The Trouble With Being a Holy Weapon
Chapter Three : The Quirks of Fate
The first meeting Tyrfing had with Sigurd had been rather traditional. His father, old...Byron, it seemed...had taken the boy to the shrine they housed the sword in, to show him the family heirloom. Sigurd was but a small thing then, a small thing with eyes full of wonder as he stared at what must've been the finest blade he'd ever seen in his entire life. Their last meeting, when Sigurd took him to the fields of Barhara as part of his full dress uniform, wasn't anything Tyrfing would care to remember. It was basically...being roasted by Falaflame, who seemed to have enjoyed the whole ordeal.
The first meeting between Tyrfing and Celice was brief. Sigurd was in a hurry to get his child away to Isaac, and he had more things on his mind than showing his son the family treasure. So, in a sense, he and the boy had their true first meet on the bloody field of Chalphy, seventeen years after.
At first, it seemed there was nothing special about the boy's feeling, except for the definite air of naïve honor that seemed to have been the trademark of Baldo's bloodline.
Then Celice pulled him out of the sheath, and it suddenly came. It was dazzling. Not just the sunlight that he hadn't seen for almost two decades, but it was his light. It was giggling, murmuring, alive, and it definitely isn't Baldo. Narga. Yes, that was it. Even half-inherited as it was, the light was amazing. Tyrfing had never saw the boy's mother, but she was certainly as pure-blooded as the line of kings itself, for the last time he checked there was no noblewoman with significant amounts of Narga in the court.
"So you're Tyrfing," Celice whispered. "My father's sword, my ancestor's sword. The Legendary Holy Blade. I can't believe it."
He looks just like Sigurd, Tyrfing mused in approval. Probably just about as much political wits, but that's as much of a good thing as it's a bad thing.
The boy took a few swipes at the air, as if to test the blade. "This is amazing. It looks like a heavy sword, but it's so light to handle. Thank you for giving this to me, Your Grace."
The Bishop only nodded. "I only did what I was bid, though I must ask you again
not to inquire into his name," he said, almost inaudible to Tyrfing's ears.
Celice saluted, and then sheathed the blade again, to Tyrfing's disappointment.
He just realized how much he missed the outside world.
You'll get plenty more chances to see the outside world, Tyr, Gae Bolg called from above. If we make it, I guarantee that you'll get to see the world a lot.
How so?
Celice's fiancée is an Odo, she explained. The girl loves swordfighting. And Celice's been her sparring partner since who knows when. It's likely that you'll see some use, old friend.
Tyrfing sighed. That's a relief. I'm just afraid they'd just put me on that boring altar again.
Gae Bolg chuckled slightly, before he heard the cry of a dragon as it veered off into the sky.
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Mistortin regained his senses in the foundry, next to the pieces of a rather good-looking light sword. He still remembered breaking into little pieces, which wasn't that good a memory. Judging from its placement on the workman's table, the light sword would be next to go after him, and he was right.
As he adjusted to the low light conditions, Mistortin began to notice two figures leaning on the wall beside the doorway. One appeared to be a golden-haired young man wearing a long black cloak. Aless. The other appeared to be a brunette in cracked white armor. Leaf, and maybe he should have that armor of his fixed too, but it wasn't in Mistortin's position to suggest.
"Your fault," Leaf began to throw an accusing stare at Aless. "If you didn't spend all of your money on Lynn, I don't have to len..."
"...And you didn't spend any money on sweet cousin Nanna, perchance?" Aless
raised an eyebrow. "Those pearl earrings are rather noticeable, if you'll
permit me to say so."
"That's not all my money," Leaf argued, his face seemingly reddening in the dim light.
Mistortin wasn't able to catch Aless's reply, but he was sure it involved a chuckle or two.
Leaf's stare back to his master was near the point of murderous. Grumbling beneath his breath, the boy suddenly turned to his feet, which he seemed to have found a sudden fascination for.
"Come on, Leaf, you know it's true," Aless grinned wickedly. If Mistortin knew his young master---and he should---one poor Lenster boy was in trouble. "And in that case, you can relax. Since he's so much like your foster father already, I don't think Sir Finn would ask for that big a dow..."
Leaf was at the point where he could a tomato a run for its money. "I'm not saving for that purpose! I do have a kingdom to..."
"Better do something about that blush, then."
The Lenster prince shot him another stare. "I'm not sure whether I like you
better now that you're relaxed, or when you're the dreaded Black Knight."
"That hurts."
"Aless."
The man in question chuckled again. "All right, all right, I'll stop. It's your fault, you know, you started it."
