Death Cleric

A/N:

Thanks to everyone who reviewed and followed, or even just lurked creepily in the background; yes, you~ Without further ado, the first chapter.

Disclaimer; I, Instant, do not own the Legend of Sun Knight.

Chapter 1: the Title of Drink Fiend

The royal palace was a beautiful place, if a little gaudy and extravagant even for Grisia's tastes. The king was wealthy and definitely was not afraid to rub it in the taxpayers' faces. This was, however, exactly what had attracted Grisia into working here; the pay was good. Maybe if he'd known at the time how frequent visitors with the word, "Sun" in their names would be, he would have really considered fleeing to Kissinger. But now, it looked like all bother from that area had passed. It had been almost three years since Neo Sun had left to go steal adventurer quests from the young, and during those three years Grisia had successfully avoided any attention from the new head of the holy temple. No easy feat, considering the head cleric's attendance was required every time His Majesty had an audience, the Sun Knight included.

I understand now why His Holiness the Pope always wears that mysterious veil, Grisia mused, having retired to his room and tossed off his headgear after exactly one such an occasion.

He hadn't lied earlier; this really was a decent job. The pay, the free, top-notch bed and board, the hours. Admittedly just having to suffer the presence of that fat pig of a king was hard work, but at least he didn't have to kiss that pudgy old hand... Grisia stifled a laugh as he recalled the new Sun having to do exactly that, and all the while wear that same stupid dazzling smile! Pfffffft, what a nightmare. Not only that, but the Sun Knight also had to fall into a dead faint after only three cups of wine, and love only God, not women... Now that he thought about it, he would have definitely had a problem with those- then again, at least the latter had never stopped Neo.

He wondered vaguely where that person was now. After all this time, not once had the former Sun Knight returned to the capital. But there's nothing to worry about, since he's virtually indestructible, Grisia concluded as he swapped his white cleric's clothes for those of a warrior... Like the entirety of his wardrobe, also white. Ugh, why does everything have to be white? It's such a pain to clean!

That done, Grisia set off back through the palace, heading for the royal knight's training ground, not forgetting to toss a playful wink in the direction of two of his gorgeous maid friends... Huh, no smiles or giggles? They seemed a little down. Were they mad at him for something? ...Women. Whatever.

"Elijah!" he called out when he spotted his good friend amongst the cluster of knights. Both the young captain and Grisia had entered work at the palace at roughly the same age and roughly the same time, but hadn't actually met until four years ago. They hadn't exactly hit it off right away either...

Nineteen year old Grisia was sitting in a tavern, glowering over the rim of his cup at a group of royal knights. Or one in particular; the captain.

Although the blond had held the position of His Majesty's head cleric for two years now, a ranking which even the Twelve Holy Knights of the Church of Light would have to acknowledge and respect, the common people still looked at him and saw one thing; a cleric. Without a lengthy formal introduction, in which Grisia's importance and power was slowly and painstakingly explained, he'd look absolutely no different from any other old cleric, because almost all of the profession wore the same plain, white clothes. To wear anything other than simple white one would have to be as powerful and as arrogant as the Pope himself! But that wasn't why Grisia didn't; that was because the king paid for his clothes... That fat pig wasn't going to hand over extra dough just so his head cleric could look fancy, and Grisia definitely wasn't about to pay with his own money!

Not when he could spend it on alcohol...

But the point was, while Grisia looked like any weak cleric, albeit a particularly good-looking one, this guy looked like exactly what he was; a captain of the royal knights! He was even an all-purpose type of handsome!

And what kind of girl in their right mind would chose a cleric, no matter how beautiful, over a dashing knight in shining, silver armor? Even the white horse was just back at the stables...

This guy was stealing all the women!

Just as Grisia was moodily considering moving to the next pub over, he was noticed by the platoon.

"What are you staring at, pretty boy!"

"Yeah Cleric, see something you like?" one catcalled.

Another giggled and nudged his captain in the ribs; "I think he's looking at you..."

