A Ragnarok Fanfiction by Lushard.

- Chapter 4 -

Calm Before the Storm

It was nearly sunset the time the Junoan Ambassadors walked out the castle of Prontera. Mounted in their northern dragons, the army advanced south in order to aid Rune Midgard army in the upcoming battles. The talk with the king, however, had gone quite smoothly.

It had taken hours for the two forces to settle their differences in military warfare and war policies, but Catriel had brilliantly offered a simple—yet most acceptable—solution: Junoan war policies and strategies were to be invented if they were to be placed as rear guards, which in return, giving Rune Midgard the freedom to 'use' their strength however they wanted. Seing how speechless the King's spokeperson had gone in the meeting was enough for Remus and Irine to entrust all the talk to the knightress. She had replied their statements without any inclination of hesitation nor nervousness. Returning every objection in a very elegant and undebatable manner, it was without a doubt that Catriel's negotiation skills were in the same level as Ephron's himself.

"So I guess this is where we will separate our ways then," said Irine when they had finally reached the west gate.

Catriel and Remus nodded. "Be seing you," Remus said to Catriel. His tone was un-Remus-like: firm and curt.

The commander of Junoan Paladins laughed upon sensing her friend's rare, serious, attitude. "What, is the great Remus now feeling scared of bloodshed all of a sudden?" Irine said jokingly.

Remus lifted his shoulders heavily and snorted, practically ignoring Irine's playful taunt. "Hey, this isn't a game. We're betting on our lives out there."

"I know, I know," she replied, shooking her head sheepishly. Irine turned her gaze on Catriel, who had not spoken a word after they'd gotten out of the castle. She knew the Rune Knightress had a lot to think about—since it was her role to think through hard things she and Remus were not cut out to in the first place. Irine gave her a long stare before finally sighing. "After I finish the task on the borderside, I promise I'll be storming my way out to your place," she said to Catriel.

"Sograt is in your hands," replied Catriel, closing her eyes and bowing her head in respect. "We too shall do our best to defend Feyon. Just remember not to lose your head in the war."

Irine gave a bitter laugh at Catriel's words. She had never been one drop the formalities, even when talking to her colleagues. Irine suddenly felt like she hadn't known her at all. "I appreciate your concern, but hey—I got a full batallion of Paladins and Crusaders here. There's no way I would let them cut our thoats. But I am familiar with one truth: the infamous Sograt Desert has never been kind to outsiders."

Catriel and Remus exchanged a knowing glance for a momment and nodded. They knew it was the very operation base of those deadly Assassins and Rogues. The bad climate and intense wheather aside, it was already bad enough having a full regiment of shadow walkers trying to poison you in your sleep. Children or adults, male or female, the Assassins always killed any people listed in their assassination list without mercy nor hesitation. Or that was what the rumor had said about them. But anyone who was smart enough knew that rumors were not better be underestimated, for they contained some truth.

Or maybe even the whole thing, Irine thought after pondering for a while.

"Be sure to double check your supplies every now and then," Catriel warned the two as they walked past some Pronteran guards on duty. The curious glances of those guards that were mainly directed at Junoan commanders' mounts were ignored by Catriel who chose to be silent until they were out of the city. Northern winged dragons had always been a famous subject around people confined in the south.

"And don't forget to tighten your camp defenses," she added, "even when the sun's till up. You'll never know when their scouts have infiltrated your camp by 'borrowing' your subordinates' uniform."

"I've been there once," Irine replied with a stern tone. "I know how bad it is there. But I'll be fine—we will be fine." She tried to lift the heavy atmosphere up with a cheery tone.

"You too, watch your back there in the woods," Remus said to Catriel while turning to his men. He gave a hand signal to the knights to form a formation to take the rear. After they had all begun moving, he turned back to his comrades and said to Catriel, "Your opponents are well armed. Remember that they are well supplied since Alberta is nearby."

"I will keep that in mind."

Having no other things to say, the three then exchanged a formal bow to one another, with their subordinates mimicking their action. "May the Lord be with you," said each every one of them in an orchestrated timing. The Pronteran knights and crusaders made their own gesture under the command of their generals.

After that, Remus and Irine quickly marched onward, followed by the Pronteran cavalry.

