AN: Thanks so much Marcatissimo for reviewing the previous chapter! Hope you'll enjoy reading this one as well!
Chapter 2:
Reaching the Grand Mark's Court, Logre decided to linger outside for a while longer. Moving away from the mainstream of bustling explorers and locals, Logre found himself musing over recent events as he lingered at the foot of the steps leading inside.
There was a lot to take in. So much had happened in such a short amount of time. He could still remember that day when he met a rookie guild and taught them how to draw up maps.
Since that day, life really began to change. Reaching further lands, exploring treacherous labyrinths, meeting unique citizens who live within the labyrinths. Quite an adventure, one fraught with danger and mystery.
And…betrayal.
Logre shook his head to prevent himself from traversing down that path of thought. He instead focused on the positives. And there were many.
With the Heavenbringer subdued and no longer a threat to life itself, Logre felt as though a huge weight has been lifted from his shoulders. The final battle was long and hard, precarious in so many different ways.
Yet, the guild he was a part of, his guild, had managed to win. Not a single life was lost. The Medium was saved and so was Prince Baldur. His fellow Imperial Knights have been also rescued, the Count allowing them to seek refuge within Tharsis. Everyone was safe now.
With his part done, Logre figured that he would go back to as either an Imperial Knight for his majesty, Prince Baldur, or become Whirlwind again. His guild, however, had other ideas. He was a part of their guild, so he was stuck with them. There was no way they were going to retire him or let him leave.
They had threatened to hunt him down and drag him kicking and screaming back to Tharsis if he tried anything. And regarding how stubborn and determined his guild was, that wasn't a threat to take lightly.
As Isiah put it, he wasn't allowed to wallow in self-pity.
"Good day, Logre."
"Ah, Kirjonen," Logre said as a lopsided grin immediately appeared on his lips, turning his head slightly to give his attention to the one who pulled him from his musings. "Here to speak with the Count?"
"Indeed," Kirjonen replied as he paused at the bottom step leading into the Mark's Court. "Are you here to ensure that Prince Baldur doesn't try to escape again?"
Logre physically winced as he glanced up at the multi-storied building with some trepidation. "I hope he's still inside."
Kirjonen chuckled before having to take a slight step to the side to allow a small group of heavily armoured Imperials to descend the stairs from the Grand Mark's Court. The group gave Logre a quick salute of respect, of which he returned with a nod of his head, before quickly marching away with a seeming sense of purpose.
Hopefully that didn't mean what he thought it did…
"Imperials seem to be finding it the most difficult to settle within the lifestyle of Tharsis," Kirjonen suddenly commented.
Logre sighed before nodding his head in understanding. "Not much of a surprise."
Kirjonen granted him a curious look, prompting him to continue with his train of thought. "Hm?"
Logre found himself sighing again as he folded his arms over his chest. "Imperials…We're loyal, but meant to be loners. Our armour prevented touch. Touch, after all, could have led to poisoning and death."
Kirjonen unexpectedly brushed his fingers over Logre's shoulder. "But not anymore, right?"
Logre glanced down at the hand touching his shoulder gently before gazing up at the blond-haired Holy Rune Knight. As he did so, Kirjonen unexpectedly tilted his head, indicating to something. When Logre turned to look, he was unable to prevent a small smile from appearing on his lips.
In amongst the throngs of locals and explorers was a certain Imperial and Runemaster. The sight of Achyuta and Nitish together, holding hands or touching each other in some kind of loving manner was becoming such a common sight that very few people paid them much mind.
Momentarily pausing in their stroll, Achyuta turned Nitish to face him before he framed Nitish's face with his hands. Nitish reached up to place his own hands on top of Achyuta's, a slightly curious look on his face. There were a few gentle whispers exchanged between them before they both leaned forward and tenderly pressed their foreheads together. The smile on Nitish's lips was absolutely radiant.
"It's good to see that at least one Imperial is embracing his freedom," Logre said as he watched the two weave their way through the crowds, two wrapped up in each other to actually pay attention to the world around them.
"They look good together," Kirjonen said sincerely as he allowed his hand to fall away from Logre's shoulder and instead rest on the stone banister he was leaning against.
"Achyuta had always been different from other Imperials," Logre explained as he watched the man in question disappear from sight. "He had an insatiable need for knowledge. Other Imperials…simply did as they were told."
"Hm, then I guess that means he was destined to be a part of Guild Phaedron," Kirjonen unexpectedly said, causing Logre to turn his attention back to him. "Like you."
Logre was somewhat startled and pained by that. "They're such a soft-hearted guild," he muttered, momentarily returning to a previous line of thought.
