When I sleep, I see things with my heart that can't be seen with eyes alone.
It's always been there with me--but it happens most when I am "one." Lately, because I haven't seen Ally in ages, it happens a lot, and I sleep all the time. I think it worries Mr. Beard. He went out and I laid down to sleep, and when I woke up he was back, but he was upset because he had been gone a long time and I slept the whole while. But I thought he would be happy because I don't need to eat when I'm sleeping so much--food is expensive in this country.
When I'm sleeping, I'm never alone--Al-chan is there with me. I call him Al-chan because he's funny. He and I look at the same things, and he usually explains what they mean. The things we see are those things that you can't see with your eyes; Al-chan says we see them with our heart, and it's our brains that make them appear in images so that we can understand them and interpret them.
Like, over and over I see five stars. Sometimes they're up in the sky, and they're like little pinpoints of light up against a big black sky. Sometimes they're hidden inside flowerbuds, and then the flowers bloom and the stars float out. Sometimes they're inside fruit hanging off a tree, and someone comes by and takes one of the fruits and eats it; then I can see a star in their belly, even though they don't seem aware of the light.
Al-chan is sometimes a meanie and doesn't explain things. He says they're too important. "What do YOU think it means, Ceecee?" he asks infuriatingly.
"I dunno, it's hard!" I complain.
"Try to think about it," he urges.
I consider it a while. "Well, the five stars are like--five people who have special power. That's what that light is."
He nods happily. "That's right. Five people have special powers that are preventing the Black Samurai from obtaining his goal."
"But what is that goal?"
"Why don't we think on it?"
We drift through dreams together again, he and I. I concentrate hard on the Black Samurai. I have to find him and find out what he's doing so I can protect everyone--Ally, Papa, Mr. Facebeard, everyone. Then, the Black Samurai appears. I dunno what he looks like outside of dreams, but in my dreams he has a dark aspect and is surrounded by shadows so that I can't make out his face well. Sometimes, I dream of him as an angel with white wings; then something goes wrong, and he plummets from Paradise, and his feathers turn black and peel off as he falls down.
"Ooh, ooh, I know what this one means, Al-chan!" I say excitedly. "He has an illness and he's dying. That's why he went all black."
Al-chan smiles at me. "Very good, Ceecee! And look at his face."
"He doesn't look angry or scared... he looks sad. I don't think he's trying to stop himself from falling at all...." I think on it a bit. "So, he wants to die?"
Al-chan nods. "It's also loneliness that made him sick."
One of the other things I dream about that man is him playing a game. I can't see who he's playing against but I can feel that his opponent hates him a lot. I can see two boys standing behind the players. Onii-chan is behind the Black Samurai, watching the board, and a blond-haired boy is behind the other person. This dream makes me feel scared. I think if one of the players falls, then person standing behind has to sit and play, and I can feel that only the person who wins will be alive at the end.
"But why, Al-chan? If he doesn't want to live, why is he playing to win...?"
"Because sometimes we want to win more than anything else. Some people love winning more than living."
The dream around us changes again. A huge gnole is bounding through a thick forest, chasing something ahead--it's a white hare that glows inside. He catches the bunny but stands over it protectively, growling at the dark forest all around. But then the hare hides in his tummy, and now the gnole is shining all white.
"What about this one, Ceecee?" Al-chan asks.
"Well.... the gnole feels kind of like Papa...." I squirm uncomfortably. "I don't like this dream."
"Why not?"
"Because Papa might be sad... I don't like it when he's sad."
"Don't worry, Ceecee," Al-chan reassures me. "Your Papa will be okay." He pauses. "You have a choice to make soon though, don't you?"
It feels like I turn around, and I see Ally and Mr. Facebeard standing side-by-side there, looking at me. They don't seem to see each other. I feel cold all over, especially in my tummy. "Yes," I whisper. "I have to choose which one, don't I?"
Al-chan puts his hand on my shoulder. "I'm not going to be able to see you anymore, Ceecee," he says softly, and I can see his hand is glowing.
"I'm gonna miss you, Al-chan," I say really softly, but he was already gone.
I'm scared to wake up. I wanna dream forever. They'll end up so sad, won't they--they might even hate me. What do I do....?
I don't want to choose.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Monday, October 12, 2009
Snowfall
((*blows dust off the blog*))
-----
If you knew you only had one night to live in this world.... how would you spend it?
With whom would you die?
...
I would die alone.
-----
Snow whipped down from the sky, but he didn't feel it, despite being stripped to the waist and kneeling on the frozen ground. Gui'cul, a twisted golden-skinned Cryptonberry, laughed in his crude and dusty voice, and dug his clawed hand into Alberic's back.
"Does it hurt, child of Altana?" he hissed into Alberic's pointed ear, the Elvaan's sagging head putting him at eye-level with the deformed creature. Gui'cul twisted his claws into the thick black grooves of the intricate scars that marred Alberic's back, and Alberic gritted his teeth, the muscles in his arms trembling as they struggled to hold him upright. Blood and sticky white pus dripped down from the Cryptonberry's claws.
"Where are the gods, child of Altana? They are silent."
Lyall, also shirtless under the blizzard, surged forward, but even he did not dare lay a hand on the Cryptonberry. After all--they were here on the Glacier outside of dark Pso'Xja for his guidance. "Leave him alone!" Lyall shouted. "This isn't teaching him anything--it's just sadism!"
Gui'cul laughed again, the sound like a snake's belly slithering across cermet. "Is it, gnole-whelp?"
The Cryptonberry drifted away, impervious to the snow, his long greeny-gold robes trailing in the snow, and he raised his beaked maw to the steel-gray sky overhead. "You two children came to me, came to the remnants of a dying race, to learn dark secrets. You wished to reach for that primal power that enabled us to survive for ten thousand years. What was that power?"
Alberic lifted his head and spoke from between gritted teeth, his eyes grim. "Hate."
"That's right," Gui'cul hissed, looking over his shoulder at the pair. "The gods have abandoned Kuluu and Zilart alike. Lord Diabolos did not save anyone--and Lord Bahamut laughs at your agony, child of Altana." He whirled then, and his body arced with lightning as he channeled a powerful blast into Alberic's body; the Elvaan fell, howling and writhing, and Lyall again surged forward, but the torment was over as soon as it began.
"And the gods did nothing!" Gui'cul screeched triumphantly. "Let go of your vanity and useless pride--before the power that is hatred, we are all as nothing! We are mere conduits for the greatest power that all Vana'diel can produce--not cheap conjurers tricks, not abasement before uncaring gods, but the power that is hatred made by our will into arcane force!"
Alberic looked up, and tendrils of steam rose from his hands, resting against the snow-studded ground. Lyall, gripping his friend's shoulders, also looked over at Gui'cul, and rage emanated from him as if it was a physical force. Gui'cul smiled, the expression terrifying on his ancient face.
"You hate. This is good."
-----
I can't bear to see you with her. When I look at your happy faces, I feel empty inside. It makes me hate you both, even though you've been nothing but kind to me.
It's because I stole something like that for myself, and then I let it go before it could be taken away.
It's easier to just hate everything. It's easier to hate myself than try to feel anything else.
-----
As part of their training, Gui'cul made them give up what they had brought with them to Pso'Xja. Alberic piled what seemed like endless harps and flutes onto a stack of kindling, then his ornate silken cannions and seraweels, lush fabrics that he had earned for bardic performances from all over Vana'diel. Lyall, perhaps thankfully, had brought with him little, but had to reluctantly surrender a curved scimitar from the Empire. Together, the two reached out together to black magic to set the bonfire alight. Lyall's face was troubled as he watched the pile ignite; Alberic's was indifferent, even cold.
He took to wearing hooded cloaks with long sleeves and thick gloves, hiding every bit of his body as if to wrap himself, mummy-like, away from the entire world. Days would go by without the pair encountering anyone save Gui'cul, though Loo often made the perilous journey out to Pso'Xja to visit. Whenever she would do so, Alberic would retreat and allow the pair their time alone, and he would say little to anyone for some time afterward.
If time passed outside of that place, it seemed to do so without Alberic's involvement. Past, present, and future no longer mattered; the future had ceased to capture his attention. He specialized in ice and thunder magic, and Gui'cul set them to attacking his fellow Cryptonberries, blasting apart Summoner's elementals as he cackled at their side. "Summoners," he would say darkly, "are all weak. They pray impotently to the gods, and see with what they are rewarded--soulless shades by their sides that are so easily removed, and no real power among them! Anger, rage, hatred, passion, these alone are the source of true magic, not begging to higher beings!"
Lyall was more skilled at fire magic, and many nights it was only his skill at producing flame that gave them a warm place to sleep. Despite his seeming impatience with the process and his open distrust of Gui'cul, Lyall never wavered or left Alberic's side, and worked away at learning black magic just as diligently as the Elvaan. Together, they learned how to channel the tumultuous magics, how to twist time and space, how to fling themselves into the nether and back out again, and how to stand on the precipice of madness and wield what power lies there.
-----
I don't love you.
He took everything from me. I allowed him to take everything from me. I made him take everything from me.
I don't want to see the future anymore. I don't want to feel anything anymore, or think, just act.
I want to be able to fight, even if I don't know what for. I want to fight for a future where I die alone, because if I can't be with you then I don't want to be with anybody.
-----
If you knew you only had one night to live in this world.... how would you spend it?
With whom would you die?
...
I would die alone.
-----
Snow whipped down from the sky, but he didn't feel it, despite being stripped to the waist and kneeling on the frozen ground. Gui'cul, a twisted golden-skinned Cryptonberry, laughed in his crude and dusty voice, and dug his clawed hand into Alberic's back.
"Does it hurt, child of Altana?" he hissed into Alberic's pointed ear, the Elvaan's sagging head putting him at eye-level with the deformed creature. Gui'cul twisted his claws into the thick black grooves of the intricate scars that marred Alberic's back, and Alberic gritted his teeth, the muscles in his arms trembling as they struggled to hold him upright. Blood and sticky white pus dripped down from the Cryptonberry's claws.
"Where are the gods, child of Altana? They are silent."
Lyall, also shirtless under the blizzard, surged forward, but even he did not dare lay a hand on the Cryptonberry. After all--they were here on the Glacier outside of dark Pso'Xja for his guidance. "Leave him alone!" Lyall shouted. "This isn't teaching him anything--it's just sadism!"
Gui'cul laughed again, the sound like a snake's belly slithering across cermet. "Is it, gnole-whelp?"
The Cryptonberry drifted away, impervious to the snow, his long greeny-gold robes trailing in the snow, and he raised his beaked maw to the steel-gray sky overhead. "You two children came to me, came to the remnants of a dying race, to learn dark secrets. You wished to reach for that primal power that enabled us to survive for ten thousand years. What was that power?"
Alberic lifted his head and spoke from between gritted teeth, his eyes grim. "Hate."
"That's right," Gui'cul hissed, looking over his shoulder at the pair. "The gods have abandoned Kuluu and Zilart alike. Lord Diabolos did not save anyone--and Lord Bahamut laughs at your agony, child of Altana." He whirled then, and his body arced with lightning as he channeled a powerful blast into Alberic's body; the Elvaan fell, howling and writhing, and Lyall again surged forward, but the torment was over as soon as it began.
"And the gods did nothing!" Gui'cul screeched triumphantly. "Let go of your vanity and useless pride--before the power that is hatred, we are all as nothing! We are mere conduits for the greatest power that all Vana'diel can produce--not cheap conjurers tricks, not abasement before uncaring gods, but the power that is hatred made by our will into arcane force!"
Alberic looked up, and tendrils of steam rose from his hands, resting against the snow-studded ground. Lyall, gripping his friend's shoulders, also looked over at Gui'cul, and rage emanated from him as if it was a physical force. Gui'cul smiled, the expression terrifying on his ancient face.
"You hate. This is good."
-----
I can't bear to see you with her. When I look at your happy faces, I feel empty inside. It makes me hate you both, even though you've been nothing but kind to me.
It's because I stole something like that for myself, and then I let it go before it could be taken away.
It's easier to just hate everything. It's easier to hate myself than try to feel anything else.
-----
As part of their training, Gui'cul made them give up what they had brought with them to Pso'Xja. Alberic piled what seemed like endless harps and flutes onto a stack of kindling, then his ornate silken cannions and seraweels, lush fabrics that he had earned for bardic performances from all over Vana'diel. Lyall, perhaps thankfully, had brought with him little, but had to reluctantly surrender a curved scimitar from the Empire. Together, the two reached out together to black magic to set the bonfire alight. Lyall's face was troubled as he watched the pile ignite; Alberic's was indifferent, even cold.
He took to wearing hooded cloaks with long sleeves and thick gloves, hiding every bit of his body as if to wrap himself, mummy-like, away from the entire world. Days would go by without the pair encountering anyone save Gui'cul, though Loo often made the perilous journey out to Pso'Xja to visit. Whenever she would do so, Alberic would retreat and allow the pair their time alone, and he would say little to anyone for some time afterward.
If time passed outside of that place, it seemed to do so without Alberic's involvement. Past, present, and future no longer mattered; the future had ceased to capture his attention. He specialized in ice and thunder magic, and Gui'cul set them to attacking his fellow Cryptonberries, blasting apart Summoner's elementals as he cackled at their side. "Summoners," he would say darkly, "are all weak. They pray impotently to the gods, and see with what they are rewarded--soulless shades by their sides that are so easily removed, and no real power among them! Anger, rage, hatred, passion, these alone are the source of true magic, not begging to higher beings!"
Lyall was more skilled at fire magic, and many nights it was only his skill at producing flame that gave them a warm place to sleep. Despite his seeming impatience with the process and his open distrust of Gui'cul, Lyall never wavered or left Alberic's side, and worked away at learning black magic just as diligently as the Elvaan. Together, they learned how to channel the tumultuous magics, how to twist time and space, how to fling themselves into the nether and back out again, and how to stand on the precipice of madness and wield what power lies there.
-----
I don't love you.
He took everything from me. I allowed him to take everything from me. I made him take everything from me.
I don't want to see the future anymore. I don't want to feel anything anymore, or think, just act.
I want to be able to fight, even if I don't know what for. I want to fight for a future where I die alone, because if I can't be with you then I don't want to be with anybody.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Meetings (AoA)
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" came a voice from below Ranulfe's bunk, followed by a few arcane words and a soft whooshing sound. "You should warrrn people when you're going to do that!"
A wild haired Mithra appeared beside the bunk, wiping her face with one paw and holding a flaming dagger with the other.
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't rrrip you a new...." The Mithra's words trailed off as she saw the Hume's face. Moving the dagger in closer she asked "What's your name, kid?"
Ranulfe blinked once or twice groggily, his expression shocked and still half asleep.
"I didn't... What're you...? My name's..." He gave pause, not sure if he should be revealing his identity. "My name's Warren. I'm sorry if I, uh, got you."
"Warrrren, huh?" The Mithra replied, looking directly into Ranulfe's eyes. "Sure, whatever." She shook her head and tossed a messy book on the bunk. "Fix it or rrreplace it. Your choice."
The Mithra turned to leave, "Next time, trrry to aim for this." She nudged the bucket hanging off the side of Ranulfe's bunk and walked away, the flames going out and leaving Ranulfe again in darkness.
A wild haired Mithra appeared beside the bunk, wiping her face with one paw and holding a flaming dagger with the other.
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't rrrip you a new...." The Mithra's words trailed off as she saw the Hume's face. Moving the dagger in closer she asked "What's your name, kid?"
Ranulfe blinked once or twice groggily, his expression shocked and still half asleep.
"I didn't... What're you...? My name's..." He gave pause, not sure if he should be revealing his identity. "My name's Warren. I'm sorry if I, uh, got you."
"Warrrren, huh?" The Mithra replied, looking directly into Ranulfe's eyes. "Sure, whatever." She shook her head and tossed a messy book on the bunk. "Fix it or rrreplace it. Your choice."
