision. She bore on her breastplate the insignia of Frelia, and the crimson wings that had been placed around it bore her rank as commanding officer of one part of the Frelian knights.

        “I am Khris; officer of this brigade, the third wing of the Pegasus Knights of Frelia. If you would allow us several weeks and the name of your country, we may bring this up to our King in the council…” The woman began, but a voice that perked up behind Heath interrupted sharply.

        “A few weeks? I’m not getting paid weekly! Say, listen, I know what you’re saying, but we’re not waiting that long. I’m not, at least.” Heath groaned at Farina’s statements, knowing they were most definitely not going to approve of her small tirade, and especially not the fact that she had all but pushed through them with her pegasus, Murphy, to continue on towards shore. And, as he expected, they retaliated with a few words of their own; however, he didn’t expect them to raise their lances quite so quickly in retaliation.

        “Such insolence! To defy his Highness means death! Third wing, attack!” With that, the group of enraged pegasus knights seemed to explode into feathers, with its swift warriors splitting apart and flying off in various directions, while letting their paths overlap enough so that guessing their numbers was difficult if they had not done so beforehand. Using this to confuse their opponents while masking their path of attack, this plan also backfired, rendering them also oblivious to the incoming attack until it was almost upon them.

        The paths of the scattered pegasi seemed to be multiplied in frenzy tenfold when two Dragon Masters swept through, swinging their lances to intimidate more than harm. Brother and sister swept through, a perfectly smooth and synchronized dance of wings and scales as they swept through the cloud of feathers, with each growling slightly in frustration as some of the pegasi eluded their attempts at herding them into a group. Roughly a quarter of the group, however, was caught between Zeiss and Miledy’s lances; and thus, they were forced to remain stationary or lose their lives to the serpent-riding warriors. As much as Miledy would have loved to see Gale’s face at her aerial victory against the pegasi, she knew now was not the time to be thinking about a lover she had all but lost in the year past. She had slain her love with her own lance, and that memory alone would haunt her for the rest of her days. The blue-haired dragon master that had been cold to all but her was gone now, naught but a whisper in the wind reminding her of the precious man that she had lost.

        “Look what you’ve done, Farina!” The woman’s sister chastised, shaking her head as she flew towards the brigade that now moved swiftly towards them. The aqua blue-haired woman remembered the formation, similar to one used in Ilia’s training areas when she had just been knighted. Letting the ever-rare smile cross her face, Fiora turned to the right side of the pegasi; looking slightly towards her shy, orchid-haired sister, who likewise veered to the left flank of the group, she smiled, knowing that at least one of her sisters had remembered. However, she noted with a groan that Farina herself had chosen to spar one-on-one with the commander, leaving the triangle they had been trying to form incomplete. Luckily, a spare pegasus knight had joined their ranks, with Thany rushing in to plug the essential position in her mother’s stead. The newly instated pegasus knight almost glowed with glee as she held several others at lancetip, prepared to shout the words of the Ilian knights that would signal the attack, should any try to escape...

        “Hold, archers! Do not strike!” Yuno, though technically not nearly as skilled as the others, nevertheless yelled towards the arrow-carrying units as she sailed through the air, wishing that her husband, the paladin Zealot, had been on some sort of winged mount to support her in the skies. Not letting this deter her, the violet-haired pegasus knight her mount carry her into the skies and within range to help her sister, Tate, keep a couple more pegasi under their lances. It was almost pathetic, she noted, how they stayed so servile; it was as if they were simply waiting for an opportunity of some sort to liberate them from their holds, or perhaps already accepting their fate. And yet, looking around, Yuno found no such reinforcements of any sort arriving by sky or by sea…. And she saw no reason for them to meaninglessly surrender. Nevertheless, she argued not with their choice of action, and stood vigil while guiding them towards the ship.

        Once the remainder of the knights had been gathered into submission, Zeiss noticed the rather aggrieved look that one of the pegasus knights had given to no one but the sky; moving a bit closer to his sister, he motioned to the knight’s vacant expression and somber demeanor before asking her what ailed her.

        “We have already lost,” She said simply, hanging her sapphire-haired head downwards while letting tears fall onto her pegasus’s mane. “Our beloved Frelia had already fallen a week back, and now we have lost the rest of our lands to foreign soldiers. May the saints forgive us… we have lost.” Miledy, who had heard her short but self-explanatory tale, felt her heart become filled with sympathy…. She had heard the girl’s tone of voice once before, and from her princess, nonetheless; only now, it concerned this young woman’s land, rather than her lady’s brother’s actions against it. Looking up and towards Farina, Miledy could not help but smirk a bit as the pegasus knight’s older sister quickly barked an order which made her immediately cease combat with the commander.

        “Farina! Pay to cease!” Though quite the unusual order to the ears of most soldiers, those of Ilia easily recognized that as the command that could save their lives… and increase their wages… in the midst of combat. Farina had always been rather attuned to this command, though she would also press to fight a few more foes before leaving (since she was usually paid either by the fallen foe or by elapsed time). This time, however, she was left in a lance-lock with the commander, and was content to keep it that way as she shouted back towards her sibling.

        “What for? She attacked me first!” Farina whined, pushing a bit more against the lance. Tate, breaking away from Yuno, quickly moved in between the two combating pegasi and clutched their weapons in her hands before pulling them apart. Though not especially strong by any means, she was nonetheless fueled enough by determination to at least hold them at bay. It was only when Heath replaced her to clutch the lances tight in his hands that she backed off, allowing her to both catch her breath and look around for additional foes before speaking.

        “We have heard of Frelia’s defeat! We have not come to conquer you, noble knights of the skies.” The thin girl could not help but see the distrust in Khris’s eyes, and gulped a bit as her gaze turned sharper than daggers. It was almost like insulting her father’s cooking at home, it had gotten so bad… after all, pirates couldn’t cook anything better than rough gruel… Shaking off that thought, she saw that Fiora had taken Zeiss’s place at the pegasi, thus allowing the former commander of Bern’s wyverns to speak. However, Khris beat him to the punch, almost spitting her words towards the foreigners.

        “So the last land had said. They came on the backs of monstrous wyverns, darkening the sky beneath their wings before our cavaliers were decimated by a beast from times past. And yet, that did not seem enough for them… no, we fought the reptilian behemoth for days, and now we are the last of our country’s military. We believed the ancient beasts to have been all but extinct, by now. Our crown prince and princess were not present, luckily, but the king remains barred in his own country. All you see before you…. A scant two dozen, at best… this is all that Frelia now has to offer. Destroy us all, if you wish it, but leave our king at peace. He has suffered enough.” Refusing to let any more tears fall from her eyes, she allowed her sorrow to nonetheless burrow its way into her heart, letting the seed that was tragedy take root before, unwillingly, allowing its tendrils to spread. She could feel nothing but sorrow, she knew, when she thought of her king… the king she had failed, along with her country. She looked up when she felt a weight on her shoulder, and saw Zeiss give her an almost invisible smile; an attempt to comfort her, to rid her of her guilt.

        “We do not wish to harm your lands, nor do we desire to conquer new territory. We travel only to assure that we…” He let the sentence drag off, realizing what he had been about to say. He had just been about to mention Bern, and how they wished for the empire not to acquire new lands, but… apparently, they were already too late.

        “Assure that you what?” She shrieked, twisting her shoulder away from his hand. “You, too, ride a serpentine beast! You, too, arrive from the country of destruction! What have we done, to have cursed ourselves to this fate?!” The woman yelled, now letting her sorrow express itself as the tears fell freely down her eyes. Like a cascade of diamonds, the transparent, sparkling streams made their way down her cheeks, traversing the valley that was her flesh before…

        The entire brigade was shocked into silence as a hand flew across their leader’s face, throwing her head violently to the side while leaving a large red mark that began to swell as soon as the hand left. Once again, the bold but reckless Farina had made her mark on these pegasus knights, and both times had she pocked their honor with her insolence. Now rubbing the back of her palm slightly at the force of the backhand she had given to the girl, she noted that the shocked expression had not left her face, and she had yet to crane her head back to its normal, upright position.

        “Grow a spine, will ya? Yeesh, and to think that we thought you were honorable pegasus knights. Just keep fightin’ until ya got nothin’ left in ya, see?” Apparently her already brash manner had been increased twofold by being around Dart for two decades, and her manner of speaking had been changed a bit, as well. Thany hung her head a bit in shame at her mother’s actions; knowing that coherent thought during these situations was foreign to her mother’s short-tempered ways, she decided to let the question of whether or not she was making a complete fool of herself drop. She wondered how she, being so light-hearted, came to be so much different than Farina or Dart… she saw her mother scowl again before barking one last order.

