Drakengard: Imbroglio

Disclaimer: Cavia and Square Enix own this wonderful game and anything related to it. I'm just a fan. This is made strictly for entertainment; no profit is made from it.

Note: I would like to apologize beforehand for any grammatical mishaps. It's been a long time since I've written fan fiction, but this was one that simply would not leave my head. I will try very hard not to OOC anybody, but if it does happen do find it in your heart to forgive me! That being said, make yourself comfortable and enjoy the story.

. . .

Prelude: Not Hell

It was over. Just like that. The sky above was a bright and beautiful blue, a tribute to the reconstruction of the saved world, a promise of the good days to come. Mankind was saved, and at what price? What innocent had given up her soul to restore order? Those were the questions that floated up into Union General, Oror's mind as he and the few remnants of his regimen staggered through the broken and now corpse-ridden Imperial city. What had once been the last battleground against the Empire, a place filled with the dreaded Seeds of Resurrection, was now crumbling ruins--the wraith of an impressive city, gutted, emptied, abandoned. But, there's was the victory! Surely, there was something to be celebrated!

"The hierarch is here, men. Let us go to him." Oror quietly cheered his men on, his hand carefully resting against the hilt of his blade, half expecting their victory to be some sort of sick joke. And perhaps it was. Perhaps the Gods were just laughing at them now as they sank down into Hell. A piece of rubble crumbled in the distance, making his men jump. They had all expected to see some ghastly ghoul charging at them, but when nothing came they settled back, swords still drawn and ready. The General just laughed a little, hoping to ease his men. They had all been through such hell--they had all charged blindly into the belly of destruction. What had once been a group of at least eighty men was brought down to a mere five. Only five would get to rejoice, only five would live to tell the tale. Certainly, though, there were remnants of other Union regimens out there. He could only hope.

In the center of the Imperial city lay the remains of what must have been a large and impressive shrine, it's white-washed walls now charred and splashed by dark blood, only the foundation remained standing, the rest of it littered the floor around them, a tribute to the terrors and sadness of war. All that remained standing were a few pillars that had once lined a corridor and a red carpet that led all the way to the back of the ruined foundation. Standing amongst the rubble where two weary figures, one leaning against an ebony staff for support, the other slouched on the ground, head drooping. It was the hierarch, Verdelet. Seeing the old man seemed to lift their spirits. If he, such a Holy man, was there then surely this was not Hell. They had really won. His men seemed to sense that too, and as they neared the weary two one man lifted a gleaming sword in the air, letting out a joyous bark of laughter, "We did it! We defeated the Empire! A new Goddess has been found!"

Two more men followed the soldier's example, whooping with joy. The hierarch turned pale eyes on them and Oror smiled tiredly, bowing his head to the elderly man. He glanced over to the slouching man, inspecting him. He looked so young, and he wore the clothes and armor of a noble--perhaps he, too, was a General for the Union. He half hoped that the man would look up at him, but he did not budge, not even an inch. He kept his head bowed, lengthy bangs spilling out in front of his face, making it hard to identify him. It was then that the hierarch Verdelet spoke, his gravely voice quivering as he spoke, "The sealing ceremony has been done, the world's order restored."

Those were the words that Oror had been waiting to hear. He let out a sigh of relief and smiled at the old man, bowing again in respect, "And to whom have we to thank? Where is the new Goddess?" Out of the corner of his eye he saw the young warrior flinch, his shoulder's jerking up suddenly. It was ignored by Verdelet, the fragile old man leaning heavily against his staff, heading turning up to look to the sky.

"We have a dragon to thank." he replied.

Oror's eyebrows furrowed, confusion etched on his face, "A dragon?" His men, too, looked confused. It was unheard of. A dragon--such proud beasts and servants of the very Gods themselves--helping out lowly human beings?

"Is this a joke?" one of his men muttered, receiving a shrug from another. Verdelet looked back down, but those pale eyes made it terribly difficult to tell who it was he was looking at. Still, all eyes were on him as he spoke again.

"It was a red dragon," he replied, "She, alongside Caim, helped to save our kind from extinction. We owe her our most heart-felt gratitude. We shall not allow this catastrophe to happen ever again."

"Caim…?" the whispers began. "Isn't that…?"

"You are Lord Caim?" Oror turned his attention to the silent warrior. He was unable to hold back his surprise. Carefully, he stepped around the man, if only to get him to look up to his face. Indeed, this young man had the look of the royal family who protected the Goddess of old--he had the same deep blue eyes as the former Lord, but they were colder, darker. "Thank goodness for you and your dragon. All of humanity would have perished if not for you." he said, kneeling down and resting a hand on Caim's shoulder, giving him a reassuring smile.