Kirjonen was silent as a strangely troubled expression appeared on his face and he looked away. "…I can't even begin to fathom what it must have been like for you."
"Hm?"
"Having to face your prince in battle," Kirjonen said as he glanced up toward the upper floors of the Grand Mark's Court. "You must have felt so torn. I can't help but wonder if I could do the same. I believe in my king, I believe in his words and beliefs. I've been raised to follow his every order. To come to the sudden realisation that, perhaps, not everything I've been told is true…"
Kirjonen trailed off softly and Logre felt a small lump of emotion lodge in his throat. But he remained silent nonetheless, allowing the blond Holy Rune Knight to continue.
"It would lead to an identity crisis, no doubt," Kirjonen finished. While he had not experienced such a thing, the thought alone was still rather painful for him.
It did lead to an identity crisis for Logre. It most certainly did. For ten years he believed in his Emperor's ideals and beliefs. He trusted that his prince would be safe and secure. For ten whole years he waited and wandered for the right time, the chance to finally go home, all the while trying to keep his distance from the troubled Varuna and fragile Nitish.
Only when he managed to do just that, he was despaired to find that 'home' had changed. His prince had changed so much. No longer the innocent cheeky child he had to keep an eye on, preventing him from causing trouble for the knights. He had grown into a hardened young man, ruthless and desperate to save his kingdom. A young man willing to sacrifices two entirely innocent races.
What had happened to Prince Baldur during those ten years of his absence? If only he had been a bit stronger, maybe he wouldn't have been away for so long.
"I have to admit, I admire you."
"Hm?" Logre uttered, Kirjonen's voice pulling him out of his thoughts.
"Wandering around for ten years is a long time to carry such heavy burdens," Kirjonen said as he lowered his eyes from the court and looked over to him, looking him in the eyes. "I doubt that I could have. You're a very strong person."
Logre gave a wary half-smile. "…Strength isn't all it's cracked up to be."
"I suppose," Kirjonen said with a small smile. "But, there are many different forms of strength, isn't there?"
Logre couldn't argue with that.
"Things certainly have changed, haven't they?" Kirjonen suddenly asked.
"They have."
They most certainly have.
And it all started when the guild known as Phaedron appeared and joined forces with Tharsis' top three researchers. Since then they've put in motion so many things. Improving the airships, exploring new lands, discovering mysteries and secrets of the many labyrinths and caves, bringing together many different races. Who knew that one guild of make-shift explorers and researchers would achieve so much?
It was actually allowing him to feel some hope. Perhaps they could help Prince Baldur?
The young prince he knew was still in there somewhere. Logre caught glimpses of him whenever he tried to defiantly disregard Isiah's directions, only to throw a mini tantrum whenever the silver-haired medic managed to get a hold of him. Prince Baldur would definitely disagree with him, but Isiah really was the best thing for him right now. He had been surrounded by 'Yes-men' his entire life. To have someone like Isiah who didn't care that he was a prince and treating him as the young man he really was underneath must be surprisingly refreshing.
Interacting with the rest of the guild would also be beneficial for him.
"Something else on your mind?" Kirjonen asked him, no doubt noticing the contemplative expression on his face.
"Oh, nothing really," Logre said as he dropped his arms from his chest and pushed away from the stone guardrail he was leaning against. "But maybe I am beginning to understand what true peace is."
Kirjonen nodded his head and smiled. "Perhaps that means a smoother path lies ahead for you?"
Logre gave a careless shrug. "Who knows?"
Kirjonen wasn't as naïve as he first thought him to be. Innocent and pure, no doubt about that. But he was not naïve. He was actually a surprisingly deep person.
"Well, it's always important to explore your options, I suppose," Logre mused aloud, wanting to steer the conversation onto another matter. There was only so much deep and meaningful conversations a man could take. "After all, there could be other possibilities that you didn't see before."
Kirjonen looked momentarily confused as to why Logre was speaking those words, but he opted to stay silent nonetheless, figuring that Logre was simply airing his musings. He nodded his head in acceptance and understanding, a small smile gracing his lips.
"Someone once told me that the hows and whys of life do not matter nearly as much as your own inner feelings," Kirjonen added as mysteriously.
Ah, how true. As knights and warriors, they were taught how to trust their own instincts. Trust that mysterious gut-instinct. It was a skill that could be used for everything, even outside the battlefield.
Despite how painful their topic of conversation had started, Logre felt a little bit better. It felt good to have someone understand your actions and pains, while also not being a part of your distress. Being with other Imperials, especially decked out in their highly detailed and fortified armour made him remember of a past long gone. Of a time he couldn't go back to.
