Chapter 5: Drogo the Demon
Gamesage is the first out the gate. He witnesses a battle in full swing, with a group of Adventurers hopelessly outnumbered backed against the cliffs while mobs of Beastmen funnel past them unencumbered. He draws his scythe and charges, hacking and slashing through the battalions.
Zazarg is next, followed by his men, including a young soldier. They press towards the stranded Adventurers. Suddenly something catches the Praefectus' eye, and he turns to look. The Galkan Dark Knight from the city has stripped a Quadav he just felled of its great sword and in a single stroke, spins around and cleaves the neck of another then stabs a third before leaving the blade in its corpse and returning to his scythe. Zazarg quickly regains his composer, but finds himself staring at him periodically.
The soldiers finally break the line and charge to rescue the Adventurers. The young soldier, maybe eighteen at most, joins the fray and discovers the party is composed entirely of Elvaans, their sharp ears protruding from their helms.
"You're a greenhorn aren't you?" one asks parrying a strike aimed at his head.
"Now's not the time for critiquing technique, Elvaan!" he shouts returning the parry with his own.
The two join their backs together and lend their shields to protect the other. He notices the voice of his new companion is high pitched, but attributes it to youth because of his height.
A towering Elvaan in Adaman Armor steals the show on the battlefield, a tall feat in the company of legends. The soldier looks up at him just in time to see a Quadav club strike him from behind. His helmet rolls and stops at his feet.
He parries one last time and runs over to the bleeding knight. His partner leans back expecting to be supported but only stubbles backwards and falls on his behind. A sword swings just missing his head as he tumbles.
The soldier reaches the unconscious Paladin, "Sir Knight? Sir Knight? Can you hear me?" He carefully turns him over and sees blood red smeared around his mouth. He takes his gloves off to feel for breath. Suddenly he yanks his hand away, feeling the "blood" in his fingers… lipstick.
"Ami! Ami!" his partner comes sliding into them like a runner to a base. He takes off his helmet… pigtails. "Ami! Ami! Open your eyes! Ami!" she cries.
"You're a girl!" he shouts in disbelief.
Another knight jumps over the three of them and flying kicks a Quadav that had his sword raised behind them.
"Well aren't you being observant…" a voice whispers.
"Ami!"
She smiles faintly, crooked to the left. She moans as her tries to move.
"Ami don't struggle just stay down for now 'til we get a proper mage."
"…We are all women here… in the Atropos Sisterhood."
Dark ominous shadows begin to circle on the ground.
"Oh no, have the buzzards come already? That's bad luck," laments the soldier.
Suddenly a barrage of arrows comes out of nowhere leaving wounded Beastmen in its wake.
They descend.
Wyverns, by the dozens. But their silhouettes don't look right in the late morning sun.
The wiz of an arrow and the thud of metal come from behind them. They turn to witness a Quadav fall on his back with an arrow piercing his chest.
"You two need to watch yourselves!" shouts the unmistakable voice of a Taru from above.
They look and see a wyvern circling above. It banks hard right revealing a Taru with a crossbow.
He fires again then places his hand to his ear, "Man down! Man down! We need a raise and medical attention, mark my location on the map. Someone in Adaman Armor."
"Taru Rangers on dragon back, I've never even heard of such a thing," says the soldier gobsmacked.
The knight in pigtails claps her hands in prayer, "And he rode upon a pale horse…" she whispers.
"A pale horse? You mean Odin, Lord of the Dead?" he asks.
"If only our enemies where so lucky…" she weeps with joy.
Boulders begin to crash from the cliff face.
"Well it's about time," says the Dark Knight.
Zazarg, who has found himself back to back to the mysterious Galka, looks up at the cliffs. At the top of Zegham Hill, he sees a row of people of all races in weird looking blue and green mages garb, alternating with brown men even too burly to be Galkas throwing rocks down the cliffs. As the wyverns twist and turn like dog-fighting fighter jets above, high-pitched rilled cries like a straining steam engine pierce the ears.
Over the hill they come like a flooding waterfall, charging Adventurers sliding down the steep face, the Mithras among them screaming their war cries.
A rilling Dragoon in purple and silver armor catches a glimpse of the soldier and the two women in his landing spot with seconds to spare. At the last moment, he does a summersault off the cliff over their ducking heads and High Jumps a Quadav, jamming his pike down through the gap between its collar bone and its shell. A hole the size of half-dollar.
