…The Masamune.  Sword of legend, sword of infamy; forged by Melchior, the great Guru of Life, its name would alternately be praised and reviled.  And yet, the truth is that it was the lesser of two.  When the ancient Kingdom of Zeal sank beneath the waves in a great cataclysm over thirteen thousand years ago, along with it sank many secrets.  The existence of the Kaminoken, the magnificent and terrible weapon whose legacy the Masamune would inherit, is merely one of these.  The Masamune would see its redemption at the hand of Serge, the Second Chrono Trigger; for the Kaminoken, there could be none.

            Over 64 million years had passed since the fall of Lavos, and the extinction of the Reptites.  By the intervention of Fate, mankind had been allowed to see itself to prosperity, culminating in the great Kingdom of Zeal.  Four Sunstones, creations of the ancient Dragon Gods as a gift to the Draconians, and subsequently lost in the ensuing war between them and humans, were capable of harnessing and storing vast amounts of energy, provided near limitless energy to the kingdom, and the Nu were always available to function as repositories of knowledge, as each new discovery in the realm of magic invariably created ever more questions to be explored.  Under the guidance of the Gurus, Zeal prospered, and mankind flourished in what would be the pinnacle, and the downfall, of civilization.

Chapter 1

Swords and Buckets

16,000 B.C.

            For thirty years, Melchior had been obsessed.  The texts recovered from the Sea of Eden confirmed what he had known all along, and now that the moment of truth was at hand, he could hardly contain his excitement.  Constant war with the Draconians incurred a never-ending need for newer and deadlier weapons of war, and Melchior was the greatest swordsmith alive.  The skill of forging, maintaining the perfect balance in the blade to create a truly worthy weapon, constantly beckoned him back to his workshop and laboratory in the palace. This latest creation would be a sight to behold. Access to Dreamstone was normally restricted to those whose bloodlines could be traced back to the royal family; even as a Guru, one of the three advisors who support the kingdom, Melchior had not been able to easily obtain the material.  In addition to that, the mithril which had been combined with the Dreamstone in an alloy was not inexpensive, and the rainbow shards which gave the blade its finish could only be found deep within Draconian territory on the continent.

            "Finished at last!" he said, as he raised the gleaming blade up to the light from the forge.  "I had always suspected that there was more to Dreamstone than those nobles were willing to let on, and now I have my proof in this blade."  The sword shimmered in the light, and Melchior almost thought he could feel a steady pulse flowing through the finely crafted weapon.

            A quiet knock on the door was quickly followed by the entrance of Belthasar, the Guru of Reason.  The man walked in slowly, the only sound he made the rustling of robes on the floor.  Both men appeared mirror images of each other, of indeterminate age, with eyes that bespoke of wisdom beyond time.  Unlike Melchior, who was usually quite amiable and always open to conversation, Belthasar preferred the solitude of his study, where he could continue his research into Elemental energy and its uses without the distractions of any visitors.  This is not to say that he ever had trouble communicating his feelings to those around him when he felt the need to do so; the simple truth of the matter was that most of the time the Guru preferred to listen, rather than to speak.

            "Still playing with toys are we, Melchior?  How many times must I tell you; despite our victories in the past, it won't be any weapon of wood or metal that is going to win us this war.  The power of the Elements will be the decisive factor.  Even now our soldiers are being educated in the use of this new power in ways that make your swords and crossbows pale in comparison."

            "Do not be too hasty in your judgments, my old friend," Melchior replied, "there are properties in metal and stone that your research cannot hope to delve into; Dreamstone weapons and armor are more powerful than you could ever imagine, and this, my greatest creation, will prove it on the battlefield.  Believe me, in the hands of that young man, the Kaminoken will shatter the Draconian lines, and give us our final victory."

            "I assume you are referring to Aram when you say this?  He is as big a fool as you are; perhaps even greater.  I suppose that I should expect that, seeing as how you were the one who raised him.  Why cling to such outdated methods of waging warfare?  The future is already here, Melchior, and it has nothing to do with steel and muscle.  Even now, the Queen has decreed that a new special unit be formed specifically for the use of long-range spells on the battlefield.  Face it: the days of weaponsmithing are coming to an end."

"Is that so?  From what I have been hearing, the way in which Elemental power taxes the user's physical and mental limits has been causing some problems concerning the stability of your precious new units.  I often wonder if your work is going to bring ruin down on us all, Belthasar."

