Threads of Fate

Chaos Shadow

Threads of Fate (Dewprism) and all related goodness is copyright Squaresoft (now Square-Enix). I claim no rights to anything that follows except, of course, the contents of the document itself.

Opening Notes:
This is a project that I've been sitting on for far too long, and it's been nagging me in the back of my mind on and off ever since I resolved to do it and continuously failed to see it through. Earlier this month I finally told myself that I was going to sit down and get things in order and push through until I was sure I had cleared the major hurdles that would always stop me short of actually making progress. I think I did.

This is a novelization of the game that I've wanted to write for... longer than I care to admit. Threads of Fate is still very dear to me and I feel the need to respond to my own promises and finally, finally, do this.

For the record, I will not be strictly adhering to the game or some of its apparent designs; adaptation is a tricky business, especially working from the interactive medium backwards, so I've taken liberties with certain aspects and arrangements. All the fundamentals are there (otherwise it wouldn't be Threads of Fate), but certain details are going to be smudged. I'm sure most people aren't terribly concerned (if you wanted to play the game you can just play the game, after all), but heads-up for those to whom it matters.

Hope you enjoy.

One || Homecoming

Rue sat hunched over on the bed of his cabin, trying to make the most out of the cramped space he had available to him. A stack of papers lay splayed out before him, another stack still assembled nearly behind him, his immediate reading material propped up on the pillow. There was a small lantern in the cabin, swaying gently as the ship itself was rocked by the waves, and a porthole allowed some natural light to filter through, but even then he felt his eyes straining to read the text in front of him.

Not that the light was completely at fault. The documents they had found were old, yellowed, faded, and even the best of conditions it was difficult to see the letters, let alone read the words. Compounded with the fact that the page was written in an old language he only had a tenuous grasp of, and it was little wonder that he was getting sore and tense, and grinding his teeth so badly his jaw hurt for it.

He sighed to himself and massaged his forehead, at a slowly blossoming spot of pain just underneath his bandana.

No good.

He heard a knock from the cabin door and looked up. An older man, perhaps in his forties or early fifties, stood there, leaning against the doorway. He looked a bit disheveled– no, windswept. His clothes were creased and wrinkled, his brown hair unkempt and slightly tangled, and he had about the salty scent of the sea breeze. He also had about him a look of mild consternation; deep blue eyes peered confused through his glasses, raking over Rue's ersatz bedspread.

"What– what are you doing with my papers?" he asked.

Rue looked down to his lap, blinking suddenly as though he had was only just realizing he was covered in documents. "Oh! No, I'm– sorry, Doctor, I just–" He started gathering the papers back into neat little stacks; fortunately, he had not done much co-mingling, and he could easily sort them back the way they had been. "I, uh, I thought I'd figured something out." He shifted the stack of papers, straightened them out, and reached down next to the bed. He returned with the heavy case that the papers had been stored in and quickly went about replacing them.

"Did you?" the man asked.

"N-not as such, no." Rue made one more pass to make sure the papers were straight, then closed the case and clicked it shut. "I'm sorry, sir, I didn't meant to disrupt anything."

The man shifted his weight, leaning fully into the door frame. "You seem nervous today."

"Just tense," Rue said. "Something about all of this– I dunno. I just feel fidgety today."

The man chuckled, and gave him a smile. Rue felt a little of his embarrassment melt away. "It's all right," he said. "You've been stuck on a ship for a few days. I don't blame you if you're going stir crazy."

Rue scratched the back of his neck and looked away, frowning to himself. "Maybe..." He realized something and swung his legs over the side of the bed, fully facing the man. "Is there something you needed, Klaus?"

"Just to know where my case went," he said. "I can't lose those papers." He laughed again, but a little more humorlessly than before. "They're the only thing I have to show for this trip."

"That's not insignificant," Rue said. "I'm sure there's... something in here."

Klaus sighed and waved his hand dismissively. "Certainly not what I was hoping for. Ah, but that's not why I came down." He pushed off the door frame, stood unevenly for a second, and gently settled his weight on his right leg, wincing slightly. Rue tensed and moved to approach, but Klaus waved him off. "I'm fine," he said.