As it falls backwards, its companions rush in thinking he's now unarmed. The soldier reaches for his sword to defend the Dragoon only to use it to shield his face from the spray of blood. As he peeks over his arm, he sees him holding a bloody great katana.
Watching him rill, chirp and yell, the soldier decides that "he" is one of the Mithras. After a few more kills, she runs over.
"You're missing your tail!" he screams pointing.
She takes of her helm revealing a blonde ponytail. "I never had one to begin with," she says ruffling though her bag.
"I know you!" the Elvaan says, "You're the Demolitionist's wife, Lady…"
"The only blood that matter's to an Adventurer is the blood on our blades," she interrupts. The female Hume Dragoon pulls out an earring and a flask of liquid.
The Elvaan stops her when she tries to put the earing on Ami, "Wait, where is the Seraphim?"
"She's in surgery, you're gonna have to settle for a reraise earring and an elixir for your sister," the Dragoon tells her looking in her eyes.
She nods and the treatment of Ami's wounds begins.
As Ami is sat up against the cliff coughing from getting some of the elixir in her lungs from it being poured down her throat, the Dragoon turns to the soldier, "You've done well, please return to the field. We have this."
He nods and grabs his sword and shield.
A few minutes later he can hear the Dragoon shouting behind him somewhere, "Come on ladies! Let's show our lazy husbands what their barefoot wives can do with our kitchen knives!"
The soldiers and Adventurers manage to stall the Beastmen assault but the pressure from the weight of the advance is intense.
"We need to stop them at the ramp!" Zazarg shouts over the chaos.
The Dark Knight leaves his side unexpectedly and runs towards some crates near the tower. He takes a long rope and ties it around his legs and middle like a belaying harness.
"Are you planning to be lowered down? That rope isn't long enough and it leaves you and the lowerer completely exposed! Cut the cord and return to the fight."
"I know what I'm doing!" he shouts. The Dark Knight then ties it to one of the trees in the cliff face.
"What are you doing?" Praefectus Zazarg shouts, "I gave you a direct order!"
The Galka walks the rope taut then takes off full speed parallel to the precipice. Then he turns and jumps over the side.
He swings full force into the ramp, knocking Quadavs off as he goes. He swings his scythe slicing the rope and crushing a helm in a single stroke. A Quadav raises his sword from behind. The Dark Knight turns and throws him from the ramp. He turns his second stolen sword broadside and uses it to bulldoze the Beastmen into the valley below.
"Someone help him!" Zazarg screams.
"I got it!" A red-clad Ninja runs towards the edge and jumps off, "Time to end with a bang! Mijin Gakure!" He detonates right as he lands on top of the Quadavs below, laughing joyously at his last act. Many Quadavs caught completely off guard tumble backwards pushing others off with them.
Many of the soldiers who are near enough to witness it are also stunned. The young soldier hits his knees, "…That man…just killed himself…laughing?"
He hears the sound of crunching bones directly behind him and looks to see Praefectus Zazarg pulling his adargas from the eye slot of a Quadav's helm.
Zazarg turns and looks down at the kneeling young man, "Pay attention soldier!" and runs off.
Down in the valley, the soldier's sword becomes jammed in the armor of a wounded Quadav. Another runs up behind him screaming to avenge his friend. He ducks screaming for his mommy. But the finishing blow never comes. He looks up and sees the Quadav screaming in pain grasping at his helm. Next he sees it fall backwards blood gusting from its throat. Almost as a mirage, he catches sight of his savior pulling his Nagi from its neck.
The red ninja then pulls the Beastman's helm off revealing two shurikens wedge neatly through the eye slots. He kneels down trying to pull them from its face.
"It's you!" the soldier screams in disbelief.
"Well that's a nice thank you for saving your ass," chuckles the red Ninja.
The soldier just points and stutters, "…You…You…You fell… of the cliff…and blew you…self up…You fell of the cliff and blew yourself up. YOU FELL OFF A CLIFF AND BLEW UP!"
The Ninja stands unable to free the last shuriken, "Yep I did," he point's his Nagi in his face, "And it was fun too. You should try it sometime. Dying is a thrilling experience. Nothing like it. Wish I could do it more than every two hours!" He laughs so hard he trembles with glee.
The soldier just stares pale-faced, unable to respond when he hears a glutting sound of death behind him.
The red Ninja grimaces, "Man! Sage you were a little brutal there."
The frightened soldier turns around and his expression turns to pure terror. A Quadav stands behind them dead or nearly so, but not under its own power. The Dark Knight stands there with his scythe, but only the shaft is visible. The entirety of the blade is inside of the gargling Beastman.