The Mithra turned to leave, "Next time, trrry to aim for this." She nudged the bucket hanging off the side of Ranulfe's bunk and walked away, the flames going out and leaving Ranulfe again in darkness.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Pursuit (AoA)
Just like that his feet were back on the streets of the Empire, unceremoniously exited from the palace and from before the Empress. Naturally, there was pomp and a way of things; The begging of leave, the being guided away from everything, informed of this and that. Ranulfe wasn't really listening to any of it. He had greater things on his mind.
Standing amidst the lane of the Grand Palace Seikatsu, Kaede and Ranulfe stood.
"What should we do?" Seikatsu asked quietly. She was thrust into this rather suddenly.
"Mistress Kaede," Ranulfe intruded, partially stepping over Seikatsu's words. "I understand the instructions set before me but I think I can do a better job of searching should I strike out on my own."
The master ninja simply looked at him with a hard expression.
"You wish to disobey me? Why such insolence, Ranulfe? Have I been unkind? Unjust? Do you think I am wrong in my decision?"
"It is not that, Mistress, but merely that I think I would have more luck in finding the black samurai were I alone. We have-" He almost said that they had been sharing correspondence since his arrival in Norg, but something caused him to chomp back on his tongue. "We have too many among us, even as only three. By myself I pose no threat to him, and you, my lady, are of no small renown. I think he would be more inclined to meet with me."
"You speak as if you expect him to be nearby, Ranulfe. Is there something you are withholding?"
"Not at all, mistress. I just think this is a better way."
Kaede stared at him, seemed to probe him. "You have learned only a portion of what I can teach you, Ranulfe. I do not think, should you leave my side today, you will ever finish your lessons with me. Are you truly wishing to part from me, from my resources in Norg? Do you think this is best?"
Ranulfe didn't pause at her questions. "My lady, if I was only staying around for the resources and reputation, then I was lost from before I ever arrived in your city."
Kaede smiled.
***
Ranulfe took his time in exiting Aht Urghan. There was a boat regularly circling between their own dock and one in Mhaura. He was hoping that Kre'oss would be waiting or watching somewhere, that he would be seen alone and pulled aside, told of the plan, let in to the scheme. Kre'oss was labeled a criminal by the Empire, however, so there was no reason to expect him to stick around. In the short time Ranulfe had known the man, he seemed to be on the Right side. The Winning side. Kre'oss, to Ranulfe's mind, was the sort of person he had wanted to grow up to become. Strong. Capable. Willing to do the right thing no matter what, the sort of person who escaped the strong arm of the "law" and did the right thing no matter what.
Ranulfe dozed on the ship. He dreamt of darkness, rainclouds. He saw the Black Samurai. He was other people. He saw his father and sisters, very far away. They looked frightened, scared. Hurt. He saw Esh'nir. He was beside him. The Black Samurai drew his weapon in opposition, and-
Ranulfe awoke with a start. The boat lurched, the waves battered the side of the wooden vessel, and leaning out of his bunk the boy was seasick.
Standing amidst the lane of the Grand Palace Seikatsu, Kaede and Ranulfe stood.
"What should we do?" Seikatsu asked quietly. She was thrust into this rather suddenly.
"Mistress Kaede," Ranulfe intruded, partially stepping over Seikatsu's words. "I understand the instructions set before me but I think I can do a better job of searching should I strike out on my own."
The master ninja simply looked at him with a hard expression.
"You wish to disobey me? Why such insolence, Ranulfe? Have I been unkind? Unjust? Do you think I am wrong in my decision?"
"It is not that, Mistress, but merely that I think I would have more luck in finding the black samurai were I alone. We have-" He almost said that they had been sharing correspondence since his arrival in Norg, but something caused him to chomp back on his tongue. "We have too many among us, even as only three. By myself I pose no threat to him, and you, my lady, are of no small renown. I think he would be more inclined to meet with me."
"You speak as if you expect him to be nearby, Ranulfe. Is there something you are withholding?"
"Not at all, mistress. I just think this is a better way."
Kaede stared at him, seemed to probe him. "You have learned only a portion of what I can teach you, Ranulfe. I do not think, should you leave my side today, you will ever finish your lessons with me. Are you truly wishing to part from me, from my resources in Norg? Do you think this is best?"
Ranulfe didn't pause at her questions. "My lady, if I was only staying around for the resources and reputation, then I was lost from before I ever arrived in your city."
Kaede smiled.
***
Ranulfe took his time in exiting Aht Urghan. There was a boat regularly circling between their own dock and one in Mhaura. He was hoping that Kre'oss would be waiting or watching somewhere, that he would be seen alone and pulled aside, told of the plan, let in to the scheme. Kre'oss was labeled a criminal by the Empire, however, so there was no reason to expect him to stick around. In the short time Ranulfe had known the man, he seemed to be on the Right side. The Winning side. Kre'oss, to Ranulfe's mind, was the sort of person he had wanted to grow up to become. Strong. Capable. Willing to do the right thing no matter what, the sort of person who escaped the strong arm of the "law" and did the right thing no matter what.
Ranulfe dozed on the ship. He dreamt of darkness, rainclouds. He saw the Black Samurai. He was other people. He saw his father and sisters, very far away. They looked frightened, scared. Hurt. He saw Esh'nir. He was beside him. The Black Samurai drew his weapon in opposition, and-
Ranulfe awoke with a start. The boat lurched, the waves battered the side of the wooden vessel, and leaning out of his bunk the boy was seasick.
Monday, March 16, 2009
The King of Corsairs Tournament, part 2 (AoA)
Ranulfe found the first three days of the King of Corsairs Tournament to be highly enjoyable simply from a spectacle point of view. He and Kaede watched from a nearby pavilion as representatives of the Shadow Council, as all chaos seemed to break loose on the quay, all narrated with excited vim by Naja Salaheem, the president of the mercenary company facilitating the tournament. "Ohh, there goes another applicant!" she'd crow as some poor sucker took the full force of an exploding bomb behind his back and toppled off of the floating platforms into the ocean. "Looks like he couldn't handle the pressure of BCG excitement! Or was he just not quick-witted enough?!"
The first round, "Ultra Explosive BCG Elimination Excitement," turned out to be a rousing multi-player game of good old "Beetle, Crab, Ghost," with immense bombs looming behind each participant that blew up on the loser. Ranulfe quickly lost count of how many burnt and unconscious hopefuls got carted off by the mercenary Galkas, piled up in some nearby infirmary. He began to sincerely hope that the healers in this country could manage it all. Although this round took nearly all day, it did do a fine job of whittling down the contestants by nearly two-thirds.
"Look, Garath made it through, Master!" Ranulfe said excitedly to Kaede, pointing out Garath among the contestants left standing at the end of the day.
Kaede glanced over at him, smiling slightly. "And do you want Lord Garath to become King of the Corsairs, Ranulfe?"
He was a bit taken aback by the question, and paused, trying to consider the question not just from his 0wn perspective, but that as a student of Master Kaede's, a trainee in the art of ninjutsu. "He's not incapable," he said finally. "He seems to understand politics, he's quick-witted and glib, and he has a lot of determination and ambition. There's worse choices. And he seems willing to work with the Council."
Kaede's eyes turned back to the exhausted but triumphant group of competitors, Garath in their midst, weaving a bit on his feet. "You're not wrong. But now look at him as you might an enemy."
Ranulfe raised his eyebrows, stifling a moment of surprise, then looked over at Garath again, trying to see him with fresh eyes. The man was in his mid to upper twenties, with chin-length chestnut brown hair that curled at his chin and at the nape of his neck. He was garbed as a Corsair in the iconic leathers and bore their arms. Ranulfe didn't see him as particularly handsome; in fact, there was something almost homely about him at first glance, with an overly strong nose and small, squinty eyes already well-lined at the corners, and his mouth was broad and animated. Although he seemed tired, the way he weaved on his feet was practiced, combining exhaustion with sea legs, and the loose arms at his side suggested he was relaxed but also poised to snap the wide-barreled hexagun on his hip out of its holster at any moment. Ranulfe thought of Garath's complete confidence that he would win the tournament, contrasted with his flirtatious demeanor and surprising tenderness toward the Mithran lady that had raised him.
"He's dangerous," Ranulfe said finally. "I wouldn't entirely trust him."
Kaede's half-smile widened slowly. "Good," she said softly. "Learn to look at everyone that way. See with unblemished eyes their strengths and weaknesses, and be prepared to counter their blow should it ever come for your back."
Ranulfe shifted slightly, his elbows ducking back, rolling his shoulderblades. "You're saying not to trust anyone....?"
"Not necessarily. Just to never let your guard down. Death can come from the least expected of places."
The second day of the tournament dawned clear and slightly chilly. Ranulfe had never seen this particular "game of chance" before--and he was beginning to understand just how loose a term that could be. The hundred-odd competitors were paired off with a wide turtle-shell shield and a thick wooden Great Katana in between them. Then at the firing of Naja's gun, each pair flipped a coin, with the winner taking the weapon and the loser grabbing the shield. Then, using only those two weapons, the two had to fight until one fell off the platforms into the water. At least, such was the idea. Ranulfe noted quite a bit of surreptitious cheating, especially from the magic-users amongst the competitors, who often would hide under the shield and set their adversaries' shoes on fire. Garath got the shield, deflecting a shot at his head with the shield before kicking his opponent, a gangly Elvaan, in between the legs and body-checking him into the ocean.
Needless to say, that round didn't last long, and before noon they were on to the third round. Tables were brought onto the floating piers, each piled high with pies. "I hope everyone is hungry, because this challenge will test your endurance, stamina, persistence, bravery, and palate!" Naja called. "The test is--to find the single red bean hidden somewhere within the pies, while completely consuming each one, no purging allowed!"
Garath shot a dirty look from his position over to the platform where the Viceroy that designed this test, an immense Galka, rested. The Viceroy shrugged sheepishly in reply.
"Just pies?" Ranulfe muttered disgustedly, his stomach rumbling hungrily. "That doesn't seem too dangerous or exciting."
Kaede, however, was already chortling and rubbing her hands.
At the sound of the gun, the contestants dug in. It was pretty quickly apparent that the non-bean-containing pies weren't rolanberry or melon. Some were filled with living, wriggling worms, some with a mysterious green goo that Ranulfe devoutly hoped wasn't from slimes, some extremely rich custard, and other various inedibles. When a living baby scorpion popped out of one and stung a competitor in the nose, Ranulfe began to be glad that he hadn't had lunch yet, after all.
Garath, for his part, steadily ate through a badly burnt pie filled with raw pumpkin, seeds and all, then located the bean after the first bite of his second. "Lucky bastard," Kaede muttered, not entirely displeased.
More contestants managed to survive that challenge than expected, so the fourth challenge was ushered forward mid-afternoon without delay. Each competitor was violently spun around while blindfolded, then asked a series of bizarre questions. Ranulfe was stunned by how random they seemed to be--one competitor was asked to recite the alphabet backwards while skipping every third letter; one was asked the names of all seven Viceroys' ships in the order that they sailed into harbor; a third was asked to recite the emperors of the current dynasty from C.E. 500 on. If the competitor took too long to answer or got too many questions wrong, they were unceremoniously heaved over the side of the platform into the water. Garath's question was to listen to a certain amount of gil being dropped onto the quay and then list how much it was, and in what coin amounts. He was one of the few, however, to get his first question completely right and pass onto the next stage. Given that the previous challenge had been one involving food, the nausea of the spinning combined with the full stomach resulted in a few messy accidents that only compounded the difficulty of the task.
It was during this task that Ranulfe and Kaede were joined on the platform by Seikatsu. Ranulfe leapt up to offer her his seat, but she smiled and shook her head, taking the one next to him. "What brings you up here?" Kaede asked mildly.
"Each of the Viceroys that are actually participating has a proxy to speak for them while they're busy," Seik replied in her soft voice. "Or in case something happens to them." She stared out anxiously at the quay, wringing her hands in her lap. Ranulfe watched her. She reminded him of the hazy memories of his mother--they would be about the same age, with similar-colored hair, although he remembered his mother's having been short and darker.
The fifth challenge unfolded under a twilight sky. "This one has to be the one Garath designed," Ranulfe predicted confidently to Kaede. "It even involves dice."
"No," Seik said unexpectedly. "His hasn't appeared yet."
Only ten contestants were left by this point. All seemed strong, though there were several that truly stood out; Garath with his charisma remained the only Corsair, most having been sunk by the pies. Naja set them in pairs around several large tables; on each table was a circle with a pair of dice, a single hexagun, a deck of cards, a Pyumomo doll, and a large Imperial gold piece that glinted under the lights. "The challenge is: using only what lies before you, place a hole in the center of the coin!" Naja instructed them.
Garath's partner was a Mithran pirate, though whether aligned with Norg or freelance it was difficult to say. "But it's so simple!" she cried when the signal to start sounded, and she grabbed for the gun possessively. "Give me the coin, Corrrrrsair!"
Garath had scooped up the dice. "Now now, miss, we don't want things to get unpleasant," he drawled. "We both know that gun is unloaded, so don't tell me you're planning on shooting me." He rolled the dice around his palm for a moment, then across each finger, a sly smile never budging from his face.
The Mithra's brow knitted into a firm scowl, then her eyes lowered to the cards. "How about we play for it?" she said.
"Certainly, madam," Garath said courteously.
"No trrrricks! We'll both draw from the top, and high card gets the coin."
"Alright."
The Mithra took a card, and so did Garath. But he didn't look at the card, instead fitting it carefully in between his fingers and digging the edge into his palm. She bristled. "What are you doing?!"
"What if these cards are marked? The dice were weighted, after all--" He tossed the dice onto the table, and one cracked open at the impact, pieces scattering across the table. "--and the coin, I'm sure, is double-sided."
The Mithra's eyes darted to the coin, and in that instant Garath's hand snapped out, and he wrenched the gun away, snapping it open and slipping a single bullet into the gun. The Mithra yowled and grabbed for the coin, but Garath simply forced her arm up, the coin slipping from their grasp and flying into the air. Garath raised the hexagun and fired, the sound of the bullet striking the coin loud in the hushed dock.
"It was simple really," Garath told Kaede later as he massaged his stomach with a wince. "Everything on that table had some sort of purpose. The dice had a bullet hidden inside one of them--a small bronze bullet that could be easily hidden, but probably wouldn't kill fired from that old thing. One of the dice had a small crack in it--just small enough for a card to get forced inside so you could crack it open."
"And the doll?" Ranulfe asked curiously.
Garath chuckled. "I suspect it had either another coin or another bullet hidden inside of it somewhere, but I didn't think it'd help my reputation as a womanizer if I went feeling up the doll while chatting up that lady about the weather."
The crowds on the third day were even greater, since the last two challenges were guaranteed to occur that day, with the winner crowned at sundown. It was rumored the Empress herself was in attendance, although at a secret location to avoid the press of the crowds. With only three contestants left, a great deal of wagers were being taken, with sizeable amounts of Imperial currency changing hands under the watchful eyes of Salaheem's Sentinels. The odds were favoring Garath so far since he was the first to solve the dice puzzle, although an Elvaan man that had pulled a nail from the table to pound through the coin was a close second, and a Hume that had used the hammer of the gun's firing mechanism to puncture the coin was also showing strongly. The other groups had been unable to find another method of producing a hole in the coin and were disqualified.
A hush fell over the crowd as the three were led, blindfolded, onto three of the floating platforms. On each platform was erected a set of three doorways, one set of three doors for each of the contestants. Two of the doors led straight out into the water; one led to a plank leading up to one of the flagships, the location of the Final Challenge.
"The challenge is simple!" Naja announced to the crowd, her tail bristling with excitement. "Each contestant will choose a door--marked 1, 2, or 3. If the way is open to them, then they will be free to continue on. But if not.... they are eliminated! It's simple, isn't it? A one-in-three shot... a one-in-three chance for glory!"
The three contestants, positioned on the closed side of the doors, had their blindfolds removed. "Choose your door but do not open it!" Naja instructed each of them sternly.