        “Now pull yourself together and tell me what the hell is going on here.”

        The resounding sounds of her sister’s sighs of exasperation were all that were heard before the Frelian knight began to speak.

        ---

        Deep within the Empire of Grado, within the noble estate of Grado Castle, a strange aura had made its home within the palace walls. Though one might have attributed it to Grado’s newfound climate beneath the Elibean sky, several within the maze of corridors and multitude of halls knew the true origin of the eccentric and dark atmosphere. Following the almost endless honeycomb of doors and dungeons that lay strewn about behind the throne room that beheld the king on his throne, one, provided they knew the way, could find themselves in a strange enclosure, sealed from the outside world by what could only be described as a barrier of light and dark energy, with each element working in symbiosis with the other. By keeping one another balanced and intertwining within each other, the two elements had woven together to create a shield that would serve two purposes regarding trespassers; to warn, as the light does to its owners, and to harm, as the darkness did to its foes.

        A small man, hunched over with bags hanging under his eyes smiled in an almost fiendish manner as his gaze followed the man before him. Though the man himself was haggard, a man of great age and supposed wisdom, it was not he who was the origin of the aura that had impregnated the very stones that built the Castle Grado, but the younger, thinner man who stood before him. When a sudden cloud of darkness eclipsed Riev’s view of his lord, he made not a move to improve his vision; if it was his lord’s wish to remain invisible and inaudible, then who was he to object? He was a subject to his liege, and would sooner bow before Rausten’s king again than to disobey the might of his lord.

        It was not the man himself that was subject to a one-man conversation, but rather two presences in one mind…. The owner of the mind, held servile by the dark tendrils of another. Even as Riev stood vigil by his lord, within the young man’s head was a battle constantly raging between the controller and the slave whose mind and body was his new home of flesh. A sinister glow seemed to lace the force’s words, which were never spoken; rather, they were thought, and thought all the more loudly for the message to pound painfully into the weaker man’s soul and mind. The voice was laced with distaste and disappointment, but even more so was the taunting undertone that would have provoked any other man into a state of anger… however, a weak mind such as this sat feebly by, taking the abuse while only voicing his anger through his thoughts, rather than actual actions.

        Perhaps that would have been expecting too much, after all, to have thought the frail prince of Grado to have been able to break the shackles of servitude that had enslaved his feeble mind. No one but the Saint Latona had ever broken free of the enmity’s control once it had grasped hold of them, for the creature was violent and possessive, clawing its way into a mind and forcing down a deep root that would anchor the spirit into the man’s thoughts and emotions. From there, it was a simple hat trick for the vicious spirit to then seize control over the frail cocoon of flesh that now enraptured it in the first physical body it had felt in centuries.

        This malevolent spirit was known by the mortals as none other than the Demon King.

        …You failed, Lyon. But it was to be expected, wasn’t it? It appears that your desire to read the spell book yourself was not to follow the incantations… foolish Prince. Interfering with the Planet’s fate has done nothing but cause pain to your pitiful kind, the mortal race of men. Do you not see that? And I had thought you were to become, ‘a kind leader, who thought of nothing but the people’… and yet, you decimate their planet. A wonderful choice you have made, Prince. You have done your father proud. A sinister, leering voice rang through the young man’s mind, a baritone thunderclap that seemed to rattle his mind from the inside out. From the sheer volume of the voice that had left his mind’s eye reeling from the force, the crown prince of Grado was firmly convinced that Riev must have heard it, even on the outside. The emotions that rallied behind it - spite, mockery, bitterness, and anger – served only to increase the severity of the voice, matching its volume with all its intensity.

        However, the excommunicated bishop showed no signs of having heard anything unusual, nor did he reveal any implication of him having seen anything unusual. Though he would normally have cringed – even though the voice was only in his mind – Lyon found that he could not even do this simple reflex. Sighing, he would have hung his shoulders, had the Demon King allowed it.

        What good would it have done to resist what you wanted me to do, even if it required me pouring my soul into something that I did not believe in? Had I not agreed to even go through with the ritual, you would have forced my body into submission, anyway. The teenager thought bitterly, which was rewarded once more by a tremendous roar of laughter that echoed in all its intensity through his mind. Lyon resisted the urge to hiss an almost inaudible swear from the pain it caused him, even though no officials or gossiping maids were around to hear him speak them; for who could wander into his mind and crawl back out as they pleased? He was far too meek to even consider the small hope that the Demon King might one day relinquish his hold on his body, for he was also too rational to believe that this shell of flesh, let alone the soul that no longer owned it, would survive by the time the Demon King saw fit to leave.

        Ah, so you have learned at last. It took my last host far too long to realize that… though defiance had made the devouring of his soul that much sweeter. Oddly enough, this was more of a thought drenched in nostalgia than one stained with mockery; however, this quickly changed to a sharp, snappish tone as he changed gears on the lavender-haired prince. We move to the new lands. It appears your blunder has done us some good.

        What? Whatever for? Is this land not enough to appease you? Lyon pleaded within his mind for a moment, wondering just how he was going to convince the former lord of demons to simply sit idly by as the citizens of Elibe had the chance to gather and bear arms beneath Grado’s nose. No, the king would never allow it… if Lyon could not govern his own soul, what could he do to convince his body’s new owner to relinquish his possible hold on an entire continent, full of potential fodder for his hordes? Suddenly, he was suddenly very grateful for his knowledge of books, for a legend came to mind. Do you not require the shrine in Darkling Woods to revive your true corporeal form?

        …Why not conquer both lands, human prince? Hm? Apparently, such narrow-minded thoughts are not restricted to the fools of the mortal realms, I see… I’d thought to see a bit more sense from you than that. Quite an arrogant little worm, you are.
        Hissing at the boy’s ignorance, he allowed one of his fangs to scrape across the boy’s spiritual form, lacing his body with pain as the young man threw his head back and cried out from pure agony. Chuckling as he opened his cruel maw to strike another excruciatingly painful blow, something made him pause. A soft, emerald glow had begun to warm the atmosphere slightly, with the sphere of light visible only to Lyon’s eyes alone as the Demon King temporarily released his hold on the boy’s soul. Choosing instead to control the body, he looked through eyes that were not his, and into the small sphere.

        Hovering in an almost nonchalant fashion before them was a small glow, a face appeared within… a rather haggard looking man, with only one eye showing as the other lay covered beneath the large strips of cloth that composed his turban. His hard features were softened only slightly with age, but the Demon King could see within the fine lines that he had lived far beyond the normal expectations of the human life span; perhaps three, maybe four or five times as long, it seemed. His tan complexion belied his true age, and the demonic entity could almost smell the death of hundreds of men, so strong was the aura. Instantly intrigued, the demon set aside his pride and allowed himself to associate with yet another weak human being. Putting up the façade as the Prince of Grado, he decided that he should let the prince have time to play… and, as such, he allowed Lyon the rare opportunity to speak of his own accord.

        “…Who are you?” Lyon asked hesitantly, relishing the feel of moving his own lips and eyes again as he stood there, watching the man’s face contort from a respectful, solemn expression into a swift scowl. He seemed to be looking for something, or someone, but gave no clues as to who he was or why he had contacted the palace in the first place. Lyon wasn’t even sure how he got past Riev and the Demon King’s shield, and neither did the parasite that was housed within him.

        “I am seeking… I was seeking a being with a vast amount of power; one unmatched by any but the dragons. I have looked, and have found him here. Who is he?” The man rasped, clearing his throat before speaking again. It appeared that, even though he had been through the countless trials of life, something new had come to ail him… though, with a strand of what could only be described as a silk thread of emerald energy that he weaved around his throat, whatever ailed him quickly disappeared. The quintessence gone, the Demon King once again wrestled control away from the prince, leaving the said member of royalty to moan and yell in pain as control was once again ripped from his senses. All he could feel now was pain… pain that only afflicted the areas he had used while still in control of his body. It made him fearful to do much of anything when he was allowed movement, and perhaps that was what the entity wanted.

