Note: All characters, places, ect. belong to Square Enix.
Updating a little early, but close enough. And yes, this wasn't the chapter I promised in the last one (I kind of forgot about this chapter! Not good!). Um, think of it as a delightful surprise.
Case of Fratley--Stagnant Ruin
"Fool! Halfwit! Ass!" My lance quickly decapitates the carve spider and it drops to the ground, its many legs twitching in death spasms, brown blood puddling beneath it. I flick my weapon and the same blood flies off its blade, leaving it relatively clean, though I wouldn't eat off it. The heights around Treno are quiet and I look to the ground, ready to pick up her trail again. I growl in frustration for the fight has destroyed the light tracks I was following. Before I know what I'm doing my lance hacks the carve spider's dead body in halves then quarters.
I close my eyes and try to seek some control. It is hard and I grit my teeth with the effort. "Imbecile," I snap and dig my claw into my own hand, bruising skin. It's my fault, all my fault. I do not know when I became so stupid as to let her go alone, but it is a mistake I may die for yet. I have not slept in four days and I believe this may be taking its toll on me. "Cretin!" My lance swiftly slices through the wings of a trick sparrow diving at me from behind. It falls to the ground with a cry and a thud and I snap its neck beneath my foot. Idiot indeed.
"Fratley! What is the meaning of this?" The king demands and well he should for I've barged into his throne room unannounced, having effectively knocked out those guards and servants that sought to stop me. I must be out of my mind though, for that chilly voice doesn't halt me, nor does the sight of that familiar crown I've always bowed in the presence of before. Instead it incites me and I slide my lance from my back, pointing it at my monarch accusingly.
"What do you mean I can't look for her?!" I shout angrily, throwing the piece of paper he sent me denying my request to the floor. The king looks at me coldly from his high dais and I know he must be wondering if I've gone insane. "You are needed here," he tells me after a moment, his voice soothing as if he speaks to a child throwing a tantrum and not a Dragon Knight. My grip tightens on my lance. "With Freya…missing that is doubly so," he explains. "Without her loyal Dragon Knights Burmecia is weak."
"There are other Dragon Knights and you have the army! How much more strength do you want?!" I shout and he doesn't reply. Before even I know what I'm doing, I march up the steps of the dais, an unforgivable act. My treachery is not done yet as my empty hand grabs the front of my king's robes, pulling him close. "Freya is out there—somewhere—probably hurt and you want me to play maid for your city?!" The accusation in my voice could not drip with more murderous intent. My king flinches and I shove him back into his throne, disgusted.
I know Burmecia needs me, that the citizens look to me and without my presence here to reassure the country may very well break out into civil war. There is still so much distrust here after the battles five years ago and war heroes are needed to give guidance and calm. I know even better though that Freya has not been right in the head for a long while. I've seen her sheets, watched her flinch away in pain when so much as the back of a chair touches her, heard her growing indifference, endured her lengthening silences. Something is not right with my Freya and in a move of utmost idiocy I suggested we split up. I failed to protect her, if not from herself, at least from the world. I can't fail to bring her back.
"Release me from my duties," I order, my need to help Freya greater than my need to rebuild Burmecia. This is all my fault, my asinine fault. "Please, let me go," I beg bowing down in submission, though it must seem silly after my threat of physical force. I'm going mad with the need to find her though and I'm torn between violence and pleading. Just let me go to her!
My king looks me over and he must think I'm mad. I think I'm mad. I can tell he thinks she's gone, dead, and my hand tightens around my lance as I keep my head lowered. "I remember a different Dragon Knight behaving just the same many years ago over you," he says after a time wryly. "You may go Fratley. Just promise me you won't start any wars in your efforts to find her. The last thing Burmecia needs is other countries coming to me for your blood."
His words surprise me—I've behaved so traitorously I did not truly expect to be given leave—but I don't look up to let him see. Instead I give a curt nod and stalk out of the throne room that's been closing around me like a prison for the last five years. I don't stop for food, for clothes, for friends; the trip from the castle to the gates takes a good twenty minutes—I make it in five. Out beyond Burmecia's walls Daines-Basin is shrouded in mist and rain that swirls and eddies in a perturbing way. My heart squeezes because somewhere out there among all that murk is Freya; I've already followed her tracks from the fountain square of the main boulevard. All that's left is to find her in the white haze beyond. I don't even care that the metal gates of my city slam behind me.
