Disclaimer: Still don't own anything, still don't profit from fanfic-writing, still not expecting lawsuits.
Tales of the Summoned: Odin
Chapter 9: Protection of the King
It had been a long time since Niod had last entertained any thought that Odin was not his son. To him, the evidence was all too clear that the boy was the heir to the Raiden legacy that Niod had himself created.
It wasn't because the boy looked anything like his father. He didn't. Odin's entire frame was shaping itself into a tall, muscular man's even at the age of ten years, with no hint now that there would ever be any of the excessive bulk that gave Niod his great size. With dark hair, a lean face, and an odd pair of dark crimson eyes which held a trace of ancient wisdom rather than prehistoric brutality, Odin held no resemblance to his father, his mother, or even the man that Niod had suspected his wife of committing marital foul play with.
Nor did he act especially like his father. Although Odin was a focused learner, always concentrating intensely upon the arts of combat that Niod passed on to him, he very obviously had a different perspective on what his upbringing and nature had made his life's profession. Niod was undisciplined; Odin was strictly controlled. Niod was sloppy, depending on ferocity, surprise, and size at least as often as his impressive skill; Odin was focused, never wasting energy, applying himself exactly as much as the situation called for, making his incredible strength and stamina into a part of his technique rather than its focal point. Niod was gluttonous and egotistical; Odin was precise and largely selfless. Niod would forever be a beast; Odin would be a man.
No, what truly convinced Niod Raiden that Odin was his true son was the fact that the twelve-year-old could get him into a nigh-unbreakable chokehold during practice sessions in which they sparred sans weapons. Like now, for example.
Niod grunted as his son pressed down with frightening strength, forcing his father's face against the large, grassless patch of dirt which made up most of Niod's home's back yard. Surely no child but an extension of Niod's own amazing skill and prowess could manage such a feat. Odin had his arms pinned to the ground, knees pressing down mercilessly at joint junctions, positioned exactly where they needed to be to allow a large child's weight to totally incapacitate a grown man's limbs. One arm was wrapped around Niod's scruffy throat, not only capable of choking him by restricting itself just a little further, but also positioned as to be able to press upwards, forcing Niod's jaw to stay closed, making it impossible for him or any other victim of this hold to cry for help. With his other arm's hand, Odin kept an iron grip on the excessive hair on Niod's head, giving him the ability to pull it back painfully, or repeatedly slam it forward into the ground.
It was not a perfect hold--such a thing did not exist. A man with moderate flexibility would not be long subdued by this, for he could simply lift and bend his free legs back, even just a little, to suddenly kick at Odin, throwing him off balance and breaking the hold for a fatal moment.
But this was immaterial for Niod; his thick legs had no such flexible abilities, which Odin knew and counted on. So, for all intents and purposes, a man who was to hold Niod in such a way would have him at his mercy.
But Odin was not a man yet. And no matter how advanced, how seemingly foolproof, how carefully studied and constructed a style of martial arts might be, the factors of size and strength will always be an essential factor in close combat.
Niod bucked his girth backwards, using his body's strength to rear back slightly and throw his son's grip free. The instant he had shaken Odin's hold slightly, Niod used his momentarily free hands to brace himself on the ground before he could fall back to the earth, and pushed himself up and backwards, now falling to the ground on his back, landing on Odin and crushing the young man under his weight. He felt Odin struggle vainly to escape or push him off, but the boy gave up after a few moments, realizing that it was hopeless.
Niod lifted himself up, standing and stretching his arms in self-pleased victory. The fact that his victory was over a preteen, and would not have been possible had his opponent only had a little more weight and strength, did not diminish his satisfaction at his triumph.
Most boys his age would have been seriously injured by Niod's crushing tactic. As it was, he still needed a moment to recuperate and get his wind back--a tiny rest denied to him as Niod gave him a firm kick in the ribs and muttered, "Get up, you lazy brat; I've told you not to loaf in my presence."
Odin dragged himself up to stand as quickly as he could. Niod snorted contemptuously at his son's gasping breaths, but did not berate him further. "I suppose you've practiced and failed enough for this morning. Besides, I can't have you too tired and broken before you go on duty for the first time."