        “Perhaps you have sought me. I see your soul, drenched with the souls of mortal men… and that of the mamkutes and a few dragons. Tell me… who are you?” The man in the orb’s eye widened before a smirk of victory took the shocked expression’s place on his face. Curtly bowing before him, even though only the upper torso was visible, the man smiled as he said,

        “My name is Nergal… and I wish to speak to you; the Demon King, Lord of Magvel. I have a proposal for you…”

        ----

        ((...No reviews? :P I feel so... unloved. -_-))

        This post has been edited by Kuraikitsune: 26 April 2006 - 05:31 PM


        #4   Kuraikitsune 

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          Posted 04 May 2006 - 06:32 PM

          Ch. 4: To Meet at Last

          Once their conversation was complete, Nergal smiled softly to himself while chuckling lightly… with such a force on his side, what could stop him now but the promise that he himself had just made? Turning his head slightly after dispelling the orb of light that had transmitted his image to the Grado keep, he once again admired the majesty of the Dragon’s Gate, even while it remained locked from the unreachable realm on the other side. He knew there were other dragons, however, and had seen them himself, roughly half a century ago. Upon thinking about Arcadia, his thoughts immediately turned from blissfully reminiscent to sour.

          That had been his first meeting with Athos, the archsage. Both had cheated the debilitating plague known as old age and had discovered the path to unrivaled longevity, and each wished to learn more… for what was all of time, if one could not take advantage of what had been given to them? Why live life in utmost ignorance, when the potential for unlimited knowledge was at his fingertips? Having wandered what felt like years beneath the harsh Nabatan sun and the fiercely frigid desert nights, they had finally come upon what they never thought was possible… a village, where dragon and human lived together in harmony. It was there, within the beasts’ library, that they found their fountain of knowledge… springs of information that would have never otherwise been discovered by human minds, as the dragons far surpassed the inferior intellect of the human psych. It was then that he discovered his lifeblood, which now sustained his life once again… quintessence.

          Having sacrificed his body and quintessence to open the Dragon’s Gate those few fateful years ago, he cared not to wonder just how or why he had returned from his grave. Either the gods somewhere favored him, or some god-forsaken saint was cursing him from afar to have filled his newly regained vision with painful mortality. Yes, Elimine must be mocking him somewhere, keeping that ever-constant, gentle smile on her face as she watched this ‘wicked, wicked man’ writhe in his misery. He had always hated that forsaken, blonde witch of a bishop, and had wished her dead from the moment his eyes had been filled with her illustrious light. She was luscious, indeed, and that made her all the more despicable, in his eyes; she had been a vile hypocrite, smiting the mighty dragons with the power of light she should not have been able to wield, had she followed her own teachings of nonviolence. The woman condoned murder, and yet committed it time and time again through the ages of the Scouring, covering her hands with blood of the most powerful beings alive… she considered the murder of all life forms to be vile, though dragons seemed to be the only exception to her rules. Though she had not been there to see the acquisition of his first strands of life, the weak threads that had been taken from a mere insect, he knew she would have been disgusted to see him go so against the teachings she held so dear.

          He could just hear Athos’s voice, too, hoarsely chastising him from wherever he now lay. He had no idea that the famed Living Legend had ceased to be, with his corpse being buried in a land far from the Gate he now stood in, nor did he care. All he was concerned with now was this… blasted mortality. He hadn’t felt this truly vulnerable since Elbert had driven the dagger through his abdomen, which had left him bound to his bed until his faithful creations had returned to him with the energy he required to sustain his ill-gained longevity and power.

          The level of quintessence within his body was running dangerously low… and yet only several thoughts elicited attention in his mind. Morphs… they were what he needed to regain his strength; however, he would need an adequate source of energy before he could even begin to consider the recreation of his perfect morph, Limstella. Ah, how he missed her… she was a daughter to him, albeit a nonliving one. It was as close as he was going to get to recreating his past… his son, his daughter, and now the two morphs that made poor emulations of the soul-filled children that once shared his genetics. He never bothered with the creation of a wife, however… for some reason, it just didn’t seem right to recreate love in such a fashion, even though children were not beyond his moral limits. And so, he had placed his thoughts on his former daughter, and how he might dote upon her once she reawakened from her eternal slumber.

          Yes, she had been a marvel to behold, that morph… a pale beauty, with cascades of ebony hair coursing down in waves down her back as her golden eyes seemed to always stare emotionlessly into the soul of another. He had dressed her elegantly, with her fine, long sleeved white shirt of silk underlying an ebony dress that reached up to her neck. The fine embroidery of the gold-spun string made her all the more extravagant in all her soulless glory, and yet the outfit did not restrain her movement too much in combat. Her constantly calm, obedient, and quiet nature made her the perfect servant; she was a woman who would never argue against her master, fight back against him, and was a specimen that would give her life without question for him. Her might had been unparalleled by any other magician in all of Elibe, and her morph ‘brother’ had been no exception to this rule. He gave her life, and she had been more than willing to give her everything to see him pleased. He had placed a part of his soul into the creation of his two marvelous creations, Limstella and Ephidel… and yet, neither had survived the cataclysmic clash with the Elibean soldiers those twenty years ago. Though he had no knowledge of the time that had elapsed, his view of the now cobweb-covered stones of the Gate’s floor bore witness to its solitude.

          A mere twitch of a muscle was all that was needed to catch his eye as one of the nomads that had died upon the isle had revived, pulling herself up slightly before, realizing whose company she was in, had hastily flopped back onto the ground. The gesture was more than enough to awaken the thirst for life within the blackhearted druid, and immediately his hand outstretched towards the former warrior. Rushing forward with speed that belied his stature and old age, the man was upon the nomad before the Sacaean bowman could so much as budge. Placing a hand to the woman’s thin neck, a maniacal glow filled Nergal’s hungry eyes as he began to strangle the green-haired woman where she lay.

          Trying to get away with the best of her ability from the sheer amount of pressure that threatened to collapse her windpipe, the Qu’tol tribesman could feel the very life drain from her as the oxygen left her lungs. Nergal’s thin, clawlike hands grasped at her neck as if there was nothing more important than throttling the woman’s throat, with his strength seeming to be fueled by desperation and need. A strange, emerald glow enveloped the girl’s vision for a quick moment before the pain began wracking her body in earnest; tremors overtook her from the sheer agony as she could feel something in her heart simply tear away, with only one strangled cry of pure suffering tearing from her held throat before the Sacaean lay still. The remnants of foaming saliva gathered at the corner of her lips, and her chocolate eyes had rolled backwards from the trauma while the eyelids themselves remained eerily open.

          Getting up, Nergal made do with tossing the still-warm corpse aside before marveling at his work, caring not how rigor mortis treated the woman’s frail flesh. Her quintessence had been wonderful, however, which led him to wonder how he missed such a promising feast that had lain within his grasp. Weaving several threads of the opaque green light known to the dragons as quintessence around his fingers, he admired the elegance of the energy; the woman’ life, this was, coiling around his hand… a life that had been pledged to the Fang, which now fueled his own. Breathing in deeply as he allowed the energy to circulate through his body, he smiled and opened his eyes before motioning to a figure that stood vigil in the back of the room. Though the corpse had been reanimated in the forests of the Isle, none of his morphs had returned from the dead… for they were never truly alive to begin with.

          “Come to me.” He barked, pleased when the red-headed figure gingerly stepped forward before kneeling deeply before him. The figure’s brown cloak drifted down, caressing the stone floor with its soft edges as it hung from its wearer’s shoulders. Her hair, which appeared a dark crimson in the shadow, was short, but nonetheless covered her facial features from him as he stared at her, immediately remembering who she was. Simultaneously recalling her area of origin, he inwardly sneered for a minute. He could tell that this girl who appeared no more than twenty did not altogether trust him… or rather, did not trust him at all… but he did not care. Not even waiting a moment to let his newfound servant speak, he reached out his right hand and cast out some of his valued quintessence towards her.

          The woman was taken aback as the strings took their hold on her body, wrapping around her in an emerald embrace as the strands of energy grasped her neck, arms and legs in almost binding fashion. However, this quickly dissipated, becoming absorbed into her body as Nergal quickly clenched closed his outstretched hand. He heard her gasp from the sudden acquisition of energy, with the woman clutching her chest as she struggled to hold the sudden wave of new energy within her under control. She fought to keep herself from collapsing onto the stone floor, maintaining her kneeling position before him, but unable to move from that spot unless she wished to threaten her sense of balance. The newfound power left her lightheaded, but seemingly added nothing to her fighting prowess. Though confused, she kept silent until curiosity bade her speak.

          “…What have you done to me?” Refusing to address him with any title, as she felt he did not deserve one, she let her slightly quaking voice pass through her lips as she struggled to form a coherent question. The shock of feeling another life force within her own, especially when she had been without one for the better half of two decades was overwhelming, and she did nothing to hide her discomfort. Her body had erupted in shudders, with her shoulders visibly shaking from the energy that now enveloped her senses. Entertained but refusing to let her see that, lest she knew how to use that power against him (he had not considered the fact that she had never read from Arcadia’s ancient texts, as he had), Nergal spoke, keeping his tone calm and emotionless.