The Elvaan hesitated, then pointed to the center door. "I pick--Door 2."
Garath pointed to the left door. "I choose Door 1."
The Hume raised his hand steadily and pointed without saying a word at the center door, his other hooked on the pommel of his weapon.
Naja stalked among them then. She suddenly paused by the Elvaan man's set of three doors and flung open Door 3. He flinched back as he saw the door open out onto empty water. "Still so certain of your chances, Dhalmel-boy?" Naja taunted him. "I'll give you this one chance--stick with the choice you've got, or switch to Door 1?"
The Elvaan's eyes darted, panicked, a cool breeze from the water blowing in from the open door. "Y... Y-yes, I'll switch to Door 1."
"Go ahead then," Naja told him with a smirk. "Take your destiny."
The Elvaan strode over to Door 1 and opened it quickly, stepping out--only to fall face-first into the water.
The crowd gasped and cheered, unsure of how to react. "Was it the right choice, Master?" Ranulfe murmured to Kaede. "I mean, it's only a one-in-three chance of it being right still, even if we know one of them is wrong."
Naja crossed over to the Hume's platform, this time opening Door 1 to reveal the water. He seemed unphased by it, simply tersely answering to Naja's jibes that he didn't want to switch, and when he opened the door he walked up the plank toward the Final Challenge. The crowd applauded him heartily, those that made wagers a little harder than most. Ranulfe leaned forward, trying to get a better look at the man--something about him seemed familiar. Then, when the man turned from the deck of the flagship back toward the crowd, Ranulfe stiffened, watching the wind toss the man's black hair, revealing the eyepatch. It was the one-eyed Samurai--the man that had saved him on the boat.
Now it was Garath's turn. "Surely it can't be the center door all three times...." Kaede whispered, gnawing on a knuckle uncharacteristically. Like the Samurai, Garath refused the switch, and when he reached out for the door, his head was back, his eyes closed. Almost like a man preparing himself for destiny, Ranulfe thought, watching Garath's tricorne topple back off of his head, the wind in his brown hair, the serene expression on his face.
But when the door opened, it was the Samurai on the other side of it.
Garath's eyes flashed open, and for a single moment, the two men faced each other. Then, the Samurai said something--Ranulfe couldn't hear what. Garath had only a moment to tense, then the Samurai drew his Great Katana in a single motion and struck at Garath with full force. Garath ducked, but not enough; blood flew, and the crowd surged to its feet, roaring like a breaking wave. "Treachery! Treachery!"
Garath was shooting at the Samurai, who leapt backward up onto the top of the doorways; Ranulfe started to the end of the platform, along with the mercenaries, but Kaede raised a hand. "Do not interfere!" she cried in a great voice.
"What?!" Ranulfe demanded, and Naja Salaheem looked as shocked as he. "Why?!"
Kaede's eyes pitilessly took in the two men fighting on the platform, and then she looked away. "Let them settle it," she ordered Naja. "We do not interfere. This was Garath's task."
"What!" Naja exclaimed, whirling. "But if it's to come to a fight--"
Seik, however, was ignoring all of them, running full-bore to the very edge of the quay. "Garath!!" she screamed, coming to a halt at the edge of the water separating the quay from the floating platforms. "Kre'oss!!! It is Kre'oss, isn't it?! Stop this!! Why are you attacking my son?!"
Garath whirled, noticing Seik for the first time, and it was the opening the Samurai needed. He wrapped a pale arm around Garath's wounded shoulder, blood staining the frosted steel of his Great Katana, and with his other arm opened a Warp scroll. A black and purple portal opened, and he hauled Garath bodily through it, his single empty black eye fixed on Seik as he and Garath vanished in thin air.
Chaos erupted on the quay, the crowd confused and the mercenaries unable to restore order. But almost as if they were expecting violence to erupt somehow, the Imperial guard swarmed in from the Citizen's Quarter, forcing the onlookers to disperse. Ranulfe, stunned still by the unexpected scene he'd witnessed, found himself face-to-face with three Immortals. "Come with us, Lady Kaede," their leader, masked by his keffiyeh, ordered them. "Bring your apprentice with you. Your presence has been ordered in the Imperial Palace."
The Palace? Things were happening too quickly for Ranulfe to digest. In mere moments it seemed, he and Kaede were kneeling before a heavily curtained dais in the Imperial Palace, along with Seik. A woman's genteel voice, only slightly accented with the lilt of the Near East, floated over to them from behind the curtain. "You have our permission to rise, Lady Kaede, Lady Seikatsu, Lady Kaede's apprentice."
They did so, uneasily, Ranulfe trying not to stare at the Immortals ringing the room. "Your Imperial Majesty--" Kaede began. "Surely you do not think we planned this unfortunate abduction."
"Surely you did not stop our trusted mercenaries from intervening in the act?" The Empress's voice was quite stern. "Was that man not one of your compatriots? We fail to understand your rationale. This unseemly disruption of the tournament we were overseeing and guaranteeing casts a deep shadow on our reputation, and we are displeased that you prevented our mercenaries from restoring order."
Kaede flinched, her usually calm facade straining under the Empress's censure. "It is not our way, your Majesty. Lord Garath was on the Council, representing Ephramad, but it was as a private citizen that he entered the tournament--"
"Lady Seikatsu, Lord Garath is your son, correct?"
Seik bowed her head deeply. "Not exactly, your Majesty, but I have raised him from boyhood and consider him as my own son...."
There was a pause. "We understand your feelings," the Empress said at length. "Lord Garath was conducting himself well in the tournament. That this tournament has been befouled, along with our reputation, by such a heinous kidnapping and such wanton violence is unseemly in our eyes. We must take immediate steps to rescue Lord Garath."
"We cannot intervene directly, Divine One," the Grand Vizier, in his customary position before the throne, reminded her.
"This we well understand, Grand Vizier. Lady Seikatsu, you seemed to recognize the perpetrator?"
"An old friend, your Majesty..." Seik couldn't quite keep the worry from her voice. "Although he was very different...."
"We may not be directly involved in the righting of this injustice, but we may impose this duty upon Lady Kaede for her failure to keep order on our territory." Kaede started to protest, but the Grand Vizier sternly stared her into silence. "This we command," the Empress said. "The Lady Kaede's apprentice and the Lady Seik will discover the location of this Samurai in black. The Lady Kaede will return to Norg and set the full resources of her people to this task as well. She will then rescue Lord Garath if possible, and if not, avenge him. The King of Corsairs Tournament will be postponed until these events have taken place, after which time we shall make suitable arrangements for it to be finished so that stable leadership might be found for Ephramad despite today's tragedy."
"So it is ordered," decreed the Grand Vizier. "Do you submit to these commands, Lady Kaede?"
Kaede bowed her head, gritting her teeth. "It seems I have no choice. Ranulfe--" She glanced at him. "You'll go with Seik and help her find this Samurai. Contact me when you've found him."
"It will be a dangerous journey alone," the Empress said. "We shall appoint one of our trusted mercenaries to join you on the road, to redeem the honor lost today by Salaheem's Sentinels."
Ranulfe was ushered out of the Palace along with Seik and Kaede, his head still spinning. All of a sudden, an important task had fallen to him, with a man's life in the balance. And best of all, he had no idea where to start looking--and neither did Seik, from the blank look in her eyes.
The first round, "Ultra Explosive BCG Elimination Excitement," turned out to be a rousing multi-player game of good old "Beetle, Crab, Ghost," with immense bombs looming behind each participant that blew up on the loser. Ranulfe quickly lost count of how many burnt and unconscious hopefuls got carted off by the mercenary Galkas, piled up in some nearby infirmary. He began to sincerely hope that the healers in this country could manage it all. Although this round took nearly all day, it did do a fine job of whittling down the contestants by nearly two-thirds.
"Look, Garath made it through, Master!" Ranulfe said excitedly to Kaede, pointing out Garath among the contestants left standing at the end of the day.
Kaede glanced over at him, smiling slightly. "And do you want Lord Garath to become King of the Corsairs, Ranulfe?"
He was a bit taken aback by the question, and paused, trying to consider the question not just from his 0wn perspective, but that as a student of Master Kaede's, a trainee in the art of ninjutsu. "He's not incapable," he said finally. "He seems to understand politics, he's quick-witted and glib, and he has a lot of determination and ambition. There's worse choices. And he seems willing to work with the Council."
Kaede's eyes turned back to the exhausted but triumphant group of competitors, Garath in their midst, weaving a bit on his feet. "You're not wrong. But now look at him as you might an enemy."
Ranulfe raised his eyebrows, stifling a moment of surprise, then looked over at Garath again, trying to see him with fresh eyes. The man was in his mid to upper twenties, with chin-length chestnut brown hair that curled at his chin and at the nape of his neck. He was garbed as a Corsair in the iconic leathers and bore their arms. Ranulfe didn't see him as particularly handsome; in fact, there was something almost homely about him at first glance, with an overly strong nose and small, squinty eyes already well-lined at the corners, and his mouth was broad and animated. Although he seemed tired, the way he weaved on his feet was practiced, combining exhaustion with sea legs, and the loose arms at his side suggested he was relaxed but also poised to snap the wide-barreled hexagun on his hip out of its holster at any moment. Ranulfe thought of Garath's complete confidence that he would win the tournament, contrasted with his flirtatious demeanor and surprising tenderness toward the Mithran lady that had raised him.
"He's dangerous," Ranulfe said finally. "I wouldn't entirely trust him."
Kaede's half-smile widened slowly. "Good," she said softly. "Learn to look at everyone that way. See with unblemished eyes their strengths and weaknesses, and be prepared to counter their blow should it ever come for your back."
Ranulfe shifted slightly, his elbows ducking back, rolling his shoulderblades. "You're saying not to trust anyone....?"
"Not necessarily. Just to never let your guard down. Death can come from the least expected of places."
The second day of the tournament dawned clear and slightly chilly. Ranulfe had never seen this particular "game of chance" before--and he was beginning to understand just how loose a term that could be. The hundred-odd competitors were paired off with a wide turtle-shell shield and a thick wooden Great Katana in between them. Then at the firing of Naja's gun, each pair flipped a coin, with the winner taking the weapon and the loser grabbing the shield. Then, using only those two weapons, the two had to fight until one fell off the platforms into the water. At least, such was the idea. Ranulfe noted quite a bit of surreptitious cheating, especially from the magic-users amongst the competitors, who often would hide under the shield and set their adversaries' shoes on fire. Garath got the shield, deflecting a shot at his head with the shield before kicking his opponent, a gangly Elvaan, in between the legs and body-checking him into the ocean.
Needless to say, that round didn't last long, and before noon they were on to the third round. Tables were brought onto the floating piers, each piled high with pies. "I hope everyone is hungry, because this challenge will test your endurance, stamina, persistence, bravery, and palate!" Naja called. "The test is--to find the single red bean hidden somewhere within the pies, while completely consuming each one, no purging allowed!"
Garath shot a dirty look from his position over to the platform where the Viceroy that designed this test, an immense Galka, rested. The Viceroy shrugged sheepishly in reply.
"Just pies?" Ranulfe muttered disgustedly, his stomach rumbling hungrily. "That doesn't seem too dangerous or exciting."
Kaede, however, was already chortling and rubbing her hands.
At the sound of the gun, the contestants dug in. It was pretty quickly apparent that the non-bean-containing pies weren't rolanberry or melon. Some were filled with living, wriggling worms, some with a mysterious green goo that Ranulfe devoutly hoped wasn't from slimes, some extremely rich custard, and other various inedibles. When a living baby scorpion popped out of one and stung a competitor in the nose, Ranulfe began to be glad that he hadn't had lunch yet, after all.
Garath, for his part, steadily ate through a badly burnt pie filled with raw pumpkin, seeds and all, then located the bean after the first bite of his second. "Lucky bastard," Kaede muttered, not entirely displeased.
More contestants managed to survive that challenge than expected, so the fourth challenge was ushered forward mid-afternoon without delay. Each competitor was violently spun around while blindfolded, then asked a series of bizarre questions. Ranulfe was stunned by how random they seemed to be--one competitor was asked to recite the alphabet backwards while skipping every third letter; one was asked the names of all seven Viceroys' ships in the order that they sailed into harbor; a third was asked to recite the emperors of the current dynasty from C.E. 500 on. If the competitor took too long to answer or got too many questions wrong, they were unceremoniously heaved over the side of the platform into the water. Garath's question was to listen to a certain amount of gil being dropped onto the quay and then list how much it was, and in what coin amounts. He was one of the few, however, to get his first question completely right and pass onto the next stage. Given that the previous challenge had been one involving food, the nausea of the spinning combined with the full stomach resulted in a few messy accidents that only compounded the difficulty of the task.
It was during this task that Ranulfe and Kaede were joined on the platform by Seikatsu. Ranulfe leapt up to offer her his seat, but she smiled and shook her head, taking the one next to him. "What brings you up here?" Kaede asked mildly.
"Each of the Viceroys that are actually participating has a proxy to speak for them while they're busy," Seik replied in her soft voice. "Or in case something happens to them." She stared out anxiously at the quay, wringing her hands in her lap. Ranulfe watched her. She reminded him of the hazy memories of his mother--they would be about the same age, with similar-colored hair, although he remembered his mother's having been short and darker.
The fifth challenge unfolded under a twilight sky. "This one has to be the one Garath designed," Ranulfe predicted confidently to Kaede. "It even involves dice."
"No," Seik said unexpectedly. "His hasn't appeared yet."
Only ten contestants were left by this point. All seemed strong, though there were several that truly stood out; Garath with his charisma remained the only Corsair, most having been sunk by the pies. Naja set them in pairs around several large tables; on each table was a circle with a pair of dice, a single hexagun, a deck of cards, a Pyumomo doll, and a large Imperial gold piece that glinted under the lights. "The challenge is: using only what lies before you, place a hole in the center of the coin!" Naja instructed them.
Garath's partner was a Mithran pirate, though whether aligned with Norg or freelance it was difficult to say. "But it's so simple!" she cried when the signal to start sounded, and she grabbed for the gun possessively. "Give me the coin, Corrrrrsair!"
Garath had scooped up the dice. "Now now, miss, we don't want things to get unpleasant," he drawled. "We both know that gun is unloaded, so don't tell me you're planning on shooting me." He rolled the dice around his palm for a moment, then across each finger, a sly smile never budging from his face.
The Mithra's brow knitted into a firm scowl, then her eyes lowered to the cards. "How about we play for it?" she said.
"Certainly, madam," Garath said courteously.
"No trrrricks! We'll both draw from the top, and high card gets the coin."
"Alright."
The Mithra took a card, and so did Garath. But he didn't look at the card, instead fitting it carefully in between his fingers and digging the edge into his palm. She bristled. "What are you doing?!"
"What if these cards are marked? The dice were weighted, after all--" He tossed the dice onto the table, and one cracked open at the impact, pieces scattering across the table. "--and the coin, I'm sure, is double-sided."
The Mithra's eyes darted to the coin, and in that instant Garath's hand snapped out, and he wrenched the gun away, snapping it open and slipping a single bullet into the gun. The Mithra yowled and grabbed for the coin, but Garath simply forced her arm up, the coin slipping from their grasp and flying into the air. Garath raised the hexagun and fired, the sound of the bullet striking the coin loud in the hushed dock.
"It was simple really," Garath told Kaede later as he massaged his stomach with a wince. "Everything on that table had some sort of purpose. The dice had a bullet hidden inside one of them--a small bronze bullet that could be easily hidden, but probably wouldn't kill fired from that old thing. One of the dice had a small crack in it--just small enough for a card to get forced inside so you could crack it open."
"And the doll?" Ranulfe asked curiously.
Garath chuckled. "I suspect it had either another coin or another bullet hidden inside of it somewhere, but I didn't think it'd help my reputation as a womanizer if I went feeling up the doll while chatting up that lady about the weather."