"Your cane–"

"Leaned it on the wall." At that, he reached somewhere on his side of the door frame and produced the wooden cane. He settled himself against it, relaxed, and nodded upward. "Come with me. I'd like to show you something."

Rue shoved off the bed and followed as Klaus rounded the corner and made his way to the stairs leading up to the deck. Klaus made his way shakily up, and Rue gave him a few seconds head start at the top before he scrambled up behind him. He emerged blinking into the full force of sunlight, and averted his eyes to the deck of the ship while he waited for them to adjust. Down below, even with the portholes and the lantern, was still worlds darker than it was up top, especially with the sunlight gleaming brilliant off the water.

When he was ready, he looked up, and saw that Klaus had headed toward the bow. Rue followed and sidled up alongside him, leaning against the railing of the ship. Klaus held out his hand.

"We're here."

Rue hardly needed Klaus to point it out.

Ahead of them was an island, a sheer cliff rising up to meet them. His gave drifted to the left, following along southward as the island extended and sloped downward to meet the ocean; then, further along, as a chain of smaller islands spread out before him. His gaze hovered on another island further away, a mountain that stood massive over the rest of the archipelago.

"Carona, of course, is the one we're pointed at straight," Klaus was saying. "We'll probably be docking in a couple of hours. And that," he added, following Rue's gaze, "is the Raging Mountain. It's the volcano responsible for the formation of the archipelago. Ah, not to worry any more, of course. It's long since dormant."

"It's beautiful," Rue said quietly.

"The mountain?"

"The islands," he said. He squinted into the light and brought a hand over his eyes, shielding them from the sun. "Is that forest?"

"All across the islands," Klaus said. "They're fertile by nature, what with sitting under a volcano."

"Of course."

They stood in silence for several minutes, buffeted by the heavy salt of the breeze, the wash of waves against the ship's hull, the shrill of sea birds and the faint murmur of conversation around them.

"Well," Klaus said finally. "I just thought you might want to have a look at the islands before we land. If you wanted to back below–"

"No," Rue said quickly. "No, I... I don't think I was having any luck." He adjusted himself, leaned fully against the railing, stared out into the approaching distance. Something about that moment – the sea-salt, the waves, the sight of the islands before him – washed him in a powerful sense of calm, cooling his restlessness from earlier. "I think I'll stay up here."

Klaus smiled. "Good."

. .

Klaus' estimation had been correct; not two hours later the ship was working her way into the harbor's largest docking slip. It was slow going; Carona was not a large town and did not need (nor have the room for) a particularly large harbor; in fact, the extended dock the schooner was resting in had been specifically built for that ship and the others that shared its design and purpose.

Fortunately, the harbor-master and the helmsman and the crewmen of the ship had been performing this dance bi-monthly for years, and though the process was a little slow going it went off without a hitch. The ship slid into the docking slip, cushioned by a series of lowered buoys, and while the crewmen secured her to the pylons and checked the lines, the harbor-master was already at work wheeling the ramp up to the side of the ship. He hooked it onto the edge, and from the deck the ship's merchant-owner made sure it was thoroughly secured. Then he moved back and allowed the harbor-master to ascend.

Rue and Klaus had already gathered together their small mount of personal effects and research documents, and the two of them were waiting nearby when the lithe, tanned form of the harbor-master appeared over the edge of the hull. He cast a quick glance over in their direction, but his immediate attention turned to the merchant.

"Marcum!" he said genially. "You have a few stowaways."

"And a third down below," he said. "He's gathering his things, I think."

"Somebody I know?"

"I'm not sure. Are you familiar with a mister Niel Summersby?"

The harbor-master rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "No," he said finally. "Can't say I am." He looked over again, and a grin spread across his face. "But I do recognize this one."

"Davis," Klaus said, taking a few steps toward him. "It's been a bit."

