Jordan, I deliberately changed Vira-Lorr's character a little since she seemed way too cool to have her hands tied like she had in the game. I'm looking forward to exploring her relationship with Dyshana as time goes on, but that's a story for the future. On the topic of relationships, the "organic development" I wrote about last time will certainly be influenced by my own opinions and perceptions of the three women, but since I am, indeed, an organic being, I think that it should be ok, the relationships should still feel natural. Finally, you may rest assured that I will certainly be filling in the gaps left by the end of the generation scenes (or the lack thereof) in the game.
Mr Skrah, thanks for your vote of confidence! You two too November 18th and 19th guests! November 19th, I aged Melchior because I was drunk on creative power. And it seemed to make more sense to me to not have a 20 year old as the secretary of defense as it were.
mega-dark, thanks, although there were a few more brief original scenes than the ones you mentioned. At any rate, I anticipate there being more original stuff as the story moves on and more characters get on board, so hang tight.
Everyone enjoy Chapter 4, looking forward to hearing your thoughts.
Puteaux turned out to be a charming hamlet nestled deep within the Frontier. Sufficiently out of the way, Leonhardt guessed that the refugees they had followed to the town would be safe, at least for a time. The townsfolk had been more than gracious, welcoming the Mimas refugees with open arms, many of them hosting surviving families under their own roofs. Leonhardt's heart warmed to see such altruism; there was hope after all for humanity.
Fyuria had taken her leave of the party to seek out any surviving members of her scouting party, leaving Leonhardt with a strangely empty feeling; he had come to enjoy the woman's company. Their initial misunderstanding clearly in her mind, she had taken pains to distance herself from him, but he somehow found that endearing. On the road to Puteaux, she had proven herself to be an aloof, but trustworthy member of the party whom he was as comfortable with at his back as with Ellis or anyone else.
Walking through Puteaux, he restocked his pack with various supplies and gave a spare gold piece to Ellis to buy herself a snack. As the girl streaked off with Bognine and Dyshana at her heels, Leonhardt felt himself drift into a tavern on the main street. As his eyes adjusted to the dark of the establishment, he saw that Vira-Lorr had already beaten him to a table. The oneltes woman was sitting alone, sipping pensively at her drink.
"Do you already know if I'm going to sit down?" joked Leonhardt as he drew up to her table.
With a disarming wink, Vira-Lorr kicked out a seat for him. "Certainly. You would not have come in if you did not want a drink, no? As for whether you sit or not, courtesy dictates that the lady chooses her company, not the other way around. So yes, I do know."
"Perhaps it was my destiny after all," teased Leonhardt as he took the proffered seat, "Maybe you can tell me what drink I am fated to enjoy the most here."
Vira-Lorr tossed her head back, laughing, "Leo, your words are deeper than you know. Listen carefully, I will share a secret. Although your destiny is set in stone, the path you take and the choices you make to reach it are yours alone. No man nor God can take your free will from you. So although you and I are fated to share a drink, the choice of your poison rests upon your shoulders."
"In that case and since your cup runs empty… two honey meads please," he indicated to a passing waitress. Then, noticing a familiar silhouette at the tavern entrance, "Make that three."
The barmaid nodded and left to fetch their drinks while Fyuria snaked through the bar's patrons, making a beeline for Vira-Lorr's table. Despite her lithe build, she was finding it difficult to make progress owing to being suddenly surrounded by half the bar's very male patronage. Leonhardt's face hardened as he noticed several wandering sets of eyes and hands in the throng surrounding Fyuria and he stood, setting his hand on the pommel of his blade. A sudden shriek from one of the men caused the crowd to collectively jump back, affording Fyuria a suddenly wide berth. The syrium had casually broken the finger of a hand that had strayed too close to her body. As she continued on, unhurriedly, the gentle hum of the bar returned and its patrons turned back to their drinks, clearly satisfied that Fyuria was uninterested.
"My kind of woman," muttered Leonhardt, sitting down once again.