The crowds on the third day were even greater, since the last two challenges were guaranteed to occur that day, with the winner crowned at sundown. It was rumored the Empress herself was in attendance, although at a secret location to avoid the press of the crowds. With only three contestants left, a great deal of wagers were being taken, with sizeable amounts of Imperial currency changing hands under the watchful eyes of Salaheem's Sentinels. The odds were favoring Garath so far since he was the first to solve the dice puzzle, although an Elvaan man that had pulled a nail from the table to pound through the coin was a close second, and a Hume that had used the hammer of the gun's firing mechanism to puncture the coin was also showing strongly. The other groups had been unable to find another method of producing a hole in the coin and were disqualified.
A hush fell over the crowd as the three were led, blindfolded, onto three of the floating platforms. On each platform was erected a set of three doorways, one set of three doors for each of the contestants. Two of the doors led straight out into the water; one led to a plank leading up to one of the flagships, the location of the Final Challenge.
"The challenge is simple!" Naja announced to the crowd, her tail bristling with excitement. "Each contestant will choose a door--marked 1, 2, or 3. If the way is open to them, then they will be free to continue on. But if not.... they are eliminated! It's simple, isn't it? A one-in-three shot... a one-in-three chance for glory!"
The three contestants, positioned on the closed side of the doors, had their blindfolds removed. "Choose your door but do not open it!" Naja instructed each of them sternly.
The Elvaan hesitated, then pointed to the center door. "I pick--Door 2."
Garath pointed to the left door. "I choose Door 1."
The Hume raised his hand steadily and pointed without saying a word at the center door, his other hooked on the pommel of his weapon.
Naja stalked among them then. She suddenly paused by the Elvaan man's set of three doors and flung open Door 3. He flinched back as he saw the door open out onto empty water. "Still so certain of your chances, Dhalmel-boy?" Naja taunted him. "I'll give you this one chance--stick with the choice you've got, or switch to Door 1?"
The Elvaan's eyes darted, panicked, a cool breeze from the water blowing in from the open door. "Y... Y-yes, I'll switch to Door 1."
"Go ahead then," Naja told him with a smirk. "Take your destiny."
The Elvaan strode over to Door 1 and opened it quickly, stepping out--only to fall face-first into the water.
The crowd gasped and cheered, unsure of how to react. "Was it the right choice, Master?" Ranulfe murmured to Kaede. "I mean, it's only a one-in-three chance of it being right still, even if we know one of them is wrong."
Naja crossed over to the Hume's platform, this time opening Door 1 to reveal the water. He seemed unphased by it, simply tersely answering to Naja's jibes that he didn't want to switch, and when he opened the door he walked up the plank toward the Final Challenge. The crowd applauded him heartily, those that made wagers a little harder than most. Ranulfe leaned forward, trying to get a better look at the man--something about him seemed familiar. Then, when the man turned from the deck of the flagship back toward the crowd, Ranulfe stiffened, watching the wind toss the man's black hair, revealing the eyepatch. It was the one-eyed Samurai--the man that had saved him on the boat.
Now it was Garath's turn. "Surely it can't be the center door all three times...." Kaede whispered, gnawing on a knuckle uncharacteristically. Like the Samurai, Garath refused the switch, and when he reached out for the door, his head was back, his eyes closed. Almost like a man preparing himself for destiny, Ranulfe thought, watching Garath's tricorne topple back off of his head, the wind in his brown hair, the serene expression on his face.
But when the door opened, it was the Samurai on the other side of it.
Garath's eyes flashed open, and for a single moment, the two men faced each other. Then, the Samurai said something--Ranulfe couldn't hear what. Garath had only a moment to tense, then the Samurai drew his Great Katana in a single motion and struck at Garath with full force. Garath ducked, but not enough; blood flew, and the crowd surged to its feet, roaring like a breaking wave. "Treachery! Treachery!"
Garath was shooting at the Samurai, who leapt backward up onto the top of the doorways; Ranulfe started to the end of the platform, along with the mercenaries, but Kaede raised a hand. "Do not interfere!" she cried in a great voice.
"What?!" Ranulfe demanded, and Naja Salaheem looked as shocked as he. "Why?!"
Kaede's eyes pitilessly took in the two men fighting on the platform, and then she looked away. "Let them settle it," she ordered Naja. "We do not interfere. This was Garath's task."
"What!" Naja exclaimed, whirling. "But if it's to come to a fight--"
Seik, however, was ignoring all of them, running full-bore to the very edge of the quay. "Garath!!" she screamed, coming to a halt at the edge of the water separating the quay from the floating platforms. "Kre'oss!!! It is Kre'oss, isn't it?! Stop this!! Why are you attacking my son?!"
Garath whirled, noticing Seik for the first time, and it was the opening the Samurai needed. He wrapped a pale arm around Garath's wounded shoulder, blood staining the frosted steel of his Great Katana, and with his other arm opened a Warp scroll. A black and purple portal opened, and he hauled Garath bodily through it, his single empty black eye fixed on Seik as he and Garath vanished in thin air.
Chaos erupted on the quay, the crowd confused and the mercenaries unable to restore order. But almost as if they were expecting violence to erupt somehow, the Imperial guard swarmed in from the Citizen's Quarter, forcing the onlookers to disperse. Ranulfe, stunned still by the unexpected scene he'd witnessed, found himself face-to-face with three Immortals. "Come with us, Lady Kaede," their leader, masked by his keffiyeh, ordered them. "Bring your apprentice with you. Your presence has been ordered in the Imperial Palace."
The Palace? Things were happening too quickly for Ranulfe to digest. In mere moments it seemed, he and Kaede were kneeling before a heavily curtained dais in the Imperial Palace, along with Seik. A woman's genteel voice, only slightly accented with the lilt of the Near East, floated over to them from behind the curtain. "You have our permission to rise, Lady Kaede, Lady Seikatsu, Lady Kaede's apprentice."
They did so, uneasily, Ranulfe trying not to stare at the Immortals ringing the room. "Your Imperial Majesty--" Kaede began. "Surely you do not think we planned this unfortunate abduction."
"Surely you did not stop our trusted mercenaries from intervening in the act?" The Empress's voice was quite stern. "Was that man not one of your compatriots? We fail to understand your rationale. This unseemly disruption of the tournament we were overseeing and guaranteeing casts a deep shadow on our reputation, and we are displeased that you prevented our mercenaries from restoring order."
Kaede flinched, her usually calm facade straining under the Empress's censure. "It is not our way, your Majesty. Lord Garath was on the Council, representing Ephramad, but it was as a private citizen that he entered the tournament--"
"Lady Seikatsu, Lord Garath is your son, correct?"
Seik bowed her head deeply. "Not exactly, your Majesty, but I have raised him from boyhood and consider him as my own son...."
There was a pause. "We understand your feelings," the Empress said at length. "Lord Garath was conducting himself well in the tournament. That this tournament has been befouled, along with our reputation, by such a heinous kidnapping and such wanton violence is unseemly in our eyes. We must take immediate steps to rescue Lord Garath."
"We cannot intervene directly, Divine One," the Grand Vizier, in his customary position before the throne, reminded her.
"This we well understand, Grand Vizier. Lady Seikatsu, you seemed to recognize the perpetrator?"
"An old friend, your Majesty..." Seik couldn't quite keep the worry from her voice. "Although he was very different...."
"We may not be directly involved in the righting of this injustice, but we may impose this duty upon Lady Kaede for her failure to keep order on our territory." Kaede started to protest, but the Grand Vizier sternly stared her into silence. "This we command," the Empress said. "The Lady Kaede's apprentice and the Lady Seik will discover the location of this Samurai in black. The Lady Kaede will return to Norg and set the full resources of her people to this task as well. She will then rescue Lord Garath if possible, and if not, avenge him. The King of Corsairs Tournament will be postponed until these events have taken place, after which time we shall make suitable arrangements for it to be finished so that stable leadership might be found for Ephramad despite today's tragedy."
"So it is ordered," decreed the Grand Vizier. "Do you submit to these commands, Lady Kaede?"
Kaede bowed her head, gritting her teeth. "It seems I have no choice. Ranulfe--" She glanced at him. "You'll go with Seik and help her find this Samurai. Contact me when you've found him."
"It will be a dangerous journey alone," the Empress said. "We shall appoint one of our trusted mercenaries to join you on the road, to redeem the honor lost today by Salaheem's Sentinels."
Ranulfe was ushered out of the Palace along with Seik and Kaede, his head still spinning. All of a sudden, an important task had fallen to him, with a man's life in the balance. And best of all, he had no idea where to start looking--and neither did Seik, from the blank look in her eyes.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Field Report #3
Colonel Faebhar Fhabrun
Currently on assignment in the Republic of Bastok
Please relay my gratitude to Her Magnificence for the Sutlac included with my most recent dispatch. A wonderful taste of home made all the sweeter knowing it is a gift form the Empress herself.
The dragon problem in the middle lands is even worse than the reports indicated. I have barely begun to explore the local countryside and have run in to one of the beasts only a few malms from the city gates. It was hiding in an abandoned mine system and had apparently been living there for several years undetected.
During the ensuing combat, the beast caused several weakened mine supports to give way. Some local civilians were close enough to be endangered by the cave in, so I had to retreat at that point to help keep them from harm.
I have not yet been able to verify whether the beast was killed by the cave in or merely trapped. The local militia will be investigating the incident, I will be on hand to make sure that the dragon is dead, and they understand the gravity of the situation. I will also obtain a copy of their report to forward along to your office.
Col. Fhabrun.
Currently on assignment in the Republic of Bastok
Please relay my gratitude to Her Magnificence for the Sutlac included with my most recent dispatch. A wonderful taste of home made all the sweeter knowing it is a gift form the Empress herself.
The dragon problem in the middle lands is even worse than the reports indicated. I have barely begun to explore the local countryside and have run in to one of the beasts only a few malms from the city gates. It was hiding in an abandoned mine system and had apparently been living there for several years undetected.
During the ensuing combat, the beast caused several weakened mine supports to give way. Some local civilians were close enough to be endangered by the cave in, so I had to retreat at that point to help keep them from harm.
I have not yet been able to verify whether the beast was killed by the cave in or merely trapped. The local militia will be investigating the incident, I will be on hand to make sure that the dragon is dead, and they understand the gravity of the situation. I will also obtain a copy of their report to forward along to your office.
Col. Fhabrun.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Out of the Depths
The dragon roared, its snout slicked in the darkness with a black ichor, gleaming in the pitch black of the cave. The very walls shuddered with its bellow, Ceelia and Allmia looking ecstatic that they were able to cause such a beast to wail so painfully. The dragon took a glare down at the meal before him and swung a mighty limb across the ground, sweeping in an attempt to snatch up the mithra.
Ceelia took hold of her dear sister's waist and the two gracefully maneuvered out of the path, whirling with one another in a display of childish dance and mithran agility. Ceelia giggled playfully but the noise was lost amidst the dragon's frustrated cries.
"Hold this," Faebhar spoke to Lyall in a tone not asking. He thrust the lantern into the Bastokan's with one hand, the other already drawing the battleaxe he wore on his back. The light shone forward to illuminate the scene more clearly.
"Altana you guys run fa HOLY MOLA MOLA THERE'S A DRAGON IN HERE!" came the startled feminine voice from behind. Lyall shot a look over his shoulder and there was the new girl, the child, Umise, he thought her name was. She was hunched over, one hand on the wall and one on her knee, gasping.
The mithra were continuing their attacks, landing glancing blows against the thick hide of the beast. The wounds they inflicted were shallow, superficial but still drew blood. They may have only made the creature more agitated. Agitation gave way to pain, however, when the Aht Urghanian's weapon landed true against the beast's unoccupied leg, cleanly severing a toe.
The dragon thrashed wildly, less about combat and more in incredulous pain. The Palborough Mines were abandoned; It was possible this beast thrived on the fauna that lived inside and had never seen a person before, let alone be harmed. In its own way it was much a child, innocent, just a predator being confronted with a new creature.
The monster thrashed about and sent Faebhar retreating tactically, the mithra twins also backing away towards the entrance of the cave where Lyall stood with the new girl a few feet behind. The rotting supports that held the mine intact were battered, leaned into. The creature broke clean a few of them and the ceiling lurched precariously.
"We need to go," Faebhar said in that solider-tone, the sort of thing that caused trained military and militia to simply follow orders. Lyall met his gaaze evenly and nodded, taking his daughters by the hands.
"Girls, we're leaving." Both he and Faebhar's tones were calm, considering rocks were beginning to fall.
"Now we have to run BACK?!" The hume girl protested. Faebhar strode forward confidently, lifting the girl like a bride and beginning his charge back through the cave.
The mine was unstable, lurching and collapsing at an alarming rate. The monstrous roar of the dragon was still audible behind them, cursing them in beastial tongue and seemingly unbothered by the collapse of its lair. Daylight flooded from the path before them, the world falling down behind them, and with the ceiling sealing the way behind them they clamored out of the blackened hell and into the dusty world of Gustaberg.
There were many answers to be had, many things to be discussed. But that would have to wait for another time.
Ceelia took hold of her dear sister's waist and the two gracefully maneuvered out of the path, whirling with one another in a display of childish dance and mithran agility. Ceelia giggled playfully but the noise was lost amidst the dragon's frustrated cries.
"Hold this," Faebhar spoke to Lyall in a tone not asking. He thrust the lantern into the Bastokan's with one hand, the other already drawing the battleaxe he wore on his back. The light shone forward to illuminate the scene more clearly.
"Altana you guys run fa HOLY MOLA MOLA THERE'S A DRAGON IN HERE!" came the startled feminine voice from behind. Lyall shot a look over his shoulder and there was the new girl, the child, Umise, he thought her name was. She was hunched over, one hand on the wall and one on her knee, gasping.
The mithra were continuing their attacks, landing glancing blows against the thick hide of the beast. The wounds they inflicted were shallow, superficial but still drew blood. They may have only made the creature more agitated. Agitation gave way to pain, however, when the Aht Urghanian's weapon landed true against the beast's unoccupied leg, cleanly severing a toe.
The dragon thrashed wildly, less about combat and more in incredulous pain. The Palborough Mines were abandoned; It was possible this beast thrived on the fauna that lived inside and had never seen a person before, let alone be harmed. In its own way it was much a child, innocent, just a predator being confronted with a new creature.
The monster thrashed about and sent Faebhar retreating tactically, the mithra twins also backing away towards the entrance of the cave where Lyall stood with the new girl a few feet behind. The rotting supports that held the mine intact were battered, leaned into. The creature broke clean a few of them and the ceiling lurched precariously.
"We need to go," Faebhar said in that solider-tone, the sort of thing that caused trained military and militia to simply follow orders. Lyall met his gaaze evenly and nodded, taking his daughters by the hands.
"Girls, we're leaving." Both he and Faebhar's tones were calm, considering rocks were beginning to fall.
"Now we have to run BACK?!" The hume girl protested. Faebhar strode forward confidently, lifting the girl like a bride and beginning his charge back through the cave.
The mine was unstable, lurching and collapsing at an alarming rate. The monstrous roar of the dragon was still audible behind them, cursing them in beastial tongue and seemingly unbothered by the collapse of its lair. Daylight flooded from the path before them, the world falling down behind them, and with the ceiling sealing the way behind them they clamored out of the blackened hell and into the dusty world of Gustaberg.
There were many answers to be had, many things to be discussed. But that would have to wait for another time.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
The King of Corsairs Tournament, part 1 (AoA)
I all but skipped onto the ship, twirling on the deck and turning to seize Kaede’s hands and spin her as well. “Off to Aradjiah, off to Urghuum!” I sing-songed in a cheerful voice, then stopped by the wheel to give it an enthusiastic spin, making the mate cringe.
“Don’t you take ANYTHING seriously, Lord Garath?!” Kaede snapped at me, flushing brilliantly.
I smirked and leaned in close to her, my face mere inches from hers. “Now that’s a better color on you,” I purred, touching my gloved fingers to her chin and stroking it, then laughing and dodging away when she snapped out a katana on me. “Hey now, hey now, don’t get all violent!”