He twirls the blade once more for good measure severing the heart and lungs. He then allows it to fall on its back. He puts his foot on the breastplate and gives a good pull, yanking the blade from between its cup and its leg armor— the entry point.
"Just because you don't have any doesn't mean you can do stuff like that you cold hearted brute!" the red Ninja screams. The Dark Knight laughs maniacally.
An argument ensues about the ethics of crotch shots in the middle of the chaotic battlefield. The bodies begin to pile up between them almost as an afterthought as the poor soldier kneels on the ground trapped between them. Finally he mentally cannot take it anymore.
"You Adventurers are all crazy!" he screams at the top of his lungs…
Zazarg slams his beer mug onto the table laughing in his usual way. The soldier stands up from his table and points screaming, "That's not funny! It was evil!" Some others in the mess hall start to laugh as well. The young soldier looks around trying to find sympathy, but gets little.
"You should be more respectful to the Praefectus recruit," says an offended officer.
"Oh leave the grunt alone," Zazarg orders chuckling, "I can guarantee you were just as squeamish your first time too."
"I'm no grunt, I volunteered before the war even started," the young soldier says proudly.
"Oh really?" Zazarg waves him over, "Come over here then and I'll buy you a beer!"
"No thank you. I don't drink sir," he says more formally.
"What you religious or something?" mocks another soldier.
The young soldier becomes furious, "No! My father was an alcoholic! The coward crawled into a bottle and died! He shamed our family and I will never dishonor our name like that ever!"
Zazarg turns unusually serious, "Then your family has a military tradition?"
"Yes sir! We have served with distinction for four generations."
"And your father served as well?"
"Yes he did until he turned to the bottle and was dishonorably discharged."
Zazarg stares at his mug thoughtfully, "I've been a soldier for a long time young man…And I have some advice for you…"
"Yes sir Praefectus," he salutes.
"Those who love the military as a lifestyle as I do serve with honor. And in spite all the jokes, many grunts find themselves if not for country but to save the lives of their friends. But in my experience, men and women who think they have something to prove, whether to themselves or to others, are the ones that get killed and get others killed. Leaving the military is no longer an option in this time of war, so I suggest you rethink your motivations."
Zazarg takes a sip of his beer as the young soldier storms out red faced.
"That was a little much don't you think?" the bartender asks.
"That young man needed to hear that. I can't keep saving him. He needs to pick it up or he's going to die."
"And I thought you couldn't get any worse," comes a high voice. An Elvaan takes of his helmet, revealing pigtails. She walks up to him and attempts to throw her drink in his face, but is stopped by the military police in the room.
"Let her go!" orders Zazarg, "As you Humes would say, 'Hell as no fury like a woman'."
In their hesitation, she shakes loose and storms out.
But it doesn't take long for Zazarg's laughing to break the following silence. He beats his hand on the table. "If I didn't know better…IF I DIDN'T KNOW BETTER! Ha HA!"
"If you didn't know what Praefectus?" another soldier asks.
"That Dark Knight! I'm glad I got it out of my system before we left the city otherwise I'd have been in trouble!"
"What about him?" asks another soldier.
He turns and sees that it is another young man, "Oh that's right!" He turns to see the other young faces in the mess hall, "All of you were born after…" he raises his hands to add emphasis to the name, "… 'The Demon's career ended!"
"'The Demon sir?" asks one of his men.
"The Demon's long since been reborn, but in his day he was a Dark Knight's Dark Knight. No one could ever touch him. Today everyone talks about Zeid, Five Moons, and the Darksteel Hurricane, but I'd bet on him against the three of them at once!"
"The Darksteel Hurricane? You mean that serial killer!"
The local conversation has now caught the attention of the entire mess hall.
"Yes I do, if the Demon had not already been reborn by then he would have been a suspect in that massacre. When things like that happened he was always on the short list of usual suspects but he never crossed that line to the surprise of almost everyone."
The other soldiers begin questioning him like a college professor giving a lecture.
"Why was he always on the short list?"
"He was brutish and calling him short-tempered was an understatement. He was completely unforgiving and cruel. That crotch shot with is scythe was one of his signature moves, but even if he didn't use it you could always tell a man he killed. He claimed that he came up with it to get around there thick shells but he thoroughly enjoyed castration. The San d'Orians where rather horrified at the disfiguring of their dead in the last war between us."