Vira-Lorr merely smiled as Fyuria took a seat and the drinks arrived.
The two women and Leonhardt looked at one another, each unsure how to break the silence. Fyuria finally cleared her throat and said, "I… I ran into Dyshana outside in the marketplace. She wishes me to continue traveling with you."
"I sense your inner conflict on the matter," remarked Vira-Lorr.
"Your cause is noble, I have no doubt that Leonhardt truly seeks redemption and absolution for his part as a Gridamas general," replied Fyuria, skirting the issue.
"Though his battle against Gridamas is a personal one, it is part of his greater destiny to fight the dark forces that threaten to consume your lands," came a voice. Dyshana had appeared, as though from thin air, settling in the final empty chair at the table. Many of the bar patrons continued to give Leonhardt's table furtive and envious looks from the corners of their eyes.
"So you say. I have long hated Gridamas for what they have done to my people, but even I have a hard time believing they would consort with the beasts of darkness," said Fyuria with skepticism.
"Believe what you will," said Leonhardt, staring into his mead, "But before I had successfully rescued Ellis and escaped from my own men, I fought a man, nay, an entity with a strange power beyond anything I have ever felt. He was an agent of the dark forces, I am sure, working with the head of the Gridamas military, Melchior Klavis."
Fyuria considered his words, finally shaking her head, "I know not of forces of darkness, but your fight against Gridamas is enough for me. Leonhardt, I yet owe you a debt for my life. As my men are nowhere to be found, and I, likely presumed dead, I would travel with you for a time longer."
"Then call me Leo," answered Leonhardt with a smile. The three toasted, draining their mead as Dyshana looked on and nodded with approval.
Leaving the tavern, Leonhardt and the women found Borgnine and Ellis, the latter's pockets bulging with sweets. It had been a long day and Leonhardt was looking forward to a night spent in an actual bed, rather than in camp. As the troupe headed towards the inn, they were stopped by a messenger wearing a green cloak.
"Leonhardt! At last, we meet. My name is Isor, from Dodone. I was charged to deliver this message to you," said the man.
Leonhardt took the letter, "Thank you, friend. You look weary."
"You speak true. I nearly killed my horse riding here; Teonor and Yulia said it was imperative for you to receive the letter as soon as humanly possible," said the haggard man.
"Then take this for your trouble; it should be enough to buy a hot meal and a bed for you and care for your mount," said Leonhardt, handing the man a small pouch of coin.
Leonhardt broke the letter's wax seal and read its contents to the group in the light of the setting sun.
"Zelzagun Fortress?! The syrium mean to march on one of the most heavily defended Gridamas holds with only 5,000 untrained men?" asked Leonhardt, shocked.
"They are hardly untrained! Many of them have been fighting Gridamas incursions since they were young! They will also be joined by others from the Frontier that fight for our independence" said Fyuria defensively, though what little color she normally had had drained from her face.
"They will be slaughtered if they are encircled, just like the resistance army Gridamas defeated south of Dodone," said Vira-Lorr gravely.
Leonhardt winced, "So this is Gridamas's plan. They advance across the entire frontier, appearing as though they are stretched to the breaking point. Once the syrium have been lured from their forests, Gridamas means to spring their trap and annihilate any resistance. This leader of theirs, his men may have confidence in him as the letter says, but he is too hotheaded and ambitious for his own cause. His numbers will be of no avail against Zelzagun's defenses and once the rest of Gridamas's armies tighten their lines, there will be no escape."
"Then we must do as Grandfather says!" exclaimed Ellis, "We need to find the syrium and stop their attack on Zelzagun!"
"Zerva… what are you thinking" asked Fyuria under her breath, visibly shaken by the news in the letter.
Leonhardt did not blame her, 5,000 of her kinsmen marched to certain death. "Zerva?"
"The leader of the Syrium Army, he is my brother and chief of our tribe," Fyuria said.
