Chapter 1: In a Dark Fog

A slow, deep knocking was what had awoken me. As I began to lift myself up, I realized that knocking sound was actually a rather painful throbbing in the back of my head. My hand rose to the ailing spot and gingerly touched the surface of the large bump there.

"Son of a…" I grumbled angrily in my discomfort. Abandoning my effort to stand up, I sank back down onto my side, in too much pain to move efficiently. The floor was very cold and coarse, so much so I wouldn't have been surprised if it was made of ice. I'd have checked better, but my vision had blurred from the pain of what I presume had been a blow to the back of my head. Not to mention the room was pitched black, and I think I was still a little drunk from the night before. None of these factors were helping particularly with the situation. On second thought, maybe the buzz from the alcohol was helping, who knows how much worse the bump would hurt when the booze wears off. With what little vision I had left, I began to scan the room over.

It was small, a lot smaller than the tavern bar room I had passed out in that's for sure. Somber, brown brick lined the walls with a clear dearth of windows, bed, and latrine (not even a bucket for Elimine's sake!). The only feature I could discern was a large iron door, very thick from the looks of it. I'd have stood up and tried to open it, but that would entail effort, something I didn't possess at that moment. My mind raced as I tried to recall memories of the night before. I had just finished a large mug of ale. That must've been where I'd blacked out, but something must've happened after that. Think, think… I finished the ale and… and…

"Damn it all!" I exclaimed loudly, but soon regretted for it caused another surge of throbs and pounding in my skull. I brought my hand to the back of my skull again, and it was this time I felt something wet. I brought my hand back and noticed two things immediately; One, the blood that I had just felt, seeping from a cut just below the bump. Two, a strange black symbol tattooed to my left wrist. I licked the thumb of my right hand and made and effort to rub it away. When nothing happened I just chuckled and shoot my head.

"I guess it was too much to hope it was just an ink smudge eh?" I mumbled to myself as I inspected the tattoo further. The design was unlike anything I had seen before. It was a large black cross that started at my wrist and stretched halfway down my forearm. Situated in the middle of the cross was an oval marked with a line straight down the center of it. My captors must have branded it on me for whatever reason. And I'm sure it was them, because no matter how drunk I was NOTHING would ever possess me to get such a disturbing tattoo. But what's done is done, it's there and now I'd have to deal with it, just as how I'd have to deal with this situation now.

So what was next? I sat quietly in the shadows of my cold prison as I contemplated this question. No answers came to mind. The only things that truly arose were pejorative directed at yours truly. "You drunk schmuck… you beer-breathed bastard… what have you gotten yourself into now hm?" Not only had I blacked out piss drunk in the tavern of a town I didn't know the name of in ice encrusted Ilia, but I had also been apparently, tattooed, assaulted, and kidnapped (in no particular order). Why couldn't I just lay off the alcohol? If I had, I would've never been in this mess, whatever this mess may be. Whatever this all was, lying about like a pathetic drunk wasn't going to solve anything. I needed to get out of here. I rolled over onto all fours and using the wall as support I climbed up onto my feet. I breathed a heavy sigh of relief and exhaustion. I was still tired and my body ached all over, I must've been beaten in other spots beside the head.

Before I had time to calculate the next big step in my escape plan, I received my first sign of life, singing, singing in a young man's voice. At first I wasn't entirely sure it was singing, but after listening closely I picked up on the rhythmic sound in the distant song. It was rather muffled, but I could hear parts of it through the door. Slowly shuffling my way over to the solid metal slab, the voice became louder as I approached. I made it to the door in more time than it should've taken and I pressed my ear against its ice cold surface. The voice sounded as though it was coming from across the hallway, in what I presume was a cell similar to mine. The distance and the thickness of the doors prevented me from hearing exactly what he was singing, but it was building up strength in a formidable crescendo that allowed me to at least pick up on one thing, it was hysterical in nature.

Mind you I couldn't tell for sure, after all I couldn't hear the actual words, but I have heard plenty of crazed homeless men bellowing at the top of their lungs from alley ways and ditches to identify what kind of rhythms are considered crazed. I had been captivated by the sound for a couple minutes at least, hypnotized not by the song itself (Elimine knows it didn't seem pleasant), but more than likely for the simple fact it was a sign of life in this dank place. A sign of life which just as mysteriously as it had appeared was as brutally vanquished.