It was one thing for the lousy knights to steal the girls, it was quite another to insinuate the jealous guy was gay. If Grisia looked annoyed before, now he was downright frightening. Any normal person would have taken one look at that expression and beat a hasty retreat, but unfortunately, a number of the platoon were far past the line of tipsy. The captain, the unknowing cause, could only watch helplessly.

"What ridiculous long hair... Sissy." Okay, that one had just gone too far.

Abruptly Grisia stood, knocking his chair away, and marched right up to the knight. "Say that again, to my face, blockhead!" Admittedly, that wasn't one of Grisia's best insults, but considering how remarkable square the guy's head actually was, it was highly appropriate.

"Oh, the kitten has claws," the platoon snickered.

Blockhead grinned. "Tell you what, I'll take it back... If you can beat me in a drinking contest!" he challenged smugly.

Most clerics weren't known for being great drinkers. The fact was, if a knight was hungover at work, he would just have to deal with it. But a cleric, they could end up costing their patient's life... (That, and most clerics were wimps). But Grisia definitely wasn't most clerics. He recklessly smirked; "Bring it on!"

Elijah, the captain of the royal knights, looked on in some kind of stunned daze as this, this cleric one by one annihilated his platoon. It was a massacre.

The last royal knight fell over backwards. Grisia drained yet another cup and shot the last one left a wicked smile.

Nothing else for it; this was now a matter of honor. Elijah waved over a waitress and ordered another round. "You know that after what you've done, there's no way I can let you walk out of this tavern," he said grimly.

"Hmph, there's no way I could lose to you!" Grisia yelled determinedly. He was definitely drunk, but so long as his butt was planted firmly on that bar stool, he was as stubborn as the Stone Knight.

"Well, there's no possible outcome in which you could win!"

...And the conversation went on and on and on in this manner for pages...

By the demon-drinker of a cleric was defeated, Elijah was seeing double. But he'd won. The supreme sense of accomplishment he felt at that moment was matched only by the supreme sense of a headache he had...

"Um, sir? Are you ready to pay now?" the shocked barmaid asked him hesitantly.

Uh oh. Elijah looked to the left to see the cleric was no longer slumped over the table, nor anymore occupying the seat, nor had he collapsed onto the floor...

To put it bluntly, the cleric was gone.

Damn him!

Admittedly, Grisia hadn't been able to walk out of that bar, he'd had to crawl... And soon after that event was when he cut his hair short...

"Oh, hello Grisia," the young captain interrupted his reminiscing, but strangely didn't meet the blonde's eyes.

Looking to the others, Grisia saw that they all looked very unhappy. "Is something wrong?" he asked, confusion marring his tone.

When it became clear no one else was going to talk, Elijah reluctantly pulled Grisia aside, taking him just far enough that they wouldn't be overheard.

"There's a bit of a problem," he began slowly, unsure of the best way to put this.

The cleric could only wait with a curious look on his face.

"It's about your... Behavior with the maids."

What?! Had innocent flirting become a crime? Grisia was utterly bemused. Maybe the royal knights had become so jealous, thinking he was stealing all the women? If only they'd known his thoughts back in that bar four years prior.

Seeing his friend's expression, Elijah hurried to clarify himself. "You see, it's been going on for some time; maids have been disappearing, mysteriously resigning their jobs without a word and vanishing completely from the city... And some people have noticed that they seem to be the ones you, uh, like chatting with the most. Directly after being seen with you. Chatting."

And so... People were thinking that he had something to do with this? What, that he was frightening away maids... Abusing them even?! Grisia's mouth fell open in shock. "I, I am suspect?!" ...If people were really thinking this, women were going to avoid him like a biohazard! Getting hot chicks would be impossible if they wouldn't come within a hundred meters of him!

Elijah watched his reaction carefully. Seeing how horrified Grisia was of the idea, he nodded. "I don't believe you'd do anything like that either. But your reputation is..." he trailed off with an unhappy frown.

Right, my reputation... Even Grisia had to admit that this wasn't such a far-fetched theory. If I were to claim the rank of number two flirt in the kingdom, maybe even the Storm Knight wouldn't dare stake a claim to first. "Still, when have I ever taken advantage of someone?" he protested with righteous indignation.