"Then with you at our side, we may have a chance of gaining audience with him. Perhaps it was your fate to journey with us after all," mused Leonhardt. "We must make haste. Perhaps we may yet be in time to stop their assault. Night is upon us, we must rest while we can. We make for Zelzagun Fortress at daybreak."
Leonhardt and the others arrived at Zelzagun, taking in the bleak landscape and the inhospitable field of packed dirt that surrounded the fortress. Built to withstand simultaneous attack from all sides and with the intention of holding up any army advancing into Gridamas until reinforcements arrived, the fortress was an intimidating marvel of engineering.
"We are too late, the battle has been joined!" cried Fyuria, dismayed.
"It seems the engagement has only just begun, we may make a difference yet if we can convince Zerva to withdraw his forces," said Leonhardt, steadying her.
Below its massive walls, Zelzagun's garrison clashed with the syrium besieging it. The sounds of battle rang in Leonhardt's ears and the stench of death descended upon the field like a noxious fog. As they watched, the Gridamas garrison withdrew to their fortress, pursued by the syrium. At the head of the syrium assault, a fierce man wielding a massive scythe as long as his body charged forward, leading his men and cutting down any Gridamas soldiers that stood their ground against him. Besides the man, a human mercenary wielding a firearm in one hand and magic spells with the other dispensed death with extreme prejudice, carving his own swath through the retreating Gridamas lines. Pushing forward, the two led the syrium army past the first of Zelzagun's massive gates.
"Fools, the garrison is feinting retreat!" exclaimed Leonhardt, "The syrium will be trapped; Zelzagun has more than one gate to the keep. As soon as enough men enter, they will close the gates, cutting off any escape."
Fyuria leapt forward, drawing her daggers and making to sprint towards the fighting, but Leonhardt, just barely, managed to grasp her arm, holding her back.
"How dare you lay hands on me! Release me at once! That syrium with the scythe is my brother, I must go to his side!" demanded Fyuria.
"We will all go, but you must calm yourself," said Leonhardt in a steady voice, "Running off by yourself will only put you in danger. If we go and fight together, we will have a much better chance of reaching Zerva alive."
"I don't need your protection, I can protect myself!" hissed Fyuria, wrenching her arm from Leonhardt's grasp. "What right do you have, imposing yourself on me like this? Were it not for Dyshana, you would not even have been able to protect anybody, not even Ellis, so don't you dare talk to me as though I need your shelter!"
"Fyuria, I know you find it difficult to trust me, but I swear I will take you to Zerva. I may not have been able to save anyone without the blessing of the Gods, but now that I have it, I beg you to let me lend you my strength. If we go together, we can yet save your people from the same defeat the Frontiersmen suffered."
Fyuria tossed her hair furiously, but took a deep breath and nodded all the same. "…Very well, but I will see that you keep your promise."
Leonhardt nodded back. "Of course. Everyone, stay together and keep your eyes open!" he said, drawing his blade and leading the group into the dust and heat of the battlefield.
Dust swirled around his boots as he ran towards the gatehouse, the others in tow. Many of the men remaining outside the gate were either wounded or part of the syrium reserve, watching out for attacks on their rear. Though a few syrium turned towards them in alarm, none of them attacked, allowing them to pass unmolested at the sight of Fyuria.
As they passed through the gatehouse, Leonhardt felt a moment of disquiet. If the guards lowered the gate before they convinced Zerva to marshal his men to retreat, they would all be trapped inside. In the courtyard, the fighting was intense as Leonhardt had seldom seen. The syrium fought with the anger and fury of a people long suppressed. As all syrium had a natural affinity for magic, Leonhardt saw scores of fallen Gridamas soldiers, their armor scarred by the magic elements. For all their fury, however, more soldiers from the garrison poured out into the courtyard, closing the gap and felling the syrium by sheer numbers.