But Kirjonen didn't constantly remind him of his past actions. He understood, but he wasn't there. Like the rest of Phaedron, his guild, he was supportive. He needed that.
Still, was he willing to let go of the past to move on?
Mah…Making no decision was the same as making the decision not to make a decision. So, why not make the choice to simply go with the flow and see where life leads him now? No harm in that.
"Sir Logre!"
Logre furrowed his brow when he recognised the voice. He was somewhat surprised to see Neolani in Tharsis. After the brazen raid and kidnapping of Nitish, which ultimately led to Achyuta choosing to save and protect Nitish over aiding her, she was adamant that she would not degrade herself by mingling with commoners. Her words exactly.
Whatever the reason she was in town, he could only hope that she didn't confront either Nitish or Achyuta. That would immediately gain Varuna's ire and, well…he might not be able to hold Varuna back should he set his sights on her. His resentment and hatred was completely reasonable, mind you. He just didn't want the nightseeker to angst about his hasty actions later on.
Making her way quickly over to him, Neolani suddenly stopped and turned her attention to Kirjonen, giving him a harsh glare. "Leave. This is private."
Logre immediately frowned in a sense of protectiveness. There was absolutely no reason to be so ill-mannered toward Kirjonen.
Kirjonen looked momentarily startled at the abrupt and frankly rude command before sighing and turning his attention back to Logre. "I need to speak with the Count anyway," he said before placing his hand on Logre's shoulder, bidding him farewell. "Enjoy the rest of your day, Logre."
"Catch you later," Logre said as he allowed Kirjonen's touch to linger for a moment before watching as the blond dropped his hand to his side and walked up the steps. The moment he was out of sight, Logre turned to face Neolani, giving her a rather cold and stern look when he noticed that she seemed to be watching Kirjonen through narrowed eyes.
"You could at least try to get along with other classes," he said. His words, however, were to be pointless. Before he was chosen to aide his highness in the search for a peaceful solution to their decaying lands, he had trained a young Neolani on occasion. They didn't have a teacher/subordinate relationship by any means, but he did realise that she had great potential as an Imperial.
Her personality, on the other hand…even as a rookie she saw herself as far above everyone else. It didn't help that she was at the top of the classes. Seemed like the last ten years did nothing to lower her expectations of herself and others around her.
Neolani looked momentarily surprised before shaking her head and giving Logre a curious look. "Why are you not dressed in your knight's armour?"
"I am not required to wear it all the time," Logre replied quickly, trying to ignore how Isiah would tease him mercilessly about the so-called 'puffy' pants. Augh, that man could be so witty with his words that it made him somewhat envious.
"But you are an imperial knight," Neolani retorted as she indicated to her own armour, seemingly proud of her stance and profile. "Wearing our armour is a sign of great honour."
It was also cumbersome and high maintenance, and didn't make any sense whatsoever in Tharsis or the Windy Plains.
"Is there something you need from me?" Logre asked. He was pretty sure she wasn't there to apologise for what she had done to both Nitish and Tharsis.
"I would like you to return to the Cloudy Stronghold with me," Neolani surprisingly said.
That actually stunned Logre into silence for a moment. Of all the things he was expecting, he most certainly wasn't expecting that. Where in the world did that come from?
"Hey, Logre."
The sound of Isiah's voice was somewhat of a relief. However, his relief didn't last long as Neolani immediately whipped her head around to the court's entrance and glared.
"Know your place, Medic," she snapped as Isiah continued down the steps at a leisurely pace. "I am speaking with Sir Logre."
"Does it really look like I give a shit?" Isiah retorted swiftly without faltering in his steps or mood in any way. He gave Neolani a rather terse stare for a mere second before he reached the bottom step and turned his full attention back to Logre. "Anyway, where is the brat? If he thinks he can run around while he's still recovering, then I've got a surprise for him."
Grateful for the distraction, Logre turned his body slightly so that it appeared that he was giving the famously feared Medic his full attention. "He's not with the Count?"
"No," Isiah replied, shoving his hand into the pocket of his coat as the other toyed with the handle of his mace. Why he was carrying it around so casually, Logre didn't want to know. "Unless the little shit was hiding."
Logre felt a wryly grin slip across his lips. His prince would not be hiding, as it were. Avoiding Isiah, perhaps, by disappearing into one of the back rooms of the grand court; but a prince of his power and skill would never hide from a medic.
"Try the cargo wharf, then," Logre provided. "Perhaps he's inspecting his airship?"