Many of the Humes grimace in horror and move their hands underneath the tables.
"How come we've never heard of him?" asks another.
"You may have actually. We gave him the nickname 'the Demon' as a compromise, because the name you Humes gave him was so offensive."
"What was the name?"
Zazarg takes a sip of his beer. "It was Promathia's Bane."
"Promathia? As in old Drogo from Port?" an older soldier chuckles.
"He was never one for authority," Zazarg continues, "If anything his superiors were more terrified of him than most because they knew him so well. If he had been more agreeable he may have made it into command. He was extremely smart, psychotic but smart. They decided to end his career and buried him on guard duty in Port."
The soldier smiles, "I knew him! He always drank with the sailors. My brother dragged me to a bar once to hear him. He would always sing when he was drunk. He had a wonderful voice."
"I heard he made a life for himself there but never knew much about it. Why don't you continue the story," asks Zazarg.
The old soldier stands up to address the room, "He was cruel and unforgiving, like the Praefectus said. But his personality fit perfectly with the men who worked the dock and was well liked. Usually soldiers and guards aren't very welcome but he was one of the few that were trusted. The darker the hole the more he comfortable he was." He starts to laugh, "The easiest way to tell a smuggler was asking his opinion of him. They were the only people who didn't like him!"
Most of the soldiers just stare at him in disbelief. He glances around the room. The expression is shared with almost everyone. "Look, don't look at me like I'm crazy. Ask Zelig when you see him. He was always with him, ever since he was young."
"Zelig! You must be joking how could a man like him be friends with someone nicknamed Promathia?"
"He's right," Zazarg says, "Even I know that much."
Everyone turns to the Praefectus in total shock.
"Zelig was always with Drogo. He and that one Hume boy where glued to him like shadows. And when that Hume grew up, his children where just as bad. They were always in trouble and getting in the way."
"We were never that bad."
Everyone turns to see Zelig standing in the door.
"We had our adventures that's true, but Drogo never minded us."
"Then it's true? That you were friends with this man!" a soldier asks.
Zelig clinches his fists. His eyes hide a muted rage. "Yes I was," Zelig answers sternly. "I've known him since I was nineteen."
"How did you meet him?" another asks.
Zelig can see his total disbelief shared with his Hume comrades. "I stole when I was a boy. Drogo caught me running away rather quickly."
"Then why are you still breathing!" several say at once.
"The family I stole from struck a deal. Instead of jail, I was to work for the family as a punishment. Drogo wasn't happy about him being assigned my monitor at first, but I grew on him." He stutters as he fights the tears, "He always called me his little thief," he whimpers barely audible.
"Is that really how you met Old Jacob?" the old soldier asks chuckling. Zelig smiles and nods, "Yes sir!" he salutes.
"At ease Private," he says walking up.
Zazarg laughs, "Old Jacob? Is that little runt of a sidekick of yours still alive?"
Zelig turns and salutes again, "Yes sir!"
Zazarg turns back to the bar and starts beating the table laughing.
The old soldier walks up and they shake hands, "We missed you on the battlefield today. Where were you?"
"I transported a Mithra who suffered an asthma attack on patrol to the Infirmary and ended up assisting the efforts there most of the afternoon. How's your arthritis holding up?"
He lets go of the handshake and rubs his hand, "Hurts like hell, but a Quadav's blade will hurt even worse I guess."
Zelig puts his hand on his shoulder, "This will all end soon enough. Just hold on a little longer."
Suddenly Zelig's stomach growls even louder than Zazarg's laughter catching everyone off guard.
"Let's give you something to eat," the old soldier says slapping his back.
Zelig gets some stares as he swallows his food whole without chewing. He gets some laughs from his small circle of friends.
"Man, you really are hungry," the old soldier says.
Zelig swallows just enough so he can be understood, "I haven't eaten since breakfast."
Another friend mocks him mimicking talking with his mouth full. Zelig slaps him in the arm. Everyone laughs.
Zelig swallows completely emptying his mouth this time, "Stop it you're gonna make me choke."
Zazarg turns around to face the room again, "Everyone! I have an order for you!"
Everyone stops talking and turns to him.
"I want all of you to track down that Galka Dark Knight. I want to buy him a beer!"
"A Dark Knight?" Zelig asks. "One with custom Chaos Armor with purple gems?"
Zazarg laughs, "Yes! You know him?"
Zelig nods, "Yes he's an Adventurer called Gamesage from Windurst."