Slashing and thrusting with his sword, Leonhardt led the group past a knot of Gridamas soldiers trying to bar their progress, running their leader through the midsection. To his side, Fyuria was again a blinding blur of motion as she dance and weaved past a soldier's long sword to sink her dagger through the man's chest. Both Vira-Lorr and Ellis concentrated on casting healing spells and urging the wounded to flee, angels on the battlefield for the fallen syrium. With a bellow, Borgnine rushed into the remaining defenders, who had formed up into a phalanx formation. Spears splintered and swords shattered against his rock hard skin as he smashed bodily into the formation. The men scattered in panic as Borgnine lashed out with his massive fists, caving in shields, armor, and men alike with his unstoppable blows.
Finally, the path to Zerva was clear. The syrium chieftain and his mercenary lieutenant had been surrounded by several Gridamas soldiers, but showed no fear.
"Gridamas swine! I have killed more of you than I can count, yet you continue to throw your bodies at me. Come then, I shall spill your blood until death comes to claim me!" he hissed, swinging his scythe in a lethal arc. The man standing next to him looked less enthusiastic at the prospect of death, but cocked his gun and held it up with a steady hand all the same.
"Zerva! Brother!" cried Fyuria, calling the attention of Zerva, the mercenary, and the Gridamas soldiers to her arrival with Leonhardt and the rest.
"F-Fyuria?! Is that you?!" asked Zerva, shock in his eyes.
Recognition also flashed in the Gridamas soldiers' eyes, "G-Golden Leo!" one of them exclaimed, fear etched across his face. Literally dropping their weapons, the soldiers fled the sight of Leonhardt's golden blade.
"What trickery is this?!" demanded Zerva, "Dishonorable scum, taking a woman hostage! I shall have your head, human!"
"Golden Leo, hmm?" mused the mercenary, "I was not expecting such a boon, but perhaps it is my good fortune the Gridamas general shows his face on the field. I confess this is not the revenge I imagined, but it will be sweet all the same to take your life!"
"No, Zerva, it is not what you think. Leonhardt is-" began Fyuria, but Leonhardt never heard what she thought he was as the two men launched their assault. Dodging both bullets from the mercenary's gun and Zerva's massive scythe, Leonhardt ducked and rolled instinctively. Both men were dangerous from a distance, but Leonhardt suspected their advantage would diminish the closer he got to them. Taking advantage of their momentary distraction as Vira-Lorr and Ellis staggered them with impulse spells, Leonhardt raced towards the mercenary, dodging two badly aimed shots and deflecting another with the flat of his blade. Leaping into the air, he brought his sword down on the man, narrowly missing his gun arm. Relentlessly, Leonhardt drove forward, his blade a blur of motion, refusing to allow the mercenary the opportunity to open the gap or reload his weapon. Any ordinary man would have fallen to Leonhardt's onslaught long ago, but the mercenary dodged and weaved with equal speed to Leonhardt's own. Using the barrel of his gun, the mercenary dueled as effectively as if he had a sword, parrying Leonhardt's blade and firing off an endless stream of magical spells, forcing Leonhardt to go on the defensive more than once. What power the man drew his strength from Leonhardt had no idea, but it was clear that the mercenary had found divine blessing as Leonhardt had.
From the corners of his eyes, Leonhardt could see that nearly the entire courtyard had been filled with syrium, it would not be long before the Gridamas garrison sprung their trap. Desperate to end the duel, Leonhardt switched to an aggressive overhead stance, raining blow after blow down on the mercenary. Forcing the mercenary to take step after step back, Leonhardt finally had the advantage. Bulling forward, he sent the man sprawling to the ground, kicking the pistol out of his hand and pointing his blade at the man's throat.
Behind him, Zerva was a whirlwind of lethality, his scythe's blade shining wickedly through the dust of the battle. Dodging spells from both Ellis and Vira-Lorr, the syrium raced towards Leonhardt with singular purpose in his eyes. Snarling as he conjured flames from his hand, Zerva let lose with a blistering stream of magic fire. As the flames raced towards him, Leonhardt knew there was not enough time to disengage and braced himself for the worse. Sensing his distraction, the mercenary rolled out from under his blade and fled the battle, leaving Leonhardt to his fate. From his left, however, Fyuria suddenly dodged into sight. Leaping in the path of the fire, Fyuria let loose with her own magic, radiating holy magic from her fingertips. The two spells met barely half a foot from her fingers, ricocheting off one another and slamming into the fortress' battlements, sending mortar and men flying.