This was relevant to Odin's interests. "You mean I'm going with you today, father?"
"Aye. Those paper-shuffling buffoons finally have all their fool documents in order, so you're on active duty as my subordinate. Now pay attention, boy, I'll not waste my breath telling you this twice."
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Odin's first knightly task was not quite as exciting as one might have expected from such troubled times. Most of the warriors who rode their chocobo mounts beside him and Sleipnir seemed relieved for the lack of action so far in this assignment, but Odin could tell that his father, who rode in a horse-drawn chariot to his left, was dangerously bored and probably hoping for a chance to let blood.
Escort duty. Niod often complained about how much he hated it, even when it was the king himself he was protecting.
King Adrin was traveling out of his kingdom to meet with a ruler of one of Lokithor's neighboring countries, Lashnin, with the intent of securing better military aid from it. Lashnin was deeper within the territories that humanity had not yet lost to the Esper threat, and so could easily spare far more soldiers and supplies to its neighbor than it had been so far--and from the perspective of most residents of Lokithor, it was only right that it should, since Lokithor's position at the edge of the lands that the Espers had taken on this continent meant that it was acting as a shield for Lashnin against the magical menace.
King Adrin, however, greatly doubted that this meeting would enact any significant change--the people of Lashnin, and their president, were too interested in their own immediate security, loathe to lend out anything or anyone who could be instead used to safeguard their own lands. Trying to persuade them to look at the larger picture, in which cooperation and some self-sacrifice were necessary for everyone's survival, was surely impossible. For King Adrin, this meeting was a futile formality.
Still, he hoped to make at least a small use out of this excursion, and had decided to bring his daughter along. It would be good for her to experience a new place and culture, giving her a little firsthand education that all her tutors and books couldn't.
Esper attacks within Lokithor's boundaries were still thankfully small and rare for the time being, but it did not pay to take chances. Thus, King Adrin had traveled for the past few days with a group of highly trained knights to protect him on this short journey--small enough to be mobile, but skilled enough to be a formidable force to any who would oppose it, and headed by Niod, the foremost expert on up-close violence.
As the carriage and its escort of chocobo knights, chariots, and single horseback rider progressed on this sunny afternoon through the Baldr Plains, a long stretch of land split almost in half by the border between Lokithor and Lashnin, Odin wondered to himself whether this entourage really mattered. His father had told him stories of Espers on the battlefield, how they could set a man ablaze with but a word, and strike down entire columns of warriors with bolts of lightning with a wave of their hands. Their powers could eclipse a man's imagination, and their fierce, beastly forms made them formidable foes even without their spells. Would a small band of human warriors, even one that contained Odin's own indomitable father, really stand a chance against an Esper attack?
By either coincidence or fate, it was as this question passed through the young man's mind that the world before him was suddenly illuminated by an intense, almost blinding red light. As Odin and the knights around him threw their arms up to shield their vision from the light, a melody filled their minds. It was haunting, and even painful, so much so that Odin could dimly see against the flashing light several of the assembled knights trying to cover their ears--a futile effort, for Odin instinctively knew that this song would penetrate the ears even of the deaf, heard directly by the mind.
The light and music faded after but a few seconds, long though they were for the men and boy gathered around the carriage, and all immediately looked about to identify the source. Odin did the same, and tried to ask aloud what had just happened--but found that he could not. In surprise, he looked to his father, and saw Niod's mouth forming frustrated roars and curses, but no sounds. It seemed that whatever malady Odin was suffering had afflicted all those present.
The red light shined once again. This time, however, it was not an all-encompassing glare, but a mere few blinks that Odin caught out of the corner of his eye. All those gathered turned to look at it.
There, fifteen or twenty meters away, was the source of the light: a small, bluish green creature, similar to a rabbit in size and slightly in shape. More accurately, the light's source was the red jewel prominently affixed to its forehead. It leapt and bounded about, seemingly at play with itself as its jewel lit up periodically with nigh-blinding ruby light.