"What did you say?!" I don't think I've been drunk in many, many years, but I'm drunk now. I think. I can't tell. I think I'm drunk. The man before me edges away, but I don't give him the option of retreating as I lunge across the table and grab his tunic, pulling him down to my face. "You think Burmecia's a joke? Something for you to make fun of, fun of the 'mud rats'?"
The man shakes his head. Two men? Man. "N-no sir!" He tells me and tries to pull away. What he says offends me. I'm not quite sure why, but it makes me angry and I quickly jerk his tunic, smashing his face into the table. "You lying to me?" I demand. That's it, he's lying! Filthy liar!
He looks at me, his eyes half-closed and roving aimlessly, a dark shadow spreading across his face that is blood trapped beneath the skin. He won't answer. I slam his face into the table again. "I said you lying?" I shout and hands grab at me, trying to pull me away, make me let go.
"You picking on Chet, mud rat?" A hippo-man demands getting in my face. He looks just like I feel: unsteady and angry. "You call me a mud rat?" I growl, yanking out of someone's hold and standing up, knocking over the bench I was sitting on as I do; it clatters to the ground. The hippo-man scowls at me. "Yea, yea, mud rat, you got a problem with that?"
I give him my most murderous glare. And then I punch him in the face. He falls to the ground with a thud that shakes the floor. Immediately his friends are on me. Friends or monster companions. I'm not sure. There seems to be twenty of them, but when I kick and punch at some, my blows don't connect. Cowards. They must be running away!
One tries to throw a hook at me; I duck underneath and come up with a punch that knocks his head back so far I hear his neck crack. He doesn't get up and I kick his friend coming up behind me in the groin. He goes down too. Someone jumps on me from behind and wraps a meaty arm around my throat, trying to choke me out. I throw myself back and smash him against the wall, once, twice, three times; he lets go. Someone picks up a bottle and throws it at me. I swerve to the side and grab the lantern off the table; my aim is better and the bottle thrower screams and claps his hands to his eyes.
I hear a roar and a blur of green fur and overalls tackles me, taking me into the table which flips over and deposits the two of us on the floor. I grab the bench I knocked over and slam it into the tackler's face. He flies into the wall. A hand descends with a fork and I block it with the bench. Wait, no, there are two hands. The one I block goes right through the bench in some impossible move and the fork plunges into my shoulder. Pain flares up intensely and I roar, brandishing the bench. The fork wielder stumbles back into a second table, leaving the fork behind in my shoulder.
"Dirty rat!" Someone growls as I return to my feet and a punch connects with the side of my face, making me spin crazily. I think I'm going to puke. "Who's a dirty rat?!" I grab someone's plate of food and smash it on the puncher's head, brown, ropey stuff that might be noodles in sauce dripping down his face. No, it's worms in mud and now the food's insulting me. "Mud rat? Mud rat?!" I slam my fists, one, two, three, four, I'm not counting, into the blinded man's gut and he spits up on me. Disgusting!
"Think you so funny? Think you funny?!" I grab his hair and drag him by it to the window. I throw him through the shutters and there's screams and crashes outside and a splash; he must have gone through the boarding of the deck into the lake. He's not getting away so easily! I begin to climb out the window, but hands grab me, pulling me back in and throwing me to the floor. A wolf man drops on me knees first and I cough, my stomach rebelling as I try to howl at the fire tracing itself up my abdomen.
"Dirty mud rat!" Hands wrap around my throat and bang my head against the floor. I can't breathe! The room's going dark! Air! Air!
There's a scream and the hands let go when I slam my palm into the back of the wolf man's elbow, breaking it. He rolls away and I jump to my feet. The world spins, it must be the world, because I'm surely stable and balanced. Now they're controlling the ground, making it buck beneath me! What spinless tricks they play!