The frown on Isiah's face only deepened. "If he gets on it he's going to be in trouble."
"I doubt he'd get past Ciaran," Logre tried to pacify, biting the inside of his mouth to prevent a smirk from appearing on his lips.
"Sir Logre!"
Logre sighed loudly and reluctantly turned his attention back to the blonde-haired woman. "Hm?"
"I am seeking your attention," she said in a purely agitated and somewhat undignified manner. "Why would you ignore me for such a lowly explorer?"
Logre narrowed his eyes while Isiah raised an eyebrow, hardly impressed. However, before any more terse words or insults could be exchanged, the familiar sight of a Vessel wearing the colours of purple and pink scurried over to Isiah, excitedly tugging at his coat.
"Isiah!" Zoran said with a bright smile on his face. "I have located Prince Baldur for you. He is unwittingly heading in this direction. He should arrive at any moment."
"Ah, good," Isiah said as he patted the tiny vessel on the head, earning a cheerful squeak from him.
"Prince Baldur?" Neolani questioned with a puzzled look on her face before an expression of anger took its place and she drew her driveblade. "You dare to threaten the prince?
"I'd put that away if I was you," Isiah said in a no-nonsense manner, using the hand he had on Zoran's head to push the confused vessel behind him.
Neolani wouldn't be intimidated and even went as far as to point her weapon at him. "A medic is no match for someone of my calibre," she hissed.
Isiah narrowed his eyes and his body posture gave the slight indication what he was more than willing to prove her wrong. Not wanting it to reach that level of, er, defence (…bloodshed?), Logre decided it would be best if he interfered.
"Lower your weapon, soldier," Logre commanded with a chilling voice, purposely placing himself between Isiah and Neolani, grasping fearlessly at the driveblade she so willingly wielded. "And stand down. I will not have you threaten my teammate in such a manner."
A look of betrayal flickered across Neolani's face and she momentarily tightened her grip on her drive blade. But she eventually lowered it when she realised that Logre was serious and that he was getting seriously annoyed. She finally pulled back, clenching her jaw tightly in a sign of clear frustration. She suddenly holstered her weapon and stalked away, silently furious.
Logre sighed and scratched the back of his neck. He may have defused the situation for now, but he knew that there were possibilities for more hostility in the future. He just hoped that she didn't take her frustrations out on some innocent guild of rookies.
He understood that some of the Imperial Knights blamed the Pheadron Guild of interfering with Prince Baldur's grand plan. But mostly, it was because of pride. A guild of different and unique explorers defeating the Yggdrasil Titan, succeeding in not only saving the Medium but their prince as well? Quite a blow to one's ego.
"There you are, you little shit."
Hearing Isiah's terse words pulled Logre out of his musings and he glanced up just in time to see Baldur (who had been sneaking around in the shadows, it seemed) comically blanched when he heard Isiah's voice, but he managed covered it up with a look of defiance.
"How dare you refer to me in such a manner?" he simpered in reply. He sounded superior, but the fact that he was also slowly backing away didn't help with his facade.
"Where do you think you're going?" Isiah asked as he walked over to him, Zoran trotting dutifully behind him.
Baldur took a half step back, sideway glancing at his surroundings to look for a quick exit. "I-I have things that I must attend to."
"I don't think so," Isiah said. "Zoran, snare him, please."
"Yes!" Zoran eagerly said as he grasped his spectre in his hands and raised it into the sky. "Snare Circle."
The familiar circle of magic appeared around Baldur's feet before the rebellious teen had the chance to react. Thick magical bindings snared his ankles, tying his legs together and prompting him to fall to the ground in surprise.
"Oof!" he uttered as he tried to sit up, looking absolutely flabbergasted. "W-what is the meaning of this?!"
"You know why," Isiah retorted as he continued to approach his highness in a somewhat menacing manner. "Zoran, his arms, please."
"Hm! Chain Circle!"
Baldur watched in muted shock as magical bindings appeared around his midsection, clamping his arms to his sides. He looked rather frightened when Isiah stopped before him, leaned forward and effortlessly scooped him off the ground.
"Appreciate it, Zoran," Isiah said as he flung Baldur over his shoulder.
"I'm glad to have helped," Zoran said in response, truly looking happy.
It took Baldur a moment or two to get over his shock. "Unhand me this instant!"
As a loyal knight of his highness, it was Logre's duty to come to his aide whenever the need arose. However…he was also a member of guild Phaedron and had known Isiah for ten years. He knew better than most not to interfere with anything Isiah had put his mind to. He may be loyal to his highness, but he most certainly wasn't stupid.