"Brother! Stop this fighting at once, he is not our enemy! Look around you! If we do not stop and leave now, everyone will die, just like before!" shouted Fyuria with tears in her eyes as the flames cleared.
"Fyuria…" said Zerva, the fight leaving his eyes after seeing how his sister had risked her life for Leonhardt.
"Zerva, I presume?" said Leonhardt. "Our time is short, you must gather your men and retreat before they are all trapped here. The commanding officer of Zelzagun means to trap some of you with the gates and to encircle the rest of your host. As we speak, other battalions undoubtedly march at double time to cut off any retreat your men may have. Marshal what forces you have left in this courtyard and have them guard the rear as the rest of your army withdraws from this fortress."
Zerva's eyes narrowed as he scowled, "Do not think I trust you yet, human."
"Of course not," said Leonhardt nodding, "You do this for Fyuria, yes? It makes no difference to me, so long as your men reach safety in time."
Zerva said nothing, only looking towards Fyuria. "Brother, do as he says. He has not led me false yet," she urged.
"…Very well," agreed Zerva, finally admitting that his men would likely fail to take Zelzagun even if they stayed. Pulling a horn from his belt, Zerva blew three mournful notes, signaling for his forces to retreat.
Confusion and panic ensued as the syrium began to stream through the gates of Zelzagun in reverse, disengaging from the Gridamas garrison, still firing spells from their hands as they backed up. Leonhardt looked up to the battlements and saw men in Gridamas uniforms running, shouting to each other. Although the syrium were now retreating in earnest, the garrison still hoped to trap a significant number within the walls of Zelzagun. "More time... we need more time," muttered Leonhardt to himself. There was no other way, he would need to prevent the garrison from lowering the gates at the gatehouse. "Zerva, Fyuria your men need you. Get to the gates, organize a rear guard and see the rest of your men out."
Zerva nodded and took off immediately while Fyuria opened her mouth, conflict in her eyes. Before she had the chance to utter her words, however, a gong rang in the distance, undoubtedly signaling to the gatehouse crew that the garrison commander had ordered the gates closed. With the shadow of regret behind her eyes, Fyuria turned and ran after her brother wordlessly.
Turning to his remaining comrades, Leonhardt spoke quickly in a tone that brooked no argument. "Vira-Lorr, Dyshana, take Ellis, keep her safe, get her out of here! Borgnine, I need you below the gates. Should they close, you must hold them up as best you can, whatever time you can buy us may make the difference."
"No! We won't leave you, Leo!" shouted Ellis, planting her feet firmly.
"There is no time for argument! You must trust me, Ellis. Go now, I shall follow once you are all safe, just like before," urged Leonhardt.
"Child, he is right, we must leave now. Have Borgnine do as Leo said," ordered Dyshana setting a hand on Ellis's shoulder. "Do not worry, you shall be able to see Leonhardt even outside the walls."
Ellis nodded, "Very well, but I won't leave Zelzagun without Leo. Borgnine, do as Leo commanded."
The four of them disappeared after Zerva and Fyuria into the dust and chaos, leaving Leonhardt alone. Taking a deep breath, Leonhardt raced to the wall. The gate mechanism would undoubtedly be controlled at the top of the gatehouse, but to fight his way past the dozen men inside who protected the gate mechanism would take too long to make any difference to the syrium still in the courtyard. At the wall, Leonhardt spied a crane with a load of stone in its sling. Seizing the anchoring rope with his free arm, he swung his blade at the rope's base, cutting the stone load free. As the crane's load plummeted to the ground, Leonhardt felt his body jerked upwards with the rope, nearly wrenching his arm from his socket. Refusing to let go, Leonhardt gritted his teeth against the sudden wind of acceleration and allowed himself to be hurled upwards to top of the wall.
