Author's note: Hello readers! If you happen to read my bio you will notice two things: 1. I am pompous, and 2. I am working on a very long Chrono Trigger fanfiction story. Unfortunately, it exists mostly in my head, and not on paper, though I've had the basics of the story established for over a year. I didn't want to this first chapter up just yet, but I'm going to be twenty years old in two months and I'm going to be working on Chrono Trigger fanfiction. I'm not quite sure what that says about me, but I want to see if there is an audience for my work.
I will be upfront: "Return to Normalcy" will not be like any thing I've yet read on fanfiction.net. Most of the stuff here has a very anime feel to it, and not without good reason. "Return" will be more like a spaghetti western, with magic. It will be brutal, violent and bloody. I will introduce concepts and characters never seen before in this genre. I don't claim to be a particularly good writer, but I will do my best to entertain you. And if you happened to read my 'Guardian Angel' piece, intellectual Crono is back with a vengeance, though this is not a sequel.
I don't write regularly, and therefore I can't in good conscience ask for a beta reader. Eventually, I will take this down to the Writing Center, but they won't know what the hell's going on without a good background. That's what this chapter is. I'm hoping it will be received well here and I'll have impetus to write faster, but I want comments of all kinds, including Flames, if you feel you must. Also, I can't seem to upload documents verbatim: Paragraph formation is distorted, centering is voided, the like. Any help would be appreciated. Thank you.
A Letter to the King
And so the angel Christopher, patron of travelers, took me from myself. And behold, he showed me a land, rich and green, wherein the cities grew to surpass the mountains and rivaled the sun with their brilliance, and the roads stood wide and study and clean, despite the multitude that thronged along them. I asked him, good angel, where have you taken me? And he responded thus, this is the future, and here you must see things and hear things to come, now I bid you watch and wait.
Anon, the sky blackened, and the ground shook in such a furry I cannot describe. In a barren patch of land, the earth opened, swallowing those above whole. This crevice spewed forth a hideous beast, larger than the largest citadel in the Imperium, and it in turn spewed fire into the sky and onto the land, scorching all: the young and old, the sick and the infirm. The cities crumbled as the land itself was torn asunder and reshaped as if by an evil will. The men, clad in fearsome armor and mounted on steeds, and fowl, and fish of awesome size and scope, bearing weapons of unimaginable power, fought the beast in valiant fashion, only to be impaled on the huge spines of the beast, or scorched by the fire, while the beast's worm mouth opened and closed in silent laughter. For none could harm it, none could stop it, and the beast new this.
Seeing this, I wept bitterly. The angel spoke: it is finished. Never again will man know bounty, nor pleasure, nor peace. He shall only know suffering and death. In a little while, man will be no more. For he has come: the Lavos, the eater of worlds, devourer of planets. I asked the angel why this would come to be, and he told me it was judgment of man's past sins, which he forbade me to reveal. For among other things, the mighty Zealots once used this knowledge to try and make themselves gods, and He who rules alone shall suffer no rival.
I pleaded with Christopher that there must be a way to prevent this. He spoke unto me: The Lord is firm and harsh with the unrighteous but merciful to the good and the penitent. Therefore, trust in the Lord and his Liaison, and man might yet escape this fate. But this one portion of man's demise, ultimately, is of little consequence, so come, I have much more to show you…
The Endings as Seen by Saint Pathmos
To the righteous and wise Nikoli, 33rd king of the Guardian Kingdom, 2nd to bear the name, defender of the faith, protector of the realm, benefactor of all Acacians:
Your Majesty, if you have received this letter, I am, in all likelihood, no longer among the living. And as the dead have little to gain from lies, I ask that you believe the words herein, and take action as you see fit. At our last meeting, and with no small amount of subterfuge, my colleges and I departed without informing your highness of the dangerous quest that we have undertaken.
It may seem strange to Your Majesty that I transcribe the entire fifth chapter of the last book in the Testament, but it underscores the import of this letter. For more than nine hundred years, scholars and theologians have debated the exact context of Endings, chapter five. The popular notion of the modern day is that the passage is purely symbolic; that the Lavos is the greed and desires of all mankind, seeking to escape control and cause havoc upon the world. Unfortunately, this view is completely false.