          “It is to assure your loyalty. While my quintessence runs through your veins, you carry with you my eyes, ears, and hands. You are to gather adequate quintessence from other sources, former traitor. You may travel as my morphs once did… providing that your loyalty shall never falter. You have two weeks to gather ten measures of quintessence… roughly the amount we received from Elbert. Oh, wait…” He said, pausing before moving closer to the girl, watching her grow nervous at his approach. She had only hinted at this with her emotions, not letting her body betray her feelings… but he, having lived for so long and having felt these waves emanating off of others for so long, could sense nervousness, anxiety, and fear as easily as he could end the said victim’s lives.

          “You never did see that, did you? How Elbert writhed on the very floor you stand on, simply embroiled in his own personal purgatory of pain.” He smiled at her, and watched her visibly flinch before him. He knew that she didn’t wish to show him any sort of emotion or weakness, and that made her moment of vulnerability that much more enjoyable for him. It was a slap to the face against her country of origin, he thought, and it would have to suffice… for he had not the strength to combat the powerful nation alone. “Well, nevertheless, those are your orders, on pain of death. Once, you were Ephidel’s toy… and now, you are a degraded slave. Complete your mission, or return to rot in the earth, wench.”

          “…I care not for death. I shall take my leave.” The teenage girl muttered bitterly in a servile fashion, getting up once her lightheadedness had left her. Moving towards the entrance of the Gate, she closed her eyes, allowing the energy that coursed through her body to envelop her in a cocoon of crimson light as if, despite it being her first time doing so, it was second nature to her. As her form lifted into the sky and scattered into the breeze, she thought only of one place that she wished to be, more than any other…a place she had never gotten to visit before her death, and had regretted that she had never done so before.

          It was less than a second before her form rematerialized in a small village in Ostia, which now lay in nothing but desolate ruin. Buildings were torn down, and those that remained intact bore the cruel scars of a ruthless blaze that had swept through and engulfed the now skeletal building frames. Pens that once held animals had been torn apart, and the hoof prints left by escaping or stolen horses were all but invisible now. She gasped, her eyes widening at the sight of one thing…As she had moved forward, she noticed the marble slab that lay beneath her feet… beneath her lay the grave of a certain, charismatic Ostian thief; the one who had stolen her heart, never returning it to its owner until just before she took the mission that stole away her life. His grave had been looted recently, it seemed, as the dirt before it was roughly overturned and the contents of the coffin eerily empty.

          Falling to her knees, the other thief could do nothing but weep bitterly at the headstone of her love, letting the tears fall freely from her crimson eyes for the first time in her life. She had fulfilled half of her promise, but had never had the chance to speak to the parents of the man she held so dear…nor did she ever have the chance to tell him the words that regret had haunted her with for so long.

          --

          Nergal, having watched her leave, found that he had nothing to accomplish by simply staying here, waiting for some response from the ruler of Grado… he could leave this place, his own dominion, if he wished. However, he noted, he would also have much to gain by staying near this Gate, considering its rather infamous reputation… it would keep potentially dangerous armies at bay while allowing him to wait for the girl to return. There was also the fact that there was a slim possibility that the Gate could be reopened… if he could find another naive mamkute to fool.

          What he had gained in patience over the years was severely off-balanced by his anxiety and the anticipation for what was at hand… the chance for his ultimate revenge, his tyrannical acquisition of power, and the toppling of the peace between humans and dragons that Athos so treasured.

          Channeling a good portion of his remaining power to his body, he recalled the selected region that had been on the map that the Demon King had passed to him before allowing the energy to envelop his body. Feeling the familiar waves of warmth surround him before closing in on his body, he placed the coordinates first and foremost into his mind before, in a flash, he was gone… and had reanimated outside the gates of Grado Keep. Shaking off the warm, fuzzy aftereffects of the teleportation, he allowed himself to take in the geographical surroundings of the castle before smirking to himself as he ran his plan through his mind.

          He had no true intention of fulfilling his end of the bargain until he was assured that the land of Elibe could come under his control with the quintessence of dragons, but there was no need to tell the Demon King that. After all, why sour a relationship that would gain him so much in the long run? The Demon King had power that was monumental, he knew, and the strange book that the youth held was now a new object of curiosity. It had been a volume he had never seen before, not surprisingly, and seemed to depict the images of stones. Could these, perhaps, be used to channel magic? He was most anxious to know, for a potential catalyst for magic was always helpful to have at hand.

          Hearing a loud, piercing screech of a wyvern species that he had never seen before, Nergal looked inquisitively to the sky before arching an inquisitive brow. His reaction was a mix of confusion, curiosity, and pity as he spied the rider atop it as they took off towards the West. The Moonstone, Valter, had only just returned, and already had to leave the palace on yet another seemingly frivolous mission. However, for him, any mission that included bloodshed was a mission worthy of his lance.

          The poor beast has lost its front legs, Nergal thought, peering at the empty expanse of smooth skin where the front legs of a wyvern should have been. Truly a pitiful existence. And what of its strange, elongated front teeth? Surely one cannot expect a beast to attack, let alone eat with teeth such as those. And why does it not have the tough, armor-like scales of its cousins? Why is its tail so thin, so that it may not strike its foes with it? Its back legs barely look to have claws upon them, either! Surely it must be able to defend itself somehow… Have the great dragons degenerated so much as to produce a creature incapable of living without human care?

          Deciding not to think on it now, the dark druid made his way inside, guided by the strange, one-eyed behemoths that guarded the gate with their massive bulk and excessively large axes. Pock marks lined the muscular arms and legs of the beasts, which shamed trees in their thickness and density as they used the muscle to hold up their immensely tall and thick bodies. Though not morbidly obese, the creatures were solid, carrying more muscle on their bodies than their swollen bellies made them out to have. The said beasts of myth and lore had grunted at him before motioning him to enter with a large sweep of their hands, each of which were easily the size of his chest. His head could have been within their hands by now, he noticed, and had decided that it was for the best to follow them; for the sake of his meeting with Lyon, as well as for his own relative safety. Without the quintessence he needed, he was like a normal human… frail, killable, and frighteningly mortal.

          Lyon, having known him to visit, had dismissed the normally posted guards in favor of larger, stronger guards; if this man was malicious, normal soldiers would barely be able to hurt him, but cyclopses were not easily felled. Their bestial appearance was enough to drive most men into cowering from fear, and, though he did not want the dark druid to necessarily fear him, a healthy respect was mandatory.

          Descending down the stone labyrinth that lay beneath the noses of the (normally present) castle guard, Nergal continued with his escorts, who had paused before the door to Riev’s barrier. Bellowing loudly, the cyclopses were greeted with the opening of the door, allowing the plague of Elibe to enter into the jaws of Magvel’s blight.

          Things were going to be interesting…

          --------

          Rushing quickly from the deserts of Jehanna to Frelia despite their knowledge of the Grado army’s whereabouts, Eirika and Ephraim’s army had proceeded to rudely ignore any mercenary groups that had challenged them in favor of pressing on towards Renais’s close ally. Both Innes and Tana were anxious as to the fate of their father, with Moulder, Vanessa, Syrene, and Gilliam sharing the same fear for their lord (Though Gilliam didn’t bother to show his emotional status to them, the others knew him well enough to know that he, too, was worried for Hayden.). Luckily, the Republic of Carcino was far more receptive this time around, allowing the army to have free passage through their lands as an attempt at apologizing for their earlier hostility.

          Upon arriving at Border Mulan, however, the group was immediately forced to a standstill at Tana’s report of their surroundings. They were not alone… and clearly outnumbered by the force that now resided at the fort that lay just a few miles from the Frelian capital. Almost driven to tears from the mere sight of the mass that had accumulated there, it was up to Vanessa’s statistical report to relay the numerical figures to the lords. Forced to find a place to hide, they made do with staying within Renais’s mountainous borderline with Frelia, where there they met to discuss possible scenarios for several hours while they anxiously awaited the knight’s return. Many of the army members camped a small ways away from the strange wyvern corpse that had fallen into the ridge that they stayed at, whose scaly hide was emblazoned with a crest on its saddle that no one recognized.

