1: Pulled from the Brink

Haze engulfed Lazulis City that day.

Just a week ago, I'd expressed interest in going to my Dad. My family and I tended a farm on the city's northern outskirts, and my mother feared the moral corruption that might have plagued the city. So, the only one who ever traveled there was my father. He'd sell our excess crops at the market.

My young mind couldn't comprehend how crime festered in a densely populated area where someone would surely be around to witness other's misdeeds no matter where you were. Indeed, even my father entertained the notion that the city wasn't all bad, but he hardly felt a strong enough conviction to defend that notion. Thus, he remained mum about it.

In the end, the city didn't do us in. Highwaymen scavenging the area for wealthy tourists from the city proved more pressing a danger.

Most never roamed far enough to find our home. That day, we were unlucky.

I never even saw them. My only information came from something my Father mumbled to himself. Without explaining anything to me, he beckoned my mother and me to flee out the back door.

It wasn't long before we heard screaming.

Holding back tears, my mother lied over and over those were the screams of the "bad men". Young as I was, I believed her. Nonetheless, I noticed her holding back tears.

My family wasn't particularly religious. My father in particular was very down-to-earth. Maybe that's why I felt no compulsion to blame some higher power when one of their scouts saw us running down the seaside pathway.

He dashed for us. I guessed he figured we were going to the city to tell them what happened. Despite my mother's pleas, I made no attempt to run. Something inside of me thought, "As long as I'm with mum, we'll be fine." Such was the pathetically mundane existence I lived.

Before he could draw his weapon, my mother tackled him, forcing him off the cliff. I made a pointless effort to reach for her hand, so I could keep her up, but I wouldn't have dared. My nightmares of falling off that very cliff prevented me from showing such bravado.

The man yelled at the top of his lungs. I watched transfixed as their bodies hit the water below. Red tainted the spot they landed in.

Then, it occurred to me what had happened. Tears streaking down my face, I ran as fast as I could for the city.

It took me almost an hour. I had to stop several times. A kindly noble – my mom would say such people didn't exist – on his way back from a tour of the sea side let me ride in the back of his carriage with the luggage.

Okay, so he wasn't that kind.

The second we entered the city, I jumped off. I think he planned to get in contact with an orphanage of some kind, but I was impatient. In my heart of hearts, I knew my father survived. I saw his body, encrusted in dry blood. He reached out to nowhere, crying for help.

I wanted to be his hero.

Rain cast a gray hue over the city. However, the picturesque quality mattered little to me.

I bugged every passerby to call for help. No one I met helped me. Some said they didn't know where the "knights" were. Others brushed me off, discarding me as sewer trash no better than rats.

Mum was right. I fell to my knees and sobbed.

It was pathetic. My father's life on the line, and there I was feeling sorry for myself. Some glanced worriedly in my direction, but none made the effort to help me. I cried alone.

The city around me blurred considerably. Ambient noise I'd never known tortured me at every angle. My throat, sore from crying, desperately tried to force some manner of sound out my mouth.

Even though it was summer, I was damp and cold.

"Hey,"

A firm voice, a year or two older than mine, towered above the other sounds around me. Nonetheless, I failed to respond.

"Hey! You won't get any warmer letting the rain soak into your skin."

Finally, I lifted my head. I must have looked ridiculous, my face covered in snot and tears.

"C-can you 'elp me? Please… My dad's dying out there…"

"Out where?" He lifted me off the ground. "If you don't tell me exactly where he is, I can't do anything for you."

It's then I got a good look at him. He wore a heavy black sheet like a cloak, likely to keep himself warm from the rain. He wasn't some noble looking to exploit the lower class, that's for sure. Though, I knew for a fact my Mum would hate him.

As this ran through my head, my resolve to deny what happened disappeared. I held on to his shoulders and buried my face in his… cloak.

"I'm sorry… There's nothing you can do… It's too late…"

"What do you—" He cut himself off. This intuition alone convinced me he was a lot smarter than me. Honestly, that made it more likely he'd be willing to sell me off for some cash, if my mom was right about this sort of thing, but I didn't care. I had no where to go. I had no where I wanted to go.