Lavos, far from a metaphor, is a very real creature; most closely resembling a giant porcupine, though I readily admit this comparison is rather crude. St. Pathmos does no justice to the dimensions of the beast, and very little to its power. I have seen this creature for myself; I have fought it, and almost lost my life in the process. I must not tarry, for though it seems illogical, I have precious little time.
I can tell you now that our escape from the Guardian Royal Prison some months ago was facilitated by a 'temporal Gate:' a rift in space-time that can instantaneously transport one from year A to the same spatial location in year B; in the case of that particular gate, 1000 and 2300AD respectively. Upon our arrival in the far future, we quickly discovered neither Guardian, nor any other civilization in the ruins of Zenan, merely small bands of survivors too weak from starvation to fend for themselves.
Eventually, we happened upon a place called Arris. In its bowels, we discovered that indeed, the Testimonial 'Day of Lavos' is a real historical event, set to occur in the early afternoon of May 26th 1999. Worse, Lavos will rise from the earth roughly halfway between our capital, Truce, and the straights of Zenan, causing untold destruction to our descendents. For this reason, it is imperative that Guardians, above all the other peoples of the earth, must take interest in this beast's destruction.
Seeing this, we, as your loyal subjects, took it upon ourselves to destroy him; we it on good information that such a feat is not impossible. More troubling though, we have been told that we are, in fact, the only ones capable of preventing the death of mankind. Contrary to the opinions of the others, I feel the struggle must continue even if we fail. My companions feel it better not to place impending doom on a people destined for destruction. For my part, I refuse to believe man incapable of saving himself.
I will relate as much information as possible; but as my time is running out, I must convey the cardinal points first. There are three Gates within our time: the northernmost pavilion of Leene Square, the clearing in Guardia Forest wherefrom we escaped, and the first floor wardrobe of 719 Halestar, Medina. If you receive this letter, I beg you to give my gratitude to the imp couple who lives there. Their generosity touched us all. The foremost Gate connects to 600 and the others connect to 2300.
These Gates may be activated by the use of a 'Gate Key,' the schematics of which I have enclosed. In passive charge, the Key causes Gates to become visible as floating, pulsating spheres, and an active charge will expand a Gate to its full dimensions, allowing temporal displacement. Though equilibrium and balance can be lost, the worst effect of Gate use seems to be intense nausea.
The operation of temporal Gates is dogged with laws that to my understanding are completely arbitrary. The Gates are exact connecting points, down to at least the second. For example, at this moment, it is October 29th, 11:34AM and if one were so inclined as to enter the 'Pavilion' Gate and spend twenty-six minutes at the terminus, Truce Canyon of 600 it would be 12:00 on Oct. 29th there. Upon a return, one would find it to be noon in Leene Square as well. Because the years seem to be synchronized by the formula: X multiplied by 10 to the Y power, where Y is greater than one, leap years are of no practical concern. I have however, tried to make sense of the mechanics of space-time, without much success, due entirely to a lack of information.
One of the more puzzling aspects of time travel is the so-called Time Conservation Theorem, which states when more than three beings attempt simultaneous use of a single Gate, they will be sent to 'the space time coordinates of least resistance.' The Theorem seems to discount mass and volume entirely, and it seems the various unmentionable creatures one inevitably attracts on long trips are not sufficient beings in the calculus of the equation.
The space-time coordinate of least resistance is called End of Time. Logically, if it was time's end, movement in the fourth dimension should cease, thus forever trapping anyone who enters, but at this moment I sit here, writing this letter (and not suffering at all from a lack of hand cramps, I might add).
The End of Time, it seems, has air, gravity and a functioning fourth dimension. At one time, I would have denied that it could be the literal end of time, but in my travels I have been constantly reassured of the validity of Sewcrates' ancient maxim "The wise man is the one who knows he truly knows nothing." The dimensions of the place I need not describe, I need only say that it is safe.
Most of our direct knowledge concerning time travel comes from the lone human of this place, Gaspar, the last Zealean Guru of Time. Aside from the lack of the Lavosian element, it seems that Cupo's "Fall of Zeal" was uncannily accurate in describing the last days of a kingdom that many, including myself until recently, thought nonexistent.
