The New Adventures of Patroklos and Pyrrha
By Matthias Glenn
Chapter One: Alms from the Sultan
(September 17, 1610, Istanbul, Ottoman Empire)
Sultan Ahmed I hated a lot of things: When people didn't pay their taxes, hunger, those of more European descent, Christians in general, really. But one of the things that he hated above all was waiting. It really just ticked him off in a special way that not even the Istanbul heat did. But as he was seated on his golden throne decorated with engravings of his ancestors' past victories and gems from India to Damascus, that was exactly what he did.
He spent this time to look around his throne room. It was very large, rivaling other shah's he had heard of. He had decorated it with the finest linens and whites he could find. Five pillars, representing the pillars of his faith, were tall and erect, with gold forged into them and holding up a roof painted with frescos depicting things he had not cared to even wonder about. He felt like who the Greeks of his kingdom called Zeus, ruling as a god. Or at least, that's how his throne made him feel.
He heard commotion outside of the throne room doors. He wondered if his men had done it: If they had kidnapped the bearers of the Holy Sword and the Cursed Sword. He crossed his arms, angry that it took so long, but his heart leapt. If these two existed in his kingdom, he could use them to become the Sultan of all Europe and Asia.
"No, Ahmed." He told himself. "The whole world."
His men, six in total, burst through the doors, dragging along two people. They showed little resistance, but didn't look so well. If his men had harmed them too much, he would surely have them beheaded. But nonetheless, His men succeeded.
"Sultan, the two you suggested be brought before you." They bowed lowed, then stood up the two Greeks.
Ahmed I looked down to the both of them. The first one was a boy, with curly blonde hair and green eyes. He was fairly young, and had a sinewy face that for some reason Ahmed just hated. He was exceptionally tall for most of the Europeans he had ever seen, and was dressed in Black, dull greys and a hint of light blues. He looked up at the Sultan, as if they were equals. This deeply offended Ahmed I. 'Who was this son of white devils that he could stare down me?' he thought to himself.
He shifted his gaze to the other one. And he thanked himself for doing so, for this one was a much prettier site. She was a woman, of course. She looked something like her brother, but she was reserved and shy in a way that made Ahmed want to pursue her. Her blonde hair was long, and her lips were pink like carnations that he presented to his second wife. And unlike the disgraceful boys green eyes, hers were soft, curious, and kind. She wore a white dress, and leather that brought out her pleasant shape. Ahmed found no blemish in her, other than her deformed right arm which must've been a curse from the Devil. That could be forgiven, however. He had seen worse.
He was about to address them, until the boy just shouted at him. Not talked, not whispered, not asking for permission, but just shouted at him as if he were peddling goods. "What the hell's going on here?"
Ahmed would decide to hold off flogging him right there. He was bearer of the Holy Sword, after all. May not want to make Allah, or whoever was inside of it, angry.
"Because you both have something I want."
"Please. I beg of you." The woman said, showing reverence the boy did not. That was more like it. "Do not take Soul Edge away from me. It will only turn you into a monster."
Soul Edge. So THAT'S what it was called. Ahmed I would have to tell his scribe to make a note of that.
"I do not mean to take your weapons, as I am sure that many have tried to do. I instead want you to use them for a better cause."
"Yours." The boy had said.
"Exactly…" Ahmed fished for his name, and the boy said it to him.
"Patroklos."
"Patroklos. My cause is the higher cause." Ahmed held out his hands in emphasis. Patroklos? Even his name is as difficult as he is proving to be.
"And I am Pyrrha. Pyrrha Alexander." The woman said to him.
"Right, well Patroklos and Pyrrha, I am sorry for any inconvenience, including taking you from your homes. But there is a most urgent matter. And I need both of your help."
"We're listening." Patroklos responded.
"I am a man of conquest, and I am finding it very difficult as of right now."
"Is this not a problem for generals and warriors? Why bring two peasants to solve your issue?" Pyrrha wondered, and rightfully so even in Ahmed's mind.
