A/N: In honour of my first fic anniversary, because I'm feeling inspired lately and because my old fics annoy the hell out of me, I felt like rewriting this so that it's less crappy. For those of you who've read the original, try and guess what parts I've changed around. For those of you reading this for the first time, I hope you enjoy.
Oh, and, in case you couldn't guess, it's "O" for the province I live in, and "E" -and- "M" for my middle name.
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"Long day, huh? Could do with more excitement, but hey, you know what they say about getting what you wish for, eh, Orlandu?"
Orlandu turned to the elder wizard beside him, arching an eyebrow. "Hmph, you almost sound sorry that there was no fighting," he retorted, sipping from his glass.
"Please, Orlandu, you know I'm only kidding," Elidibs chuckled, waving the swordsman off. "Besides, better a battle than this endless anticipation, right?"
Orlandu shook his head. "Not really. Better a slow day than dying."
"Oh? Shying away from battle, are we, Orlandu?" Elidibs said casually, smirking at Orlandu's reaction. "Your reputation is shot."
"That's not what I mean and you know it," Orlandu shot back. "And besides, at least I have a reputation to defend. After that stunt in Yardow, I'm still surprised that you've got your rank."
"You... you're not going to let me live that down, are you, Cidolfas?" Elidibs asked, arching an eyebrow. Orlandu leaned in close to give his answer:
"No."
Elidibs sighed, rolling his eyes. "Thought so. Bartender, another round, please.
There was a pause of silence between the two as the bartender grabbed their mugs and filled them. Elidibs glanced at Orlandu again. "Speaking of battles, where's Balbanes?"
Orlandu cringed. "He said he had to go rally the troops in case Romanda invaded," he said darkly, finishing his glass and ordering another round.
"Ah, I see. Poor guy never gets a break, does he? How about Elmdor?"
Just as Elidibs spoke, the door burst open and the silver-haired noble had walked in. He was soaked head-to-toe from the downpour outside, his coat dripping wet.
Pulling up a seat beside Orlandu, Elmdor hastily muttered an order, to which the bartender hastily completed.
"Good of you to join us, Elmdor," remarked Elidibs. "I'd order you a drink, but you already have one."
"Eh, doesn't matter," he said, turning to the two heroes beside him. "So, what'd I miss?"
"Nothing really, we just got here," Orlandu muttered quietly, taking a sip from his spirits. "How goes the battle?"
Elmdor shook his head, taking a sip from his own glass before replying darkly. "Not very well. Four score we lost today, and it looks like we're posed to lose even more. If it weren't for Germinas, I doubt we would've held this long," he paused to take another sip. "Ah well, 43 years down, God only knows how many left to go. How about you? How'd things go at Fovoham?"
"Elidibs here," Orlandu nodded his head in the wizard's direction, "decided it was a good idea to try and block off Yardow by setting Yuguo on fire."
"Damn it, Orlandu, you just can't help bringing that up, can't you?" Elidibs snapped. His face turned even redder when he heard Elmdor snickering.
"Heh, fire? Man, must've been one hell of a bonfire."
"It was. Took forever for our mages to put it out," Orlandu replied, his eyes flickering with amusement, which only grew when Elidibs smacked him upside the head.
"Jackass. Now I'll have to hide in a cave for the rest of my life just to live that down," he muttered darkly.
Orlandu smirked. "At least then the fire will actually help."
------
Sitting in the corner, Lezales sighed. Why was it that those three were always the talk of the town? It was always "Orlandu-this" or "Elidibs-that", or some other story that had made it's way through the barracks and the pubs. Hell, even that commoner guy, Wiegraf, sometimes graced the conversations of the common man.
But no one said anything about him, though. No "wow, Lezales sure is a tactical genius" or "hey, that Lezales guy sure is a hunk". The only times he heard his name was when his commander was yelling at him. He never got the chance to be the talk of the town, no matter how hard he tried or how much work he put into his job.
But enough was enough, he decided, pulling his sword and standing up. They had hogged the limelight for too long, they had stolen his glory for the last time! It was his time to shine, and it was about time they were cut out of the picture. He was going to get his time to shine, and they were going to languish in obscurity.
His knees wobbled, and he fell back onto his chair. After he got his balance, of course.