"Months," Davis said. "But I'm glad to see you, you look good!" He looked over his shoulder. "But maybe you should say hi to her, first."

Klaus blinked and adjusted his glasses. "Who are–"

Before he could finish, Davis stepped off the ramp, and just a few seconds behind him there came another person up the ramp, this time a woman – probably in her forties, although she didn't look it. She was a bit on the short side, and solidly built; it was easy to see looking at her that she was no stranger to physical labor when she was younger, but more domestic life had softened the edges. Her short-cropped hair was a few shades lighter than Klaus', and not yet prone to flecks of gray. From beneath her bangs, pale blue eyes turned up to meet Klaus' gaze.

Klaus took only a second to recognize her before he closed the distance between them and took her in his arms. She hugged him tightly right back. They stood in their embrace for a few moments, saying nothing, until finally the woman pulled slightly away, and they both separated completely.

"Welcome back," she said. "Have a nice trip?"

Klaus grinned. "Nice enough for business. Not as lucrative as I was hoping, though."

"Well, you can't expect to find earth-shattering magic wherever you go," she said. "I told you not to get your hopes up." Her eyes flicked from Klaus to the small collection of cases he had left on the ship's deck. "Looks like you found..."

Her words trailed off as her gaze trailed upward, and she focused not on the cases, but on the person still standing by them. They locked eyes, her pale blue gaze catching his hazel-brown,

"...something, at least," she finished, and looked back to Klaus. "Klaus, dear, is this your assistant?"

"Ah, apologies." Klaus took a step back, balancing with his cane, and gestured with his free hand between the two. "Mira, as you've gathered, this is Rue. Rue– I'd like you to meet my wife, Mira."

Rue stepped forward and offered his hand. Mira accepted it, and they shook. "It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am," he said.

"No, the pleasure is mine," she said. "My husband mentioned you in his letters." Her eyes unfocused from his and wandered slightly, and Rue released his grip on her hand and took a half-step back, but Mira was already forming the words. "You have beautiful hair."

He chuckled weakly. "Th-thank you," he said, self-consciously tucking an errant strand behind his ear. She wasn't complementing the style; he hadn't bothered getting it cut for quite some time, so it had grown somewhat ragged and he'd taken to tying the worst of it off in a ponytail. No, her comment was the color; perfect, stark white. He was used to it coming up just about every time he met somebody, but he never got around to liking it.

But Mira didn't linger. She gave him a warm smile, and changed the subject; "I assume you've been keeping my husband out of trouble?"

Before Rue could respond, however, Mira suddenly tensed, focused on Klaus' cane.

"I– suppose not," she said, trying and failing to keep the edge out of her voice. "What did you do to yourself?"

"Mira, dear, it's fine. I'm fine. Just–"

"Klaus." Her eyes narrowed. "I don't recall reading about this in any of your letters."

Klaus exhaled. "I'm sorry. I just... I didn't mean for you to worry. Rue, if you could help me with the luggage?"

"Of course."

"I'll tell you all about back home, Mira."

Mira folded her arms over her chest and gave him a powerful stare, but closed her eyes and nodded. "That's fair," she said, and then walked past him to the luggage, picking up one of the cases Rue had not collected yet. "Here, I can take some of that off your hands."

"I think I have it, Mrs. Adler."

She ignored him and grabbed a second case. "Let's not argue, you only have two hands. And– please. Call me Mira. You'll be joining us for lunch?"

He looked a bit surprised, but caught himself quickly. "Oh, of– of course, I'd love to."

Klaus made to say farewell to Davis and Marcum, but the two had already taken off below deck. He shrugged to himself and led the way down the ramp, Mira and Rue following close behind. Once they were off the docks, Mira fell in step alongside Klaus.

"Sweet boy," she said. "Where did you find him?"

"In the atelier where I fractured my leg."

The nonchalance caught her off guard, and there was a moment's pause before she shot him a glance. "Where you–"

Klaus gave her a wry laugh. "When we're home, Mira," he said. "I have plenty of stories to tell you."

. .