"Gamesage? You mean that mage who is always with you?" a soldier not in his circle asks.
Zelig turns towards him, "Yes that's him."
"But he's a mage not a warrior," states another.
Zazarg interjects, "Dark Knights are one of two jobs that combine magic and combat, the other being Paladins. I'm not surprised at all that he has also taken up the scythe." Zazarg raises his arms, "Everyone! I want you to keep an eye out for Gamesage! And tell me when you find him. That man deserves a drink!"
Zelig looks around the room, "So what happened today?"
A soldier stands up pointing at him, "That crazy friend of yours jumped off a cliff and castrated a Quadav with his scythe!"
Zelig calmly takes a sip of his drink. "Why am I not surprised?" he thinks. He puts his drink down. "That sounds about right actually," he says.
The soldier sits down with a plop in disbelief.
"Zelig? How could you?" asks another.
"How could I what?"
"Be friends with people like that?"
"What do you mean, 'with people like that'?"
His friends start to scoot away from him seeing the look in his eyes. One even slips under the table.
"Like Promathia?"
…He said it.
Zelig slams his fists onto the table so hard they shake the cups and plates. He charges over the table knocking everything over. "Don't call him that! Never call him that!"
The other Galkas in the room grab him and pull him back just before Zelig reaches the cowering soldier.
"Don't call him that!" Zelig starts to cry as he's screaming, "Never call him that!" He is so enraged he slips into Galkan without realizing it. The Hume is so paralyzed his friends have to grab him and pull him away. In spite the mass of people, Zelig inches the pile forward screaming bloody murder.
Zelig almost says it, but stops mid-word like Gamesage did a few weeks earlier. The Galkas holding him are so shocked they let go and Zelig slips through them on pure momentum, but drops to his knees after clearing the pile. Zelig lies panting on the ground slightly pale. He puts his face in his hands. "I did not just say that, Please Altana I did not just say that," he thinks.
He looks up at the other Galkas looking for relief. But only his worst fears are realized. They are only glancing at each other then down at Zelig also looking for confirmation on whether their ears are playing tricks on them.
"I take that back you're just as completely crazy!" the soldier screams.
Zazarg tries to change the subject. "So how is our little chess champ doing?"
"Little Drogo? He's …having the time of his young life… with all his new friends," Zelig says, his shaking rattling his voice.
The Humes in the room and some of the Galkas all look at him. "Wait… our little chess champ was the Demon?" a Galka asks surprised.
Zelig nods as he stands up.
"Hmm, I did not know that…" the Galka says.
"That's impossible!" a Hume says, "My nephew plays with him. There is no way that that boy could ever have been such a creature!"
Zelig turns and glares at the Hume. Not as diabolic as either Drogo or Major Viki, but still intimidating.
The Hume swallows loudly and steps back.
Zazarg interjects again, "It is hard to believe that the Demon could turn into such a quiet and shy little kid. But that just goes to show how complete the rebirth is from one life to the next."
"I wouldn't know about that," Zelig says, "I think it's rather obvious who little Drogo once was."
"Really? You must be joking!" says the Hume.
One of the Galkas who held him down puts his hand on Zelig's shoulder, "Well out of all of us I'd guess you'd be the one to know." He smiles meekly.
Zelig, now completely terrified at the knowledge that yes he did say "zbigniew", slaps his hand off his shoulder and runs out of the room.
As he runs, he passes the disgraced soldier and the female Elvaan Paladin talking. He is facing the wall hiding his face in his arms as he leans against it.
"It's all right," she says, "Don't mind him. I know him better than you do."
"Everyone's always like that," he mutters sounding on the verge of tears, "Just because my father was a drunk…" "I'm scared…" he whispers finally.
She shakes her head, "Don't worry, you will never turn to the bottle. You will be sober to the day you die, at a very old age."
The certainty in her voice catches him of guard, and he studies her face. "Forgive me… but you're chin is rather flat for an Elvaan?"
"I'm half Hume actually, though my chin's the only real Hume thing I inherited from my father. None of my sisters or I look like him. He calls us his gaggle of giggles."
He smirks revealing a slightly crooked smile tilted to the left. "My grandmother Amiella calls us that, I'm the only male in my entire generation." She giggles and returns his smile, also tilted slightly to the left.
Zelig looks for a quiet place to calm himself and discovers Gamesage dressed as a Scholar reading a book under a tree. "Drogo!" he says walking up.