------
"Hey, Orlandu, that guy's staring at us again," Elidibs added, jerking his head in the direction of the knight behind them. The man, roughly half their age, was staring intently at them, his face deadpan and grim.
Orlandu's eyebrow shot up. "So he is. I wonder what he's thinking?" he wondered, taking a sip from his glass.
"Who cares?" Elmdor shrugged. "It's just some random loser in a bar. 's not like he's doing anything."
"Doesn't make it any less creepy," Elidibs spat, taking a swig from his glass. Orlandu nodded at this, glancing back at the knight behind them. He was still staring at them, and his hand was twitching near his sword's hilt.
He shuddered.
"Bah. You two are pansies," Elmdor shot, downing his glass.
Orlandu glared at the silver noble. "Pansy? Feh, I'll drink you under the table."
Elmdor chuckled. "That's the spirit," he smirked before turning to the bartender. "Barkeep, another round!"
------
Orlandu took another sip from his glass, and continued. "So then, the guy goes and says-"
"Prepare to die in obscurity! RAARRRGH!!"
"Huh? No, that's not-" Orlandu cut himself short when he swiveled out of the way, a sword embedding itself harmlessly in the table where he was a moment before. Looking up, he saw that the irate knight had charged at him, and, reaching for his sheathe, Orlandu realized that he had forgotten his Excalibur back at the barracks.
Not. Good.
"Fer too long have you peoplesh shtolen all the glory," the knight hiccupped, pulling his sword from the table. He nearly lost his balance. "Now, they'll all hear about ME-"
"Uh, not to be a bother," Elidibs interrupted in a quiet voice, "but just who the hell are you?"
The man's eye twitched. "I'm... I'm Leshalez... er, Lezales," he muttered, turning to the wizard. "Don't... don't you know who I am?"
Elidibs started at the man in shocked silence.
"Uh, I'll just be going now-" Elidibs, gesturing to the exit. He paled when the man, Lezales charged at him, sword ready. Elidibs instinctively brought his staff up to block the upcoming blow.
However, before Lezales could reach the wizard, Elmdor had stepped in and intercepted the blow with his own sword. The silver noble pushed the man back with his katana, shoving the man into a nearby table with a crash, the man's sword going flying from his hands. Orlandu, seeing an opportunity, grabbed the sword and held it ready.
"All right, what's this all about?" the bartender yelled over to their table. "If ya gotta fight, take it outside, y'hear?"
"Shaddup!" Lezales snapped, pulling himself up from the wreckage. "I'm Lezales! I don't take orders from nobody!"
"Good, then shut up," Orlandu muttered, pulling his sword back. Ignoring the look of confusion from the knight, Orlandu slammed the sword into the ground and bellowed, "Crush Punch!!"
Hearing this, the man's look of confusion quickly turned to horror as he quickly tried to run away, but to no avail. A blast of crimson energy ripped through him and sent him flying into a nearby table, knocking him unconcious.
The pub was silent, as the patrons and regulars stared in mute shock at the display, too stunned for even hushed whispers.
Tossing the blade aside, Orlandu sat back down at his table and snapped his fingers. "Bartender! Another round, please!"
Not wanting another scene from the holy swordsman, the bartender dashed behind the counter to get the drinks.
------
"Damn man, a crush punch?" Elmdor whistled in awe as he took a sip from his glass. "That's a bit much, isn't it?"
"What, you rather I'd have gone for a holy explosion?" Orlandu muttered, sipping from his own. "Besides, he was lucky. I held back."
"Hate to see what it'd look like if you didn't," Elidibs quipped.
"So..." Orlandu heard a voice behind him. He turned and saw that the bartender had approached him.
"Yes...?" Orlandu asked, his tone giving nothing away. The bartender gulped.
"Um, I was wondering, who's going to be paying for the damages?" he asked hesitantly, wringing his hands nervously.
Orlandu paused, thinking, then waved the man off as he turned back to his glass. "Elmdor can pay for it," he replied nonchalantly.
Elmdor spat out his drink in shock and started coughing. "Wha-?" he sputtered, glaring at the older general.
"Thank you," the bartender replied, cutting in before Elmdor could protest. "I'll send you the bill for the damages later."
With that, the man walked off, leaving Elmdor standing in shock. "What the hell did you do that for?"
