"When the battle's lost and won, the only thing that remains is sorrow and devastation."
A lone Claymore surveyed the battlefield that was once the city of Pieta. Her cold eyes did not miss even a single nook or cranny. Flicking her long silver hair to the back, she sighed.
It was too clean.
Though there was blood and fragmented remains of what was once her comrades all over the ruins, the weapons that defined them to the commoners were mysteriously missing.
"Humph, trust the Organization for missing such an important detail." Galatea muttered to herself as she expended her senses further into the mountains of the Northern Regions.
The missing swords had to have gone somewhere and she was determined to find them. After all she had an important promise to fulfill and she was not about to go back before she finished what she came to do.
Nothing.
Even she, with the title of "God-Eye", could not determine the presence of the warriors who had survived the one-sided battle. Maybe looters had ransacked the place before her arrival here? She quickly dismissed that thought; no human would be foolish enough to come here after what had happened. The border town of Pieta was reduced to nothing but a few low walls that were lucky to have escaped the carnage.
A small glint caught her eye as the sun rose above the mountains. It was on the eastern mountain overlooking the battlefield. A small smile spread across Galatea face. It was time to fulfill the vow that they had made so long ago.
Walking among the upturned swords that marked the graves of her comrades, she scanned the symbols etched into the blade. Finally stopping, she glanced sadly at the claymore before and allowed a small tear to form.
"I thought you would come here." A voice behind her snapped her back into reality.
How could she not have sensed the presence of another warrior…unless… She turned, sword drawn and ready to fight, only to sheath it again.
"Miria…so you survived after all. I'm glad to see you," Galatea said to the cloaked figure standing in front of her.
Pulling off her hood, Phantom Miria stared at Galatea. Her eyes drenched with pain from the loss of her comrades that had fallen during the one-sided battle.
"Shall we begin?" Miria said as she unscrewed the hilt of the claymore that was once held by the warrior who held the title of "Windcutter" and took out a small piece of paper.
"She has handed the path to another…" Miria voice quivered as she handed over the letter initialed with a cursive 'G' to Galatea.
Silently reading it, Galatea's face softened. Memories of her old friend flooded her. All those nights they had spent training together. The three of them had gotten further apart after their "graduation" but the bond that connected them, no matter how thin, would always be related to the times they had spent together.
And today, they had come to say a final farewell to the person that had brought them together as a team…
"So…did number 47 survive?" Galatea asked rolling up the letter and keeping it in the hilt of her sword.
"Yes…"
"Then I wish her all the best in her endeavors. For now…" Galatea took out a small goatskin bottle, uncorked it and took a swing from it.
"Here" she said tossing the bottle over to Miria who did the same.
The final remnants of the red liquid were poured over the grave.
"Franchols wine twelfth year of the sun. Flora would loved that."
"I guess this is our final farewell my friend," Miria said "let's wrap it up."
"While your flesh and bones may fade to dust and your legacy soon forgotten. This sword serves as a testament that you have fought for this land and that your cause was just. When fellow warriors see this monument, they will know that they are shouldering the burden which you have long carried. Farewell Florencea de Mistica. Rest well knowing that your legacy will be carried on by another."
Both said in unison, their claymores touching the grave.
A long silence followed as both warriors stared at the grave marker.
"Well, I'm off then." Galatea broke the silence first.
"Are you going back to the Organization?"
"For now. I've got some things to finish before leaving but don't worry. We'll meet again." By then Galatea was already a small figure in the distance.
"For now…we shall meet again…" Miria gazed at Galatea fading figure before looking sadly at the grave "for now…we shall meet again…"