"We are working on getting around those limitations; it is only a matter of time before blades and armor are things of the past."  With that, Belthasar turned on his heel and exited the laboratory, the only audible sound the swish of his robes across the stones.  Melchior looked on, quite unsure as to how the Queen could ever find someone so bothersome to be palatable for the amounts of time she spent in his presence.  He held the blade up once more so that the light danced off the flecks of rainbow shell buried in the blade.  "Kaminoken…."

Aram lay on his back underneath the fig tree out in the practice yard; six hours of nonstop sword practice and formation drills had exhausted him. Despite his rapidly growing reputation since his promotion to Lord Captain, very few real benefits seemed to be evident.  At least the position had earned him a degree of respect, if little else.  Now, in addition to the usual exercises and patrols, his days were filled with paperwork and administration as well.  For a man his age, the responsibilities were piling up far too quickly.

On the positive side, he was now able to see Erina much more than before.  As a lieutenant, there hadn't been much time for anything not strictly ordered by the higher-ups, but since his current position entailed much more freedom than his previous one, he now found that he didn't have to sneak out of the barracks for a short stroll through the woods or lunch together.  Despite the workload, this new position seemed to be turning out for the best.

Aram leaned back and closed his eyes.  As the cool breeze of the late afternoon rolled over him, sleep slowly crept in.  Right when he was on the verge of unconsciousness, the awareness of imminent danger that had served Aram so many times in the past alerted him – just in time to see a bucket of water flying at his face from above.

Splash!  The sudden sensation of the cold water woke Aram up instantaneously.  He slowly sat up, the bucket still covering his head and obscuring his vision; he didn't need to see to know who the culprit was.  Aram lifted the bucket, to be greeted by a sight that both thrilled and frustrated him at the same time.  Short black hair framed a fair face, with piercing blue eyes staring straight into his.  A small smile crept onto the face, and despite the unpleasant surprise awakening, Aram had to admit that the sight of Erina always made him glad to be near her.  After all, their first meeting had been much worse; getting kicked off of a horse after it had been spooked by one of Erina's spells had not been a pleasant experience.  Despite her protestations otherwise, Aram was positive that it had been on purpose.

"So we feel that we're important enough to be dozing in the middle of the day, do we?  I'm beginning to wonder if this promotion hasn't gone to your head.  Even if I do get to see you more these days, it won't make me happy if it turns you into nothing more than a big slacker."

"Erina, give me a break, will you?  I'm sore and tired, and this really isn't funny at all!"

In response, the young woman merely giggled and shook her head.  "You've been so serious lately I'm beginning to be concerned.  I don't think I've heard you laugh at all this past month.  What could possibly be so troublesome that you can't tell me?  I thought you trusted me…."

At this Aram heaved a sigh, and turned on his side.  The breeze which had previously provided comfort now sent shivers down Aram's spine.  The Draconians had been devastated by the loss of the Sunstones; each subsequent battle was increasingly desperate, and he was worried that the Draconian leadership might attempt something rash.  At the same time, Queen Alise had ordered the introduction of Elemental soldiers into the fray. Although these men were undeniably effective, they disturbed Aram in a way he couldn't quite put his finger on.  Above all, it was Aram's sincere hope that Erina would be spared any hardship in the time to follow.

"It has nothing to do with trust, Erina." Aram then chuckled.  "I might not trust you very far when it comes to buckets of water, but never believe that there is anything I wouldn't tell you.  Trust me."  Before she could respond, Aram quickly gripped Erina's arm.  "There is a storm coming; I can't explain it, but I feel it within the depths of my soul, and I don't want to lose you in the midst of it."

"Aram, I…I'm sorry.  It's just that, I don't want to lose you either; I want you to stay who you are.  Promise me, Aram; promise me you won't lose your kindness."

"I promise."

D'Argoth Ruane looked on in horror as flames consumed the border town.  This was the third such incident since reports began to filter in a month ago.  Events that could only be described as most unnatural were occurring all over the frontier.  Bolts of lightning would rain down on a settlement or fortress out of a clear blue sky; the earth suddenly erupted underneath others.  It was clear that the humans had finally begun to tap into Elemental energy.