Revealing a very strange expression, the captain slowly replied; "How about almost even time I've been stupid enough to go drinking with you, Grisia?"

"Ohh... Right," the blond said, with a look of supreme realization.

"..." So he didn't know? Elijah was struck down by thunder.

Grisia wandered back to his quarters, feeling slightly dejected. He liked training with the knights, and before they had always been welcoming, humoring the weird cleric who had a knight complex. He'd almost been able to feel like he was one of them, like he belonged. It was very different with the clerics, where Grisia, though in charge, was an outsider. His power in that area was a barrier between him forming friends, as most who had any sense of holy magic looked upon him with disgusting awe- or jealousy.

"We'll just have to find out the truth, what's really happening with the maids, before you can really train with us again. I don't think they're really convinced you did it either- they know you- but for lack of anyone else to look at, they have become somewhat hostile to you... Sorry, Grisia."

At least Elijah had said 'we'; the prospect of his friend's help definitely made the burden feel less weighty. However, he had then had to leave for his platoon... A captain of the royal knights really was a busy person, after all, even in this extraordinarily peaceful age. It looked like Grisia would have to start sleuthing alone.

But no, that wasn't true. He had one other good friend in this place; that old drunkard, the master mage. Although at this time, he would probably still be in bed with a hangover, it was still worth a try. Who knows, maybe he would be able to teach Grisia a spell for lie-detecting, or something?

He tapped on the door, quietly, so quietly in fact, that it may have been mistaken for the fall of an owl's feather...

"God almighty, keep it down, will you?" came the agonized groan from within.

It went without saying that this person was definitely not a normal human.

Now having determined that the occupant was not indecent, Grisia wrenched open the door without the least regard for this weirdo's hangover and closed it shut behind him.

A bucket of water was beside the person's bedside. This wasn't strange, because Grisia had placed it there himself the previous day for this very purpose; he manipulated the element until it hovered above the blanketed figure, then let go. The mage was completely drenched.

"...Brrrr," the person complained as loudly as possible without use of a single vowel. But they seemed mostly over their hangover. They stretched, tumbled out of bed, and fought for several minutes with a tangle of bedsheets before finally extracting themselves and swaggering over to the wall entirely hidden by a ridiculous array of bottles...

If you were wondering if this was another contestant for the title of 'Drink Fiend', you're totally wrong! Their capacity is only a little bit better than the Sun Knight's...

Grisia dragged the person away whining from their 'wake-up remedy', and expertly maneuvered them into a seat.

"Grisia!" the person complained, and at this point, the dark hood they had been wearing even with pajamas slipped and revealed the mage's pouting face.

He had long, dark hair, deep amethyst eyes and smooth, soft skin that even a Sun Knight would be jealous of... Hmm? Now that I think about it, could this be why Neo never seemed to like him?

Wait, you're thinking. Isn't this the person I call 'the old sot'? Why does it sound like I'm describing a young gorgeous beauty?

By now, you should have definitely learnt that a magic user's age can't judged by appearance! For instance, the pope himself looks like a child of fifteen, when in reality he can't be less than fifty, and Neo Sun, who isn't even all that good at magic, also retains his looks of thirty instead of the forty-something he is. The 'old' mage, though his years actually number over a hundred, he is one person I can't blame for it... Not only is he not a normal human, he's not human at all!

There weren't many places in the human world an elf could live without being subject to zoo-animal stares; it was basically a choice between this, a private mage who could hide in a lavish palace in complete secrecy, or the life of a lumberjack... Since this elf loved the drink so much (even though he couldn't hold it), the former was really the only option.

An elf who's a horrible drinker... That's almost as ridiculous as a corpse who uses holy magic- which is physically impossible. Their race is responsible for the strongest liquor on the continent, sigh. This... This could have been why Lanir left his kind?

The elf, Lanir, grumbled loudly; "Shush boy, stop moving! You must have gained weight, because every step is like an elephant tramping on my brain..."

Grisia shivered. How cold! This guy could give the Metal Knight a run for his money. Though Grisia wasn't completely certain what an 'elephant' was. "Hey! Do me a small favor; teach me a spell which shows when people are lying!" Grisia got straight to the point.