One moment passed. Leaf's jaws dropped. "You mean it's my fault now?"
"If it's not, whose fault is it?"
"Yours?"
"Me? I'm innocent, Your Highness. Look into my eyes.my eyes...don't you see the innocence simply shining back at you?" Aless grinned again.
"It's too dark to look into anything."
"That's a pity."
It was Leaf's turn to laugh. "By the Graces of Noba, you sure have changed. I wouldn't have expected to see you joking like normal people when I first saw you. You're always busy thinking, and looking like you'd ram the Mistortin down the throat of whoever bothers you."
"And you haven't? I seem to remember how a certain prince would go to the
parapets for long hours, sometimes looking like he'd rather jump down..."
"I was surveying the situation. High places are the best," Leaf
explained nonchalantly. Mistortin couldn't really see all that well in the
light---not that he was trying to see, of course---but it looked almost as if
the prince's expression had grown somewhat wistful. "I'm changed too, I guess.
Chalk another to Celice," he said, smiling. "Tell me, Aless, what was I like?"
"For one thing, weak," Aless answered promptly. He almost seemed surprised when
there was no reaction from Leaf. "Determined, sad somehow, insecure, like
you're trying to walk up a tall mountain alone. In short, you're lonely."
"I only had one friend before. I had my army, but just one friend, and that's
Asvel," Leaf said. "You don't know him. I left him in Thracia to take care of
things."
Aless nodded. "Nor have I. Chalk another to Celice."
"I want to be back in battle," Leaf sighed. "Doing nothing is worse than risking necks. I've been doing nothing for thirteen years...I was too weak to do anything. And now that I have the strength for it..." Leaf clenched his fists. "Our troops are marching right into a battle with the Emperor who subjugated all of Jugdral, and I'm doing nothing."
The young master was silent for a moment. "I understand the sentiments," he finally said after a time. "I couldn't do anything when my mother died."
"I apologize."
Nothing further was exchanged for the duration that the ironsmith was reforging
the light sword, and it left time to ponder the boys' words. He remembered how
the pain of doing nothing was like, as Elto wouldn't lift a sword to his king
even in the moment of death, and knowing he would die, sent Mistortin to his
son in Lenster. He had known his master would die, and he couldn't do anything.
Mistortin wondered whether Tyrfing would feel the same, when Sigurd died in the
pyres of Falaflame. He wondered whether Fala would think the same, when she saw
Alvis dancing like a puppet in the hands of Manfroy, but was powerless to stop
it. He wondered whether Gae Bolg and Gungnir would feel the same, knowing that
their first masters both longed for reconciliation from each other, but was too
proud to admit it, or that the spears themselves ever noticed how much master
and blade were alike. He wondered whether Valkyrie would feel the same when
Claude died, even as Valkyrie himself had the power to breathe life again unto
the dead. He wondered whether Swaschinka and Thor would feel the same, seeing
their masters falling into darkness. He wondered whether Ichieval felt it when
his mistress forgot him, yet couldn't call out to her. He wondered whether
Narga felt sorrow at seeing the world enveloped in darkness while she was
locked inside her magnificent shrine. He wondered whether Balmung felt the
same, being locked in darkness for generations while the line of her wielders
grew old, fought, and died, being unable to do anything but to feel the passing
and to mourn. He wondered whether that was the fate of the Holy Weapons, imbued
with great power, yet powerless to change anything. He wondered and wondered.
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"Is everyone ready?" Celice called out, turning his horse around to inspect the troops. They were war-weary, having fought all that way from Miletos to Chalphy, but their greatest battle was yet to come. The battle that stood behind the very walls that the boy's forefathers and Tyrfing called home for generations, wielding Falaflame, an old friend from wars long past. Tyrfing had never thought it'd come down to this.
In the wind, he could almost hear her laughing, like she was waiting for the battle to come.
War cries echoed Celice's question, and there was no further need for speeches to lift the morale. Many of those voices were faint to his ears, but some were strong and filled with the swift flow of the Dragon's touch in their bloods.
The boy unsheathed Tyrfing again, lifting him to the sunlight. "To battle, then! For Jugdral!" he shouted. Other shouts echoed him. Some said the names of their countries, some of Jugdral, some the names of friends and families. Faint, but they existed.
The battle then flew swiftly to familiar procedures. Ladders were thrown on the wall, some that managed to reach the parapets fell, some lived and fought with the defenses. Arrows rained down from the sky, and the warriors below duck beneath their shields. Tyrfing drank the blood of any straggling defenses still left outside the fortress. Above everything else, he heard the faint sound of Fala's laughter.