I had no friends, no other family I knew of. Mum and Dad were all I had.

"What's the point of living without 'em…"

I couldn't see his face. Instead, I felt a firm grip on my shoulder.

"What's your name?"

"It doesn't matter—"

"What's. Your name?"

I gazed into his eyes. His expression stayed tight-lipped, but I detected tenderness in his eyes. Though he had an odd way of showing it, he wanted to help me.

"Z-Zael…"

"Zael," he confirmed, going down on one knee. He flipped back his "hood" revealing raven hair that, up till now, had remained untouched by the dampness surrounding us. "Did your parents love you?"

I tried desperately to wipe the gunk off my face. "Yes,"

"Did you make it out on your own, or did they save you?"

"They… they saved me,"

"Then, the answer is clear," he stood up again. "They want you to live. Why would they have sacrificed so much for you otherwise?"

I had no answer to that.

"There will be a time for tears. Right now, you need to pull your pants up, and find shelter."

"I…" I surveyed my surroundings. I'd never seen such tall buildings for. "I don't know."

"You don't know what?"

"M-my mum said cities are dangerous. I-I don't want to die."

"If the city were really all that dangerous, don't you think I'd be dead?"

I couldn't argue with him there.

"It's clear you've been spoiled rotten," he nodded to himself, "alright. I'll probably kick myself for this later, but I'll give you a leg up."

"You'll 'elp me?" I slurred.

"Yes," he raised an eyebrow, "that's what I just said."

He led me down the walkways of the city by hand. It became clear he was the opposite of me. He knew this place like the back of his hand.

The city sprawled in every direction. There's no way I could have navigated this place on my own. Frankly, I wasn't sure how anyone could.

We entered what I deduced was the market area my Dad frequented. Likely due to the rain, many of the vendors had closed up shop.

"Wh-where are we going?" I asked. "All the shops are closed."

"Yeah," he agreed, "but I know one fella who's still in."

It wasn't long before we reached the stand. A man in his fifties, about a decade older than my Dad, was sorting through his inventory.

"Hey, Azrael,"

The man slowly turned to look at us. He smiled in recognition.

"Good to see you, lad," he observed me with interest. "I never expected you'd make a friend, though."

"We don't know each other well enough to be 'friends'," he retorted matter-of-factly. "He's good, though. If I let him die, the bad ones would take over."

"An astute observation," the old man chuckled. "Though, with that tunnel vision you get, I bet you haven't even told the boy your name."

"He doesn't need to know."

"I thought you said he was one of the 'good' ones. Could it really hurt?"

"It's not like it would suddenly make his pain go away."

"W-well," I huddle up closer to him. "I do feel weird, not knowing what to call you."

He shoots daggers into my eyes. "Don't think that naïve kid act will work on me. I'm not that easy to manipulate."

"I-I don't want to… manipulate you," I shook my head, "I… I want to thank you."

He raised his hand up to protest but decided against following through. "You're making me go against my better judgement, you know."

I lowered my head. He rolled his eyes.

"It's Dagran,"

"Dagran," I repeated once to myself, "Thank you, Dagran. You saved my life."

"Don't make such a fuss about it," he shot back, "it's not like I'm expecting you to pay me. The only thing I want is for you to live your life to the fullest."

He ushered me inside before I could reminisce. "And if telling you my name helps you find closure, then it's worth it."

"You're not coming in, lad?" Azrael asked.

"'Fraid not," he shook his head. "I need a little more money for tomorrow. There's always someone desperate enough to hire a twelve-year-old."

"Wait!" I shouted. "You'll be okay… right?"

His initial confusion at my statement was promptly replaced with scorn. "Are you serious? I know enough about this city to know the only way you'll survive is if you're your own master. Damn, you must have had some nasty nightmares."

"N-no," I shook my head, trying my best to look tough. "I'm just glad to know you'll be alright."