The powerful footsteps that signaled someone wearing heavy plate armor began to echo through the door, getting louder and closer with each step. Halting just outside my door, I heard a jingle of what I presumed were keys, followed by the laborious groan of a heavy iron door swinging open. The armored being must have opened the door to the room where the 'lovely' serenade was originating from, for the singing suddenly became louder and clearer. Just as I had thought, the man was surely hysterical. I recognized the song right away as a church hymn that I had always heard Lucius sing to himself at camp; only this version was a blasphemous parody that would've made the monk pale if he had heard it.

"Lovely, sexy Elimine! Oh please won't you be mine! Come to me in night's sweet rest! Let me feel your bulging-!" The sacrilegious concert was suddenly cut short. The singing had ceased and instead that man began to gurgle loudly, caused by what I assume to be choking. The gurgling then died away in the wake of a steady series of heavy of blows which were unmistakably accompanied by the sound of breaking bones. Silence hung in the air eerily for the next few moments before I heard the armored being trudging away from my room once more. The singer must've been dead, for the plate wearing assailant hadn't even bothered to shut the door the room he had just opened.

I backed away from the door, took a deep breath and became aware of the perspiration that had accumulated on my forehead. I felt a surge of adrenaline dripping through my veins and boost my heart up to a quickened pace, I was suddenly sobered up, and my vision had finally cleared up, it's amazing how hearing someone get killed will have that sort of effect on you. So not only were my captors keeping other prisoners, but they had no qualms about killing them as well. If there was any doubt in my mind before it had been smashed away moments before, I needed to escape ASAP.

I spent a few minutes feeling around the walls for any other possible exit from the room other than the door, but to no avail. Though my vision had cleared up considerably, the room was still very dark, and I could see no farther than a foot or two in front of me. Luckily, during my nearly blind search of my unwilling quarters, I stumbled across my pack; they must've thrown it in here with me for whatever reason. I questioned why, but I certainly wasn't complaining about it, and I began to search through my belongings, the little I had. I kneeled down and carefully began to dig through my bag.

There wasn't much in the pack unfortunately, and worse still was how utterly useless so much of it was. Rags, a few books, nothing was particularly useful to me. Sadly enough, even my compass and map, two things I relied on endlessly were no good now. Next up was my flint and knife, I thought about lighting a few of pages from my books on fire for a little bit more light, but I simply didn't have the heart to do it, so I just hid the knife in my waist band and continued looking. I came across a small blue gourd which I didn't remember having in my bag. After staring it down inquisitively, its identity popped back into my head! I had picked it up a few weeks ago from a merchant after I had blacked out from a heavy night of drinking, a potion to restore memory! I must've neglected to take it. I couldn't believe my luck, nor could I believe I hadn't thought of it before. I hastily undid the top and took a sip of the concoction. I was expecting the drink to taste bad as it went down as most medicines do, but surprisingly it was rather pleasant. In fact it was rather sweet… My eyes shot open in realization and my heart skipped as I took another hurried sip of the potion.

"Apple juice… the snake sold me apple juice!" I bellowed raucously in anger as I pitched the gourd into the wall, exploding in a wave of beige liquid. My face was bright red and my fists were gripped tightly in frustration. At that moment, for what reason I know not, but Kent came to mind. Seconds later I realized why. A very similar incident occurred years before when Sain had switched Kent's morning coffee grinds out with dirt. Kent realized the switch too late and had taken in a steaming, mouthful of mud. He spat it out in disgust, threw the mug at Sain to no success, and stood in brimming anger just how I was then. I felt a small tension breaking chuckle escape my lips when I remembered the good natured wrestling match between the two of them that ensued soon after. Kent tackled Sain and attempted to near success to shove a handful of mud into his companion's mouth. There were cat calls and whistles coming from all around the camp at the display until finally Dorcas and Bartre broke it up. The full extent of the memory caused my chuckle to erupt into a laugh, a laugh that had preoccupied me to the point that I neglected to noticed the heavy footsteps approaching my door once more. It was the loud click of the lock on my door that brought me out of the clouds.

I grabbed my bag and spun around to face the heavy door as it opened ominously. There were apparently numerous candles in the hallway as a flood of light followed into the room behind a large silhouette. I backed up against the far wall of the room as I laid eyes on my captor. A knight of hulking size, perhaps even rivaling Wallace, lumbered into the room in a suit of black armor. In his left hand was the ring of keys he had used to open the door and in his right was a huge cudgel that was dripping in blood. From behind the grate of his mask, I could see eyes shining a bright yellow, a yellow I had unfortunately seen all too often before. My hand began to slowly move towards my knife as the monstrous guard began to make its way towards me. I knew the knife wouldn't be able to do anything, against that armor, but maybe I could go for the joints. Images of Matthew shot into my head of him felling knights in a similar fashion, gracefully flanking them before jamming a dagger into the spaces in between plates. That was just a pipe dream though; there was no way I could pull something like that off.