Barely a meter beside this energetic creature stood what gave every appearance of being an ethereally beautiful woman. She held a lyre close to herself, her fingers still on its strings, making it clear to the observers that she had been the one responsible for the ironically silence-inducing music.
It was Carbuncle and Siren, Odin realized.
He did not know how he knew the names of these creatures, obviously Espers, which he had never before encountered or heard of in his conscious memory. Nor could he explain how and why some part of his mind instinctually provided the rest with a wealth of knowledge about each Esper. He knew that Siren's song could be strong enough to wound and sometimes even kill, but generally was most effective when used for support rather than flat-out offense. It was most valuable for its ability to temporarily disable foes' voices, making it impossible for them to say whatever simple chants or even just the names that were necessary to activate most magic. He knew that Carbuncle's ruby was a small wonder of the galaxy, a mix of magic and crystal that created a magic-repelling aura around it, so bizarrely combined that even master alchemists were baffled by the presumably singular gem. When it shined, its aura grew, and all who were near the creature would witness the ever-strange sight of magical spells simply bouncing off its invisible barrier. Odin knew that, beyond their unique abilities, Siren and Carbuncle both knew a small variety of low-level attack spells, not immensely destructive, but at the same time dangerous in personal combat. He knew the strengths and weaknesses of each, small details which could be relevant in certain combat situations--that neither was trained in actual, physical combat techniques, that Siren's affinity for water did not mean she was any less vulnerable to water-elemental magic, that Carbuncle's form belied a keen and quick mind that should not be underestimated, that Siren was vain enough that damage to her face could upset her for a fatal second more than others…a vast amount of knowledge of these two Espers was instantly in Odin's head, not as a flood of new information, but as a calm well of long-known facts to draw upon.
Odin knew many things at this moment, but, as Niod led a disorganized, quiet charge to engage these foes, Odin knew one thing above all else: something was terribly wrong.
Siren and Carbuncle were not meant to be attackers. Their abilities were best suited for supporting others, not straightforward offense. Further, Carbuncle was using its Ruby Light, even though Siren had already silenced all of the soldiers present--what use could there possibly be to setting up a defense against magical attacks from foes who could no longer make them? And why bother with either safeguard at all, when humans could not use magic to begin with?
It all led up to the same conclusion in Odin's mind: Siren and Carbuncle were a diversion. A clever, flashy diversion that would distract all soldiers present, and render them a less effective fighting unit by stripping them of verbal communication. All the carriage's guards were now rushing forward to engage the two seen Espers (who, Odin knew, were easily fast and nimble enough to keep out of their human attackers' reach, which would further distract them and lead them farther from the carriage), and Odin had no voice to call them back.
He was now the sole defender of his country's king and princess, still within the carriage, likely either huddled in fear or staring out one of its small windows at what everyone but Odin thought was the main battle.
He must be calm. Niod had taught him that, and his instincts approved. Odin forced his breath to come and go peacefully as he took stock of his situation. The carriage was stuck in one place for the time being--the chocobos pulling it lay on the ground, either stunned or dead. They had, almost certainly by her intention, taken the brunt of Siren's song. So escape was not an option.
The carriage itself was built sturdily from steel. It could provide a measure of protection for its royal passengers--an enemy Esper would likely have to reach it to force entrance; destroying it or blowing a hole in it immediately would take a high level of power and magic that, as Niod had told him in certain training lessons, was uncommon even for Espers. If Odin could engage and kill or keep at bay whatever beings would be the main assault force, the carriage could conceivably keep its passengers safe. Good. He at least had a starting plan of action.