          It seemed for a while that nothing was capable catching Innes’s attention from where he had been conversing with Eirika and Ephraim… or rather, had been ‘comforted’ by the twins of Renais. Being far too prideful and much too stubborn to accept any such condolences from a rival or a startlingly beautiful woman, he had made do with creating battalion tactics with their available units, trying to create as many ways to use their numbers to their advantage while keeping their casualties to a minimum. It was as if he was a madman now, poring over his maps of the area while seemingly trying to calculate possible points of vulnerability and strength within the enemy armies… even though he was trying ten times harder to simply get his mind off the foreign princess. Not the Rausten princess, of course, since she was far more concerned about righteous duty and her appearances than her uncanny ability to scare anyone from her presence… but rather, it was the fare dame of Renais that had captured his fancy, and he certainly felt a bit guilty for that.

          He had found that to be a problem, as of late… whenever he had been confronted by Princess Eirika, he could never help but find himself flustered; a weakness he would rather not have in the presence of an old friend. As such, he was left with one of two decisions; either he would live with this strange reaction and allow himself to see her, or avoid her at all costs while simultaneously ignoring this said frivolity. Of course, he had chosen the second, given the current and rather traumatic experience that had occurred in the deserts of Jehanna; even a few days later and after receiving the aid of healers, he could still see the finger-shaped bruises from where the monster’s hands grasped her wrists… and, to make matters worse, there seemed to be a silver sigil of a lance burned into the base of her neck, which was now hidden by her red shirt collar. He had only come to see this when she had first been rescued, and had taken her from Seth’s grasp to relieve the exhausted knight of his load to make traveling to the healers that much faster. Her head had tilted backwards, giving her a full view of her voluptuous neck, with the marvelous sight interrupted only by that startling silver lance.

          Where had it come from? Innes thought for a moment, allowing his concentration to drift for a moment on the sight that had plagued his dreams for the past few nights. Surely she wouldn’t have hidden it from her brother or her knight, as she always shared her pains or ailments with them if she knew it would cease their worrying… but neither of them seemed to have taken notice to the strange wound that time and magic would not heal, focusing instead on the marks that the Moonstone had left on her flesh. Even stranger was how, even though she slept in the same tent with her lord brother at night, he did not notice how the spear eerily glowed a soft light from a patch of skin that should never have been able to produce the shade of the metal it resembled in the first place.

          Slapping himself on the forehead as he growled slightly in frustration, Innes returned to his work, cursing himself for letting his mind wander and conjure up such… impure thoughts. Perhaps L’Arachel was beginning to rub off on him, after all, considering that lust or wanting for another was an impurity of the worst sort, unless someone was infatuated with her. However, even then, love and need were always mysterious things… never abiding by rules, never staying within boundaries, and quite frankly not caring as to whether or not it was considered righteous or not.

          “Pervert! Cad! Beast! Devil!” And, not surprisingly, L’Arachel’s said shrieks of fright and her yell of surprise easily told everyone around that someone had misinterpreted something important or sacred in her presence. Quickly recalling that Dozla, Rennac, and Ephraim were the only ones who would touch her with a league-long spear, and deducing that the former two would do nothing to spark such frivolous cries of shock, Innes let a small sigh escape from his lips as he thought of what Ephraim could have possibly done to rile up the she-devil. She certainly wasn’t hard on the eyes, and the low-cut front of her corset didn’t help matters, but the façade of a brilliant and flawless nymph of myth shattered the moment she opened her mouth to speak. It was no wonder her uncle let her run off… it probably staved the pains of a possible headache or two for the poor man.

          “Prince Innes!” A familiar voice immediately made his head snap up to attention as he looked to the sky, pleased to see his emerald-haired pegasus knight returning from her scouting endeavor. What confused him as she descended, however, was that someone appeared to be following her… a slightly different species of pegasus, discernable by the slightly smaller stature of the animal, flew dutifully behind her as the orchid-haired rider commanded her winged steed with utmost mastery. Running over to meet them, he noted that the girl behind Vanessa had squeaked, almost instinctively pulling away before forcing herself and Makar to the earth. The fierce look in Innes’s eyes reminded the girl much of Hector’s gaze of anger when he faced a foe, making her uneasy; however, duty outweighed fear as she gingerly cleared her throat, gathered her courage, and began to speak.

          “S-sir Innes… my name is Florina, wife of the Marquess Ostia.” Even now, the title sounded strange on her tongue, but she ignored it for the most part, choosing instead to continue on. “I… I hail from the continent across the sea, from… from one of the provinces making up the Lycian League.” Her tone was as strong as she could muster, but even the totality of her courage could not stave the stuttering that ensued from his predatory glare.

          “Well met, Dame Florina… I am Innes, Prince of Frelia.” Innes answered, albeit a bit suspiciously. Never before had he seen a member of royalty ever refuse to flaunt their power, with the exception of the new Carcino panel of executives; they did not hold much prestige yet, but knew they were to evolve to become as disrespectful and as arrogant as the princess of Rausten. Then again, he had never seen this new country yet, either, save for what Tana and Neimi had seen over the horizon. Vanessa, standing patiently to the side, awaited them to finish their short introduction before speaking.

          “Milord, this is the group that we have seen in Border Mulan; the Lycian Army. According to Lieutenant Khris of the Third Wing’s report, they had arrived after the capture of Castle Frelia, and have confirmed the identity of the attackers with the help of this foreign army. Apparently they have liberated the castle and had driven out the intruders, but only Khris seemed to have witnessed this feat; none of the other knights even recall there being a struggle for the kingdom’s salvation. One of the army’s members swore on their honor and another on their blood that they told no lies, but we should continue to investigate into this matter…” Immediately silenced by a slight gesture of Innes’s hand, Vanessa awaited her liege to speak. However, it was not he who spoke, but rather his rival, the Prince of Renais.

          “What choice to we have, Innes? I see no alternative but to trust them… I doubt they would not speak the truth.” Ephraim said simply, not even bothering to blink when Innes fixed a rather disapproving scowl towards him.

          “And if they lie? Shall we be surrounded by an enemy force that could have possibly taken down my father’s kingdom in the first place? You are a naïve fool, Ephraim.” Striving at this point to keep his voice calm and controlled, Innes nevertheless could not help but growl this last statement. He was bitter, angry, and confused at the reason for the attack on Frelia, but could immediately pin it on foreign forces who had wished to obtain portions of this new land.

          “I do not believe this lass to be capable of a lie… she looks unlike the type to fall back on deceit and espionage.” The azure-haired lord spoke, shaking his head slightly as he answered. The man so reminded her of Eliwood, Florina realized; though as to why, she could not place it. This ‘Innes’ reminded her of her own husband… so distrusting, easy to fire up, and with quite the caustic tongue.

          “I... I have not lied, Sir Innes. P-please… look at this.” Holding out the crest of Bern, she then pointed a frail, gloved hand to where the wyvern corpse lay frozen by rigor mortis in the mountain. Indeed, the emblazoned crest matched exactly to that of the corpse, leaving Innes to look at her skeptically. Of course, being in her nature, she flinched slightly at this look, for it was filled with distrust, suspicion, and masculinity; three things she would have preferred him to be without.

          “Who rides with you, Dame Florina? And who has attacked my kingdom?”

          “…I ride with my husband, Marquess Ostia, Eliwood, known as Marquess Pherae, and Lyndis, the abdicator of the throne of Caelin. All three of them ride forth from the Lycian Alliance, and all wish to join arms to defeat a common foe.” Fueled by defiance against his suspicion and skepticism, she scarcely noticed that she had lost both her fear and stutter as she spoke to him. Now using her political power as a sort of bolstering tool, she stood up straight and looked almost like Serra told her to… only, she couldn’t quite imagine that Innes was an insect (The thought of seeing any sort of human as a miniscule arthropod never quite worked in her mindset, anyway.).

          “Prince Innes of the kingdom of Frelia, the man we seek, the monarch Zephiel of Bern, is the commander of the army that struck your kingdom. Let us fight, side by side, and thus ensure victory against a common enemy.” Holding out her hand to shake, she paused, realizing how audacious her speech must have sounded in the ears of monarchy. Almost shrinking back and beginning to apologize, her eyes caught for a moment an entertained smirk from the Frelian Prince. Having been quite entertained by the shy knight’s sudden boldness, Innes thrust out his hand to catch hers, surprising the young woman by shaking her hand with a grip famed in the ranks of the Frelian archers. Pretending not to notice as she winced momentarily in pain, as even Ephraim could barely stand his crushing grip, he was surprised to see her return it with as much strength as he could muster.