The creature stopped in its tracks halfway through the room. I held my breath as I waited for the abomination to raise its large metal club and beat me down just as he had done to the crazy man across the hall, but the blows never came. Instead, it just stood there staring at me until finally a second or so later, it stepped aside. Behind it, a much thinner silhouette stood in the entrance of my room, or at least I thought he was standing in my room. The new comer was actually in the hallway, and was so tall he had to duck to enter the room, so tall in fact I'd go to say he was the tallest man I'd ever seen my life, easily eight feet tall at least. However, unlike his bulky counterpart, this guest was as thin as a pencil and looked like a gust of wind could blow him over. Also different from the lumbering knight, this slender man was wearing a ratty red shirt and black slacks instead of armor. And though his height was certainly disarming, the most frightening feature of him was his face, for his face wasn't exposed, instead he wore what appeared to be a white mask covering his whole head, bound by a leather straps in the back. The large crooked smiley face that had been drawn on the front was creepy beyond proper wording. Stranger still, there were no holes in the front of the mask to look out or breathe.

"I see you're awake." The masked giant commented indifferently. This time the giant stepped aside and motioned out of the door. "Please, step outside." I stood my ground firmly as I looked up at the two strange creatures before me. I had many questions that I wanted to ask, but as I looked out the doorway I saw the room across the hall. The door was wide open and in the darkness I spotted the unmistakable outline of a corpse and numerous gory splatters on the walls. No matter how many times you see death, even with how much I've witnessed it on the battlefield, you never get used to the sight of such brutality. Deciding I didn't want to press my luck with my hosts, I slowly and carefully stepped out of the room.

I looked both ways as I exited, seeing my cell was only one of about thirty in the hallway. I had no way of telling exactly how many other cells were filled with captives… and how many of them were still alive. I felt a long, lithe hand settle on my shoulder, and the slender man turned me abruptly to the left and began to walk me down the hallway. The heavy steps of the knight were close behind, but they stopped a little bit before we reached the end of the hall. I heard him unlocking another cell door as the taller host led me through a door out into the cold.

What I saw before me was a huge display of ruins that had once been a prosperous compound, probably belonging to a wealthy noble. We stood in a large court yard that was covered in snow (as most everything in Ilia was) and all around the grounds were men dressed in black and red uniforms patrolling the icy terrain. My captor gave me a brief shove to keep me moving straight down a cleared cobblestone path that lead straight to a large building in the center of the estate. I took a quick look up at the sky to see what time of day it was, but dark clouds foreboding a snow storm obscured the sun. Abandoning my vain efforts to tell time, my mind raced to dig up facts as we were moving. Mercenaries with red and black uniforms operating out of Ilia… I've never heard of such a thing! The merc bands here mostly wear wintery colors for camouflage. I thought to myself as I felt curiosity creeping up my spine. They must be foreigners… Bern? Etruria maybe? Both have been hounding after me for quite some time.

We passed closely by a pair of guardsmen with their helmets removed. I took notice right away that one was tan and the other was a very dark shade of brown, neither being skin tones common in Bern and Etruria. The skin makes me believe Nabata or Sacae… but they wouldn't be wearing equipment like this… something really strange is going on here. We soon reached the door to the main keep and came to a halt. The tall man reached over me with his enormous arms and pushed the door open with ease, pushing me along inside.

We walked through a disheveled foyer which had most certainly seen better days toward a set of double doors on the far side of the room. Nervousness was beginning to set in, so throwing caution to the wind I dared to ask a question.

"Where are you taking me?" I expected to have my neck snapped there and that'd be it, but luckily my escort wasn't as blood thirsty as his knight companion.

"To meet a great man." He stated bluntly as he pushed open the doors to the next room.

I was expecting to be met with a sight of disrepair as I had seen the rest of the compound, but surprisingly, I was mistaken. Before me was a well-lit study that had been cleaned and organized extensively. Shelves of thick books lined the walls all the way around, gold font on the bindings gleamed in the dazzling candlelight. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a young woman with short red hair in a black dress gently dusting the books over with great care, paying no mind to me. I peered closely, and noticed two small, black horns were poking out from her hair. In the far corner I spotted a desk facing the wall. The being who was sitting at it was swathed in a large black cloak with a hood pulled over his head, apparently engrossed in reading the book before him. Two high-backed arm chairs were situated in the center of the room facing the far wall with a coffee table between them. From the shadows I could tell there was a man sitting in one of them enjoying the fire place crackling before him.

