Author's Notes:

As always, this fic is not intended as alternate universe, however it does make the assumption that Ian is Bowie's father. This assumption is supported by (1)the strong physical resemblance between the two, (2)NPCs in Shining Force II who say Bowie's father was "a great leader", and (3)Ian's being on Grans Island, Bowie's birthplace, at the end of Shining Force Gaiden III. However, I do realize that Camelot has not made any official statement on who Bowie's father is, so if they one day declare that Bowie is not Ian's son, this fic will have to be considered AU.

Technical Notes: The milieu and characters of this fanfic are property of Sega, with the exception of Abigail, who belongs to Martin III. This story is set roughly halfway between Shining Force Gaiden III: The Final Conflict and Shining Force II: Ancient Sealing.

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The Old Order Passes Away...

plot and script - Martin III

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Ian stepped back for a few moments to admire his handiwork. This was always the part he liked best: the sense of accomplishment. Back in his adventuring days, he'd wrecked a house or three. It felt good to be part of the process of rebuilding and growth. Surveying the house that he was chiefly responsible for building and designing, he smiled with pride.

The feeling dulled after just a moment or two, and he turned to head back to his employer's dwelling. Adam gathered up the tools and followed along.

He knocked at the door once, and it was almost immediately answered. "Your new house is done, sir."

The man and his family looked suitably happy that they wouldn't have to stay in his brother's now over-crowded house any longer. He led them to their new home, and after several minutes of looking around they approved of his handiwork. Once they had paid him, Ian set towards home with Adam at his side.

"Master Ian," the robot spoke. "Now that I have finished helping you with this major task, it is time I was on my way."

Ian looked at Adam in surprise; its abruptness never failed to startle him. "Where are you going?"

"Locale not specific; away from here."

"You're... leaving me? For good?"

"Yes. I sense anxiety in your voice, Master Ian."

"Well..." He looked to the ground, wiping his graying mop of hair about with his hand. "...I had kind of gotten used to having you around... Could I at least know why you're going?"

"It has truly been an honor to work with you, Master Ian," Adam said. "But things are not like they were when Master Max was alive; all my secondary directives have been fulfilled, and no new ones have taken their place. My prime directive dictates that I must continue looking until I find a proper objective."

"You know, Adam..." he turned to the robot, his eyes moderately widened with interest. "...you never told me what your prime directive is."

"I am sorry, Master Ian. My prime directive is not formulated in words."

Damn. Those Ancients really were geniuses. "Well, what are the... the conditions for its fulfillment?"

"My prime directive is not objective-based. It simply guides my behavior..."

A silence passed. "Sounds like your soul," Ian smiled, but with sentiment rather than humor.

"I am a machine, Master Ian; I have no soul."

"You don't understand... It's the same damn thing, just a different -" He stopped, and gave a weak chuckle. "We're just not very good at saying goodbye, are we?"

"I was not programmed for sentimentality. You have always been a master of your sword more than of your feelings."

"I'll miss you, Adam," Ian said, giving it a fierce hug about its torso. "You've got the kindest, bravest, truest prime directive of any machine I know."

"And you are a warrior without peer," Adam returned, returning the hug with less vigor - Ian's ribs, after all, were much easier to break. "As I stated, it has been a true honor."

As Adam walked away, Ian sighed to himself. "...all my secondary directives have been fulfilled, and no new ones have taken their place"? Even a robot can see I'm a boring old-timer who's lost all his purpose.

But then, the change in him had happened so abruptly that he hadn't realized it until after the fact. For years he had fought against the hordes of evil, maintaining the name he'd earned for himself when he defeated Darksol. But when Max died(was it five years ago now? More than that, more likely), he became aware of his own mortality. All the great threats to Grans were vanquished, and he didn't want to die battling some anonymous demon or will o' the wisp. So Ian, leader of the great Shining Force... began to see about settling down.

In spite of his age, there were still plenty of beautiful young women sighing at him wherever he passed through. He picked out the prettiest little red-head from among them and set about the awkward and purely ceremonial task of wooing her. In retrospect it was a hasty choice, but at the time he hadn't felt the need for much evidence that she was the one for him. In the meantime, he apprenticed himself to a carpenter, having never been comfortable with the notion of living off of other people's gratitude. Before long, he and the lovely Kailena were wed. A few months later, he had mastered the craft of carpentry.

For a time, Ian was happier than he had been in many years. His work was fulfilling, his marital bed had a high level of activity, and he even reconnected with some of his old friends in the Shining Force whom he hadn't seen in years. And if Kailena was at all disillusioned with life being married to The Legendary Ian, she gave no sign.

After a couple of years, however, no children came forth from their marriage, and Ian's libido began to fade. His work started to feel more mundane and routine. Perhaps worst of all was the regrets... among other things, he wished that he had married someone less than 20 years younger than him. Kailena's youth was becoming an increasing source of humiliation for him and his greying hair. And the people of Granseal, who had at first treated him with wonder and awe, had come to see him as nothing more than an ordinary carpenter. Their attitude didn't bother him; on the contrary, he was relieved to be able to at last relax in anonymity. What bothered him was that they were right. The Legendary Ian had become just an ordinary man.

He kicked a stone out of his way. Well. Nothing so amazing about that... we all have to grow old some time, I guess. Now it's my time to take life slow and quiet.

Ian sighed, gazing at his quaint little house. Only I don't know how to deal with slow and quiet. Every part of me burns to swing my sword again, to tear a whirlwind of blood through the devils of the world, to do all the things that I've turned away from, the things I won't even be able to do in five years or so. He shook his head. Nature's way of punishing me for my reckless youth...