          “Well met, Florina of Ostia… well met.” And thus, with a simple shake of a hand, an invaluable bond was created between the two continents... and created a possible spark of hope within their ranks. Perhaps, with the help of another, peace could be attained between two ill-fated lands…

          Ch. 4: To Meet at Last

          Once their conversation was complete, Nergal smiled softly to himself while chuckling lightly… with such a force on his side, what could stop him now but the promise that he himself had just made? Turning his head slightly after dispelling the orb of light that had transmitted his image to the Grado keep, he once again admired the majesty of the Dragon’s Gate, even while it remained locked from the unreachable realm on the other side. He knew there were other dragons, however, and had seen them himself, roughly half a century ago. Upon thinking about Arcadia, his thoughts immediately turned from blissfully reminiscent to sour.

          That had been his first meeting with Athos, the archsage. Both had cheated the debilitating plague known as old age and had discovered the path to unrivaled longevity, and each wished to learn more… for what was all of time, if one could not take advantage of what had been given to them? Why live life in utmost ignorance, when the potential for unlimited knowledge was at his fingertips? Having wandered what felt like years beneath the harsh Nabatan sun and the fiercely frigid desert nights, they had finally come upon what they never thought was possible… a village, where dragon and human lived together in harmony. It was there, within the beasts’ library, that they found their fountain of knowledge… springs of information that would have never otherwise been discovered by human minds, as the dragons far surpassed the inferior intellect of the human psych. It was then that he discovered his lifeblood, which now sustained his life once again… quintessence.

          Having sacrificed his body and quintessence to open the Dragon’s Gate those few fateful years ago, he cared not to wonder just how or why he had returned from his grave. Either the gods somewhere favored him, or some god-forsaken saint was cursing him from afar to have filled his newly regained vision with painful mortality. Yes, Elimine must be mocking him somewhere, keeping that ever-constant, gentle smile on her face as she watched this ‘wicked, wicked man’ writhe in his misery. He had always hated that forsaken, blonde witch of a bishop, and had wished her dead from the moment his eyes had been filled with her illustrious light. She was luscious, indeed, and that made her all the more despicable, in his eyes; she had been a vile hypocrite, smiting the mighty dragons with the power of light she should not have been able to wield, had she followed her own teachings of nonviolence. The woman condoned murder, and yet committed it time and time again through the ages of the Scouring, covering her hands with blood of the most powerful beings alive… she considered the murder of all life forms to be vile, though dragons seemed to be the only exception to her rules. Though she had not been there to see the acquisition of his first strands of life, the weak threads that had been taken from a mere insect, he knew she would have been disgusted to see him go so against the teachings she held so dear.

          He could just hear Athos’s voice, too, hoarsely chastising him from wherever he now lay. He had no idea that the famed Living Legend had ceased to be, with his corpse being buried in a land far from the Gate he now stood in, nor did he care. All he was concerned with now was this… blasted mortality. He hadn’t felt this truly vulnerable since Elbert had driven the dagger through his abdomen, which had left him bound to his bed until his faithful creations had returned to him with the energy he required to sustain his ill-gained longevity and power.

          The level of quintessence within his body was running dangerously low… and yet only several thoughts elicited attention in his mind. Morphs… they were what he needed to regain his strength; however, he would need an adequate source of energy before he could even begin to consider the recreation of his perfect morph, Limstella. Ah, how he missed her… she was a daughter to him, albeit a nonliving one. It was as close as he was going to get to recreating his past… his son, his daughter, and now the two morphs that made poor emulations of the soul-filled children that once shared his genetics. He never bothered with the creation of a wife, however… for some reason, it just didn’t seem right to recreate love in such a fashion, even though children were not beyond his moral limits. And so, he had placed his thoughts on his former daughter, and how he might dote upon her once she reawakened from her eternal slumber.

          Yes, she had been a marvel to behold, that morph… a pale beauty, with cascades of ebony hair coursing down in waves down her back as her golden eyes seemed to always stare emotionlessly into the soul of another. He had dressed her elegantly, with her fine, long sleeved white shirt of silk underlying an ebony dress that reached up to her neck. The fine embroidery of the gold-spun string made her all the more extravagant in all her soulless glory, and yet the outfit did not restrain her movement too much in combat. Her constantly calm, obedient, and quiet nature made her the perfect servant; she was a woman who would never argue against her master, fight back against him, and was a specimen that would give her life without question for him. Her might had been unparalleled by any other magician in all of Elibe, and her morph ‘brother’ had been no exception to this rule. He gave her life, and she had been more than willing to give her everything to see him pleased. He had placed a part of his soul into the creation of his two marvelous creations, Limstella and Ephidel… and yet, neither had survived the cataclysmic clash with the Elibean soldiers those twenty years ago. Though he had no knowledge of the time that had elapsed, his view of the now cobweb-covered stones of the Gate’s floor bore witness to its solitude.

          A mere twitch of a muscle was all that was needed to catch his eye as one of the nomads that had died upon the isle had revived, pulling herself up slightly before, realizing whose company she was in, had hastily flopped back onto the ground. The gesture was more than enough to awaken the thirst for life within the blackhearted druid, and immediately his hand outstretched towards the former warrior. Rushing forward with speed that belied his stature and old age, the man was upon the nomad before the Sacaean bowman could so much as budge. Placing a hand to the woman’s thin neck, a maniacal glow filled Nergal’s hungry eyes as he began to strangle the green-haired woman where she lay.

          Trying to get away with the best of her ability from the sheer amount of pressure that threatened to collapse her windpipe, the Qu’tol tribesman could feel the very life drain from her as the oxygen left her lungs. Nergal’s thin, clawlike hands grasped at her neck as if there was nothing more important than throttling the woman’s throat, with his strength seeming to be fueled by desperation and need. A strange, emerald glow enveloped the girl’s vision for a quick moment before the pain began wracking her body in earnest; tremors overtook her from the sheer agony as she could feel something in her heart simply tear away, with only one strangled cry of pure suffering tearing from her held throat before the Sacaean lay still. The remnants of foaming saliva gathered at the corner of her lips, and her chocolate eyes had rolled backwards from the trauma while the eyelids themselves remained eerily open.

          Getting up, Nergal made do with tossing the still-warm corpse aside before marveling at his work, caring not how rigor mortis treated the woman’s frail flesh. Her quintessence had been wonderful, however, which led him to wonder how he missed such a promising feast that had lain within his grasp. Weaving several threads of the opaque green light known to the dragons as quintessence around his fingers, he admired the elegance of the energy; the woman’ life, this was, coiling around his hand… a life that had been pledged to the Fang, which now fueled his own. Breathing in deeply as he allowed the energy to circulate through his body, he smiled and opened his eyes before motioning to a figure that stood vigil in the back of the room. Though the corpse had been reanimated in the forests of the Isle, none of his morphs had returned from the dead… for they were never truly alive to begin with.

          “Come to me.” He barked, pleased when the red-headed figure gingerly stepped forward before kneeling deeply before him. The figure’s brown cloak drifted down, caressing the stone floor with its soft edges as it hung from its wearer’s shoulders. Her hair, which appeared a dark crimson in the shadow, was short, but nonetheless covered her facial features from him as he stared at her, immediately remembering who she was. Simultaneously recalling her area of origin, he inwardly sneered for a minute. He could tell that this girl who appeared no more than twenty did not altogether trust him… or rather, did not trust him at all… but he did not care. Not even waiting a moment to let his newfound servant speak, he reached out his right hand and cast out some of his valued quintessence towards her.

          The woman was taken aback as the strings took their hold on her body, wrapping around her in an emerald embrace as the strands of energy grasped her neck, arms and legs in almost binding fashion. However, this quickly dissipated, becoming absorbed into her body as Nergal quickly clenched closed his outstretched hand. He heard her gasp from the sudden acquisition of energy, with the woman clutching her chest as she struggled to hold the sudden wave of new energy within her under control. She fought to keep herself from collapsing onto the stone floor, maintaining her kneeling position before him, but unable to move from that spot unless she wished to threaten her sense of balance. The newfound power left her lightheaded, but seemingly added nothing to her fighting prowess. Though confused, she kept silent until curiosity bade her speak.

          “…What have you done to me?” Refusing to address him with any title, as she felt he did not deserve one, she let her slightly quaking voice pass through her lips as she struggled to form a coherent question. The shock of feeling another life force within her own, especially when she had been without one for the better half of two decades was overwhelming, and she did nothing to hide her discomfort. Her body had erupted in shudders, with her shoulders visibly shaking from the energy that now enveloped her senses. Entertained but refusing to let her see that, lest she knew how to use that power against him (he had not considered the fact that she had never read from Arcadia’s ancient texts, as he had), Nergal spoke, keeping his tone calm and emotionless.