He was atop Sleipnir, giving him reliable speed and a boost to height which could be advantageous. The ground was ideal for Sleipnir to maneuver in, with firm dirt and short grass all around, everything dry with good traction. He was garbed in a reliable set of chain mail, but no other, heavier armor. It would not give him as much protection as he would have liked, but it was still sturdy, and to complain about any protection, no matter how small, would be ungrateful and foolish, as Niod would say. His armament was, unfortunately, rather light. A short sword and three throwing knives were all that he had been give to defend himself with--and even that was three knives more than most other new recruits got. Though he was strong enough to lift and effectively use a sword of regular length, the short sword was mandatory for apprentice knights, and Niod had seen no reason not to have his son work from the bottom up. The knives had only been added because Niod had reasoned that the boy could practice his aim with them on the trip, caring nothing that Odin's throwing arm was already a surer shot than any knight he had yet encountered.
Nonetheless, the quality of the weapons was high. The sword was well-sharpened and built to be durable, and the knives were sleek and razor-tipped, shaped for smooth aerodynamics and deep penetration. The lack of wind this day would mean their thrown paths would be free of hindrance. Odin could have had much worse tools of warfare, to be sure. Nonetheless, as he looked down at the flat, plain blade which he now held at ready, he saw for a moment an image of a different sword, a curved one completely unlike anything Lokithor's armories had, and he wished it could be that sword in his hand instead.
This assessment of resources, setting, and plan of action only took young Odin a few seconds. He urged Sleipnir to circle the carriage once, eyes scanning the entirety of the plains to identify any threats.
After a minute or so of patrolling and watching, a glint caught his eye, and he turned to see what it was. There, something was coming up over a slight hill several meters away! The hill itself had been nondescript and low enough to blend in remarkably well to the rest of the scenery; otherwise, Odin would have kept his eye on it from the beginning.
What was now coming into sight, surface gleaming in the bright sun, would defy the imagination of any regular inhabitant of this planet. Odin could tell that it was a machine of some kind, but it was totally unlike any he had seen or heard of in his life. From the same place in his mind that the knowledge of the Espers had been found came a word to describe it, but the term meant nothing to Odin--he had no understanding of what a "robot" was. All he knew was that, against a squat humanoid creature made entirely of brown-painted iron or steel, his single small blade of the same material seemed woefully inadequate.
It moved quickly, for its stocky build, clamoring forward to where Odin and his steed were on guard with a constant clanking sound of various metal parts and joints hitting against one another. It would soon be upon them.
Odin quickly removed one of the gleaming knives from his belt, took aim, and hurled it at the face of this metal foe. The attack was meant not to be a strong offense, but rather one which would test his foe, and allow Odin to gauge its capabilities by how it responded.
The knife flew fast and true, its deadly path going straight for the machine's left eye. A split second before it would have hit home, however, the mechanical being's arm shot up slightly, and Odin beheld a truly bizarre sight: the automaton's hand seemed to instantly grow many times in size, until it completely blocked the metal being's head. The next instant, the knife made its ineffective impact against the armored palm, and fell to the ground harmlessly.
The boy Odin Raiden would not normally have known how to respond to the strange sight he had just witnessed, could not have been expected to plan a course of attack against a machine he didn't understand and whose abilities defied his imagination. But from the same dark, inexplicable recesses of his memory that his knowledge of Siren and Carbuncle had come from now arose a sudden understanding, triggered by what he had seen, and Odin suddenly knew the approaching enemy well as Golem. The appearance was quite different from what Odin's subconscious would apparently have expected; Odin felt sure that Golem should be an entity made of crude rock rather than refined metal. Nonetheless, the unknown part of Odin was quite certain that it was the same Golem, for the shielding, expanding hand was a protective technique unique to him.
Like Siren and Carbuncle, Golem was meant to act as a supporting figure, protecting comrades with instant and nigh-insurmountable defense. Of the three, however, he was certainly the most suited for personal combat, with his large, armored, and very strong body. Had this small band of Espers any fourth member to carry out this raid, Golem would no doubt have been relegated to protecting Siren and Carbuncle during their distraction; however, if the Espers numbered only three as it now appeared, then Golem would be the only reasonable choice to act as the true attacker. It was safe to focus on Golem as the true threat now, with little worry that there was yet another threat still lurking.