The Adler house was located about midway through town, at the far end of the town square and right at the beginning of the residential houses. The building itself was unremarkable; a single-storey wood house, like many of the others nearby, and other than its convenient location on the corner of the bloc the only thing that separated it from the rest was a somewhat faded sign emblazoned with the family surname.

Inside was a different story.

Rue had been traveling with Klaus for a couple of months by that point, and was somewhat accustomed to the doctor's rather cavalier approach to organization. He kept most of his paperwork neat and tidy, but only for the purposes of transportation; the rest of his belongings, however, had a tendency to settle wherever they happened to land. Rue had seen that this wasn't a result of laziness, though; the doctor just had more important things on his mind and set his higher functions to dabbling in that. Language, cryptography, geography and geology, history, cartography– there were a lot of things he was keeping track of or trying to decipher at any given time, and such petty concepts as organizing anything he was not actively working at simply slipped his mind.

(Not that Rue himself was much better, but he also had much less stuff to deal with.)

He had been anticipating something similar in the back of his mind, but assumed that it must have been somehow contained by Klaus' wife. And, technically, it was. Everything was set aside, properly positioned, tidied, dusted.

It just turned out that Klaus had a rather massive collection of stuff.

It was like walking into a museum; a small, somewhat cramped museum that was trying to pretend it could technically accept guests but was not particularly good about it. There were chairs, and a couch, and also tribal masks, sets of old weaponry, collections of crystal, stone tablets, parchment paper held protected under heavy glass; there was artwork (both reproduction and original), rolls of elaborated woven carpet, books of notes, almost-sorted letters of correspondence; and, sitting on the couch, casual as one of the throw pillows, a three-foot wide and beautifully polished ammonite shell.

"Doctor," Rue began. "You have an... impressive collection."

"No need to be polite," Klaus said. "It's an impressive mess." He looked back and smiled warmly. "Just the store front, though. I sell some of my finds to fellow collectors when they come to Carona." He pointed to a particularly elaborate crown of feathers. "Remind me to set that one aside for Neil, dear?"

"Of course."

Once they had passed out of the greeting room, however, things became much more normal. There were a few odds and ends here – smaller pieces of artwork and statuary, mostly – but the second room was the family kitchen. Here Mira tossed the luggage into the corner and invited Rue to do the same with the cases he had been carrying, then carried herself over to the stove. A pot of something had been on the slow burner, keeping warm while Mira had gone to retrieve Klaus, and now that they were all sorting themselves at the table she turned the heat back up and let it boil again. The rich scent of tomato and spices filled the room, and Mira set about slicing bread, grabbing bowls, and loosely setting the table for three.

Klaus counted the plates. "Is Elena not home?" he asked.

"No," Mira said, sighing heavily. "She went to visit Mel this morning. She probably won't be back until sometime afternoon."

Klaus slid into the far chair, muttering a low "Hmm" in the back of his throat. He indicated the seat across from him, and Rue nodded slightly and sat down.

"So," Mira began, still attending to the soup on the stove, "tell me about this little bone-shattering incident in an atelier?"

Klaus managed a faint laugh. "Not shattering. I happened into an atelier that had already been cleared out. I was hoping that maybe there was something left to find, that somebody had left behind or missed– you know how ateliers are built. Magicians were quite fond of secret chambers, and the common looter doesn't think to look for them."

Mira smirked. "I'm aware."

"Well, I found the chamber."

There was a pause in the story, and Mira turned completely to face him. He was regarding her with a faint smile, and she couldn't help but laugh. "Underground," she said.

"Underground," he responded.

"With a weak ceiling."

"Recent tremors," Klaus explained. "There had been some minor earthquakes nearby within the last month or so. Most of the structure survived, but something underground was just waiting to break. I broke it."

"And yourself."

"Yes. Well."

She looked over to Rue. "And I suppose this is how you found my husband?"

He gave her a weak smile. "More or less."

"Rue was following the same information I was, but a few days behind. He–"

Klaus was interrupted when Mira wheeled to face him, suddenly pale.