Gaspar is the one who has told us we are the only ones who can destroy Lavos. We are aware that he knows many things, and I suspect he knows far more than he tells. I do not think he is a liar, but I do not trust anyone who speaks in riddles and half-truths. And though it would seem we should have all the time in the world, he continuously informs us that our window of opportunity is rapidly closing. I, We, cannot gamble on this, which is why we move with such haste.
One final note on the End of Time: here dwells Spekkio, a polymorphic creature claiming to be the 'Master of War.' Treat him well, for he may bestow magical abilities upon those whom he sees fit. These powers have proved to be most useful to us.
Due to the multiple, gross violations of logic and all precedence in our observation of natural law, I have postulated that the Gates are in fact the creation of an unknown Entity, which has purposely placed these Gates at locations where we could find them. From the times to which they give access, we have seen many things, especially the occasionally active influence of Lavos upon our history. I will only hazard to guess that this Entity wants Lavos destroyed as much as we do.
If it becomes necessary to activate this plan, and it is executed properly, Your Majesty will find something far more useful than Gaspar's riddles at the End of Time: a functioning time machine, which we have christened the Epoch. It was built by another temporally dislocated Zealot, Belthasar, the last Guru of Reason. Unfortunately, he died without leaving any schematics, and like the Gates, it is calibrated by year, with six presets that I have been unable to alter. For obvious reasons, I have not yet dismantled the machine for study. I have also enclosed instructions on the basic operations of the machine, which is not only capable of time travel, but also of flight at unheard speeds (at least in our era). In its rear storage area, there is a priceless treasure. During the course of our travels, I was able to procure a copy of Lost Testaments of Zeal. They are works of cultural, historical, and perhaps, theological value to the whole of Liaisondom. Translating them has been a joy for me, and in truth, it has likely kept me sane these last few months. They are my rampart against the drudgery and danger I have come to face daily. If nothing else comes to fruition, this is my gift to the Guardian people.
At this point, I must make an addition that really has no place in the rest of this letter, a matter that concerns the Black Omen. If you know nothing of that floating, onyx monstrosity hanging above our Kingdom, be thankful, for we have destroyed it. It is, or was, the last remnant of Zealean civilization. Once it was called the 'Ocean Palace' and despite the name, it was designed to be nothing more than a giant power station, draining the Lavosian energies. The Ocean Palace was the means by which, according to the Testament, the Zealots tried to render themselves gods. It is now corrupted by the energies it was supposed to harness, and can only pose harm to our Kingdom.
We have done many things to prepare us for the struggle ahead. I will not elaborate on these events, as I have neither the time, nor the interest to transcribe them. If we fail, nothing else in our adventure will matter. But we do not fight alone. We have many of the foremost fighters in the history of Guardia and beyond.
There is Sir Glenn of Trann, also known as the Frog, companion of Sir Cyrus, retainer of Queen Leene. He is every bit the swordsman that legend holds him to be, despite the curse that has left his body warped in the form of a frog. His sense of honor is greater than mine ever will, for he now fights along side his nemesis.
It is with some regret that I tell my lord that the Magus is amongst our less than merry band, and not among the dead. The warlock is yet another displaced Zealot, the crown prince of that kingdom. In his younger life, he saw Lavos destroy both it and his mother. While whipping up the Mystics to wage war on our kingdom four hundred years ago, he secretly plotted to summon and destroy the Planted Devourer for the sole purpose of revenge. His summons failed and he was again thrown into time. Now we fight together, for he is a potent, if unsociable, ally in this effort. Despite our continued insistence that he show good faith and restore Sir Glenn, he has refused, saying only his good faith is being seen with us 'losers.' No matter what happens though, he will never threaten the Kingdom again, and I will personally see to that.
There is Prometheus, a Genoan robot from the ruined future. He has proved himself a valuable ally time and again. He is also the metal creature 'stolen' from Fiona's Shrine about three months ago; I ask for pardon from any charge relating to this, as we were rescuing our friend, so that we could continue on our quest. On a side note, I am behooved to say that sentient machines, in general, are quite dangerous. In the three hundred years following the Day of Lavos, the Mother Brian of Geno, took control of the city and began a systematic slaughter of all surviving humans; an effort which ceased only at the former borders of Guardia, at which time we destroyed the computer. You must advise your successors to be careful when developing the technology required to build such machines.