"Sir, he has awoken." The slender man stated simply before stepping backward out of the room and shutting the door behind him. I was left standing awkwardly, not sure whether to approach the man or not.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" the man in the chair asked without the slightest hint of impatience as he motioned for me to approach him. I quickly glanced between the girl and the cloaked ghoul at the desk to make sure they weren't going to try anything and I slowly walked around to face the man in charge.

With all these strange people around, I was expecting the leader to appear a little more disturbing, if not diabolical. But he was neither. He sat in the arm chair in a brown robe with a mug in hand as he stared into the fire. His hair was short, black with a beard lining a square jaw setting his face. I could tell from the man's frame he was rather physically fit, and his skin was the same dark shade as the rest of the men outside. He turned to face me and with a smile, motioning towards the chair to his right.

"Please, take a seat." With slight hesitance I approached the empty arm chair and melted slowly into the padded chair. I didn't want to let my guard down, but the chair was very comfortable and after having such a hard time, it was a welcomed relief. My suspiciously kind host motioned to a mug and tray of cakes on the coffee table.

"Coffee? Pastry?" He offered politely, to which I gave a slight shake of my head.

"Are you sure? It looks as though you haven't eaten in a while. If you need to rehydrate, Heidi can fetch some water for you." He said motioning to the horned ginger girl off to the side. "Or perhaps did seeing my men Bast and Ark eliminate your appetite?" He said with a smile and small amused laugh. This whole situation was very weird, but my captor was being civil with me, something that happens very rarely when you're a captive. Still, I couldn't let my guard down.

"Thank you for the concern but I feel fine." That was a lie, my head still ached tremendously and I was certainly thirsty, but I didn't trust this man any farther than I could throw him.

"If you don't mind me saying sir-."

"Oz."

"Pardon me?" I asked calmly as the man turned towards me more to face me better.

"You may call me by name, Oz, I never did like 'sir'. What should I call you?" I could give a flying wyvern turd what we called each other; this guy was starting to get on my nerves, but I needed to remain civil... for now.

"I think you know who I am already. You wouldn't have kidnapped me otherwise." Oz let out a hearty laugh and placed his mug down on the coffee table.

"Touché, yes I know who you are. You are the great tactician, the superb mind, the silver tongued savant, the true hero of Elibe!"

"Mark would be fine." Oz let out another laugh and nodded.

"Very well then, Mark it is. I'm sorry to have cut you off, you were saying?"

"You treat your prisoners very oddly."

"Ah yes this must all be very confusing. I apologize for the poor treatment and quarters, but it was a necessity you must understand. A prisoner is a prisoner after all, but that doesn't mean we can't be civil." I felt the urge to let my eyes slide into a burning glare, but years of practice had allowed me full control over my expressions.

"Though I don't enjoy the situation, I do understand; but why have you taken me?" Oz thoughtfully took a finishing sip of his coffee before setting the empty mug on the table and grabbing a cookie.

"Come now Mark, what is it that everyone in Elibe wants from you?"

"Heh… tactics is it?"

"Yes, now you're notorious for being very selective about the jobs you take on. In fact, I'm pretty sure you haven't accepted a single contract in nearly two years." Not since I finished that business with Nergal… I thought as I stared into the flames, remembering the horrid vision of the Dark druid and the three dragons he had summoned from the Dragon's gate.

"You would be correct in that assumption. So are you to tell me because you knew I'd say no to a hiring offer, you decided to kidnap me?"

"Precisely." Oz threw the cookie in his mouth as if to punctuate the word. He chewed quickly and rose from his chair approaching the fire slowly.

"Let me lay down the law for you Mark. You work for me now… whether you want to or not. You will serve under me and provide proper advice and tactics for my men. You will bring us victory in our fights, and will ultimately help complete the quest I pursue. However, it's entirely up to you whether this experience shall be enjoyable, or painful." The glow of the deep red flame illuminated his face into a terrible look, the diabolical expression that I had expected of him all along.

"What quest do you speak of?" I asked cautiously, feeling a dark twist of foreboding in my stomach. He turned to me with a grin plastered across his lips. A dark grin the devil himself couldn't pull off on a good day.

"Does the name Garoon mean anything to you?"