Gamesage turns around startled. "Zbigniew!" he closes the book and stands up. He knocks his mortarboard off from one of the branches and kneels to pick it up.
"I wasn't sure that it was you at first, normally I'd expect you to have some type of custom job," Zelig says finishing walking up.
Gamesage stands up and dusts his hat off. "Oh I own them don't worry about that. I'm just not at a high enough level to wear them yet. Will be soon though," he sits back down, puts his hat back on and motions for Zelig to sit with him, "I'm really focusing on mastering all these new magics that have only just become available to us. Everyone who is able is coming back just to revive the lost arts in the present." He chuckles, "I mean the future."
"What do you mean 'the lost arts'? I'd thought you would be an expert Scholar long ago," Zelig says sitting down.
"To the victors go the spoils, including authoring the history books to justify their own ends. I learned that rather quickly as an Adventurer."
"I still have no idea what you are talking about," Zelig says.
Gamesage continues, "The Alliance went to all means necessary to win the war. Afterwards everyone was so terrified of the great weapons and magics developed that they destroyed every trace of them and wiped history clean that they ever existed. Scholarship and Summoning are the two fields of magic that were completely eradicated. 'Though the Summoners of Windurst faired far better than the Scholars of Bastok. The Star Sybil simply banned the practice but everyone knows it once existed. One of the Ministers, Karaha-Baruha is a celebrated Summoner. He's almost a god himself, second only to the Star Sybil."
"But you're a Summoner yourself? You were already a master when we met."
He shakes his head, "Basic summoning magic like controlling elementals is an off branch of Beastmastery, but the goddesses and gods are a completely different matter. Right now it is a top secret operation headed by the Star Sybil herself and Karaha-Baruha. When Karaha-Baruha died from the result of the physical strain of controlling Fenrir, she banned everything outright after the war."
"But you control Fenrir as well?"
"There are two types of summoning. The normal one, like I use, simply uses the power the gods gave us as gifts to summon Avatars, which are projections of their will and power focused like a prism though our life forces. They are not the god themselves. What Heaven's Tower is working on is a complete summoning, which is the god themselves, not a projection. The difference is like the two ways to train a chocobo, you can coax it to do what you want and reward it when it does, or the can beat the poor thing half dead and completely crush its own will and submit it totally to your own. That is what is being done to Fenrir as we speak and why Karaha-Baruha ultimately died."
Zelig puts his hand over his mouth in total shock and despair. "To do that to one of the gods is unforgivable," he thinks. He puts his face in his hands and shakes his head. After a time he looks up from his fingers, "But why did you pursue this type of magic if it has become illegal in Windurst?"
"In the future a second war almost occurred. The gods themselves intervened and chose a few of us they felt could be trusted to become their vessels and taught us directly how to use their power in battle. But you're right that it is illegal. Even if we were to summon the gods in our defense, I doubt it would change the sentencing. There are very few crimes that warrant death in Windurst, to be caught actively summoning is one of them, that and murder depending on the details of the crime."
Zelig is startled by his nonchalance at committing a capital offence, "How can you be so indifferent to the law?"
"Any Adventurer who wants to be taken seriously has to dabble in the forbidden arts. It's almost a basic requirement. If someone doesn't have some skills, they won't get work so they won't get paid so they can't eat. The arts of the Shinobi and Bushido are a must. That means even the most morally upright of us must have at least some involvement with Norg. The basics of Duel Wield and Utsusemi are a necessity to just stay alive in most cases. Without them you become a liability to the party and can get others killed, not just yourself."
"Then I take it you are also a Ninja like your Elvaan friend?"
Gamesage nods, "We Adventurers have a scale we use to mark expertise in different jobs, no different than the national rankings and crafting guilds have. I'm level seventy-five in almost all of them, the highest mark," he brags. "Though…" his voice turns to disappointment, "there are a few exceptions. Mostly the arts of the Near East and the lost arts of the Great War," he holds up his grimore, "Like Scholarship here." He puts the book down, "But Dancing I found pretty easy. It's seventy-five as well." He looks back up at Zelig, "Corsair is also pretty easy, my skill as Ranger really helps with the guns, and that trick Bearstar taught me when we were little helps out a lot with the dice."
"Dice?"
"Dice and playing cards are actually used as weapons by the Corsairs. One time when we were little, Bearstar fell of the dock in Windurst and was pulled up by a Tenshodo ship's doctor. He taught her a way to roll dice that can almost always get what you want. The technique can even overcome a set of loaded dice."