"Unhand the prince this instant!"
Fortunately for him, other Imperials rose to occasion. It won't end well, but at least they were loyal enough to try. That was a plus, wasn't it?
"What are you, a parrot?" Isiah snapped back as he continued to carry Baldur over his shoulder, effortlessly flicking his mace with his other hand. "I suggest you get out of my way."
Two Imperial knights, decked out head to toe in heavy duty armour stood their ground, baring Isiah's way back into the Grand Mark's Court. "A medic is no match for-"
"Yeah, yeah," Isiah muttered as he continued his pace, idly flicking his mace, knocking the two of them out without any kind of visible effort on his part.
Baldur immediately stopped struggling when he laid his eyes on the two unconscious and twitching forms of his Imperials. "D-did you just knock out two of my knights?"
"Yup," Isiah said as he carried him up the steps and inside the court. "Do you want to join them? Then keep still. You're still recovering."
"Isiah and Baldur have a very interesting relationship," Zoran said with a sense of awe in his voice, absolutely fascinated with how Isiah and Baldur interacted with each other.
Logre roughly scratched at his stubbled cheek. Prince Baldur was going to be in a rather bad mood for the rest of the day. He should probably check on him later.
In a few hours.
After Isiah calmed down.
And released his hold on his mace.
… … … … …
It was early afternoon when Logre found the courage to visit his prince. Hopefully Baldur was in better shape and, ah, mood then he was earlier that day.
"Good day, Count," Logre greeted when he passed the older man amongst the many winding hallways, seemingly coming from the wing Baldur was currently recuperating in.
"Ah, Logre," Count greeted with a friendly smile. "Here to visit Prince Baldur, I presume?"
"That's right. He…Prince Baldur hasn't been very complying with Isiah lately."
Count chuckled loudly with some amusement. "Yes, I heard all about it. But Isiah has quite a large amount of patience."
He wasn't sure if patience was the right word.
"I best see him then," Logre said. "Thanks again for your continuing support."
"Yes yes. Take care now."
Continuing his way through the hallways, it took didn't take Logre long to locate the room his prince was staying in. And from the looks of relief on the faces of the guards by the door, one Imperial the other Tharsis, Isiah was currently elsewhere.
"Prince Baldur, how are you feeling?" Logre asked as he stepped into the room, immediately spying the sickly teenager sitting up in the bed with an irritated expression on his face. He, however, was still in bed.
"I am fine," Baldur immediately replied. "That medic, however, believes that I have acquired a fever. Utter nonsense."
Logre chose not to comment about the light flush to his cheeks, nor the way he appeared flustered and slightly disorientated. Instead, he simply sat down in a chair that had been pulled up by his bed.
"He is indeed a formidable opponent," Baldur murmured suddenly, clearly speaking of Isiah. "He would make an excellent Imperial."
Logre winced at the thought. "I think it would be best that Isiah doesn't learn how to use a Driveblade, your majesty," he commented. Isiah was deadly with a mace, imagine what the man could do with a driveblade?
After a moment of thought, Baldur, too, looked somewhat pale and uneasy by the notion. "…Y-yes, perhaps you are right."
"Didn't I tell you to get some sleep?"
Logre winced and Baldur paled. However, despite what had happened only hours ago, Baldur refuses to relinquish his defiant nature.
"I am not tired."
When Isiah made no attempt to verbally respond, instead to simply narrow his eyes and walk toward the bed, Logre knew that his prince was in trouble. But what kind of trouble, that was the question.
"Zoran?" Immediately, the face of a vessel was seen peering into the room from the door. "Come here, please."
"W-what are you planning now, fiend?" Baldur spluttered as Zoran toddled into the room and stopped by the bed, looking curiously and fearlessly at Baldur.
Isiah stared directly at Baldur. "Sleep circle, please."
"Yes!" Zoran immediately replied and gripped his staff again, about to bring it high into the air.
"Wait!" Baldur practically shrilled as he scurried up the bed to press himself against the bed head. "Wait, wait. Let's negotiate this, yes?"
"Hmm…No."
As soon as Isiah said that, Zoran activated Sleep circle, immediately causing Baldur to fall into a deep sleep, falling haphazardly onto the bed.
Logre could only sigh as he immediately set about moving Baldur into a more comfortable position on the bed, tucking him in. "Isiah, could you stop that?"
"I could. But I won't," Isiah said with a shrug. "Just be grateful that I didn't use Knock-out Blow."
"Right…"
Motherly, Isiah most certainly was not.
AN: Ah, this chapter got away from me. Let me know what you think!