I throw myself at the wolf man and sink my teeth into his ear. He howls louder than I did and collapses to the floor, beating on my back with his one good hand. My feet lash out and connect solidly with his ribs; something gives and he gasps loudly. I stand up as he clutches his chest and a hand turns me around into a punch that knocks me to the floor. My head is splitting. Where am I? I can't seem to focus on anything and feet stomp on my hand, making me scream a curse. That must be me screaming. Is it? I have never sworn before and the oath drives me into a frenzy. All I can think is that I'm lost. I can't find it! Can't find it! What am I looking for?
"Where is it?! Where is it?!" I knock the feet out from under the person stomping on me and they collapse next to me with a sound thud. I leap on top of their prone form and begin to punch everywhere and anywhere with all my might, my weight holding them down and my blows encouraging them not to get up. Someone tries to tackle me again and I lean back, balling up my hand. My fist connects solidly and they go down, crashing into an overturned bench. Someone leaps on me from behind and I throw them over with an expert twist, breaking their arm in the process. Another hand grabs the front of my clothes and draws me up towards a fist. I strike my hand to their throat; they drop me and I resume beating on my target who is trying to scramble away.
"I thought they'd look well on you." She looks at me slowly and I swear she must think I'm an idiot. In her eyes there is contempt and I have to concur with her. Earrings Iron-Tail? Dainty, delicate red earrings? How could I ever think she would like them?
"They're nice," she says, but there's no conviction in her voice. She's humoring my idiocy. She puts the earrings away in a small box. I never see her wear them.
I wake up groaning. My eyes flutter open to bright sunlight that stabs and I flinch, putting my hand in front of my face. My head feels like it's splitting and the rest of my body does not feel much better. I roll over and retch, my body quivering. When I'm done I roll away and groan some more. Why do I feel so bad?
I connect with someone and I squint to see that there are others here with me. Where is here? Here, upon further inspection, is a filthy alley. There seem to be about thirteen of us tossed in a heap back here. The others look as bruised and bloody as I feel; more so in fact. I stand and the motion makes me retch again. When my stomach is empty and I've taken in several shuddering breaths I stagger to the opening of the alley and recognize the streets of lower Treno.
I vaguely remember coming into the town last night after being unable to pick up Freya's trail. I stopped at a tavern for some food. I can't remember what I had, but whatever it was, it's decorating the alley now. One of my eyes throb and I can barely open it. I feel like I've been beaten, but I haven't been beaten in years. A scene flashes through my mind of a woman with a sword and brown hair that ends in curls; the flat of the sword flashes underneath my guard and mockingly delivers a stinging slap to my leg. I shake my head and it throbs even worse. This isn't the first time a picture or words or even names have surfaced momentarily in my head in response to a thought; I've learned to ignore them, bits of memory so small and unconnected as to be useless. To dwell on them would only drive me mad.
My eyes wander and I recognize the front of the tavern I ate at. Slowly more recent memories come back and I vaguely remember getting into a fight. I can't remember why. My clearest memory is of punching repeatedly, over and over, never ending, screaming, "Where is it? Where is it?!". My hand passes over my face as I try to block it out; I've lowered myself to tavern brawls. What a disgrace. The shame makes my shoulders heavy and I can not lift my head. Someone must have tossed the lot of us out into the alley at the soonest possible moment.
I'm not fit to be a Dragon Knight. I can't even win in a tavern brawl, let alone refrain from them in the first place. For whatever pride I can scrounge, yes I did come out with the least amount of damage, but looking at the other drunks back in the alley that isn't saying much. I think I'm falling apart. How could I lower myself to tavern brawls with drunks who don't know what they do?
"You appear akin to shit," a voice says and I glare at the speaker, a petite blonde with a tail. "Shove off," I growl, the pain in my head doing away with all thought of courtesy and chivalry. "Is that the way knights speak to women now a days?" a male voice inquires and I realize the blonde has a friend, a taller man in a brown cloak that covers his form and more particularly his face.