 The Draconians had long known the use of Elemental energy, but its limitations and dangerous side effects had been deemed too much of a risk for regular use.  As a race, they had been in existence far longer than even the Reptites, let alone mankind; they were the children of the Dragon Gods, the natural inheritors of the Earth.  Now, the Draconians saw in the current conflict the greatest challenge they had ever faced.  Having been forewarned by the six deities, and with full knowledge of the fact that humans were the product of Lavos, the Draconians had prepared to go to war after the great cataclysm in which that infamous parasite descended from the heavens.  However, the Draconians were a patient race, enlightened beyond all others.  Therefore, the Council had decided to bide its time rather than to begin an immediate campaign, in the ultimately futile hope that at some point mankind would come to live in harmony with the other creatures of the Earth.  After millennia of watching and waiting, though, the patience of the Council had run out.  Therefore, in the year 16,008 B.C., the Draconians commenced a surprise attack on the capital of the human kingdom, in the hope that it would be enough to demoralize the forces of mankind.

What the Council hadn't counted on was the stubborn resolve of men.  Counterattacks were rapidly organized, and the humans were successful in slowly pushing the Draconian forces back to end in a temporary stalemate of sorts.  Now, it seemed as though the humans were raising the stakes, releasing a destructive power across the land that the Draconians had long ago forbidden from usage in times of war.  Elemental powers, although incredibly potent, were difficult to control; it would only be a matter of time before the humans realized the mistake that they made in relying upon such a force.  D'Argoth could only hope that it would be too late for them by then.

"Such devastation… how long do we really expect to last here?  It will only be a matter of time before we are driven back into the Sea of Eden, where no man can follow us.  After all this time, they have finally discovered it.  The irony amazes me to no end: by using the forces of this planet, the children of an alien entity would depose the natural, lawful inheritors of this planet.  May the Dragon Gods protect all of us."

A page rushed up the hill at that moment.  "My lord, forgive me.  We have been recalled by order of the Council and must return to Korata immediately.  This order was sent with the explicit instruction that we must arrive within eight days, or else we…we will be unable to attend the Raising, sir."

"Is that correct?  So, the Council believes that the situation is that desperate; indeed, it may in fact be just as they fear.  Still, to think that such terror is going to be unleashed on the world again…I cannot honestly say that I would wish that even on humans….  When is this madness going to end?"

D'Argoth turned back to face the young officer, obviously confused as to what it was D'Argoth was referring.  Although he was not necessarily old by Draconian standards, D'Argoth was not young either, and the last time that a Raising had been initiated was over two hundred years ago, long before the corporal who delivered the message had ever been born.  That had been due to the interference of the one who called himself Magus – the threat he posed then was so great, though, the Draconian Council was given no choice in the matter.

"At any rate, have the soldiers ready to travel in three hours.  This is an event we cannot afford to miss.  The future of our society depends on it."

"As you wish, my lord; I will have the dragoons ready to move as you have commanded.  There is nothing left here for us, anyway.  Even if the perpetrators are still here, there is very little chance of us finding them with this smoke.  By your leave, I shall go."

After he dismissed the messenger, D'Argoth continued to watch, as the flames consumed everything in the tiny village that rested in the valley on the border with Zeal.  The late afternoon sun gave everything a golden hue, and the surreal image of the smoke obscuring the sunlight made D'Argoth shudder.

The Queen of the Kingdom of Zeal cast an imposing figure on her throne.  Since the loss of her husband in the surprise attack eight years ago, she had only become harder.  The sheer irrationality of the attack was what had driven her to it, but Alise had never been one to back down from a fight.  Intelligence reports brought in by scouts didn't seem to make any sense either.  Apparently all of the Draconian troops that were not absolutely essential for defense at the frontlines were being recalled; for what exactly, she had no idea, but this sort of thing made Alise uneasy.  Rumors of a new threat were beginning to spread throughout the kingdom, although nobody could pinpoint the exact causes for it.

She rose from her seat after reading the latest reports, and walked slowly across the violet and gold marble tiles which adorned the floor, forming an enormous crest in the middle: the crest of the royal house of Midgar, the family of Alise's mother.  Her father, head of House Altena, had been assassinated shortly after her birth, in a coup involving a rival clan.  Although evidence was later brought forth and the guilty parties were sentenced to the headsman, Alise had been forced to grow up without the guidance and love of a father she could confide in as a result.  Right now, however, this was the furthest thing from the thoughts of the Queen of Zeal.