          “It is to assure your loyalty. While my quintessence runs through your veins, you carry with you my eyes, ears, and hands. You are to gather adequate quintessence from other sources, former traitor. You may travel as my morphs once did… providing that your loyalty shall never falter. You have two weeks to gather ten measures of quintessence… roughly the amount we received from Elbert. Oh, wait…” He said, pausing before moving closer to the girl, watching her grow nervous at his approach. She had only hinted at this with her emotions, not letting her body betray her feelings… but he, having lived for so long and having felt these waves emanating off of others for so long, could sense nervousness, anxiety, and fear as easily as he could end the said victim’s lives.

          “You never did see that, did you? How Elbert writhed on the very floor you stand on, simply embroiled in his own personal purgatory of pain.” He smiled at her, and watched her visibly flinch before him. He knew that she didn’t wish to show him any sort of emotion or weakness, and that made her moment of vulnerability that much more enjoyable for him. It was a slap to the face against her country of origin, he thought, and it would have to suffice… for he had not the strength to combat the powerful nation alone. “Well, nevertheless, those are your orders, on pain of death. Once, you were Ephidel’s toy… and now, you are a degraded slave. Complete your mission, or return to rot in the earth, wench.”

          “…I care not for death. I shall take my leave.” The teenage girl muttered bitterly in a servile fashion, getting up once her lightheadedness had left her. Moving towards the entrance of the Gate, she closed her eyes, allowing the energy that coursed through her body to envelop her in a cocoon of crimson light as if, despite it being her first time doing so, it was second nature to her. As her form lifted into the sky and scattered into the breeze, she thought only of one place that she wished to be, more than any other…a place she had never gotten to visit before her death, and had regretted that she had never done so before.

          It was less than a second before her form rematerialized in a small village in Ostia, which now lay in nothing but desolate ruin. Buildings were torn down, and those that remained intact bore the cruel scars of a ruthless blaze that had swept through and engulfed the now skeletal building frames. Pens that once held animals had been torn apart, and the hoof prints left by escaping or stolen horses were all but invisible now. She gasped, her eyes widening at the sight of one thing…As she had moved forward, she noticed the marble slab that lay beneath her feet… beneath her lay the grave of a certain, charismatic Ostian thief; the one who had stolen her heart, never returning it to its owner until just before she took the mission that stole away her life. His grave had been looted recently, it seemed, as the dirt before it was roughly overturned and the contents of the coffin eerily empty.

          Falling to her knees, the other thief could do nothing but weep bitterly at the headstone of her love, letting the tears fall freely from her crimson eyes for the first time in her life. She had fulfilled half of her promise, but had never had the chance to speak to the parents of the man she held so dear…nor did she ever have the chance to tell him the words that regret had haunted her with for so long.

          --

          Nergal, having watched her leave, found that he had nothing to accomplish by simply staying here, waiting for some response from the ruler of Grado… he could leave this place, his own dominion, if he wished. However, he noted, he would also have much to gain by staying near this Gate, considering its rather infamous reputation… it would keep potentially dangerous armies at bay while allowing him to wait for the girl to return. There was also the fact that there was a slim possibility that the Gate could be reopened… if he could find another naive mamkute to fool.

          What he had gained in patience over the years was severely off-balanced by his anxiety and the anticipation for what was at hand… the chance for his ultimate revenge, his tyrannical acquisition of power, and the toppling of the peace between humans and dragons that Athos so treasured.

          Channeling a good portion of his remaining power to his body, he recalled the selected region that had been on the map that the Demon King had passed to him before allowing the energy to envelop his body. Feeling the familiar waves of warmth surround him before closing in on his body, he placed the coordinates first and foremost into his mind before, in a flash, he was gone… and had reanimated outside the gates of Grado Keep. Shaking off the warm, fuzzy aftereffects of the teleportation, he allowed himself to take in the geographical surroundings of the castle before smirking to himself as he ran his plan through his mind.

          He had no true intention of fulfilling his end of the bargain until he was assured that the land of Elibe could come under his control with the quintessence of dragons, but there was no need to tell the Demon King that. After all, why sour a relationship that would gain him so much in the long run? The Demon King had power that was monumental, he knew, and the strange book that the youth held was now a new object of curiosity. It had been a volume he had never seen before, not surprisingly, and seemed to depict the images of stones. Could these, perhaps, be used to channel magic? He was most anxious to know, for a potential catalyst for magic was always helpful to have at hand.

          Hearing a loud, piercing screech of a wyvern species that he had never seen before, Nergal looked inquisitively to the sky before arching an inquisitive brow. His reaction was a mix of confusion, curiosity, and pity as he spied the rider atop it as they took off towards the West. The Moonstone, Valter, had only just returned, and already had to leave the palace on yet another seemingly frivolous mission. However, for him, any mission that included bloodshed was a mission worthy of his lance.

          The poor beast has lost its front legs, Nergal thought, peering at the empty expanse of smooth skin where the front legs of a wyvern should have been. Truly a pitiful existence. And what of its strange, elongated front teeth? Surely one cannot expect a beast to attack, let alone eat with teeth such as those. And why does it not have the tough, armor-like scales of its cousins? Why is its tail so thin, so that it may not strike its foes with it? Its back legs barely look to have claws upon them, either! Surely it must be able to defend itself somehow… Have the great dragons degenerated so much as to produce a creature incapable of living without human care?

          Deciding not to think on it now, the dark druid made his way inside, guided by the strange, one-eyed behemoths that guarded the gate with their massive bulk and excessively large axes. Pock marks lined the muscular arms and legs of the beasts, which shamed trees in their thickness and density as they used the muscle to hold up their immensely tall and thick bodies. Though not morbidly obese, the creatures were solid, carrying more muscle on their bodies than their swollen bellies made them out to have. The said beasts of myth and lore had grunted at him before motioning him to enter with a large sweep of their hands, each of which were easily the size of his chest. His head could have been within their hands by now, he noticed, and had decided that it was for the best to follow them; for the sake of his meeting with Lyon, as well as for his own relative safety. Without the quintessence he needed, he was like a normal human… frail, killable, and frighteningly mortal.

          Lyon, having known him to visit, had dismissed the normally posted guards in favor of larger, stronger guards; if this man was malicious, normal soldiers would barely be able to hurt him, but cyclopses were not easily felled. Their bestial appearance was enough to drive most men into cowering from fear, and, though he did not want the dark druid to necessarily fear him, a healthy respect was mandatory.

          Descending down the stone labyrinth that lay beneath the noses of the (normally present) castle guard, Nergal continued with his escorts, who had paused before the door to Riev’s barrier. Bellowing loudly, the cyclopses were greeted with the opening of the door, allowing the plague of Elibe to enter into the jaws of Magvel’s blight.

          Things were going to be interesting…

          --------

          Rushing quickly from the deserts of Jehanna to Frelia despite their knowledge of the Grado army’s whereabouts, Eirika and Ephraim’s army had proceeded to rudely ignore any mercenary groups that had challenged them in favor of pressing on towards Renais’s close ally. Both Innes and Tana were anxious as to the fate of their father, with Moulder, Vanessa, Syrene, and Gilliam sharing the same fear for their lord (Though Gilliam didn’t bother to show his emotional status to them, the others knew him well enough to know that he, too, was worried for Hayden.). Luckily, the Republic of Carcino was far more receptive this time around, allowing the army to have free passage through their lands as an attempt at apologizing for their earlier hostility.

          Upon arriving at Border Mulan, however, the group was immediately forced to a standstill at Tana’s report of their surroundings. They were not alone… and clearly outnumbered by the force that now resided at the fort that lay just a few miles from the Frelian capital. Almost driven to tears from the mere sight of the mass that had accumulated there, it was up to Vanessa’s statistical report to relay the numerical figures to the lords. Forced to find a place to hide, they made do with staying within Renais’s mountainous borderline with Frelia, where there they met to discuss possible scenarios for several hours while they anxiously awaited the knight’s return. Many of the army members camped a small ways away from the strange wyvern corpse that had fallen into the ridge that they stayed at, whose scaly hide was emblazoned with a crest on its saddle that no one recognized.