A faint snicker from behind her reminded me we weren’t alone. I stepped around Kaede and bent to help the boy she was bringing along—well, assistant, not boy, I mentally amended, more like an apprentice from what I’d gathered—bring up Kaede’s things. From the way his lips were faintly twitching, he was suppressing a laugh. I winked at him, lugging up a bag with a loud, theatrical groan. “Probably stuffed full of rocks too,” I stage-whispered. “We both know she’s not bringing makeup.”
“Lord Garath!” Kaede looked about two inches from exploding now. “Will you PLEASE stop teasing me and take this seriously?! The tournament is three days from now and you just keep—“
I waved a dismissive hand, then stuck it out to the boy. He was rangy, just on the cusp of filling out properly, with his hair up in one of those gang topknots. He had sheltered, defensive eyes, but gave me a half-smile when he caught my gesture. I smiled back at him much more warmly. “Garath of Ephramad, Viceroy and Captain of the Pearline Swan—“ I indicated my ship with an enthusiastic sweep of my arm. “And most importantly, the most consummate gambler in the whole of Vana’diel!”
He did smile at that. I guess I’m one of those morons that’s hard to take seriously. “You’re kinda young to be a Viceroy aren’t you?” He shook my hand though. “Ranulfe Elspeth. I’m learning the Far Eastern arts under Master Kaede.”
“I’m surprised you have the nerve to train under a man-killer like that,” I laughed. “Have you ever seen Imperial Aht Urhgan before, Ranulfe?”
“Can’t say I have,” Ranulfe admitted with an embarrassed half-smile. “I’m originally from Bastok, before I shipped off to Norg.”
“Well, a man hasn’t lived before he’s seen the Jewel of the Near East.”
“He’s right enough about that, Ranulfe,” Kaede assured him. “It’s an impressive city, and host to this—insane tournament that the Ephramadians are putting on.”
“Tournament?”
I suppressed a chuckle, tugging down on the brim of my tricorne. “You’ll see when we get there. You’re not old enough to enter, and since your mistress here has declined, I guess that means you get to cheer me on. Shouldn’t be hard, I’ve got it in the bag after all. They might as well write my name on the prize already!”
Ranulfe’s eyes burned with curiosity, and he turned towards Kaede. She jerked her chin, still irked by me. “It’s a… gambling tournament, for lack of a better way to put it. The corsairs have opened a great tournament to anyone who wishes to enter that meet certain basic requirements. Since they have no king, this joker has been telling me they plan on crowning the winner of the tournament the King of Ephramad. But I’m sure it’s just a huge gil prize and maybe a boat or two.”
“SHIP, my darling, SHIP,” I corrected her cheerfully. “Boats are for fishing, rowing, and romantic moonlight rendezvous with a lovely lady or two in some secluded cove.” My eyes unfocused as I stared off into the distance. “Ahh, the rocking of the boat adds so much to the fun….”
“Are you telling weird stories again, Garath?”
I spun immediately at the voice from behind me, the owner of which was a graceful Mithran lady stepping from the inside cabin. “Little mother!” I placed my hand at her waist and turned to guide her gently to Kaede and Ranulfe. “This is the lady who has raised me from early childhood, Seikatsu of Windurst.” I smiled down at her affectionately. “It takes a certain kind of patience and/or insanity to put up with me on any sort of regular basis, so I have nothing but the utmost love and affection for her.”
Seik smiled shyly at Kaede and Ranulfe, a long shawl pulled around her shoulders. “Hello,” she said in her soft, biddable voice. “My name is Seik… I believe we’ve met, Miss Kaede, many years ago in Bastok…” Her blue eyes wandered over to Ranulfe. “And I believe you said your last name was Elspeth…?”
Ranulfe stiffened slightly. My hand, now on Seik’s shoulder, tightened slightly. “Yes, ma’am,” he said in a controlled voice.
She paused, picking up on his tone, and smiled slightly, bowing her head. “Your eyes are like your mother’s. I’m pleased to meet you.”
He started, clearly taken aback, and I immediately jumped into the conversational opening. “Well then, little mother, if you’re ready to head back to Aht Urhgan, we need to set off with the tide! We can swap war stories on the way over.”
***
“Dreaming of chocobos the night before a journey is supposed to be lucky, right little mother?” I asked her conversationally, brushing out her long hair before bed.
She glanced back at me. “What do you mean, Garath? Chocobos?”
I smiled at her cheerfully, my eyes closed. “Yep! Rampaging chocobos, each with seven tailfeathers, of every color. And then they turned into clouds, and I shot them apart with my gun.” I drew that gun with a flourish of one hand, spinning the chamber idly before snapping it back in its thick wivre-hide holster. “I think it means that seven is going to be my lucky number tomorrow.”
Seik smiled in her mild-mannered way, drawing her hair back across her shoulder to loosely braid. “Are you prepared…? This is a big responsibility for you if you win, Garath, and if you lose I don’t want you to become despondent….”
I smirked, patting her shoulder lightly, before swinging my legs out of the chair and heading for my own cabin. “Worry about yourself, little mother. Are YOU ready?”
She blinked up at me. “What do you mean…?”
I paused, my hand on the doorlatch, then glanced back at her thoughtfully. “I’d bet any sum you cared to name—and you know how I don’t lose—that HE’S going to be there tomorrow, too.”
Her face went pale. I smiled at her more gently now, fighting off the slight twinge of jealousy. I didn’t have to say who I meant. To Seik, there was only one “him.” A bit lonely for me, I guess—I wished for a moment that someone felt that way about me. But then, that’s not something that can be controlled, after all, and perhaps not even something to be envied. “Doesn’t matter though, little mother,” I added, before heading out the door. “If he’s dumb enough to go up against me in the tournament, he’ll be taken down just the same.”
***
I’ll never forget the morning we sailed into the horseshoe-shaped harbor of the Imperial capital. Although this tournament was hosted by the Viceroys of Ephramad and under the auspices of the Rogue Faction, it was officially endorsed by Nashmeira II, and the Empire’s subjects were out in force. The seven ships in the harbor, all Ephramadian, were gleamingly clean and festooned with brilliant banners and pennants, all snapping in the wind under a brilliant sun. My own ship I’d ordered scoured while we were at sea, and I had us run up banners in Norg’s colors as well as Ephramad’s, to indicate the esteemed personages I was ferrying to the tournament festivities.
Ranulfe stood at the railing on the stern, his face alight at the sight of the throng that awaited us. The entire of the harbor quay was packed with people, spectators and entrants alike, the latter still registering for the tournament in long lines that wrapped throughout the Merchant’s Quarter. I grinned, leaning against the rail next to him, trying to look at the colorful crowds from a stranger’s perspective. “All of these people are here for the tournament?” he asked me in an awed voice.
“Probably!” I said cheerfully. “A good bit are likely entering.”
“All of these people are going to have a shot at being King of Ephramad…?”
I chuckled. “Likely not. It’s kind of a long story. Ephramad has seven Viceroys—we’re basically the seven captains of the Ephramadian fleet. Each of us has a flagship like this one, and several other minor ships working under us, each with their own crew. But none of us are actually descendants of the last Ephramadian king.” I made a rueful face, glancing sidelong at him. “Prince Luzaf was the only true Ephramadian heir, and he’s long dead.” I spread my arms. “The royal family used to be Elvaan anyway, and none of that line is still alive in this day, not even a distant relative that we’ve been able to find. Too many years, too much secrecy and interbreeding.”
“But why a tournament?”
“Well, we needed a king, and it’s a very Corsairy way of doing things.” I grinned at him. “It won’t be an easy trip to the end though. For one thing, each Viceroy designed one of the games, and we hired foreign mercenaries to administer the tournament so that we could enter as well if we chose. That way there’s no allegations of throwing it or designing it to benefit one party or another. Also, every single one of the games is a game of chance.”
Ranulfe blinked. “So in the end, the luckiest person is going to win?”
I smirked a moment. “But there’s a good deal of skill involved in luck, Ranulfe. A canny gambler uses observation, logic, problem-solving, quick wits, and determination to spin the odds in his favor. Of course, it doesn’t always work, so that’s where pure luck comes in—but any leader is going to have to deal with raw chance as well. The smartest, wisest, kindest leader in the world could be felled by a stray arrow at any moment.” I shrugged. “We corsairs believe in luck a lot, and we also believe in doing all that we can to manipulate luck. Whatever poor sucker makes it through all seven games in one piece will likely be an able problem-solver as well as damn lucky, and neither trait is bad to have as the King of Corsairs.”
“But you’re going to win?” Ranulfe smiled at me.
“Of course! It’s been my dream forever to be the greatest corsair alive, and how better to be than to be the first and mightiest King of the Corsairs?” I tossed my head, then winked at him. “Still, I bet it’s not going to be easy, so if you get bored, cheer for me okay?”
“Garath!” Kaede called up to me. “Better get going if we’re going to make it there for the opening ceremony!”
And before I knew it, I was on a platform on the docks as a tall Hume man before me prepared to give a speech to the crowd. I eyed the other six Viceroys, all of us in our finest, with giddy anticipation—and a bit of sizing up of the competition, as well. To a man (and woman; one of the other Viceroys was an exceedingly vigorous Elvaan lady that I’d had the opportunity to make extensive acquaintance with), we were entering the tournament. We all wanted to be the best.
Kaede stepped forward. “In the name of the government of Norg and the organization known as the Tenshodo, we will validate the winner of these games—“ She grimaced, hating the words that were coming out of her lips. “—as the King of Ephramad and lord of all Corsairs.”
“In the name of Her Imperial Majesty, Nashmeira II, in the capacity of Grand Vizier of the illustrious and eternal Empire of Aht Urhgan, and by agreement of the Seven Viceroys,” the tall Hume man declaimed in a sonorous voice, “we do declare the King of Corsairs Tournament started! May the best man win!”
A saucy Mithra stepped before the seven docked ships and the amassed crowd, and they hummed in excitement. I think she was the one we agreed to be the chief administrator of the tournament—her company wasn’t the cheapest, but she was the only one who had any sort of experience in this sort of thing. And to be honest, she wasn’t hard on the eyes either, if you get my meaning, though I’m not sure if I specifically would take a chance on asking her out, not least because of the huge Morningstar she seemed to carry at all times. She pointed it now at the assembled entrants. “You hearrrd the man!” she all but crowed. “Come forth when your numbers are called for the first round of the King of Corsairs Tournament! I call it—‘Ultra Explosive BCG Elimination Excitement’!”
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
As the Raven flies. (AoA)
This world is rotten.
I am not the first, nor the last to think such a thing, but it was a realization that came to me slowly. I suppose it began to dawn upon me shortly after I found the first black strand interwoven with the gold.
I have nothing left to live for, after all.
I spent many years in the cold. I am not entirely sure why, exactly. Those memories grow fainter with each passing year. Their faces grow dim. I remember a sightless child, his back turned to me, the snow driving all around, whipping his soft cloth robes. I remember a woman with pale golden hair, the smoothness of her naked alabaster shoulder, lying slowly upon sand. I remember an Elvaan with flowing red hair and eyes that lashed and burned, the way his lips twisted, the way his eyes anguished. I remember kneeling before delicate, tiny-boned feet sheathed in velvet. I remember a cermet door, and my soul perishing on the other side.
It was supposed to be my destiny, I think, to die on the other side of that door. Perhaps that is why the black appeared.
So, I wandered in the cold. It was for several years, I think, and memories grew hazy, the mind apathetic to forget. It was silent there, and the entire world held its breath as it shifted beneath my feet. I grew stronger, twisting in mind and body even as my arts sharpened to a finely-honed edge. I have never been so powerful as I am now, and my thoughts have grown sharp and clear, as well.
I had nothing left to live for, I thought to myself at that time, and I yanked away the black when it appeared. Death will surely come on swift wings for me. Those who have nothing to lose are extraordinarily dangerous, but toward what end did I sharpen my skills, hone my craft? What good was a warrior without his soul?
I left the cold at that time, although I was not particularly sure where I was going, or what I would do there. I simply walked. I had money aplenty, though I cared little for it anymore, and took jobs such as interested me, abandoning them undone if they tired me. I felt nothing more like love or hatred in my heart, and my mind felt clear and uncluttered. The voices of others, unheard for so long, sounded loud in my heart and in my ears, and I sorted them disinterestedly. Where once I would have held my mind back for fear of prying or intruding, I now looked dispassionately. I wanted to know how others' minds worked. I wanted to know if I could find the secret to this clarity in their own noisy consciousnesses.
What I found was filth and depravity, selfishness and desire, greed and lasciviousness. Not even children were pure; even the wisest of elders thought only of themselves and their own shallowness. Human minds, I realized, were as a pool of pure, clean water upon which floated a thick film of black oil, filthy and viscous. No matter how I thirsted for the water beneath the refuse, I could not reach into that water without first plunging myself through the oil. And yet, plunge I did, again and again, straining through the taint of human weakness for that seed of light that had to be within each person.
The more I reached into human hearts in such a way, the greater the blackness spread, so that soon, the gold was mostly hidden. The result was somewhat visually unappealing, but I could no longer cut the black away from the gold, or brush my hair in such a way that the black was hidden. The black was encroaching, becoming the predominant color. I had not been among people for some time, but nor had I communed with the souls of animals; it was in humans that my detached interest lay, and in humans that I sought the answer. My Beastmaster's clothes lay under a thick layer of dust, and I forswore heavier armors for only the lightest of hakama and loose robes. I rarely felt cold or heat as it was. I had become barely alive, I think, and yet my mind was as alert and awake as it ever was.
I understood people now. I saw with open eyes the answers to all of the mysteries that had troubled me in my youth. Why he had vanished--why she had turned toward me--why he raged and burned so--why she closed the door behind her. The answers to everything lay within that filth that lay upon each of their souls. And, I supposed, my own. Perhaps this was the meaning of the black that had encroached onto me.
I am utterly alone in this knowledge. I alone of all of the ancients remain. I linger among humanity yet, but I am as removed from them as a single black raven amidst a flock of docile white geese; and I alone know how this must be fixed.
The answer has come to me. I alone am free from love, free from attachments, free from reasons to live, free to raise my hand and push open the Gate of the Gods. For I understand now with this complete clarity why Kam'lanaut and Eald'narche thirsted so for perfection. Only in the torrent of power that washes from the the Gate may mankind be cleansed.
Humanity is evil. I shall purify this Vana'diel, and erase all hint of evil.
This I promise.
I am not the first, nor the last to think such a thing, but it was a realization that came to me slowly. I suppose it began to dawn upon me shortly after I found the first black strand interwoven with the gold.
I have nothing left to live for, after all.
I spent many years in the cold. I am not entirely sure why, exactly. Those memories grow fainter with each passing year. Their faces grow dim. I remember a sightless child, his back turned to me, the snow driving all around, whipping his soft cloth robes. I remember a woman with pale golden hair, the smoothness of her naked alabaster shoulder, lying slowly upon sand. I remember an Elvaan with flowing red hair and eyes that lashed and burned, the way his lips twisted, the way his eyes anguished. I remember kneeling before delicate, tiny-boned feet sheathed in velvet. I remember a cermet door, and my soul perishing on the other side.
It was supposed to be my destiny, I think, to die on the other side of that door. Perhaps that is why the black appeared.
So, I wandered in the cold. It was for several years, I think, and memories grew hazy, the mind apathetic to forget. It was silent there, and the entire world held its breath as it shifted beneath my feet. I grew stronger, twisting in mind and body even as my arts sharpened to a finely-honed edge. I have never been so powerful as I am now, and my thoughts have grown sharp and clear, as well.
I had nothing left to live for, I thought to myself at that time, and I yanked away the black when it appeared. Death will surely come on swift wings for me. Those who have nothing to lose are extraordinarily dangerous, but toward what end did I sharpen my skills, hone my craft? What good was a warrior without his soul?