"What are Corsairs exactly?"
"Corsairs are the descendents of a guerrilla movement led by Prince Luzaf after his country was brutally conquered by Aht Urhgan centuries ago. 'Though nowadays the membership crosses both ethnic and cultural lines, they are not to be confused with normal pirates. In fact the Imperial Palace has hired the Tenshodo against them. That's how I ended up in the country at first, but I've been playing both sides like most Adventurers." Gamesage sighs shaking his head, "It's one of those wars that there is just no right side to be on. 'Though Aht Urhgan as really crossed the line to end the war, no different than we did in this war. But if you think about it, war itself is that line."
"What have they done?"
"They are developing the art to control one of their gods, Alexander. Like how we tried with Fenrir is some ways, but the big thing would be Blue Magic. If this war had dragged on as long as theirs have, maybe Scholarship would be just as taken for granted as part of normal life instead of what really happened here… But I digress…"
"What is this Blue Magic?" asks Zelig, but once again his deepest nightmares could never conceive what the future has in store.
"Blue Mages literally consume the souls of those they kill, both man and beast alike, and dominate their will to their own turning them into for lack of a better word 'spells' to be cast at their pleasure. The elite of the Blue Mages literally have many thousands of souls twisting inside them screaming for vengeance."
Zelig jumps up completely overwhelmed and stumbles backwards. He trips and falls on his butt shaking like a leaf, "And you have taken that road!"
Gamesage stands to help him up, "Of course I have. Why wouldn't I?"
Zelig slaps away his extended hand, "Don't touch me!"
Gamesage is in total shock, "What's wrong Zbigniew?"
"Don't call me that you monster!" Zelig manages to stumble to his feet. "Do you have any idea what you've become!"
"What are you talking about?"
Zelig starts to back up, pointing and screaming, "You've really done it this time! You are Promathia!"
"I'm not worthy of the complement," Gamesage says calmly.
Zelig is hyperventilating now. "You consider that a complement?" he asks dumbstruck.
"I'd tell you now but that would get you in trouble with the Papsque like Bearstar is. But I know you'll hear it when the proper time comes."
"I don't what to hear it! I don't want to see it! I don't want any part of it! Just go away and let me die like I'm supposed to! I don't ever want to see you again! Just tell me how Bearstar is doing and go away!"
"Is it the Blue Magic you're so upset about? Look, that category is only the next logical step in the realm of Dark Magic. You never have had any moral quirks about Dark Knights before. Heck in my past life I raised you, just like you cared for me before you died. My rebirth broke your spirit," he starts to scream back too, "so don't give me that holier than thou speech! Grampy Jacob and the rest raised me after you died! I know everything!"
"I was wrong when I thought you were like him! You are nothing like Zbigniew! Nothing!"
Gamesage starts to cry, "Call me a monster if you will, even call me Promathia. I don't know what drives me, at first I thought I was just seeking power so I'd never be so weak that I'd lose someone I'd love again. But I don't know anymore, here I am the Great Sage and I'm still as hungry and restless as ever. If that is the definition of a monster then so be it, but I'm a good monster. I'll do anything for my family…I'd do anything for you! That's why I'm here! I'd destroy myself for you!"
"You don't have to die in my place. Just leave me alone!"
"There are worse destructions that death!" Gamesage screams bawling now.
"What do you mean by that?" asks Zelig crying just as hard.
"Those that cannot control the souls they've consumed are lucky if they kill them from the inside. If not and they are the ones that are conquered, those poor people transform into a type a Beastmen called a Soulflayer. I've lost friends that way. The fact that I have no difficulty conquering the wills of my prisoners only makes me realize even more what I am. If you're so repulsed by me than don't dive me away, let me save you so you can live to raise me properly. Isn't that the ultimate destruction? To never exist at all! If you live… I may end up working the docks as a fisherman just like you… and never become an Adventurer in the first place. Isn't that the ultimate sacrifice? Isn't that the ultimate act Zbigniew! To never live at all!" Gamesage shakes his head and begins to storm off.
"Drogo wait!" Zelig turns after him.
"What?" Gamesage glances behind him.
"You never told me how Bearstar is doing since she escaped."
He turns around, "Escaped?" Gamesage's face turns to fear and rage. He charges Zelig and pushes him against the sea wall, his upper body hanging over the water many stories below. "What happened? Where's my sister!"
Zelig finds himself on the wrong end of his possessed eyes. They seem deeper than the darkest darkness, even into the Abyss itself.