          It seemed for a while that nothing was capable catching Innes’s attention from where he had been conversing with Eirika and Ephraim… or rather, had been ‘comforted’ by the twins of Renais. Being far too prideful and much too stubborn to accept any such condolences from a rival or a startlingly beautiful woman, he had made do with creating battalion tactics with their available units, trying to create as many ways to use their numbers to their advantage while keeping their casualties to a minimum. It was as if he was a madman now, poring over his maps of the area while seemingly trying to calculate possible points of vulnerability and strength within the enemy armies… even though he was trying ten times harder to simply get his mind off the foreign princess. Not the Rausten princess, of course, since she was far more concerned about righteous duty and her appearances than her uncanny ability to scare anyone from her presence… but rather, it was the fare dame of Renais that had captured his fancy, and he certainly felt a bit guilty for that.

          He had found that to be a problem, as of late… whenever he had been confronted by Princess Eirika, he could never help but find himself flustered; a weakness he would rather not have in the presence of an old friend. As such, he was left with one of two decisions; either he would live with this strange reaction and allow himself to see her, or avoid her at all costs while simultaneously ignoring this said frivolity. Of course, he had chosen the second, given the current and rather traumatic experience that had occurred in the deserts of Jehanna; even a few days later and after receiving the aid of healers, he could still see the finger-shaped bruises from where the monster’s hands grasped her wrists… and, to make matters worse, there seemed to be a silver sigil of a lance burned into the base of her neck, which was now hidden by her red shirt collar. He had only come to see this when she had first been rescued, and had taken her from Seth’s grasp to relieve the exhausted knight of his load to make traveling to the healers that much faster. Her head had tilted backwards, giving her a full view of her voluptuous neck, with the marvelous sight interrupted only by that startling silver lance.

          Where had it come from? Innes thought for a moment, allowing his concentration to drift for a moment on the sight that had plagued his dreams for the past few nights. Surely she wouldn’t have hidden it from her brother or her knight, as she always shared her pains or ailments with them if she knew it would cease their worrying… but neither of them seemed to have taken notice to the strange wound that time and magic would not heal, focusing instead on the marks that the Moonstone had left on her flesh. Even stranger was how, even though she slept in the same tent with her lord brother at night, he did not notice how the spear eerily glowed a soft light from a patch of skin that should never have been able to produce the shade of the metal it resembled in the first place.

          Slapping himself on the forehead as he growled slightly in frustration, Innes returned to his work, cursing himself for letting his mind wander and conjure up such… impure thoughts. Perhaps L’Arachel was beginning to rub off on him, after all, considering that lust or wanting for another was an impurity of the worst sort, unless someone was infatuated with her. However, even then, love and need were always mysterious things… never abiding by rules, never staying within boundaries, and quite frankly not caring as to whether or not it was considered righteous or not.

          “Pervert! Cad! Beast! Devil!” And, not surprisingly, L’Arachel’s said shrieks of fright and her yell of surprise easily told everyone around that someone had misinterpreted something important or sacred in her presence. Quickly recalling that Dozla, Rennac, and Ephraim were the only ones who would touch her with a league-long spear, and deducing that the former two would do nothing to spark such frivolous cries of shock, Innes let a small sigh escape from his lips as he thought of what Ephraim could have possibly done to rile up the she-devil. She certainly wasn’t hard on the eyes, and the low-cut front of her corset didn’t help matters, but the façade of a brilliant and flawless nymph of myth shattered the moment she opened her mouth to speak. It was no wonder her uncle let her run off… it probably staved the pains of a possible headache or two for the poor man.

          “Prince Innes!” A familiar voice immediately made his head snap up to attention as he looked to the sky, pleased to see his emerald-haired pegasus knight returning from her scouting endeavor. What confused him as she descended, however, was that someone appeared to be following her… a slightly different species of pegasus, discernable by the slightly smaller stature of the animal, flew dutifully behind her as the orchid-haired rider commanded her winged steed with utmost mastery. Running over to meet them, he noted that the girl behind Vanessa had squeaked, almost instinctively pulling away before forcing herself and Makar to the earth. The fierce look in Innes’s eyes reminded the girl much of Hector’s gaze of anger when he faced a foe, making her uneasy; however, duty outweighed fear as she gingerly cleared her throat, gathered her courage, and began to speak.

          “S-sir Innes… my name is Florina, wife of the Marquess Ostia.” Even now, the title sounded strange on her tongue, but she ignored it for the most part, choosing instead to continue on. “I… I hail from the continent across the sea, from… from one of the provinces making up the Lycian League.” Her tone was as strong as she could muster, but even the totality of her courage could not stave the stuttering that ensued from his predatory glare.

          “Well met, Dame Florina… I am Innes, Prince of Frelia.” Innes answered, albeit a bit suspiciously. Never before had he seen a member of royalty ever refuse to flaunt their power, with the exception of the new Carcino panel of executives; they did not hold much prestige yet, but knew they were to evolve to become as disrespectful and as arrogant as the princess of Rausten. Then again, he had never seen this new country yet, either, save for what Tana and Neimi had seen over the horizon. Vanessa, standing patiently to the side, awaited them to finish their short introduction before speaking.

          “Milord, this is the group that we have seen in Border Mulan; the Lycian Army. According to Lieutenant Khris of the Third Wing’s report, they had arrived after the capture of Castle Frelia, and have confirmed the identity of the attackers with the help of this foreign army. Apparently they have liberated the castle and had driven out the intruders, but only Khris seemed to have witnessed this feat; none of the other knights even recall there being a struggle for the kingdom’s salvation. One of the army’s members swore on their honor and another on their blood that they told no lies, but we should continue to investigate into this matter…” Immediately silenced by a slight gesture of Innes’s hand, Vanessa awaited her liege to speak. However, it was not he who spoke, but rather his rival, the Prince of Renais.

          “What choice to we have, Innes? I see no alternative but to trust them… I doubt they would not speak the truth.” Ephraim said simply, not even bothering to blink when Innes fixed a rather disapproving scowl towards him.

          “And if they lie? Shall we be surrounded by an enemy force that could have possibly taken down my father’s kingdom in the first place? You are a naïve fool, Ephraim.” Striving at this point to keep his voice calm and controlled, Innes nevertheless could not help but growl this last statement. He was bitter, angry, and confused at the reason for the attack on Frelia, but could immediately pin it on foreign forces who had wished to obtain portions of this new land.

          “I do not believe this lass to be capable of a lie… she looks unlike the type to fall back on deceit and espionage.” The azure-haired lord spoke, shaking his head slightly as he answered. The man so reminded her of Eliwood, Florina realized; though as to why, she could not place it. This ‘Innes’ reminded her of her own husband… so distrusting, easy to fire up, and with quite the caustic tongue.

          “I... I have not lied, Sir Innes. P-please… look at this.” Holding out the crest of Bern, she then pointed a frail, gloved hand to where the wyvern corpse lay frozen by rigor mortis in the mountain. Indeed, the emblazoned crest matched exactly to that of the corpse, leaving Innes to look at her skeptically. Of course, being in her nature, she flinched slightly at this look, for it was filled with distrust, suspicion, and masculinity; three things she would have preferred him to be without.

          “Who rides with you, Dame Florina? And who has attacked my kingdom?”

          “…I ride with my husband, Marquess Ostia, Eliwood, known as Marquess Pherae, and Lyndis, the abdicator of the throne of Caelin. All three of them ride forth from the Lycian Alliance, and all wish to join arms to defeat a common foe.” Fueled by defiance against his suspicion and skepticism, she scarcely noticed that she had lost both her fear and stutter as she spoke to him. Now using her political power as a sort of bolstering tool, she stood up straight and looked almost like Serra told her to… only, she couldn’t quite imagine that Innes was an insect (The thought of seeing any sort of human as a miniscule arthropod never quite worked in her mindset, anyway.).

          “Prince Innes of the kingdom of Frelia, the man we seek, the monarch Zephiel of Bern, is the commander of the army that struck your kingdom. Let us fight, side by side, and thus ensure victory against a common enemy.” Holding out her hand to shake, she paused, realizing how audacious her speech must have sounded in the ears of monarchy. Almost shrinking back and beginning to apologize, her eyes caught for a moment an entertained smirk from the Frelian Prince. Having been quite entertained by the shy knight’s sudden boldness, Innes thrust out his hand to catch hers, surprising the young woman by shaking her hand with a grip famed in the ranks of the Frelian archers. Pretending not to notice as she winced momentarily in pain, as even Ephraim could barely stand his crushing grip, he was surprised to see her return it with as much strength as he could muster.

          “Well met, Florina of Ostia… well met.” And thus, with a simple shake of a hand, an invaluable bond was created between the two continents... and created a possible spark of hope within their ranks. Perhaps, with the help of another, peace could be attained between two ill-fated lands…

          #5   Saturos S. 

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            Posted 07 June 2006 - 01:30 PM

            It's.... very long. And quite fun to read.


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