I left the cold at that time, although I was not particularly sure where I was going, or what I would do there. I simply walked. I had money aplenty, though I cared little for it anymore, and took jobs such as interested me, abandoning them undone if they tired me. I felt nothing more like love or hatred in my heart, and my mind felt clear and uncluttered. The voices of others, unheard for so long, sounded loud in my heart and in my ears, and I sorted them disinterestedly. Where once I would have held my mind back for fear of prying or intruding, I now looked dispassionately. I wanted to know how others' minds worked. I wanted to know if I could find the secret to this clarity in their own noisy consciousnesses.
What I found was filth and depravity, selfishness and desire, greed and lasciviousness. Not even children were pure; even the wisest of elders thought only of themselves and their own shallowness. Human minds, I realized, were as a pool of pure, clean water upon which floated a thick film of black oil, filthy and viscous. No matter how I thirsted for the water beneath the refuse, I could not reach into that water without first plunging myself through the oil. And yet, plunge I did, again and again, straining through the taint of human weakness for that seed of light that had to be within each person.
The more I reached into human hearts in such a way, the greater the blackness spread, so that soon, the gold was mostly hidden. The result was somewhat visually unappealing, but I could no longer cut the black away from the gold, or brush my hair in such a way that the black was hidden. The black was encroaching, becoming the predominant color. I had not been among people for some time, but nor had I communed with the souls of animals; it was in humans that my detached interest lay, and in humans that I sought the answer. My Beastmaster's clothes lay under a thick layer of dust, and I forswore heavier armors for only the lightest of hakama and loose robes. I rarely felt cold or heat as it was. I had become barely alive, I think, and yet my mind was as alert and awake as it ever was.
I understood people now. I saw with open eyes the answers to all of the mysteries that had troubled me in my youth. Why he had vanished--why she had turned toward me--why he raged and burned so--why she closed the door behind her. The answers to everything lay within that filth that lay upon each of their souls. And, I supposed, my own. Perhaps this was the meaning of the black that had encroached onto me.
I am utterly alone in this knowledge. I alone of all of the ancients remain. I linger among humanity yet, but I am as removed from them as a single black raven amidst a flock of docile white geese; and I alone know how this must be fixed.
The answer has come to me. I alone am free from love, free from attachments, free from reasons to live, free to raise my hand and push open the Gate of the Gods. For I understand now with this complete clarity why Kam'lanaut and Eald'narche thirsted so for perfection. Only in the torrent of power that washes from the the Gate may mankind be cleansed.
Humanity is evil. I shall purify this Vana'diel, and erase all hint of evil.
This I promise.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Re: Correspondence
Mr. Kre'oss,
I appreciate the letter. I hope that this finds you well. I'm not sure how the Mog Mail system works in the Empire, but I'll be sure to make note of it myself.
Training with Kaede has proved fruitful. I have learned more about the arts of shadow here than I ever thought possible; I think returning to Bastok and the Tenshodo would turn many a head there. I have unlearned several of the useless and incorrect techniques of evading perception. I would like to think I have learned something resembling discipline.
Kaede thinks so as well, I believe. There was been much happening inside the Council and while I do not know the details I know that several of the known members have arranged travel to the Empire. I will be accompanying Lady Kaede as part of her consort; Eyes in the crowd, ears in the streets. Its exciting, to first be trusted enough with such a task and second to be capable of carrying it out.
I do not know where we will be staying, or for how long, or any details that might compromise our safety. I will write you again when I am able or after I have heard back from you, whichever comes first.
Thank you, Master Kre'oss, for having faith in a silly child in a gang.
-R
I appreciate the letter. I hope that this finds you well. I'm not sure how the Mog Mail system works in the Empire, but I'll be sure to make note of it myself.
Training with Kaede has proved fruitful. I have learned more about the arts of shadow here than I ever thought possible; I think returning to Bastok and the Tenshodo would turn many a head there. I have unlearned several of the useless and incorrect techniques of evading perception. I would like to think I have learned something resembling discipline.
Kaede thinks so as well, I believe. There was been much happening inside the Council and while I do not know the details I know that several of the known members have arranged travel to the Empire. I will be accompanying Lady Kaede as part of her consort; Eyes in the crowd, ears in the streets. Its exciting, to first be trusted enough with such a task and second to be capable of carrying it out.
I do not know where we will be staying, or for how long, or any details that might compromise our safety. I will write you again when I am able or after I have heard back from you, whichever comes first.
Thank you, Master Kre'oss, for having faith in a silly child in a gang.
-R
Monday, February 2, 2009
Correspondence. (AoA)
A letter arrives via Mog Mail to Ranulfe in Norg.
To Ranulfe Elspeth:
I hope you forgive the nature of this correspondence; as chance would have it, I am known to Ms. Kaede, and have in the distant past acquaintance with her family and cause to learn the skills and abilities of a Ninja. Although, I must confess, as you likely noted on board the ship from San d'Oria, I practice more frequently the Far Eastern arts of the Samurai.
Via a few business associates I have in Norg, I have had occasion to follow your adventures, out of concern for how you are faring after the mishap on the ship. I am pleased to hear that you are doing well, with no lasting ill-effects from the adventure. I also must express my sincere desire that the mishap should not adversely affect your own comfort and sense of safety when you traverse the seas.
I am glad that you have fallen into reliable company at Norg. As we discovered on our journey to this place, the world is filled with disreputable villains. One must keep one's eyes open and heart steadfast against impure influences. This is the best way to protect oneself, and those that are important. My own family is long-deceased, but you remind me in some small way of my late son. I wonder if you have any family, and what turn of events brought you to Norg? If this inquiry is overly personal, I understand, but I would much care to learn more about you.
Please write to me should you need any assistance, whether in your work or in anything else that you may require. I shall be traveling this week through the distant lands of the Empire, so I shall respond whenever I am able to access the Mog Mail system. I am hoping to meet with you, when as noted before, you have become stronger. There is much I wish to share with you about current goings-on on the mainland and in other parts of the world. You may have begun to sense it yourself, even at your youthful age, but the Emptiness is growing. Darkness threatens Vana'diel once more, corrupting the minds and hearts of men. You and I are in a position to do something about it.
Until such time as we meet again, Ranulfe, I remain most sincerely,
Kre'oss
----------
Kao'nir lay in waist-high tall grass on the wind-swept plains of La Theine Plateau, his arms crossed under his head, and stared up at the stars.
In his mind's eye, a face stared back, a face he could not forget, a face twisted in anger.
If I could just speak to him again, he would understand. If I could tell him, then he'd take back everything he said before. He'd agree with me. He'd see what I meant. I -have- to do this. It's my purpose in life.
It was the first time since he had left Jeuno that he had thought of anything apart from his duty.
To Ranulfe Elspeth:
I hope you forgive the nature of this correspondence; as chance would have it, I am known to Ms. Kaede, and have in the distant past acquaintance with her family and cause to learn the skills and abilities of a Ninja. Although, I must confess, as you likely noted on board the ship from San d'Oria, I practice more frequently the Far Eastern arts of the Samurai.
Via a few business associates I have in Norg, I have had occasion to follow your adventures, out of concern for how you are faring after the mishap on the ship. I am pleased to hear that you are doing well, with no lasting ill-effects from the adventure. I also must express my sincere desire that the mishap should not adversely affect your own comfort and sense of safety when you traverse the seas.
I am glad that you have fallen into reliable company at Norg. As we discovered on our journey to this place, the world is filled with disreputable villains. One must keep one's eyes open and heart steadfast against impure influences. This is the best way to protect oneself, and those that are important. My own family is long-deceased, but you remind me in some small way of my late son. I wonder if you have any family, and what turn of events brought you to Norg? If this inquiry is overly personal, I understand, but I would much care to learn more about you.
Please write to me should you need any assistance, whether in your work or in anything else that you may require. I shall be traveling this week through the distant lands of the Empire, so I shall respond whenever I am able to access the Mog Mail system. I am hoping to meet with you, when as noted before, you have become stronger. There is much I wish to share with you about current goings-on on the mainland and in other parts of the world. You may have begun to sense it yourself, even at your youthful age, but the Emptiness is growing. Darkness threatens Vana'diel once more, corrupting the minds and hearts of men. You and I are in a position to do something about it.
Until such time as we meet again, Ranulfe, I remain most sincerely,
Kre'oss
----------
Kao'nir lay in waist-high tall grass on the wind-swept plains of La Theine Plateau, his arms crossed under his head, and stared up at the stars.
In his mind's eye, a face stared back, a face he could not forget, a face twisted in anger.
If I could just speak to him again, he would understand. If I could tell him, then he'd take back everything he said before. He'd agree with me. He'd see what I meant. I -have- to do this. It's my purpose in life.
It was the first time since he had left Jeuno that he had thought of anything apart from his duty.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Honor Amongst
Ranulfe woke up with a start. He was dreaming something that caused him to be restless and this spilled over into reality. His heart was pounding, his brow damp with sweat. He held his breath, all senses on alert and he tapped into the adrenaline surge. There was something wrong.
He had been lying low inside of his room in Norg. The men he had been witnessing in public left him feeling uneasy albeit not in danger, but there was no reason to tempt fate. Instead he had been keeping his profile low and not venturing away and into the streets of the smuggler's cove. Something was wrong, however. His gut had never failed him before.
There was no noise outside of his door, no light breaching his room and no reason to be alarmed. Bare feet settled onto the sturdy floor, Ranulfe light on his legs. He crept towards the doorway, retrieving his blade from beneathe his pillow first. There was something wrong.
The door would be trouble. He looked it over for a long moment, wondering how to open it without alarming anyone on the other side. He determined it would be impossible to do so if there was someone watching the doorway. It would be in poor interest to try and sneak away if he had in fact been cornered finally. Ranulfe stood tall, weapon in his hand and walked across his room. There were people here who knew he was here and he knew it. His gut told him there was danger awaiting him and he had no reason to second guess himself, as ludicrous as it seemed to suspect such a thing.
The door opened. With his guard raised, Ranulfe stepped foot outside and into the walkway lit only by the soft candlelight from the main room below. There didn't appear to be anyone there, but it was still dark. Ranulfe listened as hard as he could, strained his ears the best he was able. Once he determined there was no threat in his immediate surrounding he took the steps down.
Sitting at the sole table remaining in the large room was a woman, blonde, in her thirties. She was drinking something steaming from a small cup before her; Ranulfe presumed it was tea. She didn't acknowledge him until he was down the steps and his feet were on the floor in front of her. He didn't say anything and she took a long sip of her beverage before eyeing him up. To Ranulfe's surprise there was a sense of kindness in them.
"We have a small problem." She said finally, carefully placing her cup on the saucer before her. She folded her hands and let out a long sigh.
"No one knows who you are, child. You appeared in my city without a word, no one can identify you. None of the people you speak to in the day employ you, none of the people you speak to know where you came from. Furthermore, you arrived shortly after the day when I was expecting supplies. There has been word reaching my cove of a shipwreck where there were no survivors. Do you see the trouble, young man?" She spoke to him with a mature tone, though it ruffled his feathers that this woman, who was not considerably older than he, addressed him with such a title.
"You think I'm suspicious." His tone was curt, withheld. There was no reason to betray anything she didn't know. To his second surprise, she laughed gently.
"This is Norg, child. I'd only be suspicious of you if you weren't suspicious. The trouble is that you appeared in my neck of the woods without so much as a word, and no one can trace you. My finest men have been monitoring you and I will admit, you are a complete mystery to this place. No one arrives in my city without my knowing, and no one eludes my spies. I will be brief with the information I want from you, and you will answer me or you will be dead before you can stutter." Her tone was suddenly cold, her eyes harsh. There was definitive truth in her words. Ranulfe nodded.
"What is your name?"
"Ranulfe Elspeth."
"You are Tenshodo? Or merely pretending?"
"I am Tenshodo."
"You come from Bastok?"
"Yes."
"There was no boat coming to Norg from Bastok. How did you arrive here?"
He paused. A mistake. She rose from her seat, flicking her wrist forward and exposing a kunai.
"I boarded a ship from the Brugaire Consortium. There was an incident, the men on board were smuggling explosives and weapons, and there was an explosion. I woke nearby and came here for refuge."
"You say you boarded a ship. You were not crew?"
"No."
"Why then?"
"I have nothing left in Bastok. I wanted to pursue my life from our capitol."
She paused, pacing around the table and examining the weapon in her hand.
"Nothing left in Bastok? No family, no friends? Why didn't you join up with the Adventurers there, or become a Musketeer?"
"No family. My mother is deceased, my father absent from our lives. My sisters have become adventurers as well. I did not become one because I failed. My entire family belongs to Bastok, a nation I will have nothing to do with."
She seemed to dwell on this for a moment.
"You are a thief?" she finally asked.
"I am..." His eyes darted away, not knowing how to answer.
"You are...?" She waited for his reply.
"I am Tenshodo."
She smiled, laughing gently to herself, amused. "Yes you are. Come with me, Ranulfe Elspeth. You interest me."
He had been lying low inside of his room in Norg. The men he had been witnessing in public left him feeling uneasy albeit not in danger, but there was no reason to tempt fate. Instead he had been keeping his profile low and not venturing away and into the streets of the smuggler's cove. Something was wrong, however. His gut had never failed him before.
There was no noise outside of his door, no light breaching his room and no reason to be alarmed. Bare feet settled onto the sturdy floor, Ranulfe light on his legs. He crept towards the doorway, retrieving his blade from beneathe his pillow first. There was something wrong.
The door would be trouble. He looked it over for a long moment, wondering how to open it without alarming anyone on the other side. He determined it would be impossible to do so if there was someone watching the doorway. It would be in poor interest to try and sneak away if he had in fact been cornered finally. Ranulfe stood tall, weapon in his hand and walked across his room. There were people here who knew he was here and he knew it. His gut told him there was danger awaiting him and he had no reason to second guess himself, as ludicrous as it seemed to suspect such a thing.
The door opened. With his guard raised, Ranulfe stepped foot outside and into the walkway lit only by the soft candlelight from the main room below. There didn't appear to be anyone there, but it was still dark. Ranulfe listened as hard as he could, strained his ears the best he was able. Once he determined there was no threat in his immediate surrounding he took the steps down.
Sitting at the sole table remaining in the large room was a woman, blonde, in her thirties. She was drinking something steaming from a small cup before her; Ranulfe presumed it was tea. She didn't acknowledge him until he was down the steps and his feet were on the floor in front of her. He didn't say anything and she took a long sip of her beverage before eyeing him up. To Ranulfe's surprise there was a sense of kindness in them.
"We have a small problem." She said finally, carefully placing her cup on the saucer before her. She folded her hands and let out a long sigh.
"No one knows who you are, child. You appeared in my city without a word, no one can identify you. None of the people you speak to in the day employ you, none of the people you speak to know where you came from. Furthermore, you arrived shortly after the day when I was expecting supplies. There has been word reaching my cove of a shipwreck where there were no survivors. Do you see the trouble, young man?" She spoke to him with a mature tone, though it ruffled his feathers that this woman, who was not considerably older than he, addressed him with such a title.
"You think I'm suspicious." His tone was curt, withheld. There was no reason to betray anything she didn't know. To his second surprise, she laughed gently.
"This is Norg, child. I'd only be suspicious of you if you weren't suspicious. The trouble is that you appeared in my neck of the woods without so much as a word, and no one can trace you. My finest men have been monitoring you and I will admit, you are a complete mystery to this place. No one arrives in my city without my knowing, and no one eludes my spies. I will be brief with the information I want from you, and you will answer me or you will be dead before you can stutter." Her tone was suddenly cold, her eyes harsh. There was definitive truth in her words. Ranulfe nodded.
"What is your name?"
"Ranulfe Elspeth."
"You are Tenshodo? Or merely pretending?"
"I am Tenshodo."
"You come from Bastok?"
"Yes."
"There was no boat coming to Norg from Bastok. How did you arrive here?"
He paused. A mistake. She rose from her seat, flicking her wrist forward and exposing a kunai.
"I boarded a ship from the Brugaire Consortium. There was an incident, the men on board were smuggling explosives and weapons, and there was an explosion. I woke nearby and came here for refuge."