Climbing over, Leonhardt spotted the door to the top of the gatehouse and rushed to it. Kicking it down with a thunderous crash, Leonhardt quickly assessed the situation. The syrium had taken the gatehouse at the start of the battle, but had been overwhelmed by the dozens of Gridamas soldiers who had responded to the garrison commander's signal. Both syrium and human bodies laid strewn in all manners of death, but the humans had what they came for. Time slowed to a crawl for Leonhardt as he saw a Gridamas sergeant reach out a gloved hand to pull the gate release lever.
Feeling a burning energy build inside, Leonhardt launched himself forward, sprinting past two surprised sentries and cleaving the sergeant's outstretched arm just as the man's fingers tightened around the lever. A lethal blur, Leonhardt fought as he never had, sliding his blade into another man before the Gridamas soldiers could even react. Swords clashing in a nightmare tableau of sparks and lethal edges, Leonhardt dueled three men simultaneously, defending the lever from any attempt to pull it. Panting, Leonhardt knew he was reaching the end of his endurance, but refused to withdraw; each second he kept the gate open was another dozen men past the trap that Gridamas had set.
Without warning, Leonhardt felt something slam into his shoulder, throwing him completely off balance. Looking down in surprise, he saw the shaft of a quivering arrow that had buried itself into him. A rivulet of red trickled from the wound accompanied by a blossom of intense pain that sent him gasping for air. Time slowed once again as another arrow flew true, slamming into Leonhardt's chest, missing his heart by an inch. Feeling the force of the arrow radiating through his body, Leonhardt fell back, pitching out of the gatehouse window and plummeting to the ground below. The last he saw of the gatehouse, the remaining soldiers inside crowded around the lever mechanism; he did not remember hitting the ground.
Outside the walls, the syrium were in full retreat, even the rear guard filing out of the gate now. Biting her nails, Ellis watched the gate nervously, waiting for Leonhardt's white coat to appear from beyond Zelzagun's walls at any moment.
Eyes wide, Ellis watched in horror as the massive gates of Zelzagun suddenly plummeted to the ground, grinding to a halt as it met Borgnine's resistance. The demi-god gritted his teeth and bellowed against the sudden, incredible load, but held fast, allowing the terrified syrium rear guard to continue their flight.
"Go, go!" screamed a familiar voice, "Stop fighting and get out!" Fyuria, covered in dust with blood weeping from a wound to her shoulder stood with the last of the rear guard, unwilling to retreat before all her men had managed to do the same. The syrium broke ranks, making for the gate. For a moment, Ellis's heart lifted, they were all going to make it!
Suddenly, to her right, Dyshana gave a small gasp, clutching at her chest. "LEO!" screamed Ellis, realizing the significance of Dyshana's pain. Looking up, she saw Leonhardt's emerge, not from the gate, but from the gatehouse's upper window, two arrows plunged into his torso. "NO!" she screamed as Leonhardt's wounded body fell to the earth below. "SAVE HIM!"
Hearing his master's shriek, Borgnine let fall the gate without a moment's hesitation and leapt catching Leonhardt and cradling him to his body to break the fall. Together the two tumbled into the ground in a plum of dust. Getting to his feet, Borgnine's eyes met those of Fyuria's and several dozen men that remained of the syrium rear guard who remained trapped inside Zelzagun's walls. The men's eyes betrayed their horror as they gazed upon the freedom that cruelly tempted them from beyond the gate's bars. Fyuria's eyes, however, fell on Leonhardt's limp body and the two arrows that sunk into his chest.
"No…" she whispered, eyes wide, as Borgnine bowed his head and ran back to Ellis, sensing her call.
Cradling Leonhardt's body from any arrows that flew their way, Borgnine charged after the fleeing syrium, his master's connection guiding him forward. Behind him, the sounds of the remaining syrium's last stand fell silent, one blade at a time.