The new Elemental soldiers that had been trained at the behest of Belthasar, Guru of Reason, were proving to be less effective than she had hoped.  Although these living weapons were perfectly capable of leveling a town or fortress from a distance, the need to be in absolute control of the Elemental user's body prevented them from wearing any armor at all.  Furthermore, signs of instability were showing up among some of the units; apparently, the concentration required to gather the necessary energies for the spells was so taxing that some simply could not cope with the stress.  This invariably resulted in two or three of the men in every unit losing control of their power, and the only way to deal with them was to put down before they could cause significant harm.  Belthasar assured her, however, that such incidents would be eliminated in the future.  Alise looked out across the courtyard, to the sun setting far in the northern sky, and her thoughts were immediately taken back to that evening eight years ago….

The late afternoon sun blazed in the summer sky.  It had been a perfect, clear day.  The emissaries from the newly risen fiefdom of Enhasa had been most gracious at the dinner in honor of their arrival, and now that the formalities were ended, Alise and Marcos sat down to enjoy the evening sky outside in the Royal Garden.

"Tonight was wonderful, don't you think so, dear?  With the treaty finished, we'll finally be able to relax for a while and enjoy some time together.  We'll have to plan a trip back to Kajar, too.  I haven't seen the ocean in so long."

Marcos smiled warmly at his wife.  "Of course we will.  And we'll have to get back to what you were discussing with me the other night – maybe it is time that we started thinking about an heir…Alise?  What's the matter?  Your eyes are so wide…."

"No!  Oh, gods, no!  I'll never forgive them!  Never!"  Alise stared at her reflection in the tall windows of the royal chamber, and she could see the tears that were flowing freely down her cheeks.  Suddenly, she was aware of a burning pain in her right palm.  Alise looked down to see blood running out of her palm; her fist was clenched so tightly that her nails had broken through the skin.

For the past seven years, Aram's day had begun at 4:30, along with all of his comrades in the barracks of the Vanguard; today was no different.  All of the men roused from their pallets to begin the morning regimen.  As the men filtered out into the practice yard, Aram once again relished the fact that this time he would be the one in the lead.  So much had changed since he was in the same position as the young officers he now guided.  His thoughts then wandered back to yesterday evening.  After drying off, he and Erina had gone out into the hills surrounding the fortress near the forest of Everest again, where they could get away from the other soldiers garrisoned there.  Of course, it was more for solitude than anything else, although Aram did his best to at least steal a few kisses before they had to return to the fortress.  Somehow, Erina had a way of mysteriously, almost accidentally, avoiding all of the advances he made.  He was simultaneously annoyed and relieved to know that, as long as he lived, Aram would never understand women.

Out in the practice yard, Aram was training one of the new enlisted men.  Setah Alvain was almost of an age with Aram.  Slender, but not thin, Setah moved with an almost feline grace.  Aram had been a swordsman long enough to realize that the potential within Setah was truly amazing.  Experience would prove to be the winner this morning, as the sergeant overbalanced himself after parrying Aram's last thrust, and before he could react, the flat of Aram's blade caught his left shoulder, sending Setah spinning to the ground.

"Good work, Setah.  You were close right up to the end.  When you parry, be sure to spread your feet just a little bit more.  Even if it leaves your front open, you're in a better position to react to the next attack.  Of course, it's never good to be on the defensive if you can avoid it, but some things can't be helped, right?"

Aram bent down to help Setah up to his feet, but by the time Aram had reached him, Setah had flipped back onto his feet, and was dusting himself off.  Setah was from one of the hidden villages near Mt. Woe.  These were places where the elite forces of the kingdom were trained, and some of it had inevitably rubbed off.  Unfortunately for Setah, the Draconians had known this as well, and his home was destroyed in the initial attack eight years ago, killing both of his parents.  Now, the unfortunate young man lived only for revenge, and he saw his path to it in the military.  Despite Aram's constant attempts to reach out to him, Setah still refused to say more than a few words at any given time.

"I should have known better; I just got careless.  Hmph, I guess it's a good thing this isn't real, huh?"  With that, Setah turned and headed back toward the barracks to clean up.  Aram feared for him; a man with nothing to live for besides revenge is sure to die an early death.  Just when Aram was contemplating whether or not to follow Setah, though, a man arrived on horseback.  Aram instantly recognized the uniform as that of the Elite Guard of the royal family.  Whatever message he was bringing apparently had its origins in the Royal Palace itself.

"I have a message for Sir Aram, the Lord Captain of the First Vanguard.  I was informed that I could find him here on the practice field."