"You say you boarded a ship. You were not crew?"
"No."
"Why then?"
"I have nothing left in Bastok. I wanted to pursue my life from our capitol."
She paused, pacing around the table and examining the weapon in her hand.
"Nothing left in Bastok? No family, no friends? Why didn't you join up with the Adventurers there, or become a Musketeer?"
"No family. My mother is deceased, my father absent from our lives. My sisters have become adventurers as well. I did not become one because I failed. My entire family belongs to Bastok, a nation I will have nothing to do with."
She seemed to dwell on this for a moment.
"You are a thief?" she finally asked.
"I am..." His eyes darted away, not knowing how to answer.
"You are...?" She waited for his reply.
"I am Tenshodo."
She smiled, laughing gently to herself, amused. "Yes you are. Come with me, Ranulfe Elspeth. You interest me."
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Seasick
Ranulfe didn't know how to explain that he had been the sole survivor of the ship that never reached Norg. He didn't explain that he had been saved by a passenger who the entire ship had regarded as untouchable. He didn't mention any of the details pertaining to his arrival in the "capitol" of Norg. He instead did his best to remain out of the way and blend in. The bag of currency the strange man had given him went a long way towards finding food and a place to rest his head but now that Ranulfe was actually in Norg he didn't have the faintest idea of where to go.
He spent his days walking the length of the docks, offering help to anyone who looked like they needed it. Trouble with offering help to pirates is that when you're still a pup in their eyes, they're not obligated to accept anything. In retrospect, Ranulfe's plan of "going to Norg" seems as stupid as his sisters' plan to "Become adventurers." He remembered all the times he had yelled at them, telling them that it was a bad idea, that they wouldn't have the first clue as to what to do.
He worried about them. He wondered if they were eating well, if the house was upside down and on fire, if they were safe. His thoughts would often linger back home while he was falling asleep. He began to think this was a mistake.
It was during his second week there that he noticed on his usual walks that he was being followed. He might have a lot to learn about the world but he did have experience dodging the Musketeers from an early age; it was easy to tell when someone was following you. They never came closer than a hundred ilms but they were certainly keeping an eye on him. Two men, garbed in light black armor. Topknots. They carried no weapons visably but there was no such thing as an unarmed person in Norg. Ranulfe thought they might be eyeing him to rob him.
Nothing came of it, at least not at first. They faded into the crowd at some point and Ranulfe missed it. The important part of monitoring the people who are watching you is not to let on you know they're there. They eluded Ranulfe, which made him on edge for the rest of the day. It wasn't until he was safely (as safe as one can be in Norg) in his room at the inn that he felt he could breathe easy.
It went that way for a few more days. There was a sighting of one of these men watching him from afar, then nothing more as they vanished into the hustle and bustle of a working smuggler's dock. Ranulfe worried what was going on, but didn't feel specifically in danger. His nerves were still relaxed, the hair on his neck was still in place. There was nothing to make his pulse accelerate, nothing to kick in his fight-or-flight mechanic. Not yet.
He spent his days walking the length of the docks, offering help to anyone who looked like they needed it. Trouble with offering help to pirates is that when you're still a pup in their eyes, they're not obligated to accept anything. In retrospect, Ranulfe's plan of "going to Norg" seems as stupid as his sisters' plan to "Become adventurers." He remembered all the times he had yelled at them, telling them that it was a bad idea, that they wouldn't have the first clue as to what to do.
He worried about them. He wondered if they were eating well, if the house was upside down and on fire, if they were safe. His thoughts would often linger back home while he was falling asleep. He began to think this was a mistake.
It was during his second week there that he noticed on his usual walks that he was being followed. He might have a lot to learn about the world but he did have experience dodging the Musketeers from an early age; it was easy to tell when someone was following you. They never came closer than a hundred ilms but they were certainly keeping an eye on him. Two men, garbed in light black armor. Topknots. They carried no weapons visably but there was no such thing as an unarmed person in Norg. Ranulfe thought they might be eyeing him to rob him.
Nothing came of it, at least not at first. They faded into the crowd at some point and Ranulfe missed it. The important part of monitoring the people who are watching you is not to let on you know they're there. They eluded Ranulfe, which made him on edge for the rest of the day. It wasn't until he was safely (as safe as one can be in Norg) in his room at the inn that he felt he could breathe easy.
It went that way for a few more days. There was a sighting of one of these men watching him from afar, then nothing more as they vanished into the hustle and bustle of a working smuggler's dock. Ranulfe worried what was going on, but didn't feel specifically in danger. His nerves were still relaxed, the hair on his neck was still in place. There was nothing to make his pulse accelerate, nothing to kick in his fight-or-flight mechanic. Not yet.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
King of the Corsairs (AoA)
I don't think the guys down at Norg were too happy to see me when I stepped off the Ephramadian sloop that had carried me over from Aradjiah proper. They were cringing right proper when I approached them, anyway, and I doubt it was my natty duds and well-polished boots that did it. They all had on those silly Far Eastern wannabe topknots and tried to placate me with ingratiating grins. "Welcome to Norg, Lord Garath," their leader, a pretend Samurai in red armor and kote, said with a nervous smile.
I smirked. "I'd say it was nice to be here, but I must say that I'm kinda unimpressed with your digs." I glanced around, pulling a face. "This place is the biggest smuggler's hole in the Middle Lands? Seriously? It's a hole in the wall and it stinks of seaweed." I tugged down my tricorne reflexively.
"I'm sure it doesn't compare with the splendors of the Kingdom of Ephramad," my guide tried again, "but it's home. If you'll come this way--"
I trailed after the Tenshodo kiddies, surreptitiously checking out their manpower. A bunch of seedy-looking smugglers; filthy pirates who hadn't bathed in a week; a Galka or two for muscle; a scraggly kid in Bastokan rags trying to get someone, anyone to believe he was important; a Goblin with a tray of worthless brik-a-brak for sale; a couple of sorry-looking chocobos tied up by the cave entrance; and some smug Far Easterners glowering in my direction with ill-hidden contempt. I shot them back a look of same. THESE were Ephramad's allies? Prince Luzaf would be spinning in his watery grave at the depths to which proud Ephramad had sunk.
They took me to the back chambers, guarded by several burly Tenshodo with mean expressions and more tattoos than brains. I had vague recollections of Seik teaching me that the fearsome pirate Gilgamesh had ruled here in his youth. The Rogue Faction had formed the Shadow Council after his death, and it was those eminences that sat in his chambers now. A large round table of black stone rested in the center of the well-appointed room. "Sorry I'm late," I said flippantly, tipping my tricorne to the three seated at the table and their retinues in attendance. "This being my first Shadow Council meeting and all, I'm sure you all will forgive me for being a bit seasick."
I plopped down at the table and propped up my boots on the black stone. An older Mithra seated directly to my left rolled her eyes, her fingers caressing her chin as she took my measure. I shot her a wink, causing her cronies situated behind her to growl fiercely. "How about we start with introductions?" I crooned, at my most persuasive.
"This isn't the time for games, Garath," a stern-faced Hume woman across from me said.
I pouted at her. "Why so mean, sweetie? You know how we Corsairs are--it's ALWAYS the time for games." I swung my feet down. "Besides, I'd LOVE to get your personal info." I grinned at her, gratified by the angry flush that spread across her appealingly pale cheeks.
"Fine, I'll indulge your foolishness," she snapped. "I'm Kaede of Bastok. I represent the interests of the Tenshodo."
An Elvaan man with cold eyes sat to my right and jerked his head at me in a steely nod. "Esterimond of San d'Oria. I represent the Brugaire Consortium."
"Nanaa Mihgo of Windurst," the Mithra to my left half-purred, her eyes half-lidding. "I'm surrrre I don't have to tell you I represent only myself. The gil starts and ends with me in Mindartia, kitten."
"Naturally, madam, your reputation precedes you," I murmured. "And who represents Norg?"
"That would be me," a light voice said behind me.
I turned to look, then rose to my feet. A ravishing woman in the full bloom of maturity stood behind me, wrapped in a skintight catsuit, her tousled, thick red hair flowing down her back. She strode past Esterimond to sit next to Kaede with an air of authority. "The name's Lion," she told me, flashing me a full-lipped smile. "My father was Gilgamesh of Norg."
"My Lady Lion!" I said admiringly, resuming my seat. "I must say, I'm flattered to share a Council table with so many ladies of such legendary beauty and poise."
Esterimond made a soft, rude sound in the back of his throat. "The Rogue Faction has come to a sorry state indeed, that so many mere females sit at Council."
"Say that to my face, you stuck-up--!" Nanaa Mihgo started, but I held up a gloved hand.
"I haven't gotten to introduce myself yet. I'm sure you're all dying of curiosity." I smirked. "I am Viceroy Garath of the Kingdom of Ephramad, Captain of the Pearline Swan."
"I see your own reputation is one hundred percent correct, my Lord," Lion said with a mischievious grin. "I've heard you're quite the charmer."
"And no doubt that I'm an ambitious swindler," I laughed. "All true, no doubt. Men without drive don't make it in Ephramad."
"Is it trrrrue you don't have a drop of Ephramadian blood in you?" Nanaa Mihgo asked shrewdly.
I shrugged exaggeratedly, my eyes carelessly closed and my hands spread. "Who could say? Who these days IS a true Ephramadian? All I know is, Ephramad and indeed our entire Rogue Faction, is where a man with no name and no wealth can make both for himself if he has the nerve--" I flourished my spread hands and suddenly had a hexagun pointing straight at Kaede's head, then in another swift motion it was gone. "--and the ability." I smiled at her winningly, and she lowered a drawn kunai slowly, her eyes still narrowed at me. "My title has nothing to do with my parents, I can tell you that much. I was adopted when I was five by a free-minded Mithra named Seikatsu, and I can tell you that she instilled the right sorts of values in me, which is to say: 'There is no glory or honor in battle, but in it a man can gain or lose all he desires.'"
Lion smiled approvingly at my quote of the Corsair saying. "Well put, Lord Garath."
"Enough frivolities," Esterimond said impatiently. "We have business to discuss."
"Not least is the leadership situation in Ephramad," Kaede added sharply. "What is the status, Lord Garath? Too long have you Ephramadians claimed you a kingdom without a king!"
I leaned back again in my chair, staring thoughtfully up at the ceiling. A pair of dice blossomed in my hands and I rolled them around slowly, letting them tumble across my leather-swathed palm. "You must understand, my dear Lady Kaede, Prince Luzaf was the last of Ephramad's royal line, and he perished well over two centuries ago without an heir. As everyone knows, in the first few years of our existence as a kingdom, we tried to find anyone of the royal blood remaining, but there's just none. It's been too long, and there's been too much persecution and--dare I say it--interbreeding with our Imperial oppressors to maintain a true bloodline." I winked at Kaede, who still looked vaguely scandalized.
"So what's the plan?" Nanaa Mihgo demanded. "The longer you all remain leaderrrless, the easier it'll be for some other country to come in and pluck you like a Buburimu grape."
"Unlike other countries, we don't NEED a king to defend ourselves," I snapped back with a bit more pique than I really meant. "So far, we've been making decisions in committee much like this one. All ship captains have a seat at the table."
"So no news to report then?" Esterimond drawled. "How typical of our lazy Ephramadian brothers."
DAMN, he was pissing me off. I was beginning to thank my stars that the royal family of Ephramad HAD died all off, if they were all Elvaan like this prig. I rolled my eyes. "Actually, we're going to find a more... unorthodox solution to finding a king," I said with a wide grin.
Lion raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"
"A tournament!" I smiled, leaning forward. "Open to everyone in the Rogue Faction, actually. Winner take all. One of those silly games you all love from us so much."
Kaede tried to stifle a sound that was half gasp, half laugh. "You're handing over leadership of the world's most powerful navy to... to.... the winner of a GAME?!"
I smirked and with a jerk of my hand, dealt an ice-blue card into the center of the table, following them with my dice. They landed upon the card, then froze into a block of ice. "You got it, cutie," I told her. "And I intend on winning."
"Surely you're not serrrrious," Nanaa Mihgo protested disgustedly. "You're barely more than a kitten, and you're gonna be the King of Ephramad?"
"Yup!" I bounded up from my chair. "Might as well put your money on it now, ladies and gentle--well, really just ladies here aren't we?" I gave Esterimond a scathing look, which he returned in full force. "The odds are good and likely that Garath is going to become King of the Corsairs--" I drew my gun once again, with a wide flourish, then pointed it at the sky. "--and then, ALL of the world's riches will be mine!"
I smirked. "I'd say it was nice to be here, but I must say that I'm kinda unimpressed with your digs." I glanced around, pulling a face. "This place is the biggest smuggler's hole in the Middle Lands? Seriously? It's a hole in the wall and it stinks of seaweed." I tugged down my tricorne reflexively.
"I'm sure it doesn't compare with the splendors of the Kingdom of Ephramad," my guide tried again, "but it's home. If you'll come this way--"
I trailed after the Tenshodo kiddies, surreptitiously checking out their manpower. A bunch of seedy-looking smugglers; filthy pirates who hadn't bathed in a week; a Galka or two for muscle; a scraggly kid in Bastokan rags trying to get someone, anyone to believe he was important; a Goblin with a tray of worthless brik-a-brak for sale; a couple of sorry-looking chocobos tied up by the cave entrance; and some smug Far Easterners glowering in my direction with ill-hidden contempt. I shot them back a look of same. THESE were Ephramad's allies? Prince Luzaf would be spinning in his watery grave at the depths to which proud Ephramad had sunk.
They took me to the back chambers, guarded by several burly Tenshodo with mean expressions and more tattoos than brains. I had vague recollections of Seik teaching me that the fearsome pirate Gilgamesh had ruled here in his youth. The Rogue Faction had formed the Shadow Council after his death, and it was those eminences that sat in his chambers now. A large round table of black stone rested in the center of the well-appointed room. "Sorry I'm late," I said flippantly, tipping my tricorne to the three seated at the table and their retinues in attendance. "This being my first Shadow Council meeting and all, I'm sure you all will forgive me for being a bit seasick."
I plopped down at the table and propped up my boots on the black stone. An older Mithra seated directly to my left rolled her eyes, her fingers caressing her chin as she took my measure. I shot her a wink, causing her cronies situated behind her to growl fiercely. "How about we start with introductions?" I crooned, at my most persuasive.
"This isn't the time for games, Garath," a stern-faced Hume woman across from me said.
I pouted at her. "Why so mean, sweetie? You know how we Corsairs are--it's ALWAYS the time for games." I swung my feet down. "Besides, I'd LOVE to get your personal info." I grinned at her, gratified by the angry flush that spread across her appealingly pale cheeks.
"Fine, I'll indulge your foolishness," she snapped. "I'm Kaede of Bastok. I represent the interests of the Tenshodo."
An Elvaan man with cold eyes sat to my right and jerked his head at me in a steely nod. "Esterimond of San d'Oria. I represent the Brugaire Consortium."
"Nanaa Mihgo of Windurst," the Mithra to my left half-purred, her eyes half-lidding. "I'm surrrre I don't have to tell you I represent only myself. The gil starts and ends with me in Mindartia, kitten."
"Naturally, madam, your reputation precedes you," I murmured. "And who represents Norg?"
"That would be me," a light voice said behind me.
I turned to look, then rose to my feet. A ravishing woman in the full bloom of maturity stood behind me, wrapped in a skintight catsuit, her tousled, thick red hair flowing down her back. She strode past Esterimond to sit next to Kaede with an air of authority. "The name's Lion," she told me, flashing me a full-lipped smile. "My father was Gilgamesh of Norg."
"My Lady Lion!" I said admiringly, resuming my seat. "I must say, I'm flattered to share a Council table with so many ladies of such legendary beauty and poise."
Esterimond made a soft, rude sound in the back of his throat. "The Rogue Faction has come to a sorry state indeed, that so many mere females sit at Council."
"Say that to my face, you stuck-up--!" Nanaa Mihgo started, but I held up a gloved hand.