"I don't know!" he screams, "I don't know where she is! I was hoping you'd tell me!"
"What happened!"
"She collapsed during surgery on that armless Mithra you sent to the Infirmary. We were all detained afterwards, but I don't know how she escaped, especially with how injured she was."
"How injured!" Gamesage starts to whimper, "Why…was she…inj…?"
"She used some type of healing spell as a last ditch effort to save her life. I don't know what it was. Even the Tarus who saved her didn't know. They didn't recognize her injuries."
Gamesage lets him go and Zelig leans up away from the water.
He looks at the ground and clenches his fists, "Was her internal organs burned? Like if she was cooked on the inside by a fire in her belly?"
Zelig finishes standing up straight, "Yes…Yes that is what the Tarus said."
Gamesage runs to his gobbie bag and pulls out a piece of paper. He uses it with a popping noise and a warp insignia forms and he vanishes into thin air.
"Where did he go?" a voice says from behind.
Zelig turns around to see little Drogo standing there panting. Zelig jumps back, "How long have you been there? What did you hear?"
Drogo pants hard, "I was on my way home when I saw him push you over the wall so I ran to help. Where he go?"
"He used an instant warp scroll to go home, where ever that is, but in any case he's gone now." Zelig goes to walk past the boy.
"So it's really over? You don't need my help?"
"I'm fine now. Don't worry," Zelig says walking away.
"I'd do anything for you. You know that right?" Drogo asks.
Zelig turns around completely startled. He sees the little boy rubbing his hands together nervously staring at him longingly. His young eyes are possessed with the same starvation that plagued his older self.
Zelig takes a few terrified steps backwards before turning around and running franticly for the barracks, screaming all the way.
Drogo turns around searching for that Galka thinking he's returned, but they are alone. He turns back towards Zelig but he has a large head start. "Wait Zelig come back!"
By the time Drogo reaches the steps Zelig has already disappeared into Freidrich Battery Circle. He runs up the steps on all fours only stopping to rest at the top, "I…hate…these…steps…" he thinks. Drogo picks himself up but Zelig is well out of sight. Drogo looks over at the sun partially obscured by the horizon. Then he walks to the barracks.
"Where do you think you're going child?" a Galka guard asks stopping him.
"I'm looking for Zelig. Is he here?"
"Yes he just came in."
Drogo tries to walk past.
"No you don't boy," the guard steps in front of him, "No children in the barracks. Rules are rules. You'll have to wait 'til the morning." He takes Drogo out into the streets, "It is well past your bedtime kid, better go home or the bogyman will get you."
"The bogyman would never hurt me. He's my friend," Drogo says offended.
The guard just laughs and shuts the door.
Drogo starts to sniffle and walks away but he doesn't go home. He finds a quite spot near the barrack's entrance and curls up on the freezing masonry in the cold desert air and tries to sleep.
In the barracks, a group of young Hume soldiers are struggling to lift the old soldier from the mess hall into his top bunk. Suddenly Zelig slams the door to his room hard and braces against it. They stop what they're doing to look.
"Are you alright Zelig?" asks one of the young grunts.
"I'm fine!" Zelig snaps back still bracing the door.
"Is someone after you?" the old soldier asks, "You look like you've seen a ghost?"
Zelig collapses into a heap and starts to cry, "I'd be better off if I did."
The others rush towards him and carry him to his bunk. Zelig doesn't even take his sword belt off and just pulls his covers over his head and weeps. The other soldiers just look at each other not knowing what to do, then return to their stooge-like antics of trying to lift the old soldier into bed.
In the darkness of night, a shadow moves effortlessly past the night watchmen as if invisible to them. As Drogo shivers in the moonlight, the outline of a Galka silhouettes him. He picks the sleeping boy up and carries him back deep into the slums of Mines.
They come to a long since abandoned alleyway thick with cobwebs. But the webs do not rustle as the figure moves past them. They enter a small room. The inky blackness robs the eyes but the rest of the senses reek with the sensations of poverty. He lays Drogo down in a thin pile of straw and covers him with a moth-eaten blanket. He then places a book next to him and walks out of the room.
He jumps up on a flimsy rusted-out old railing and looks back into the room, but the railing doesn't even quiver under the Galka's weight when it should be shattering like glass. Then the sun peeks up over the tops of the decrepit buildings in a blinding flash.
When the eyes recover, he is gone.
A rooster is heard crowing in the distance somewhere. Morning has come, finally ending a long and evil day.