"What have you been doing Iron-Tail?" The woman asks, laying a cool hand on my burning cheek and drawing my attention away from the man who I am bearing my teeth at. The coolness slides across my skin and I sigh slightly, recognizing the feel of a cure spell as my pains lessen and the throbbing in my head diminishes to make me slightly less irritable. I take a closer look at this woman and I recognize her for all that her hair is cut close now and there are dark rings under her eyes. I've only seen her a few times in the past years, but we have always talked about so many interesting aspects of Gaia when we have met that I would not forget her.
"Why are you here Mikoto?" I ask, changing the subject from my actions of late; I do not want to talk about my drunken recklessness in the tavern last night. If she notices I don't answer her question she has the grace not to pursue it. Instead she looks back at the cloaked man who I do not recognize. He nods and she turns back to me; whatever just passed between the two eludes me.
"I was hoping to find Amarant here," she admits and I watch her as a cold hand wraps around my ankle. She raises an eyebrow in question and I give the hand a good kick causing it to retreat back into the shadows of the alley. "Amarant?" I prompt.
"I haven't found him," she explains frowning. I don't find this surprising; from the few words I've exchanged with the man, he prefers his whereabouts to be unknown. "I need your help," she admits after a moment, her face so serious I have to wonder if someone's died. My heart clenches. Not Freya. Not Freya.
"With what?" I feel I should be cautious about this and so I am. My instincts have led me wrong few times. She looks back at her companion and he puts a comforting hand on her shoulder, one she quickly shrugs off.
"Someone's targeting my brother and his friends," she says bluntly. My mind reels and I know it is not the hangover. My hands quickly grab the corner of the tavern, digging into the rotten wood to stay on my feet. "Are you sure?" I demand. It can't be. And I just let Freya go on her own! Idiot!
"Iron-Tail are you well?" She asks and I think she might be concerned, though it is always hard to tell with her. I brush aside her consideration. "Are you sure?" I demand again insistently. She frowns slightly once more, but nods. "Who?" I swear I'll kill the monster if Freya is harmed in anyway! My claws dig into the wood of the tavern and it emits a slight screeching sound. I try to take a breath and calm down, though it is hard. Freya is no amateur knight. She can defend herself just fine when she needs to. At least I hope she can. With the way she has been acting of late, I would not put it past her to die in a fall she easily could have avoided. My head aches furiously and I press it against the dirty, smoke streaked tavern side.
"I can't, explain it, not right now. Iron-Tail, I need you to find my brother and as many of his friends as you can. Tell them to come to the Desert Palace. They need to be there in two weeks." She sounds frustrated, but when I look at her she is as cold as ever. Two weeks? "That is impossible Mikoto. Even if I could track all of them down, there would not be enough time for them to make it to the Desert Palace. It takes nearly two weeks of travel from here to arrive there," I refuse. I don't have time for this. I have to find Freya, doubly so now.
Mikoto slaps me and I wince as her hand connects with a bruise. "Mikoto," her companion says, grabbing her hands before she can hit me again. A tear is trailing down her stoic face and I'm surprised. I have never seen Mikoto upset before and the calm look on her face contradicts the tear and the slap. "Someone's going to get hurt. Some already have been," she tells me and I think of Freya. Is this why you disappeared Freya? Is someone after you? "I know two weeks is ridiculous, but there isn't, much time to spare. Find them, tell them, please?" I have never heard Mikoto ask for anything like this before and this entire conversation is strange. If it weren't for the pain still throbbing in my face from where she slapped me I would think it a dream from bad mead.
I nod. I have to. I will find Freya as I go. She would never forgive me if I let her friends be hurt for her sake. "What will you be doing?" I ask as her companion lets her go and she locks her hands behind her. "Remembering," she says cryptically and the cloaked man leads her away. I watch them go, puzzled. About to turn a corner, she stops and looks back for a moment. "If you find Vivi, tell him, forgive me…"
Growing questions, rising fear. Fratley realizes there is more at stake here than one woman he holds so dear. Yet his heart twists at the thought of giving up the chase; can he cope with likely bereavement to come? In the heights of the mountains another soul stirs with loss . Next: Her Hidden Sword Revealed--Revelation of Garnet.