- x - V - x -

Catriel and her squardon watched the allied force went before the sun completely set to hide in the west. When the dusty layers of their footsteps had faded away, she gave a signal to Gizelle—her second-in-command—to move to her side. Expecting the Pronteran squad to come by, Catriel dismounted from her dragon, and so did all the men and women clad in Junoan armor.

In a predicted timing, a group of Priests and High Priests appeared at the west gate, followed by Knights who acted as their guards and supply carriers. The garments they wore were a variation of dark colors, each representing their squad. Walking on the front was a female Arch Bishop, who was supposed to be their commander by the King's message.

The Arch Bishop scanned the foreigners before them, spotted Catriel, and approached her. They gave a bow to each other. Two male Lord Knights—presumably the commander and the lt. gnereal of the sword wielders in her squad—gave a deep bow after her.

"It is nice meeting you, fair knightress," said the blonde Arch Bishop. Her tone was like a music to Catriel's sensitive ears; maybe a little influence from being kept in the seminary for years. Dressed in a purple uniform of their kin, the young woman must not be much older than her. Her blonde hair was tangled over her shoulders way to the waist, her skin was marblic and her blue eyes were kind and caring, greatly increasing her feminine side out of her priestly aura.

"I should be the one saying so," Catriel replied. Of course, there were some Arch Bishops—heads of the Church—in Juno as well. Their attitudes were all alike; polite and perfect in manner, symbolizing their obidience to their Maker in every word they chanted.

Catriel, although had constantly made contact with the church, was never very fond of Priests before. Her task was to raise her sword and charge towards the enemy. She was, like many other warriors, always grateful for their support during each campaign. But that was as far as she could bring herself to respect them. After all, their difference in delivering the Lord's judgement was way too different; hers was to take up arms against any imbeciles standing in their path, while theirs was to receive and heal everyone all the same.

And also, talking about Priests, she had encountered some Bishops on some occassions and knew that they held a greater responsibility than those of High Priests. The young blonde, then, must hid more than she showed.

"The name's Lisette Quenell. I am a servant to the Pronteran Church of Rune Midgard," the blonde woman said. "It is a pleasure to be working with you, Miss Catriel." A faint smile bloomed on her lips as soon as she addressed the knightress. "I have heard a lot about you."

"It seems you have, since you already knew my name."

Lisette nodded an affirmative nod. "Lord Douglas has told me about you and your partners," she said, hinting at a certain middle aged Royal Guard of the Fifth Cavalry who had welcomed the Junoans this noon. "It is truly a shame that our preparations took longer than expected that we couldn't pass the Lord's blessing to your partners before their march to the South."

Despite the sudden urge to re-mount her Dragon to be away from the Arch Bishop, Catriel allowed herself a little smile. They were going to be stuck together, possibly for a long time. It was not a wise decision to adhere to her personal distaste of Priests. In a less dry tone, Catriel said, "I believe your prayer shall reach their souls no matter far distance separates us."

The blonde Arch Bishop's smile widened. Her gaze softened into a more tender one. Catriel tried not to clench her fists in frustation. "It seems we can get along just well, Miss Catriel. It is really a soothing feeling to know that a woman of faith like thee shall be in charge of our squads to reach our brothers and sisters in Feyon."

"Then I return the very same words to you, sister."

After that, Catriel glanced at the warriors before her. Two great forces of Pronteran and Junoan knights and priests were standing proud before her sight, ready for battle. Determination could be found shining brightly in their eyes, initiating their burning will to defend their home from any who would take it from them. The sun's orange ray of light that was being reflected on their polished armours only made it looked more shining.

Of course, aside from their will, she could also sense some nervousness that was common to be found in any army before their march to battle. It would soon be a full-scale war, after all. Whether it was for faith or vengence, war would always result in either absolute death or a scarred victory.

Those who die shall be honoured by titles they could never accept, while those who survive would lead a neverending journey until death tightens its grip, Catriel thought. It has always been like this... And if we happened to be the ones losing our lives...

But, no. She had no time to think of losing the lives she had been entrusted with. The men and women before her were counting on her to lead them to victory—how could she possibly betray them by thinking of losing? The battle had yet to begin, she had no place for doubts. Not as long as she still had her legs to carry them home.

After exchanging looks to one another, Catriel and Lisette issued the order to move out at the same time. With one leap, she mounted her black dragon. She knew the longer they waited, the longer the war would end—and as a bonus, the worse their morale may drop.

"Onward," she shouted from her mount. "To Feyon!"