Aram cocked his head to the side with curiosity.  The installation ceremony was not to be held for another three weeks, and he couldn't possibly imagine any cause with a need so great that he would be recalled from his current station.  With the Draconians in retreat, it was highly unlikely that there would be any need for additional defense of the palace grounds.

"The person you're looking for is standing right in front of you.  If I might be so bold, may I ask who the message is from?"

"Sir, this message was placed in my hands by the Guru of Life, Melchior himself.  He told me to be sure that you got it within three days.  As to the contents, I can only imagine.  Since Zeal's founding, the Gurus have been our guides.  Their thoughts are clearly beyond my own, sir."  With that, the messenger handed the rolled parchment down to Aram and quickly headed off back towards the hills.  No doubt Melchior had once again pulled a few strings in the palace court, and more than once an unfortunate officer had ended up paying the price for it by being assigned cleaning duty after it was discovered.

Still, this message was from Melchior.  Unknown to all but a select few, it had been Melchior who had discovered Aram, as a young boy.  Aram never knew his real family, and he had been forced to grow up on the streets.  In those days, thievery was dealt with harshly, but many of the boys who found themselves in Aram's situation in the days of the last king were compelled to resort to it.  One day, a royal procession was making its way through the castle town, and Aram, in his foolishness, had attempted to pickpocket one of the Three Gurus!  Taken aback at the boldness of the boy who would attempt something so brave and foolish at the same time, Melchior took the boy in, and taught him all of the skills that were essential to a warrior.  It was Melchior who had arranged Aram's assignment to the First Vanguard as a Lance Corporal seven years ago.  No doubt the mischievous man had something special to bother sending a message with such urgency.  Aram carefully unrolled the parchment, and began to read the contents.

My boy, I know that the installation ceremony in your honor is not for a while, but I have something for you that cannot wait!  I beg of you, hurry back to the palace at the first opportunity you get.  Also, I wouldn't mind seeing that young lady friend of yours again…what was her name?   Erin or something like that?  Anyway, come back as soon as your duties will allow you. 

- Melchior

A wide grin worked its way onto Aram's face.  If Melchior had something to show him, it no doubt involved some sort of new weapon, and despite the fact that Aram detested killing, he had inherited from Melchior the same love of weapons of war that the Guru possessed.  If this was urgent enough that Melchior would bother sending a messenger this close to the installation ceremony, then whatever it was that was waiting for Aram at the palace was something special indeed.  He had to get permission from the commodore in charge of the garrison, but given the circumstances, it more than likely wouldn't be a problem to get leave a few days early.  Convincing Erina to come along with him might be more than a little tricky.  Erina was training as a mage underneath one of Gaspar's pupils, and it was going to be difficult at best to get her to drop her studies.  Aram decided that he might as well take care of the easy part, and he headed to the main office to talk to Commodore Ibsen.

As Aram walked in, Commodore Ibsen raised his head from the field report he was reading.  It was clear on the man's face that he too felt that there was something odd going on within Draconian territory.  After years of campaigning against the Draconians, Ibsen knew their tactics as well as any man alive, and he couldn't help but feel uneasy about the recent recall of Draconian soldiers.  "Well Captain, what can I do for you this evening?"

Aram attempted to make his request sound as formal as possible.  "Sir, if it's possible, I'd like to be released from my current duties immediately.  The Guru of Life himself has requested my presence at the palace; I just received a message from one of the Elite Guard of the royal family, stating clearly that I must leave here as soon as possible."

            After hearing this, the commodore looked at Aram and began to chuckle softly.  Inwardly, Aram groaned.  Commodore Ibsen was one of the few men that knew of the relationship between Melchior and Aram, and he probably had some concept of what was contained in the message.  Ibsen immediately composed himself, though, so as not to further embarrass the young captain.  "I see no reason why you shouldn't be allowed to leave; with the Draconians acting the way they are lately, it seems like we won't see any action for at least another month.  You're dismissed, captain, but I expect to see you back here as soon as your business at the palace is concluded, if only for courtesy's sake!"

            "Thank you, sir.  I'll be back as soon as I possibly can; until then, I leave the men under my command in your capable hands."

            Just as Aram was about to exit the building, he heard the commodore's voice, intentionally kept low but still audible to Aram's hearing, "I certainly hope he isn't foolish enough to try pulling that girl away from her studies…."

            Not understanding, Aram continued on across the practice yard, into the mages' classrooms.  He didn't notice as the message from Melchior slipped from his jacket to fall on the ground outside the commodore's office.