Ayla, the woman whom Your Majesty saw trying to consume the remains Yarka XIII and whom Your Majesty subsequently enquired, is not a barbarian from the northernmost hinterlands of the Acacian archipelago as we claimed, but a Neanderthal from an era when Acacia was united as subcontinent. Now, modern evolutionary theory has placed the emergence of modern man, beginning the 'Latte Man' at around 2,000,000 B.C. at the earliest. Ayla's people, though, live side by side with large reptilian creatures, referred to in the fast emerging scientific field of paleontology, as 'dinosaurs.' These creatures are almost universally thought to have died out about 65,000,000 years ago. I put these numbers into numerical form so that you can appreciate this vast discrepancy; as a scientist, this revelation blindsided me. In the defense of the paleontologists, I would like to remind His Majesty that Science is a progress; that thought the truths we seek are infallible, our understanding of them is not always so.
Even this discrepancy dilemma pales in the face other discoveries that we made there; discoveries of which effect the all of subsequent history. But I do not know exactly how long ago Ayla lives (or lived, I am not quite sure as to proper terminology), but I have thus far erred in favor of man's longevity, placing her time at approximately sixty-five million B.C.
If Your Majesty has been astute, he will want to know how it was Belthasar knew which time periods we needed to traverse. The fact is; he did not. Upon our acquisition of the Epoch, there were only three presets; 2300, the year of Zeal's destruction, twelve thousand years before the foundation of our Kingdom, and the End of Time. It was Gaspar, who reset the presets, during which time; he forced all of us to spar with Spekkio for four hours and twenty-two minutes! He told us he was nervous working around people, so we couldn't be present. Honestly, the nerve of that man! I still have no idea if his alterations were of mechanical or magical nature, though I suspect the latter, for reasons I need not address here. He has been most uncooperative in my enquiries.
Let us return to Ayla, then. She fights, not simply out of loyalty to us, but also guilt. Unlike Pathmos, I am unbound, and can tell Your Majesty, it was her "sins" if one could call them such, for which Lavos is supposedly a punishment. The details are in the Lost Testaments, and any slight errors the writers make are noted in my translations. I must speak in Alya's defense, for she is of impeccable character. Feral as she is, she makes a fierce and loyal companion. Do not judge her.
There is Your Majesty's daughter, the princess Nadia. She is known to us as Marle, and she is without doubt the heart of our group. Though her rebellious acts may have angered Your Majesty, in our midst, she cannot help but betray the good breeding of the house of Guardia. Aside from her immense physical beauty, she has shown irrepressible goodwill, indomitable resolve, and great courage. I daresay if she were forced, she would fight Lavos alone, for the desire to see justice done burns strongly within her. Your Majesty, you have raised a most regal daughter, and you should be proud.
Aside from myself, of whom I have little to say, there is Crono. While the ancient epics I read in my youth told me of heroes, nothing could prepare me to be in the presence of one. For all the years I spent in childhood with him by my side, I could not have imagined Crono would become the powerful man he is now and I cannot help but think your daughter has been instrumental in his metamorphosis. Know that he loves her, and he will die before she comes to harm.
We are the seven, culled from humanity to save it. We are now powerful, perhaps more than any human being has a right to be. We shall due our utmost to destroy the fiend who threatens our future. If fortunate favors the foolish, we shall regale Your Majesty with tales of our adventures. If not, know we died as good Guardians; we leave it to the Kingdom to finish what we began some eight months ago. If the Black Omen still hangs above the world, begin there, for it leads to Lavos. This is all I can say in aid. I must now, humbly ask two favors of Your Majesty. First, that you excuse disorganized nature of my letter, and second, that you officially clear my name, and that of Crono, of any wrongdoing against the Kingdom for which we struggled so long to protect.
I remain your faithful servant unto death,
Lucca Lararis Ashtear
October 29th, (1000 A.D.)