"I have summoned you because there are seven people and their respective forces stopping from ruling the known world, seven that I am confident that the two of you can destroy."
"Who are they?" Patroklos asked.
"The First is a Lady Queen who leads the most powerful kingdom in the Holy Roman Empire. Her name is Hilde von Krone. And she is currently the leader of the Wolfkrone Army. If she is killed, the Holy Roman Empire will lose one of its most powerful leaders." Ahmed went on.
"The second is a lone giant in the Fertile Crescent. He carries a giant axe and has slaughtered many of my men. They few men that survived were found wandering in the town of Galilee, repeating the word 'Astaroth' over and over again."
"The third man takes up arms in the Mediterranean. He commands a ship that is impervious to cannon fire so long as he is at the helm. His name is Cervantes, and he has sunken a lot of my trade ships, and then used some sort of strange power to raise the sunken vessel from the waters and have it be a ship in his Armada. I know he does this, because he now has the largest fleet that has been seen by man's eyes."
"The Fourth is an immortal Count in England. He resides in an impossible castle that, of all things, floats in the air. My men have not been able to topple it, and very few that have climbed up the chain that holds it to the ground have returned. One of my men, Achmed, claims that the count is named Raphael, and that he somehow both unaffected by death and has no limit to his speed and fury."
"The Fifth is another even more dangerous than even the others that I have spoken of. He is an Assassin of Italy, from the Auditore family. He and his assassins have been able to stop entire legions of my army from marching into Rome, or even the Alps for that matter. He is as secret as the shadows, and even my Assassins cannot track where he is, but we always know where he's been."
"The Sixth target is a strange being that we cannot figure out. It is from the beyond, who is able to wield whatever it so pleases with so much expertise. We only know as what he has been called many times. Charade. He now leads the Malfested in place of his fallen friend, Nightmare."
"The last will be the most difficult. My last foe is the current emperor of Japan, and one of the most dangerous. His name, often spoken in quiet rumors, is Heishiro Mitsurugi. He is a former Ronin, who's only master was his greed for battle. And now that he is leader of a strong military nation, he may seek to conquer the Asian world, something I seek to do first."
Patroklos answered back. "What is in it for us? You just can't have the two of us run around the known world, hunting threats we know nothing about for no profit."
Ahmed I had thought of this earlier. Now for the offer they cannot refuse. "I'm going to tell the all of you something my wives do not know. I cannot have children."
Pyrrha looked at him with sympathy. "Oh my goodness, that must be so bad for you."
"And from what I have heard about the both of you, the two of you inherited nothing you're your parents. Not even a home, money, or not even a parting thought from your fallen parents."
A tear fell from Pyrrha's eye. Patroklos just looked downward.
"What if I told you that if you did this for me, I'd make the two of you heirs to the Ottoman Empire?"
"A whole kingdom for the both of us?" Patroklos's eyes widened, perhaps drinking in the opportunities that such power had.
"You would do that for us?" Pyrrha's mouth hung slightly open in expectation.
"Think of it as alms from the Sultan." Ahmed I said to them.
Ahmed I waited for their responses, and he didn't have to wait long.
"We'll do it." Patroklos said to him.
"Thank you, Sultan Ahmed." Pyrrha bowed to him.
The confidence of the moment shattered when the three of them heard screams of war not too far away.
"Those sounded like they came from the courtyard." Pyrrha looked at Patroklos.
"Good. I did need a warm-up." Patroklos drew Soul Calibur, and is glistened with any light it was given. "Pyrrha, ready to prove that Ahmed chose well?"
Pyrrha unsheathed Soul Edge, and its ruby eye seemed to look around the room. The sword, as if with its own consciousness, forced Pyrrha's cursed arm that held it to point in the direction of the bloodshed.
"O.K." Pyrrha said, lacking some necessary confidence.
Then Ahmed watched as the two of them, brother and sister, good and evil sword, and ally with ally, charge bravely toward the skirmish in the courtyard. And as Ahmed saw a glimpse of the situation through the palace doors, 'skirmish' may have been putting it nicely.