Unfortunately, the knowledge that now made itself known to Odin would be of little use to him. There was but one way that Odin's mysterious memory knew of to defeat this solid foe's defenses…a skill flashed through Odin's mind, one which he felt as comfortable with as walking, a certain killing slash that could rend even rock and steel in half. But this technique, this Zantetsuken, was so precise a battle art that, without a sword of perfect balance, length, and shape, it could not be performed.
It would never work with the heavier, straight saber that Odin now held. He would have to depend on reflex and invention to fell Golem in this battle.
Sitting and waiting for the robotic Esper to reach him was foolish; all it would do was give Odin less room to maneuver and let Golem get dangerously close to the carriage. Thus, Odin decided to take the fight to his adversary before he got any closer, and urged Sleipnir forward. As he approached Golem, Odin decided to test a full frontal assault. Perhaps this Golem's body would have a weakness that the boy could exploit up close, a lack of flexibility or a less absolute defense.
As Sleipnir brought Odin into striking distance, the young fighter brought his sword up and slashed downward at Golem's expressionless metal face, with as much force as he could bring to bear on his foe. Golem's hand flew up, palm enlarging instantly to completely shade his face from Odin's attack. Steel clashed on steel, and Odin's hand screamed as pain reverberated through it. But he ignored the ringing in his hand to press the attack, drawing the simple sword back to slash again and again at the shielding body part, trying to combine force and repetition to break through it.
Furious as they were, his attacks were made with a precision and skill few living warriors had ever matched. It was instinct guiding them, not anything that Niod had ever taught him. And it was having the desired effect--the mechanical hand's steel edge was beginning to split under the constant assault, and a few more seconds would see Odin's blade cutting through the circuitry and wires within, so alien to him, yet recognized through the slight gap already made so far by his subconscious to be weak and vulnerable.
Golem apparently did not like where this battle was headed. Hand still held up to block Odin's attacks, he lurched forward, arm reaching to grab hold of the warrior's leg, doubtless to bring him down forcefully to the ground where it would be easier to attack him. Sleipnir was not about to let his rider be taken so easily, however, and nimbly dodged the clumsy reaching hand.
Odin let his horse take him a few yards away before turning Sleipnir back to face Golem. He felt some relief as he saw that Golem had ceased his advance on the carriage, and was now holding himself in a defensive position, his whole attention on Odin. At least the king and princess would be safe so long as Golem was focusing on Odin. Now all Odin had to worry about was being killed himself.
Odin had Sleipnir begin to slowly circle Golem. The robot awkwardly attempted to keep facing the horse and rider as they moved. Odin knew that Golem was not a particularly agile and dexterous being to begin with, but this mechanical Esper form seemed particularly unsuited for basic navigation. He was as strong and reliable a protector as ever, yes, and with dangerous power and persistence, but his mobility for any act beyond moving forward was slow and labored.
Still, Golem could keep up his turning well enough that Odin knew there was no chance of flanking him for long enough to rush in and attack before the Esper had finished turning to face him, and bring his offensive and defensive strength to bear. But, Odin thought as an idea was born within him from a small, stubborn streak of reckless youth that Niod had never managed to crush, that did not mean that a back attack was impossible.
He would have to act quickly. Golem surely realized that a defensive plan of combat was a losing battle in this encounter, for Siren and Carbuncle could not mute and distract the other knights forever, and he would be forced to ignore the danger of the too-maneuverable Sleipnir and Odin, and concentrate solely on his original target, the king and princess.
Odin sped Sleipnir's walk until he had circled Golem to the point where the Esper's back was to the carriage. He stopped his steed's pacing then, and turned to face his foe dead-on. Seeing that his foe had finally stopped circling, Golem lurched forward, approaching with a relatively slow but unnervingly unnatural steady pace. Odin gave Sleipnir a small kick, and the horse charged to meet the machine.
Odin readied himself as quickly as he possibly could for his next move, for there was very little ground between Golem and himself for Sleipnir to cover. He sheathed his sword, and grabbed one of his remaining two knives. Then he loosened his boots from the stirrups, mere seconds from reaching his foe.