A young blonde girl with no armor whatsoever jumped onto one of the ladders, and somehow managed to escape all the scathing hot sand, water, or arrows threw at her. From the moments he caught within one swing and the next, Tyrfing saw her leaping nimbly onto the parapets, cut down a path to the stairs and leapt down. He didn't see her again, but a few moments after that, the portcullis leading to the fortress slowly opened.
Celice wasted no time in ordering a full charge. The knights raced into the gate, defending against arrows or blades as they came, and through the twisted halls of the city. Chalphy was designed with defenses in mind, and soldiers have made the rooftops prime ground for sniping archers. A bearded man who appeared to be Celice's aide-de-camp appeared to know this----Tyfring couldn't help but feel that he was familiar somehow---and ordered the men to take appropriate covers. What few townsfolk that dared appeared out of their homes cheered them on, almost begging the Young Celice to liberate their home and reclaim what was originally his. Celice didn't appear to have heard a thing. The blood fever had entered him, and there was nothing but one moment and the next.
--------------------
Above the town, Fee and Althena circled, too agitated by the defense's archers to risk joining the battle. There was little talk between them, and Gae Bolg knew it was useless to try comforting her little girl, or to try contacting Tyrfing. They were deep in the blood fever now, she knew. They were weapons, and weapons were made to kill.
Then, from the south, she heard a familiar sound. Mistortin? Mistortin! You're fixed!
Just like new, old friend, the Demon Sword replied cheerily. I don't think Aless's too pleased about it, though. He seems to have noticed the siege.
It's not much of a siege, Gae Bolg corrected him. Patty went in, incapacitated some guards, and opened the portcullis. Then they just charged.
I know, Mistortin said. Wasn't it always like that? And how's Balmung?
The Earth Spear paused. She didn't notice Balmung in the fray, but it was possible to miss anything. I lost track of her, she admitted. But you shouldn't have to worry. Shannan can take care of himself.
With Balmung in his hands, he'd have to be switched with the Johan boy not to, Mistortin suggested in amusement. That's a pity. There are things I'd like to discuss with her.
Mistortin, she called. Even if you find Balmung, you plan to discuss winds, birds and skies in the middle of a grand offensive?
I'm not going to talk winds, birds and skies, the Demon Sword argued. I'm not Gungnir.
Gae Bolg went silent. For a good while.
It was Mistortin who finally spoke first. I'm sorry.
And the dim figures of Leaf and Aless slowly came into view, to the south.
Down below, the rebels' charge had penetrated half the city and Gae Bolg could make out the faint shadow of Celice jumping down from his horse and beginning to cut down soldiers guarding the main keep.
And, maybe she was just imagining things, but she thought she heard the faint sound of laughter. It was full of sorrow.
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To Be Continued
Author's notes : Yes, I do realize Aless and Leaf were rather uptight to the end of the game...but that was a pretty formal ceremony.Celice's first speech as Mr. King. Personally, I'd like to see them being a bit more relaxed with each other, although that may partly stem from the desire to see Cuan/Eltoshan conversion in-game. And the fact that this fic is labeled as humor, but has been somewhat short of it as of lately. (Canonical evidence suggesting their friendship is in Thracia 776, which...well, that's a secret.)
Nanna's pearl earrings...I understand that Leaf actually wanted to buy her a pearl tiara, but he's out of money in this fic. Besides, a tiara would be pretty inconspicuos, and I feel he'd like to save it for the honeymoon. *wicked grin*
The siege scene...well, I didn't want to go into details, since books on actual siege techniques are somewhat lacking here, and though I do have some details I can pull off my head, there's no siege of any sort mentioned in game, so I don't want to do a chapter length battle description. When I was playing, however, I felt like it was somewhat unrealistic that an intelligent guy would place himself on the steps of his fortress while ordering all his troops to go down to fight, so I'm mimicking the Thracia 776 scenarios where you can enter one town, but must fight some more to take the castle and so on. Same with the others out of Seisen, actually.
I'm trying not to go OOC, but it's somewhat difficult when one's writing 'inanimate objects as main characters.' If you have any gripes, feel free to tell me. I accept criticisms. And I won't flame. Unless there's a pretty damn good reason. *grin*
The inspiration to do this again came from the recent rush of Rekka no Ken fics...I felt like my beloved Seisen no Keifu was neglected...
The next chapter would come when it won't kill me.
Finally : I'm sorry, everyone! This came out so bloody late! ;_;
