So, I had this idea the other day. This idea eventually developed into a thought, which then developed into a. . .Ah, forget it. Here is my new story. I'll update at least once a week. Review please! :P
Summary: It's been decades since a Guild known internationally as Fairy Tail had defeated the Balam Alliance and sealed Zeref. New Guilds have popped up through the land, and things have changed massively in the twenty-five years since. What will become of this Guild known as White Lightning? Wait, what is white lightning anyways?
Disclaimer: I do not own the Fairy Tail universe, only the OCs and the plot.
Fateful Encounter
Numerous shouts echoed throughout the grime-ridden streets. The heavy thuds of men running in armor was only too recognizable. Foolish requests like "Halt", or "Stop" they all shouted.
Like hell he and his brother would listen.
"I told you to wait until the sun went down!" the older of the two brothers, Drake, shouted. Drake's white tank top and gray trousers were covered in dirt and grime, smeared all over. His dark blue, neck-length hair continued to get in the way of his peripherals, so he had all but stopped trying to shove it out of the way. His piercing brown eyes were struggling not to turn around and see how close the military was. He was going to turn eighteen in a few months. His brother, younger by about a year, ran directly behind him.
"I was hungry, and we didn't have any money!" the younger brother retorted. His spiky white hair fell in front of his forehead, and he was covered in a blue coat several sizes too big and pants. A pendent around his neck jumped around frantically due to the owner's sprinting. His eye color was a bit more pale than his brother's.
They both continued to run, shoving people out of the way and muttering halfhearted apologies as they did so.
This is about an everyday thing.
It usually always starts when the younger of the two, Rathon, steals some warm bread from one of the traders' stands in the marketplace. Of course, he never apologized for stealing it at a difficult time when guards were inevitably going to notice. No, instead he complained about how freezing the two of them would be without the bread.
They ran down a dark alley and leaped into storage crates littered with trash. They both remained silent as the guards completely overlooked the alleyway, the sound of their boots splashing in the puddles became distant. Drake's head poked out of the crate and he confirmed their temporary safety.
Rathon hopped out of the trash and wiped away the small pieces of food that stuck to his clothes, a look of disgust on his face. When he was finished, he jerked a thumb to his chest, "I coulda beat him, y'know," he snapped. He reluctantly pulled the loaf of bread out of his coat. The heat radiating from the bread warmed his body in the freezing air.
His brother jumped out of his respective crate. "And I'm telling you, if the military knew that you could use magic, Wizards from the council would be sent to deal with us. Do you want that?" he bit back.
Times were harsh in the city of Dragma. Families with wealth were seldom while many didn't have a home. Most thought it the Wizard Council's fault, while the others blamed the government. The latter group's reasoning for doing so was far more sound than the former group's. Drake and Rathon were orphans who had no wish in living in an orphanage. Therefore, they tried to stay as inconspicuous as possible. Of course, that was hard when the guards of the military were looking for them daily.
Drake wiped down his tank top and trousers before holding his hand out to Rathon expectantly. Rathon raised his eyebrows, and Drake's expression hardened. A silent conversation, carried out by facial expressions commenced, before, grumbling, Rathon handed Drake the loaf of bread.
Drake nodded in satisfaction and stuffed the bread in a purse he had slung around his back. "We shouldn't waste this when we aren't that hungry," he explained.
Rathon huffed. "Speak for yourself! I'm starving!"
Drake frowned, sending a glare in his brother's direction. "Don't lie. I don't care if you steal, but lying to the people you trust only digs you a deeper hole," Drake murmured.
Rathon glanced away sheepishly. "Whatever, I don't really consider it a l-" he stopped. His eyes darted sharply to the entrance to the alleyway at the sound of more footsteps.
Drake and Rathon both made to jump back into the crates, but someone grabbed them by the scuff of their necks and threw them back to the ground. Rathon stumbled, rolling in the wet ground, while Drake quickly pulled himself up. A heavily clothed man stood in front of them, a hooded cape covering his face. "Found you," the voice muttered.
Rathon turned to try and run in the other direction, but was stopped by his brother. Rathon turned to face Drake in protest, but Drake's eyes were intently focused on the man in front of them. "Don't run yet. Wait for an opening," his brother whispered too low for the man in front of them to hear.
"You two are to come with me. If you won't, I'll have to use force," the man said.
"Come on, at least give us your name," Rathon growled.
The man pondered this for a moment as if he couldn't think of his name. Then, he shed his cape, letting it fall to the ground. He pulled off his coat and threw it aside. He wore fine, exquisite robes underneath all of his previous attire. However, what caught the brothers' attention was a logo on the robes. The logo was framed by an octagon. Inside the octagon was a serpentine swirl with some old writing under it. The words "Third Seat" were finely engraved directly under the octagon.
Rathon's and Drake's mouths hung agape. Poor and ill-informed as they were, even they knew what this man was. He was the third seat in the military. Those of the fifth seat and below were considered five of the most powerful men in the nation in terms to physical combat and tactics. Even a powerful Wizard would have had a difficult time holding their own against a member of the fifth seat. The fact that he was sent to deal with the brothers was very disconcerting.
"I don't need to give you my name, do I?" the man whispered, sizing both Rathon and Drake up with a critical eye. "I was visiting the city when I heard that there was theft in the marketplace. When I came across a group of soldiers that didn't find the two responsible, I went to check it out. Turns out the perpetrators are young little brats," he said coldly.
"I'll say it one more time; come with me, or die where you are standing," he gripped the hilt of his sword as a warning.