The world's hero met his gaze, brows furrowed, lips tugged down at the edges in a frown. Something flickered in those dark eyes and he roughly smacked the General's arm away, forcing himself up by using his large broad sword as a crutch. It glimmered a dull crimson, still soaked with the blood of enemies he must've fought to the bitter end. Oror watched warily as the silent warrior staggered over to Verdelet, teeth gritting together in pain. His must've been a stunning and exhausting final battle against the Cult of the Watchers. The old man's pale eyes were on Caim now. "Caim, the battle is done," he said, voice weary, "Our world will be safe now, so why the long face?" This seemed to stir some kind of fury in the warrior as he brought his sword up, alarming the surrounding soldiers. He swung it around and struck a nearby pillar, sending pieces of white marble flying. He struck at it again in his rage before tiredly sinking down, using the sword as a crutch once more. Oror and his regime could only look on with confusion as the old hierarch took the time to explain. "The red dragon was Caim's pact-beast," he said, taking a few slow steps towards the exhausted warrior, "As the Goddess, keeping her hidden is the best thing to do. Caim, you of all people should understand the worry and strain it puts on the people just to protect the Goddess. She must be kept safe."

Oror watched as the silent man turned swiftly, blue eyes ablaze with anger, but it seemed that turning so quickly had been too large a maneuver to attempt when weakened. The man had promptly fell on his rear, dropping his blade in the process. The General quickly walked to the man's side, helping to steady him least he decide to pass out from sheer exhaustion. Those cold eyes were still on Verdelet, as if he was trying to get a message across. Why wouldn't he speak? Could he speak? Hoping to stall a potentially dangerous fight (and the possible death of a very old man), Oror spoke up, giving the hierarch a weary grin, "With the world saved, what now? My men are ready to return home. We are ready for a long night of rest," he pat Caim's back roughly, hoping to lighten the man's sour mood, "How about it, Lord Caim? We must be thankful for your dragon's sacrifice. You'll see her again, I'm sure. Until then, don't make such a face."

Oh but the young man did make a face, a rather sour face in fact. The hero's expression quickly changed as the earth began to rumble. Once, then twice…and so on. Something big was headed their way. Oror frowned, turning to look at his men, who were pale and looking around woefully. They were all too sure that they had won. A large, stone golem walked past a broken building, turning the corner towards them. In the palm of the golem's large hand sat a child, his blond hair swaying with each monstrous move. He held another blond close, this one unconscious and bloodied, as if the child had been pulled out from rubble.

Oror stood and drew his blade but he was stopped by a staff lightly tapping him across his chest. Verdelet shook his withered head , smiling wearily, "He is a companion. Do not fear."

"Hierarch Verdelet," the child spoke up as soon as the golem came to a halt, careful not to crush any of the human's below, "I knew you'd still be here. I found her--she's still alive. Thank goodness…" he smiled down at the other child, green eyes filling with unshed tears.

Oror strained to see the child in red, concerned for it's health. It was a girl, at least he thought so, and she looked to be the spitting image of the little green eyed boy. She wore a dress of bright red and a strange plating of (now dented) armor rest against her tiny shoulders. He let out a small gasp, remembering talk about the Priestess who spoke for the Cult of the Watcher's and the Gods. This child… "Is she the Priestess?"

"What?!" One of his men nearly dropped his sword, "That child? Impossible!"

"What is she doing alive?" Another grit his teeth, "Kill her immediately."

The green eyed child shook his head, "No! Manah didn't mean it, I'm sure! It was the Gods--please don't harm her…!" Oror glanced down to the hierarch who stood beside him, white eyes on the towering golem that so tenderly held the two children.

"What will we do?" he asked the old man helplessly, sheathing his sword in hopes that the rest of his men would follow the example.

The hierarch turned those eerie eyes towards him, silent for a full minute before speaking. "Manah will atone for her sins," he said, voice echoing in the empty, crumbled dump of an Imperial city, "She will repay her debt to the people of this world, and she will serve under a close watch. A new world order is at hand, General…" he leaned heavily against his staff again, sighing wearily, "Will you help me?"

Oror nodded eagerly. He would agree to anything then--anything to get them walking out of their current, dreadful position. The world would be at peace soon, and other seals would be found again. He made a vow, then, to see it through and help restore peace and bring happiness to the suffering folk again. "I will do it," he said, turning to face the warrior he had forgotten about, "Lord Caim, will you--" he paused, smile fading when he saw the man crumpled on the floor, unconscious, "Lord Caim?"

"He must be tired…" the little boy on the golem sounded piteous, "It was a long, hard journey for us, and now he is without her, his most trusted companion. I wonder how he feels about all this…"

Verdelet was quick and to the point, "He should respect the dragon's wishes, of course. Now, we should be heading out of here. Seere," he looked up at the little lad, "Will your golem be willing to lend another hand? We must bring Caim with us."

The child, Seere, slowly nodded his head, offering a gentle smile, "Of course. My friend is more than willing." As the two continued to converse, Oror motioned to his men, giving them the signal to scout on ahead. He would stay close by to the hierarch, protecting him…

And maybe, just maybe, he could get some answers wriggled out of the old man.

--

Note: I hope that you all enjoyed this prelude; there is more to come. It was awkward for me to write, actually, but I hoped that it wasn't too big a bore. Anyway, please leave any questions and/or comments! I'll be happy to receive them all. Oh, and for those who are thoroughly confused--don't worry, it will straighten itself out in due time.