Hi all! SPOILER ALERT!

This story starts after the second arc of the plot, where Ethelberd is defeated. Generally, I try to stay away from repeating the plot lines and events already in the game and my characters might be slightly exaggerated. I hope you enjoy reading this. Cheers.

Disclaimer: I do not own Rune Factory 4 or any of its original characters, as much as I wish I did.


Chapter 1 (Red): We Start by Painting the Town Red (And A War About Cake)

Red – everything around her was consumed in it.

Normally such a beautiful colour, Frey stared in disbelief as the sinister hue continued its advance, engulfing everything that she had come to be so grateful for. It danced around her, crackling and hissing like a wild beast, scorching her eyes and burning her skin as it slowly taunted her.

No! Please...stop!

"Everything…" she croaked, each word grating her throat amidst the intense heat and pain. "Everything…is my fault!" A distinctive cold sensation stung her cheeks, the shock of it making her recoil further into herself.

Shock. Anger. Sadness. Pain. It came in waves, paralyzing her in the moment. This had all been her fault, and she knew it. Why had she come here in the first place?

Why – yes, why.

A loud crash erupted from behind her and the remains of something heavy was quickly claimed by the flames. But she did not hear it. It was like being frozen in time, where the world disappeared and all that was left were your thoughts. Alone. Just alone in this vacuum while everything blackened into ash.

"Frey!" a familiar voice called out urgently. Rough hands grabbed her shoulders and she felt herself being jerked to the side. Instinctively, she turned towards the source of the voice, but it was as if she could only see through the person in front of her. That scarlet colour – its reflection danced in the puddle she was sitting in. Numbly, she lifted up her right hand. As she brought it nearer to her face, the overwhelming smell of copper almost made her retch.

It was red too.

"…Frey!" Sharp pain seared across her cheeks and it jolted her out her shock. "SNAP OUT OF IT!" the voice growled and the grip on her shoulders dug further into her flesh.

Pain - now that was good. It helped her to focus.

"LISTEN Frey, we do not have much time to talk. Whatever you have done and witnessed here today, you MUST NOT tell anyone of this – do not, I repeat, do not speak of this to anyone! Nobody can know who is responsible!"

Responsible? I don't understand.

"….But!-" she heard herself start to protest.

"-No Buts! We need to go! NOW!" Her body was hauled upwards, the force of it nearly sending her sprawling back onto the ground. She willed her legs to move, but they were as good as dead weight.

"BUT I!-"

A high-pitched scream suddenly pierced her ears, sending the world tumbling back into darkness...


"Princess…Princess!...Princess!"

Still disoriented, Frey opened her eyes with great reluctance. A worried pair of sky blue orbs filled most her vision. "Ah…Vishnal…what is it?" she groaned unhappily.

The young man's expression visibly softened and he looked relieved. "Princess, you were moaning terribly in your sleep. I was really concerned so I woke you up. Are you alright?" He smiled gently at her and took a step back, putting a respectable distance between them.

"In any case," he added before she could respond, bowing slightly with his hand across his heart, "I am glad to see that you are okay."

"Vishnal… you know what would really ensure that I am feeling okay?" Frey grinned, stretching herself out like a cat before dropping back onto the bed with a contented expression. She silently savoured the slight flush that had crept into her handsome butler-in-training's face. "If you had brought breakfast!" she laughed.

Pink immediately gave way to red as the flush in Vishnal's face deepened, but this was for a different reason. Damn it, breakfast! How could he have forgotten something so simple, so fundamental to every ideal butler?

"Ah! I am so sorry, Princess!" he exclaimed as tears of shame clouded his vision, "I will be back with it at once!" And with that, he dashed out of the room at such a speed he might as well have left an image of himself hanging behind.

When the door clicked shut, Frey let out a heavy sigh.

She had met Vishnal a year back, when she had supposedly fallen from the sky and crashed into the castle grounds. How she had survived was a mystery in itself – apart from the pressing question of how it had all happened. Beyond that, she could not remember a single thing about her past. Her unprecedented arrival in Selphia and in this castle marked the beginning of her memories – something her dear friends joked as the start of a new life in their efforts to console her. It was something she appreciated – and had largely convinced herself to accept – but whenever she listened to the town people reminisce about a shared past that seemed so exclusive, the uncertainty and anxiety crept back in. She could never share this past.

And that was when the dreams started.

Starting as a repetitive blur of colours and a cacophony of sounds, over time they had developed into clearer images that played nightmares - like a broken tape recorder fixing itself slowly with each replay. Was it a memory? Frey did not know. But whatever they were, they disturbed her greatly and evoked emotions that she was unfamiliar with dealing with. This conflict between not knowing and the trepidation in light of the truth frustrated her as much as it terrified her.

No, I will not ruin my day by thinking about this, she decided. There were more important things demanding her attention today.

Padding over to her large mahogany wardrobe, Frey slipped out of her baby blue nightie and into her weather-worn work clothes. Examining herself in the mirror, she meticulously tied her pale jade-coloured hair into two pigtails, securing a cosmetic cuff at each end. Finally, she finished her outfit off with a crown and a necklace that she kept hidden beneath her clothes. With the exception of the crown, she had been wearing this exact outfit when she was first found in the castle. Although it was not the most appropriate outfit for farm work, it was the only connection to her past that she had. She held a dim hope that travelers who wandered into the town would somehow recognize it.

Checking her reflection in the mirror, Frey could not help but scowl at the shiny metal sitting on top of her head. The princess crown was necessary, her castle's master Butler had advised – no, insisted – for Volkanon carried with him the kind of authority that would make even the scariest of mothers seem like peace-loving hippies. He did not just exude a commanding presence - that would be an understatement. Rather, it would be more appropriate to say he was responsible for the origin of the word 'commanding' when he had terrified some poor soul in history bad enough to want to introduce the word...just so he had the vocabulary to speak of the experience. The thought of it made her shudder.