"No," Rathon replied defiantly.
"Fine," the man shrugged his shoulders as if he didn't care either way. "Soldiers! Come!" he barked behind him, and a group of soldiers filtered into the alleyway, standing behind Third Seat in perfect rows of unison.
Drake couldn't stand it any longer. "GO!" he shouted to Rathon before shoving his brother out of the alleyway.
"What the hell are you-" Rathon attempted to protest, but Drake cut him off again.
"GO!" he shouted desperately. "If the two of us run, they'll catch up with us anyway. If one of us buys as much time as we can, then the other can flee," he whispered.
Rathon stood, appalled. "What? I can use magic! I can hold them off longer than you can! You should be the one to go!" Rathon whispered so that the soldiers didn't hear his revelation.
"Yeah, but you're also my little brother. Doesn't matter how strong you are or how weak I am. I'll still protect you."
"No, I didn't mean it like that! You're not weak!" Rathon explained.
"No matter what you do, it won't make a difference. So quit whispering amongst yourselves and just give up," Third Seat interjected.
Drake glared at Third Seat and shoved his hand into his pack. When it came out, he was holding a fire bottle and a match. "Go, little brother!" Drake shouted before he lit a fuse on the bottle and ran towards the group of soldiers.
Third Seat's eyes widened, and he barked orders to his men frantically. However, Rathon couldn't hear what he was saying, because everything seemed to be going in slow motion and he focused only on his brother. The tension rose as Drake ran towards the mob of soldiers and Third Seat. Then, an explosion.
The explosion was more grand than anything Rathon had ever seen. An uproar of fire grew, and scorched the walls in the alleyway. Drake had timed the fire bottle perfectly, and it had blown right when he neared the soldiers.
However, what happened next, Rathon didn't know. He ran in the other direction out into the street, where he began to sprint in an aimless direction. Blinking tears out of his eyes, his gaze rested on the ground as he ran. He had no idea where he was going; he just wanted to get out of his hellhole.
The only person he had ever trusted was gone. The only person he had for company was gone. His brother was gone, and Rathon was now alone.
"I know this town better than anyone, boy. You can't run from me," a voice woke him from his stupor and he glanced up. Third Seat stepped out of an alleyway, and Rathon gasped. Third Seat's entire right arm was blackened beyond recognition. His face looked a little worse for wear, too.
Rathon felt his anger bubbling just at the sight of this man. He furiously glared at Third Seat, who drew his sword.
"I ain't giving you more chances, brat," Third Seat said.
"Fine with me," Rathon muttered, and before Third Seat could move, Rathon slammed his hand into the ground. Sparks scattered from his palm into the ground, and two think pillars of earth shot from the ground and attempted to coil around Third Seat. However, as they came close, they just stopped where they were and crumpled.
Third Seat grinned. "Enchantments, boy. Every Seat of Third and below has 'em," and he raised his sword in preparation to strike.
Suddenly, he stopped. He bent over on his knees and coughed up blood, and Rathon saw the cause: an arrow was protruding from his back. Suddenly, a charge went through Third Seat. Sparks scattered around his body and he shouted in agony. He pulled himself up and looked for the source, but another arrow whistled through the air and struck his stomach, producing similar results.
"Kid, over here!" someone shouted. Rathon looked over to the owner of the voice and found that it was a person not too much older than himself. The man held a bow, and a pouch of arrows was slung over on his back. He had shaggy brown hair and hazel eyes. He would have been handsome had it not been for the grime and muck all over his face. He beckoned Rathon over and disappeared into an alley. Rathon shrugged, deciding to follow the man who had saved his life.
When he reached the alleyway, the man was descending a group of stairs that led to double doors. However, instead of going through the double doors, he turned and placed his palm on the wall.
At first, Rathon was certain that he was just wasting his time. However, then the wall that the man with the bow had placed his palm on had disappeared as if it were an illusion. Rathon peeked his head inside, and saw stairs that led upward. "What did you do back there? Did you use magic on him?" Rathon curiously asked the man with the bow. Of course, Third Seat had said that he had enchantments, but apparently that didn't mean much if the guy with the bow could penetrate them so easily.
"I'll explain it in a few minutes, when we get there," the man said.
"Where is 'there'? And who said I'm following you to this place?" Rathon retorted.
The man turned to face Rathon as they went up the stairs. "It isn't like you have anywhere else to go. Besides, I saw you use magic. You can't live alone on those streets anymore," the man murmured.
Rathon's eyes widened. "So, wait. You're taking me to a different home?" he confirmed.
The man grinned. A real grin, not the 'I'm going to slice you up' grin Third Seat would give. "It's kinda like a group home. My name's Jet. You heard of Guilds, boy?" he asked.
"Don't call me boy when you're like a year older than me," Rathon pouted. Suddenly, what the Jet had said registered on Rathon, and a small smile broke out on Rathon's face. "A Guild? Like, a Wizard's Guild?"
Jet nodded. "Yeah," before pushing through a door into a lively community. It was a building that Rathon didn't think he had ever seen before. Rathon could have wondered if it was somehow in a different city, even though they had only travelled maybe a hundred yards. The place looked so. . .lively, in comparison to the city that surrounded it, Dragma. However, Rathon didn't see any other entrances to the Guild.
The Guild itself was made out of brick the same color as Jet's hair. Circular tables populated the Guild throughout, and people were talking to each other as if they were actually friends. Such a thing didn't exist in the gloomy community that was Dragma.
"Welcome to White Lightning, kid," Jet murmured, a grin plastered on his dirty face.