"I haven't gotten to introduce myself yet. I'm sure you're all dying of curiosity." I smirked. "I am Viceroy Garath of the Kingdom of Ephramad, Captain of the Pearline Swan."
"I see your own reputation is one hundred percent correct, my Lord," Lion said with a mischievious grin. "I've heard you're quite the charmer."
"And no doubt that I'm an ambitious swindler," I laughed. "All true, no doubt. Men without drive don't make it in Ephramad."
"Is it trrrrue you don't have a drop of Ephramadian blood in you?" Nanaa Mihgo asked shrewdly.
I shrugged exaggeratedly, my eyes carelessly closed and my hands spread. "Who could say? Who these days IS a true Ephramadian? All I know is, Ephramad and indeed our entire Rogue Faction, is where a man with no name and no wealth can make both for himself if he has the nerve--" I flourished my spread hands and suddenly had a hexagun pointing straight at Kaede's head, then in another swift motion it was gone. "--and the ability." I smiled at her winningly, and she lowered a drawn kunai slowly, her eyes still narrowed at me. "My title has nothing to do with my parents, I can tell you that much. I was adopted when I was five by a free-minded Mithra named Seikatsu, and I can tell you that she instilled the right sorts of values in me, which is to say: 'There is no glory or honor in battle, but in it a man can gain or lose all he desires.'"
Lion smiled approvingly at my quote of the Corsair saying. "Well put, Lord Garath."
"Enough frivolities," Esterimond said impatiently. "We have business to discuss."
"Not least is the leadership situation in Ephramad," Kaede added sharply. "What is the status, Lord Garath? Too long have you Ephramadians claimed you a kingdom without a king!"
I leaned back again in my chair, staring thoughtfully up at the ceiling. A pair of dice blossomed in my hands and I rolled them around slowly, letting them tumble across my leather-swathed palm. "You must understand, my dear Lady Kaede, Prince Luzaf was the last of Ephramad's royal line, and he perished well over two centuries ago without an heir. As everyone knows, in the first few years of our existence as a kingdom, we tried to find anyone of the royal blood remaining, but there's just none. It's been too long, and there's been too much persecution and--dare I say it--interbreeding with our Imperial oppressors to maintain a true bloodline." I winked at Kaede, who still looked vaguely scandalized.
"So what's the plan?" Nanaa Mihgo demanded. "The longer you all remain leaderrrless, the easier it'll be for some other country to come in and pluck you like a Buburimu grape."
"Unlike other countries, we don't NEED a king to defend ourselves," I snapped back with a bit more pique than I really meant. "So far, we've been making decisions in committee much like this one. All ship captains have a seat at the table."
"So no news to report then?" Esterimond drawled. "How typical of our lazy Ephramadian brothers."
DAMN, he was pissing me off. I was beginning to thank my stars that the royal family of Ephramad HAD died all off, if they were all Elvaan like this prig. I rolled my eyes. "Actually, we're going to find a more... unorthodox solution to finding a king," I said with a wide grin.
Lion raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"
"A tournament!" I smiled, leaning forward. "Open to everyone in the Rogue Faction, actually. Winner take all. One of those silly games you all love from us so much."
Kaede tried to stifle a sound that was half gasp, half laugh. "You're handing over leadership of the world's most powerful navy to... to.... the winner of a GAME?!"
I smirked and with a jerk of my hand, dealt an ice-blue card into the center of the table, following them with my dice. They landed upon the card, then froze into a block of ice. "You got it, cutie," I told her. "And I intend on winning."
"Surely you're not serrrrious," Nanaa Mihgo protested disgustedly. "You're barely more than a kitten, and you're gonna be the King of Ephramad?"
"Yup!" I bounded up from my chair. "Might as well put your money on it now, ladies and gentle--well, really just ladies here aren't we?" I gave Esterimond a scathing look, which he returned in full force. "The odds are good and likely that Garath is going to become King of the Corsairs--" I drew my gun once again, with a wide flourish, then pointed it at the sky. "--and then, ALL of the world's riches will be mine!"
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Crash. (AoA)
As Ranulfe had darkly noted on the first day of his trip, the sailors on board the creaky Norg vessel were none-too-pleased to have passengers aboard, and constantly muttered amongst themselves, shooting him unpleasant glances when they thought he wasn't looking. Their tune was entirely different, however, when they put in at an abandoned beach as they rounded Cape Terrigan to pick up another passenger.
Unlike Ranulfe, the crew and especially the captain treated this man with a fearful respect, and avoided him entirely if at all possible. Ranulfe was mildly curious as to whom could command such a respect that the vessel would retrieve him in such a mysterious manner, but the man was singularly uncommunicative. Unlike Ranulfe, who was put to menial tasks to "make hisself useful," as the mate would spit at him, the new passenger did little but sit astern, staring out at the grey, choppy waves of the ocean as the ship slunk steadily southeast.
Ranulfe's resentment grew each time he saw the special treatment the man commanded. He ate little and ignored almost all attempts at socialization, simply pinning the captain or crewmember that dared with an intense stare until they left him alone. Ranulfe failed to see what was so unusual about the man. His age was difficult to determine--perhaps nineteen or twenty, not so far off from Ranulfe's age, save that his gaze was mature to the point of giving his face the cast of someone far older. He had but one eye, pitch-black in color, the other covered in an eyepatch bound up beneath his hair, which was also the darkest black and overgrown down to the nape of his neck. He was probably a Samurai in profession, gauging from the long blade that he wore sheathed on his hip, and his loose hakama of vaguely Far Eastern origin. More than his appearance, however, was his mien: stern and absent, his single-eyed stare piercing, as if it went right through Ranulfe and bored into his mind. It reminded him a little of someone else he had met, perhaps, only there was nothing innocent or youthful about it. This man had known blood, and Ranulfe felt his stomach twist a little as if his internal organs shivered from an icy touch whenever he met that gaze.
However, apart from the uneasy feelings that the man aroused within him, Ranulfe found little to care about in his demeanor. He strived to make himself a part of the scenery, doing what tasks were assigned to him and avoiding the captain's eye the rest of the time, willing the shabby boat to somehow cut through the waters separating them from Norg and get them there faster. The rolling motion of the ship surprisingly did not suit him, though it might have been because the ship was leaky and stank of seaweed. Ranulfe was fed very little and had almost nothing in the way of stores remaining, which didn't help his situation.
On the evening of the fifth day, just as the last of the sun was fading from the western horizon, Ranulfe carefully snuck down into the ship's stores. His stomach was aching badly from lack of food. Although the captain hadn't said he could have anything, he was sure he could scrounge some sort of crust of bread to tide him over--they were supposed to be docking in Norg in the morning. He shakily lit a lantern and hung it by the door, rummaging through the large crates stored in the back cabin--only to jerk his hands back in surprise. Each crate was filled to near-bursting with gunpowder and ammunition, well-oiled muskets and polished armor.
"Does it surprise you?" a soft voice addressed him from behind.
Ranulfe whirled, his eyes narrowing, his hands automatically balling up and raising to protect himself. It was the other passenger, leaning lightly against the doorframe, his loose gi negligently wrapped around himself but his pale hand carefully positioned on the hilt of his great katana. He stepped into the room, past Ranulfe, and leaned toward the crates, looking inside. "Our captain is no ordinary Ephramadian, as I'm sure you can tell. His leanings are in... more secular directions."
"He's probably just--just trading these--" Ranulfe stammered out, struggling to find a reason. "There's no way they're Muskies, they look nothing like them--I'd know--"
"Of course they're not actual Musketeers." The stranger inclined his head toward Ranulfe, accepting the point, the faintest of smiles curving his lips. "These are the type that'll trade to anyone. Bastokan, Ephramadian... or beastmen, naturally." He set his free hand on top of one of the crates. "The Quadav in the Palborough Mines near Bastok have been seen lately using explosives and gunpowder, just the same as the Humes that fight them. There's worries that they might be trying to tunnel underneath the city..." His one good eye moved to Ranulfe. "And pay the Humes back for all of the times their own homes were exploded into nothingness."
Ranulfe bit back his panic, his heart thumping wildly in his chest. "You... you don't know that..." It couldn't be true, could it? His sisters... they couldn't be...
The man turned away. "There's filth in every society, boy. Money is all they care for, and they don't care about anyone who gets in the way." The faintest hint of a sneer colored the man's voice, and he shook his head.
"So you'd rather we were all -adventurers-?" Ranulfe couldn't help but growl the hated word.
The man snorted in response. "Hardly. I answer to no one, no nation, no organization. My way is to go through this world we live in and crush the filth such as these--" He waved his hand up at the ceiling, indicating the captain, the crew. "--for the betterment of all. One day, perhaps you will understand. Until then."
Ranulfe watched the man leave with a deep sense of foreboding.
Sometime in the depths of that night, a lantern hung carelessly in the stores fell and ignited the hidden gunpowder and armaments. The resulting explosion was all that Ranulfe remembered--a booming roar so loud that he thought for a moment the entire world beneath him was upheaving outward, like an earthquake contained only to the ship.
When he awoke, he was lying on the shore of an unknown land. Burning wreckage of a ship lit the horizon in the far distance. He leaned up, soaked to the bone; the other passenger, the mysterious Samurai, stood next to him, also dripping. Ranulfe looked up at him, and the man looked back emotionlessly.
"Y-you... saved me?" was all that Ranulfe managed to say.
"You're worth too much to let drown," the man replied casually. "You're not tainted by greed like those men were. I think, one day, you could learn to see the filth of this world and resist their attempts to sway you."
Ranulfe said nothing, lowering his gaze. The man pointed to a rocky cove several miles down the beach. "That is the hidden dock cavern of Norg. You will find people there that can make you stronger." He dropped a small pouch, heavy and jingling, at Ranulfe's feet. "Don't go hungry anymore. Train and become strong. I saved your life for a purpose, and one day, I will return to you for that purpose."
He pulled a thin whistle from a chain around his neck and blew upon it; a large black war chocobo emerged from the thick forest just off the beach, and the man swung up onto its neck. Ranulfe watched him, unable to say anything or even move until the man had vanished from sight, leaving only the soaked boy on the beach and the burning wreckage off in the distance as indication that he had been there at all.
Unlike Ranulfe, the crew and especially the captain treated this man with a fearful respect, and avoided him entirely if at all possible. Ranulfe was mildly curious as to whom could command such a respect that the vessel would retrieve him in such a mysterious manner, but the man was singularly uncommunicative. Unlike Ranulfe, who was put to menial tasks to "make hisself useful," as the mate would spit at him, the new passenger did little but sit astern, staring out at the grey, choppy waves of the ocean as the ship slunk steadily southeast.
Ranulfe's resentment grew each time he saw the special treatment the man commanded. He ate little and ignored almost all attempts at socialization, simply pinning the captain or crewmember that dared with an intense stare until they left him alone. Ranulfe failed to see what was so unusual about the man. His age was difficult to determine--perhaps nineteen or twenty, not so far off from Ranulfe's age, save that his gaze was mature to the point of giving his face the cast of someone far older. He had but one eye, pitch-black in color, the other covered in an eyepatch bound up beneath his hair, which was also the darkest black and overgrown down to the nape of his neck. He was probably a Samurai in profession, gauging from the long blade that he wore sheathed on his hip, and his loose hakama of vaguely Far Eastern origin. More than his appearance, however, was his mien: stern and absent, his single-eyed stare piercing, as if it went right through Ranulfe and bored into his mind. It reminded him a little of someone else he had met, perhaps, only there was nothing innocent or youthful about it. This man had known blood, and Ranulfe felt his stomach twist a little as if his internal organs shivered from an icy touch whenever he met that gaze.
However, apart from the uneasy feelings that the man aroused within him, Ranulfe found little to care about in his demeanor. He strived to make himself a part of the scenery, doing what tasks were assigned to him and avoiding the captain's eye the rest of the time, willing the shabby boat to somehow cut through the waters separating them from Norg and get them there faster. The rolling motion of the ship surprisingly did not suit him, though it might have been because the ship was leaky and stank of seaweed. Ranulfe was fed very little and had almost nothing in the way of stores remaining, which didn't help his situation.
On the evening of the fifth day, just as the last of the sun was fading from the western horizon, Ranulfe carefully snuck down into the ship's stores. His stomach was aching badly from lack of food. Although the captain hadn't said he could have anything, he was sure he could scrounge some sort of crust of bread to tide him over--they were supposed to be docking in Norg in the morning. He shakily lit a lantern and hung it by the door, rummaging through the large crates stored in the back cabin--only to jerk his hands back in surprise. Each crate was filled to near-bursting with gunpowder and ammunition, well-oiled muskets and polished armor.
"Does it surprise you?" a soft voice addressed him from behind.
Ranulfe whirled, his eyes narrowing, his hands automatically balling up and raising to protect himself. It was the other passenger, leaning lightly against the doorframe, his loose gi negligently wrapped around himself but his pale hand carefully positioned on the hilt of his great katana. He stepped into the room, past Ranulfe, and leaned toward the crates, looking inside. "Our captain is no ordinary Ephramadian, as I'm sure you can tell. His leanings are in... more secular directions."
"He's probably just--just trading these--" Ranulfe stammered out, struggling to find a reason. "There's no way they're Muskies, they look nothing like them--I'd know--"
"Of course they're not actual Musketeers." The stranger inclined his head toward Ranulfe, accepting the point, the faintest of smiles curving his lips. "These are the type that'll trade to anyone. Bastokan, Ephramadian... or beastmen, naturally." He set his free hand on top of one of the crates. "The Quadav in the Palborough Mines near Bastok have been seen lately using explosives and gunpowder, just the same as the Humes that fight them. There's worries that they might be trying to tunnel underneath the city..." His one good eye moved to Ranulfe. "And pay the Humes back for all of the times their own homes were exploded into nothingness."
Ranulfe bit back his panic, his heart thumping wildly in his chest. "You... you don't know that..." It couldn't be true, could it? His sisters... they couldn't be...
The man turned away. "There's filth in every society, boy. Money is all they care for, and they don't care about anyone who gets in the way." The faintest hint of a sneer colored the man's voice, and he shook his head.
"So you'd rather we were all -adventurers-?" Ranulfe couldn't help but growl the hated word.
The man snorted in response. "Hardly. I answer to no one, no nation, no organization. My way is to go through this world we live in and crush the filth such as these--" He waved his hand up at the ceiling, indicating the captain, the crew. "--for the betterment of all. One day, perhaps you will understand. Until then."
Ranulfe watched the man leave with a deep sense of foreboding.
Sometime in the depths of that night, a lantern hung carelessly in the stores fell and ignited the hidden gunpowder and armaments. The resulting explosion was all that Ranulfe remembered--a booming roar so loud that he thought for a moment the entire world beneath him was upheaving outward, like an earthquake contained only to the ship.
When he awoke, he was lying on the shore of an unknown land. Burning wreckage of a ship lit the horizon in the far distance. He leaned up, soaked to the bone; the other passenger, the mysterious Samurai, stood next to him, also dripping. Ranulfe looked up at him, and the man looked back emotionlessly.
"Y-you... saved me?" was all that Ranulfe managed to say.
"You're worth too much to let drown," the man replied casually. "You're not tainted by greed like those men were. I think, one day, you could learn to see the filth of this world and resist their attempts to sway you."
Ranulfe said nothing, lowering his gaze. The man pointed to a rocky cove several miles down the beach. "That is the hidden dock cavern of Norg. You will find people there that can make you stronger." He dropped a small pouch, heavy and jingling, at Ranulfe's feet. "Don't go hungry anymore. Train and become strong. I saved your life for a purpose, and one day, I will return to you for that purpose."
He pulled a thin whistle from a chain around his neck and blew upon it; a large black war chocobo emerged from the thick forest just off the beach, and the man swung up onto its neck. Ranulfe watched him, unable to say anything or even move until the man had vanished from sight, leaving only the soaked boy on the beach and the burning wreckage off in the distance as indication that he had been there at all.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)