Right as Sleipnir would be within reach of Golem's dangerous grasp, Odin had the horse take a sharp turn. As Sleipnir changed direction, Odin threw his knife straight for Golem's face once more. Again, one of Golem's hands instantly grew and blocked the missile. In the split second that it did, however, Odin put his hands on Sleipnir's back and hoisted himself up, placing his boots flat against his partner's back. He then leapt from the moving horse as high and far to Golem as he could.
It was an acrobatic feat that a gifted rider or gymnast would have been proud to accomplish after years of practice. Odin Raiden's leaping dismount was perfect this first time he ever attempted it. Instinct was somehow guiding him again, some honed inner understanding of balance helping him to make the leap as though he had practiced it for decades.
As he had planned, Odin's boots landed squarely on the still raised and enlarged hand of his foe. Golem's reaction was quick as the expert defender tried to close his hand into a fist, doubtless hoping to catch and crush Odin's lower legs, but Odin was still faster. He nimbly stepped forward to place one foot on Golem's metal skull, and used it as a foothold to hop down right in back of Golem before his opponent's crushing fingers had even grazed his attire.
The moment Odin felt his soles land on the firm ground, he straightened, pulled out the sword again, turned, and struck as hard a blow with it as he could against the Esper's flesh, gripping the rough handle with both his hands as he drove its edge savagely against metal flesh. As he had expected, a dent was made, but no cut. The rest of Golem was apparently just as solid as the hands were. No matter; Odin had not anticipated any different result. What was important, however, was seeing Golem awkwardly twist his arm around so that he could use his palm to cover the area that Odin had attacked. This confirmed to the young warrior that the unobstructed blow had not been a case of Golem being unable to reach his backside, but rather that Golem relied on being able to see an attack coming to be able to defend against it. Perfect.
Golem tried to turn around to face Odin, but the youth found it a simple task to stay behind his slow prey. As he stepped sideways to keep Golem's back to him and carefully stayed out of reach as Golem twisted his arms around as best he could to blindly grope at his opponent, Odin lifted his sword once more and brought a blow down on Golem's left shoulder. Immediately, Golem's left hand reached across the metal monster's front to come and cover the shoulder from future blows.
Holding his sword with his left hand only, Odin kept giving a few solid hits to Golem's knuckles, letting the Esper believe the illusion of an attack, while Odin's free hand lowered down to remove the third and final throwing knife he had been equipped with and grasp it firmly. Knife in hand, he suddenly dropped his sword, leapt up, and used his free hand to grab hold of Golem's left shoulder. He used it to quickly climb up onto his enemy's back. He quickly threw his right arm forward, then bent it and brought the knife's blade back into Golem's right eye. There was no way that even Golem's lightning-fast responses to attacks could have stopped it in time--Odin made sure to attack from below the robot's line of vision, the blade only visible as it drove home a moment before impact.
The knife was not meant for use in close quarters, made for penetration by throwing rather than thrusting, but, as they had appeared to Odin, Golem's eyes were made of glass. The knife had no trouble shattering the artificial eye, driving deep within its socket and causing a few sparks as it sliced through a few inner wires.
Golem opened his mouth and howled--there was no question that, artificial creature though he might be, he could certainly feel pain. It was a strange, unearthly sound, an agonized voice mixed with the heavy noise of gears turning and metal creaking to make it. But Odin knew he didn't have time to be startled or distracted by it. Even as Golem's hands rushed to reflexively cover the broken tool for sight, Odin quickly tossed the knife from one hand to the other, withdrawing his right arm quickly to avoid Golem grabbing at it. He then used his now armed left hand to force the knife into Golem's other glass eye. The blade plunged through it as it had the first, but this time broke against the metal interior. It was an inconsequential loss, however--the damage was done, as was the knife's purpose.
Odin quickly dropped himself from Golem and took a few steps back, drawing his sword. Still screaming, Golem was now flailing around aimlessly, turning and waving his arms in the vain hope of coming into contact with his nemesis. Odin carefully, quietly made his way to stand a few feet in front of Golem.