The elven mage stared. "You? You want to learn something like that, when you could simply go and beat the person black and blue? Or better, roast them over a slow flame..." (At this, his expression looked like something which belonged to a pyromaniac...)

The blond scratched his head. "But doing something like that, that would just make my reputation even worse than it already is..."

"Is that even possible?" Lanir deadpanned.

"They think I've been abusing maids..."

"And haven't you?" the mage raised an eyebrow.

"Of course not!" Grisia immediately refuted.

"... I don't believe you," Lanir replied carelessly, taking a swig out of a bottle which had appeared in his hand.

"Thanks for your vote of confidence," the cleric said sarcastically, snatching the alcohol quickly before the elf could incapacitate himself. "But I don't need you to believe me anyway; I'll prove it. So teach me the spell, okay?"

"I don't know it! I'm specifically a master of the electric and fire elements... And I'm not going to turn the entire royal library upside down on a whim of yours," Lanir scoffed. "Anyway, this spell, if it even exists, would be ridiculously complicated. Someone who still hasn't mastered the Spell of Flight is definitely not ready."

Grisia glowered. Why should he bother learning something as useless as the Spell of Flight? He barely ever left the palace, let alone the city. Flying was cool and everything, but for someone to whom the word 'travel' was completely foreign? Pointless. "If you'd give demonstrations, I'd have learnt tons more magic by now. All of the magic. All of it," he emphasized.

"Yes, but some of us see an advantage in keeping their jobs," the elf smirked impishly.

"Whatever! I'm going to go find out who's making the maids disappear," Grisia scowled and turned to leave.

"Wait, Grisia!" With a shocked expression, Lanir stopped him.

Seeing this drunkard appear so extraordinarily sober, he couldn't help but do a double take. "Huh?"

"Disappearing maids, that's what you're investigating?! Listen to me, you absolutely must drop this at once," he told Grisia, dead serious.

"Why?" the blonde blinked. Obviously whatever's going on is worse than Elijah thought.

"Because I don't want to lose my student to a necromancer, that's why." Lanir said, blunt as a rock, before he collapsed backwards onto his bed in a drunken stupor...

Grisia left, exceedingly puzzled. This was Leaf Bud City, where the Church of the God of Light was based. With this extremely powerful and incomparably scary generation of Twelve Holy Knights, the most petty of criminals was a dying species! The idea that a necromancer could actually be within a quarter-hundred miles of here was just silly. Haha, Lanir, that one was really funny...

"Grisia? Grisia, uh, sir!"

With that kind of address, the call could only be coming from one of his clerics. Grisia waited patiently while the girl caught both up to him and her breath. "Your attention is requested, Grisia sir, please come with me."

As she led him down the corridor in the direction of the sick bay, he felt an uneasy sense of trepidation building up... Not about the injured person, of course! But because he'd recognized the cleric girl...

"Oh, and Grisia?" one of the royal knights had spoken to him before he'd left. "Please stay away from my girlfriend," Hele had smiled innocently, but there was this cold look in his eyes...

...Urk! That guy loved his girlfriend even more than he worshiped Elijah... Grisia had better make sure nothing happened to Vera on his watch!

Yeah, this job, it was decent. The pay, the lodging, the hours; he even had friends;

"I'm in charge of all the clerics, I have my own platoon of knights as friends, and a master mage to pirate spells off of. Hmph, why would I want to be anywhere else?"

He'd said those very words to Neo three years ago, when accused of being unhappy here. But though he denied it, Grisia was unhappy. He still longed to be that child who was chosen. He still wished to be the Sun Knight. He still wanted to be worthy.

Why else did he train all day long, at healing, at fighting, at magic? He wanted to become worthy...

A/N:

If a cleric, a warrior and the Sun Knight walked into a tavern with the prize a bag of gold for whoever walked back out in the morning, who would win? Leave your answer in your review~!

I hope the OCs don't bother anyone too much... I know that these can really be story-wreckers, and many people dislike them, but... Grisia has lived at this place for over ten years, and doesn't spend all his time practicing swordsmanship... So yeah, two OCs. That should be all, just bear with me, okay?

~Vanquish