My eyes shot wide and my innards curled. That was the absolute last thing I had expected to hear. Despite my years of training to keep a straight and controlled demeanor no matter what the situation, the question had flattened my stoic defenses like hurricane. The name Garoon certainly did mean something to me, ripping open many old emotional scars that hadn't been disturbed in years. Wrath, despair, regret, paranoia, and pride all bubbled up from my stomach and pressed hard against the back my lips, beginning to be released. But of all those emotions, the one that dug at me most was hatred; not hatred towards any of my past that had been brought up by that one name, but rather all directed at Oz. The smile plastered on my captor's face screamed out that he had known the weight of that word on my soul, and that he knew the reaction that it would draw from me. Worst of all, my kidnapping, the demonic grin and the mention of Garoon was all I needed to figure out exactly what his plan was.

"You… you plan to release it don't you?" I asked in as restrained of a manner as I could muster at that moment.

"Why yes, yes I do Mark. And you will help me."

The emotions that had built up had finally reached a breaking point. The violent explosion I had been fighting to keep in burst through in the form of a furious scream. I launched myself from the chair, drew the small knife I had hidden, and lunged at the mad man's throat. Unfortunately, everything happened in a flash, I didn't have time to stop it from happening. A pair of hands that seemed to come out of nowhere had grabbed me by the shoulders from behind and launched me across the room. I collided with the arm chair I had been sitting in moments before, and had hit it with such force it violently tumbled to the side. I then bounced off the floor and rolled until I hit the far wall. With a groan of pain I turned onto my side to see the horned red head from before standing protectively in front of her master, sneering at me as I passed out.

"Why thank you Heidi. Please call Ark back in to return Mark to his cell." The pale, black-clad girl silently walked towards the door to retrieve the abnormally tall man who waited outside. Oz walked towards my unconscious form and shook his head.

"Worry not tactician, you will see my view of things soon, and you will help us." He turned and faced the dark robed being still sitting unimposing at the corner desk.

"Has everything been prepared?" The strange ghoul raised a small black flask up above his head, without turning to face Oz.

"Perfect, excellent work Aherm." Ark had just skulked into the room and proceeded to heft the tactician up onto its thin shoulders and head back through the doors.

"Ark, be sure to acquaint him with some of the other guests. I'm sure the company will allow him to better pass the time."

Outside the Compound

On a ride over the Western side of the camp, a woman clad in light combat armor laid hidden in the snow and watched the camp. She spotted an incredibly tall man carrying a motionless figure in a green cloak towards a building at the edge of the estate.

"That must be the target." She whispered quietly to herself as she backed out of the hiding spot and ran farther back on the ridge. A large group of women similarly garbed stood waiting for her with an equal number of pure white pegasus horses.

"Commander Fiora, we think we saw him. He was being carried to a building on the far side of the yard. The compound's heavily guarded though, there are a lot of soldiers and I'm sure plenty of them have bows." The blue haired woman the scout was reporting to nodded quietly.

"Good work Nora. We'll wait for the clouds to break and attack at dusk, the glare from the sun should help us with our assault. Fifth wing, prepare for battle." The group of women then proceeded to scatter about the makeshift camp and prepare themselves and the pegasi for battle. Fiora sighed heavily and looked in the distance towards the edge of the cliff that overlooked their target. Mark, what have you gotten into this time? Lady Lyndis would kill me if something ever happened to you under my watch!

Inside the Jail

I groaned loudly as I stirred from my unwilling sleep into a familiar scene. The room was just as uncomfortable and cold as always, but there was a big difference I noticed immediately despite the aching pain that filled my body from the girl's inhuman body slam; the door was cracked open. Dim candle light shined into the room and illuminated one of the walls in my cell. Coming from the hallway I heard a commotion, a mixture of yelling and the sounds of clashing and brutality. What the hell? I thought to myself as I unsteadily brought myself up onto my hands and knees for the second time today. There appeared to be some kind of battle going on in the small jail. I picked out the sounds of a massacre immediately, the cackling laughs of homicidal maniacs, and the screams of innocents who had never been in such a fight. Whatever was going on out there, it was surely messy.

Suddenly, a figure appeared in the doorway, slamming it wide open against the wall. My intruder looked around the cell for a moment before spotting me bent over in the candle light. I heard a small gasp, followed by a sinister laugh as he approached me.

"What a surprise to see you here. This couldn't have turned out better. Not only do I get a second chance at life, but my first act will be revenge. After I take care of you, I'll find that Lorca wench and dust her off too! No one escapes the beast!" The man's axe gleamed in the candle light and I was able to make out the shabby outfit made of furs and the same eerie yellow eyes I had come to fear. Worst yet, as he drew close enough for me to make out his face, I recognized him immediately even with the pale skin and black hair.

"Batta!"

Firedude: Hope you all enjoyed the first chapter. Please review, I like to know what my readers' thoughts are. Criticism is welcomed as long as it's not inappropriate. I'll try to have the next chapter up soon.