"Hey," he frowned, "I am putting my life on the line every day, you know. There are worse jobs, but mercenary work isn't exactly a walk in the park."

"But…" I bit my lip. "I thought you were only twelve."

"Shite happens," he shrugged, "and it pays better than the other crummy jobs I could be doing. Besides, safer lines of work won't get me anywhere near my dream."

The old man beamed. I stare at Dagran in wonder. "You're dream?"

"Yes," he adjusted his posture, a sense of boyish determination in his eyes I wasn't used to seeing from him. "There's no way in hell I'm staying a mercenary forever. I can do more in this world, I know I can, and bad circumstances ain't an excuse. I'll become the best mercenary this country's ever seen, and when I've gone as far as I can on my own,"

He bowed. "I'm going to become a knight."

I giggled. The old man followed suit.

"It's no joke," he adjusted his 'cloak'. Even I could tell from where I stood that his cheeks were red. "I'm already better than many men older than me. And powerful men need strong men to protect them. I could be that if I wanted to."

"I'm sorry," I jumped in to apologize first. "I just… I didn't know you could be that enthusiastic."

"Well…" He tried to decide on an answer. "I'm just trying to set a good example." He winked. "Guts and perseverance go a long way in accomplishing your dreams, but if you don't have any passion, you won't get anywhere. You need to want what you're pursuing in life, and you need to know why you want it. Otherwise, you're dream will be nothing more than a lingering thought."

He straightened out his cloak. "Was that clear?"

I nodded.

"It won't be easy," he warned me, "you might be alright now, but you're gonna have struggles. No one comes out from what you did unscathed. But you're a good kid. I can feel it. If you wanted to, you could accomplish anything. Ya hear me?"

Tears welled up in my eyes. For a moment, he regretted his words, but he maintained his resolve.

"I wouldn't want it to come at you unexpectedly,"

He began to walk off.

"Wait!"

He turned around. "Now what? I haven't got all night."

I stepped out into the rain, which had now settled to a drizzle. "I know what my dream is now."

"How proactive of you," he crossed his arms. "What's you dream?"

"I…" I twiddled my fingers. My mother liked to embarrass me by pointing out this more feminine body language to my father whenever he was home. "I want to be knight like you!"

Dagran was stunned silent. He legitimately didn't know what to say in that moment.

"I know it'll be hard. I know the odds are against me. I know I've never wielded a sword before. But I've got some muscle on me! Farm work will do that for you! I'm sure I have the strength to wield a sword! And I may not be a very good reader, but I'll have someone teach me! And then, when I'm decent with a weapon, I'll find you again. So we can be knights together, I'll have you make me the best swordsman there ever was!"

Noticing his expression, I took a couple steps back. "Next to you, of course,"

Dagran chuckled. It's the first time I'd seen him do that.

"You'll stick to that?"

"I promise I will!" I shouted for all the world to hear. He placed his face in his palm in response.

"Well, you've got a long way to go," he grinned. "But I trust you'll make it that far."

With the conversation ended, Dagran ran off. The rain finally stopped, and sunlight scattered across the city. Looking at it now, it wasn't so gray.

"The first step to getting that dream will be finding somewhere to live," Azrael kneeled. "I'll admit, I get awful lonely tending to my wares all by myself. I asked Dagran if he wanted to live here, but he said he'd rather be entirely self-sufficient. You, however, have even loftier ambitions than he does. If you'd help me with my business, I'd gladly take you in?"

"Really?!" My eyes brightened.

"Really," He patted my back.

"Thank you," I wrapped him up best I could. He was tall, even taller than my dad. "I'll do the best I can to help you."

"I know you will, boy," he pulled me in closer. "I know you will,"

I'm still batting around where exactly I want to take this, but I really wanted to write a story that emphasized how close Dagran and Zael's friendship is. The latter in particular felt bland in the game, so I'm re-working him from the ground-up. A number of characters (Dagran, for example) will remain close to their canon counterparts, while a few will definitely be changed. One thing's for sure; this version of the tale will end up in quite a different place than canon did.