"A few days!" she cried. "You would have died!"

Rue coughed slightly, drawing her attention again. "I, um, I think that's why he didn't send you a letter about it."

Almost instantly, Mira's fire died out, and she closed her eyes and shook her head. "Quite true," she said. "Quite true. So you... you dragged him out of the atelier and got him to town?"

"Quick as I could," Rue said. "But the atelier was quite a ways out into nature. I set his leg as best I could but it took a while to get back to somewhere with actual medical facilities." He nodded to Klaus. "I'm... not much of a doctor, of course."

"The bone set wrong," Klaus clarified.

"And yet you didn't decide to turn around and come home the instant you could," Mira said.

"I admit the idea had crossed my mind. However–"

"That may be my fault," Rue said quickly. "He told me about his work– what he was doing out there, at least. Turns out we were both looking for the same thing. I offered to help."

Klaus nodded. "And as he didn't have any crippling injuries, I thought it might be mutually beneficial. I collected a lot of information out there, it would have been a shame to let it go to waste for such a trivial reason."

"Trivial," Mira sniffed. She pulled up a bowl and ladled the tomato soup into it, sliding it onto the table in front of Klaus. "You're hopeless."

Klaus smiled. "It seems that way."

"Well," she said, pushing the next bowl toward Rue. "Thank you for making sure he didn't kill himself."

"Of course."

She finally served herself and sat down, and for a few moments they fell into silence as they ate. It didn't last long, though; after a few moments, once they were comfortably into the meal, Mira piped up again. "So you're also looking for a Relic?"

Rue jerked up, clearly caught off-guard by the question. "I'm sorry?"

"A Relic," she repeated. "Klaus took off for the mainland hunting for one. That's what you were also looking for, yes? Unless you just have an intense love of archeology."

"No," he said. "Just Relic hunting."

"Bit unusual," she continued. "That's not exactly a lucrative field. I was under the impression East Heaven had a stranglehold on most of them. The ones that are still functional, at least."

"'For the good of the people'," Klaus recited, grimacing.

Rue nodded. "I think that's the case," he said. "They don't let anybody but their own mages near them."

"That's dangerous business," she said. "It must be very important to you."

He mulled over the statement for a moment, his gaze unfocused, and nodded. "Yes," he said finally. "Very important."

She must have heard it in his tone, or else just respected his privacy, because she simply nodded and let the conversation fade. There were only a few more words exchanged between Klaus and Mira; Klaus had been good about sending letters to keep her updated about his progress (excepting, of course, the time he had nearly died), and Mira had little to report by way of events in Carona. The town was slow and quiet as it had ever been.

When lunch was done, Klaus excused himself from the table to attend to a few outstanding matters in his workroom, and disappeared through a door out the back of the kitchen. Rue tried to excuse himself as well, but before he could leave Mira caught him.

"Wait, wait," she said. "What are you planning on doing now?"

"Going outside?" he asked, a little thrown by the question. "I should probably find a place to stay while I'm here."

"I meant, what are you planning on doing here? In town? I appreciate you bringing Klaus back here safe and sound, but surely you're not going to stay as an assistant?" She dumped the dishes into the sink and ran them under a rinse, talking as she went. "I'm... I'm very thankful that you saw Klaus back home safely, but that doesn't seem like it will help if you're looking for a Relic."

"Oh." He thought about it, then shrugged helplessly. "I'm not entirely sure. We found some papers we haven't been able to interpret yet. I was... I guess I was going to stay in town until the next ship leaves, in case the doctor found anything in them. Everything I was following back home dried up."

"I see." She was quiet for a moment, then a moment more. "Here. Give me a few minutes to get this rinsed off, and I'll take you to Aggie."

Rue tilted his head. "Aggie...?"

"Aggie. Agatha Cartha. She runs the bed-and-breakfast on the edge of town square. I'll see if I can't haggle a discounted room for you."

Rue blinked, somewhat taken aback. "O-oh, thank you."

Mira shrugged. "Don't mention it. It's the least I can do for how you've helped my husband."