Orlandu shrugged. "Seemed like a good idea at the time."
------
"Alright, if it's annoying you that much, we can pawn the bill onto Balbanes, alright?"
Elmdor rolled his eyes and finished his glass. "Never mind, Cid, it's not that big of a deal. Barkeep, another round, if you will."
"Yeah, but-"
"No buts," Elmdor interrupted the elder man, wagging his finger. He took a sip from his drink and slammed it back down. "Woo, I'm feeling buzzed," he announced, changing the subject.
"...What, already?" Orlandu arched an eyebrow, taking a sip from his own.
"Yeah, what about it?"
"Nothing, nothing," Orlandu shrugged. "I mean, three drinks is a respectable amount for a grown man-"
"Are you saying I can't hold my liquor," Elmdor asked coyly, raising an eyebrow of his own. "Elidibs, can you believe this? Ol' Cid here says I can't hold my liquor!"
"Blerg," groaned Elidibs before he slid off the table. He was out cold.
"See? What'd I say?"
"That doesn't mean anything," Elmdor muttered, taking another sip. "Besides, we've got the rest of the evening to see who'll outlast who and sweet saint Ajora is that one fine piece of ass."
Orlandu followed Elmdor's gaze to a female knight in the corner. He rolled his eyes. "Another one? When are you going to learn your lesson, Mesdoram?"
"Don't call me that. Anyway, think I've got a shot?"
Orlandu shrugged. "Sure, why not-"
Before he could finish, Elmdor was up and walking over to the knight in the corner. He sighed and began counting down. Five, four, three, two, one-
A loud slap rang out through the bar, and he saw the woman leave in a huff. Orlandu had to suppress a snicker when the silver noble walked back to the table, a large, red palm mark on his cheek.
Seeing his companion struggling to contain himself, Elmdor folded his arms and pouted. "Shut up."
------
"Another round?" Elmdor asked, finishing his glass.
Orlandu shrugged. "Sure. Another round, barkeep."
The bartender sighed and filled their glasses back up. "I should really cut you guys off for the rest of the night."
"Yeah, except I might cut you off. Or rather, a limb," Elmdor muttered, taking his drink and downing it with zeal. The bartender, not wanting to anger two war generals, slowly inched himself away back to the counter.
------
"I'm bored."
Orlandu glanced at the silver noble. "Oh? Why do you say that?" Orlandu asked hesitantly, taking a sip from his glass.
"Y'know, just... bored." Elmdor stood up and started swaying, and then began to giggle. Orlandu paled slightly before turning back to his own drink.
"Well, if you're bored, why don't you find something to do?" Orlandu asked dryly, swirling his own glass. He wasn't in the mood for a giddy Elmdor, especially now when the buzz was starting to wear off. He could literally feel the shellshock creeping back into his mind.
"Feh, shcrew you, Orly," Elmdor snarled, punching air. He lost his balance again and crashed to the floor. Orlandu rolled his eyes.
"Th-the gremlins... ev'rywhere..." he heard Elmdor groan. Orlandu leaned over and saw the man twitching on the ground.
"Shouldn't have had the Valens," the bartender noted, staring down at the arc knight as well. Orlandu nodded.
Elmdor staggered back to his feet. "Th-THE GREMLINS!" he roared and charged at the other patrons in the bar. Needless to say, they scattered and all hell broke loose.
Orlandu and the bartender stared at him in mute shock as the general began overturning every table in the bar, shrieking on about the imaginary gremlins that seem to be tormenting him (Orlandu took note to never let the arc knight near the apple wine ever again, or at least outside battle conferences, where the entertainment would be welcome). The Thunder God instinctively felt himself reach for his sword, then remembered that he had tossed it aside earlier. He groaned inwardly, craddling his nose with his hand.
"Hey, stop that-" the bartender tried to interject in the hopes of salvaging his bar before it was demolished, but his efforts were met with a glass thrown at his face.
Orlandu heard the silver ogre roar and began to snicker himself. This was almost too surreal not to laugh at, he admitted, and took another sip. Ah well, better them than him.
At that thought, Orlandu walked over to the counter and leaned over it (the bartender had long since decided that it was better to just wait for it all to blow over instead of risk losing a limb getting the marquis to stop). "Say, while you're at it, can you add all this to the list of damages?"