Golem was now, for all intents and purposes, helpless. Without his sight to guide them, his hands would not know where to defend. Without his eyes to find his target, he would not know where to attack. Without the ability to see where he was going, he could not know where to escape to. There was now a small part of Odin that held sympathy for the blinded automaton, and wanted to let him go alive. He was no longer a threat to Lokithor's ruling family, so there was no need to needlessly slaughter Golem.
But Odin knew from Niod's stories that Espers' knowledge and healing magics were great. There was a real possibility that, should Golem live this day, his sight could be restored by his fellow Espers, and he would once more be a threat to the survival of humanity. So, it was from a feeling of necessity, not bloodthirsty anger, that Odin shoved the tip of his sword into Golem's screaming metal maw, thrusting it as far up and in as he could. He put his all into the attack, and the steel punched through gears, wiring, and the thin metal roof of Golem's mouth to stab straight through whatever unnatural components made up the Esper's brain.
It was an eerie sight. One moment, Golem was moving as wildly as his stiff body would allow, moaning loudly. The next, he was utterly still and silent. There was no final scream, no burst of movement--he was simply dead. Odin pulled his saber free, and the metal carcass fell backwards to the ground. There was a flash of light from it, so bright that Odin had to turn and cover his eyes to avoid being the second combatant on this battlefield to lose his sight. When the light was gone, and Odin could safely open his eyes once more, there was nothing remaining of Golem save one strange, crystalline stone on the ground where he had been.
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Siren and Carbuncle had fled when Golem died, no doubt knowing that they could not feasibly win the battle alone. With Siren gone, her song's effects ceased, and Odin, Niod, and the rest of the knights had regained their speech. With no hostiles left to do battle with, Niod had led the knights back to the carriage. Seeing that there was no longer any danger, King Adrin had come out of the safety of his carriage to congratulate them all on a job well done (for it was not often that any encounter with Espers, even a small skirmish such as this one, ended with a victory for humans). He had then told them all about the closer battle that he had witnessed from the windows of his vehicle--Odin's victory over the strange metal Esper that would surely have otherwise killed the king and his daughter. King Adrin then proclaimed that, once they had returned to Lokithor after this trip was concluded, he planned to properly honor the remarkable young warrior.
This news, of course, put Niod in great spirits as he proclaimed with self-pride that even as a child, his son, armed with Niod's battle expertise, could defeat Espers in personal combat. Though Adrin had his doubts that Niod could have possibly trained Odin how to jump from a moving horse several feet through the air with beautiful precision, given that Niod's size and shape gave doubt that he could leap a full inch from the ground, he didn't contradict him. He was much more interested now in quickly resuming the trip, and getting out of this area of land where Espers had been and might still be lurking--a desire he voiced.
As the knights made ready to move out, and King Adrin retired to his carriage again, Odin took his father back to where he had slain his first Esper. Pointing to the strange stone left behind, he asked Niod, "Father, when Gol--when the Esper died, he disappeared and left this. What is it?"
Niod scowled at the small object, and shuddered a little. "That's called Magicite, boy. A dead Esper. Don't you ever touch one, you hear me, you little brat? They're cursed things; any man what holds one hears the voice of the monster he's killed, whispering in his ear for all his days. They say the curse'll drive you mad, one last act of spite the Esper makes against us. Leave it be and hope no other damned fool comes and touches it."
Niod left to mount his chariot once more. Odin followed him after one final glance at Golem's only remains. He felt strangely conflicted…a great pride and sense of accomplishment permeated him at knowing that he had succeeded excellently at protecting his king, and fulfilled his first and greatest duty as a knight. The duty of protection of one's lord…it was truly the greatest cause Odin could imagine, and he had followed it through this day. Were it at all more becoming to a knight in training, and were he not sure that Niod would bruise him soundly for it, the boy might have given a small whoop of pride.
And yet…there was some small, strange part of him that felt the exact opposite--it mourned the death of Golem as one Odin had been meant to defend. It felt as though he had failed in that same sacred duty of protection.
But this was, of course, nonsense. Odin put it from his mind, mounted Sleipnir once more, and prepared to leave with the others.