The moment Frey entered the dining hall of Selphia's castle, a loud voice bellowed out, "GOOD MORNING PRINCESS!" Each word felt like a punch to her eardrums.

Speak of the devil, she cursed slightly. Steeling herself, she turned to face the imposing figure of a man nearby. Towering over her by at least a meter, Volkanon was impressive by many standards, but what caught most people's immediate attention was his immaculately well-maintained facial hair.

"Princess! Breakfast today is PROSCUITTO WITH SWEET ROCK MELON, a SELECTION OF FRUITS FROM OUR FRUIT TREES, paired with RELAX TEA AND HONEY PRODUCED FRESHLY BY BUZZ THIS MORNING!" Volkanon proudly announced, his glowing pride capitalizing every important part of his announcement. A gloved hand gestured theatrically to an unnecessarily long table where food had been plated at one end.

"Thank you, Volkanon," Frey replied graciously, "but, where is my cake?"

Volkanon's bushy blonde eyebrows raised oh-so-slightly (even his gestures were so polished, damn it). "Cake? NO PRINCESS, CAKE IS NOT NUTRITIOUS ENOUGH FOR BREAKFAST!"

This prompted Frey to narrow her eyes at him in return. They stood there for a while, a battle of intense staring as the morning sounds of chirping outside the castle window went on. Volkanon's broad and toned body posture was absolutely straight[1], towering over Frey's smaller and shorter stature. As Frey glared on, his ridiculously luscious moustache[2] seemed to expand in thickness and size.

Was the old geezer actually leaning forward, or are my eyes playing tricks on me?

Her eyes were starting to water and she felt a strong urge to blink. It was always harder to glare when you were the shorter person – you would just end up looking like you were squinting.

"Cake," she hissed, "is nutritious. It. Nourishes. My. Soul."

"No, princess." The moustache wiggled, "According to the current edition of Selphia Women's Weekly on page 36, in the fourth section below "How to wear Chain Mail Stylishly", it says on the sixth line that CAKE JUST GOES STRAIGHT TO YOUR [ROYAL] BOTTOM."

Had that statement come from someone else, it would have stumped Frey enough in that moment to lose her concentration in her efforts to look menacing. But it was Volkanon. If he read women's magazines, it was in the name of a Master Butler's duty. And therefore, it was as manly as any testerone-charged male could get. After all, the man could smash boulders just by running through them on his morning jogs[3]. You could not argue with that.

"Fine," Frey conceded grudgingly, "I have important matters to deal with today, so I shall not waste my time arguing with you." Sulking slightly, she marched past him and started on her Volkanon-approved breakfast.

This seemed to satisfy the head butler, and the old man straightened and relaxed slightly – or however slightly you could, when you were that poised. "I am most grateful for your understanding, princess. It would be most unbecoming of a princess – and of me as your esteemed Head Butler – to continue that discussion."

I am not even sure if I am a real princess, Frey added bitterly as she stabbed into a rock melon with murderous intent.

"As for your list of duties today… Prince Arthur came by a few minutes ago and is currently waiting for you in the main farm. He wishes to discuss something urgent with you, but has asked you to take your time as he is quite taken by the 'cute' wooly running around your farm –"

The loud clatter of silverware rang through the large dining hall as Frey dropped her fork.

Oh nonono. NO. NO. NO! NOT the wooly. The previous one had been so traumatized by Arthur the last time he came by that every time a pair of spectacles came into view, it had shed all its wool and fainted. She had to release the poor thing back into the Forest of Beginnings and tame a new one.

Leaping out of her chair in a manner that would have caused royal arteries to rupture in shame, Frey started dashing towards the main farm. At the doorway however, she paused, remembering something important. "What happened to Vishnal? I thought he was going to prepare and deliver my breakfast!"

Volkanon's expression glazed over slightly. "I generally disapprove of your habit of having breakfast in bed, princess. Furthermore, he broke one of the cardinal rules of butlers by forgetting to prepare breakfast beforehand. He is….ah, being re-educated."

Re-education. That meant Vishnal was probably locked up in some hidden part of the castle from which he would emerge a few days later, looking like he had just survived the apocalypse. At night, if you strained your ears and listened really, really, carefully, you might even hear the semblance of a scream or two.

Frey was not sure who to feel sorrier for now: the new wooly or Vishnal. But as it is, she could only save one person/monster/thing a day.

So she ran out towards the farm.


[1] Men are from Mars, and Butlers are from Uranus, Point #101: "A Butler should not compromise his posture, for uprightness is next to godliness, which is next to cleanliness and cologne-worthiness"

[2] Style: What Matters More than Your Velvet Gloves, special Autumn edition for Butlers, Point #299: "The lusciousness of a Butler's moustache is fully representative of his competency, it should have the right amount of bounce (the force required to bounce it should be 40N, relative to its length), and be combed 99 times in the morning"

[3] The Butler Chronicles: Discipline in the City, Point #319: "If you can't run through boulders every morning, you can't ever run away from the mundane life … and possibly save your master from a rampaging dragon"


Just a short note:

I started this story after I finished the game's second arc in the hopes of filling up the blanks in the game's plot such as Frey's past and such. However, I just realized after progressing in the game to the third arc that the game actually does explain some things. I am trying to reincorporate these things into the original storyline that I had plotted out, but some things will still be different. I will also be merging the other Rune Factory's main storylines into the plot (2 and 3 specifically) because none of the Rune Factorys had tied everything together thus far. So I am letting my imagination go wild woohoo! ^^

And yes, the pairing has already been set - although I am still figuring out whether to cast Dylas or Leon as the second love interest. Hm.

Feel free to share your opinion.