"Oh, uh, s-sure," the man stuttered before ducking back down with a yelp as a rogue glass smashed into the counter.
Orlandu glanced back at Elmdor and stared in shock. In the span of a few minutes, Elmdor had managed to trash the entirety of the pub, nearly every table and chair either flipped over, cut in half or set on fire (Orlandu didn't even want to ask how he did that). Then, to his horror, a drunk Elmdor was walking over to him, giggling.
Uh-oh.
"I got 'em all, didn't I, eh Shiddy?"
"Er, yeah," Orlandu glanced side to side nervously, hoping for an escape of some sort. In the corner, he noticed that one of the tables, miraculously, had survived the onslaught. "Hey, Elmdor, look, you missed a gremlin."
Elmdor perked up. "Huh? Eshcape MY wrath will you?!" he roared, and, with a malevolent cry, charged at the table, turning it over in one fluid motion, scattering the plates and glasses onto the floor.
Seeing an opportunity, Orlandu bolted, dropping by their table to scoop up the unconcious Elidibs. However, before he could get to the door, he was tackled by a giggling Elmdor, nearly falling to the ground.
"Elmdor, get off me-" he growled, but was cut off as the silver-haired man began to swing him in circles in some sort of drunken dance.
"Dun' worry, Shid!" Elmdor chirped, "I'll shave you from theh gremlims." Orlandu tried to pry himself free, but fumbled as he slammed into the counter with a cry of shock, the two having come dangerously close in their (ahem) waltz.
"God damn it, Elmdor-" Slam. "Let go of-" Slam.
"Around and around we go," Elmdor cackled maniacally, "where will we stop? Nobody knows!"
------
"Ugh," groaned Elmdor, as he dragged himself to his seat at the conference table. "Whoever decided it was a brilliant idea to put these bloody war meetings in the morning should be put to death."
Orlandu looked up from his book, a look of tempered rage on his face. "You shouldn't have drunken so much last night," he muttered to himself quietly. "Besides," he added, "the meetings were your idea anyway."
Elmdor glared at Orlandu, then sat down. "Ugh, what did I do last night?" groaned Elmdor. "I feel like I've ran a mile or something."
Orlandu paled at this, remembering what had gone on last night. Seeing this, Elmdor stared in mild shock, fearing the worst of their midnight excursion. "That bad?" he asked, a little hesitent to find out just what happened last night.
Orlandu nodded. "You tore the pub apart and put the bartender in therapy," he mused, a smirk crossing his face at Elmdor's reaction. "Quite impressive, if I do say so myself."
Elmdor stood agape, unbelieving what the General just said. "That bad?" he whispered, his face paling until it was nearly white.
"Oh, it wasn't all that bad. You did manage to get all the gremlins, after all," Orlandu spat disdainfully, turning a glare on the ghastly arc knight.
Elmdor winced. "Damn it, again?" he sighed, dropping himself into one of the chairs. "Why is it that this always happens to me?"
"Probably because you keep ordering the damn Valens," Orlandu harumphed, folding his arms menacingly. Though all it really managed to do was make him look petulant. Oh well, close enough, he mused.
Elmdor facepalmed with a sigh, then shrugged. "At least it wasn't as bad as what happened to Elidibs," he added ruefully.
Orlandu raised an eyebrow at this, curious as to what happened to the Warlock. "Why, what happened to him?"
"Food poisoning, or so I've heard." Elmdor remarked casually.
Orlandu raised the other eyebrow. "Really? From the way he's been acting, you'd think he was a poisoned frog or something," Orlandu quipped.
Elmdor paused, bewildered at the choice of phrase. "Yeah," he mumbled hesitantly. "Something like that.
There was a brief pause before Orlandu turned back to his book, but before he continued reading he paused as a thought crossed his mind. "…Elmdor?" he asked, a playful tone in his voice.
"Yes?" Elmdor looked up, listening, a bit afraid at what the swordsman had to say.
Orlandu paused to think of how he should say it, then dismissed it, continuing. "Let us never speak of last night ever again, or it's your tongue," he shot, a gleam in his eye and a smirk on his face showing that he was half-joking, half-meant it.
Elmdor stared, a bit frightened at Orlandu's choice of words, then, after a bit of thought, nodded, a look of understanding crossing his face.
"Agreed."