The Ties That Bind

What's this? A fast update? From me? Gasp, shock, horror etc.

Yeah, I wanted to make up for the fact that my last chapter was so cripplingly short. Add to that the fact that I'm cutting out one of the scenes (out of four…) from the previous chapter simply because it doesn't fit in with the current character development, and it's gotten even shorter retroactively. Nertz.

Hopefully this chapter's a good bit longer. And as always, I hope that what I write here entertains those reading. (For the right reasons. Them falling over laughing at my work would also technically count as 'entertainment', but not in the sense I'd like.)

Oh, yeah. YU PSP is great fun. Also, I'm stuck in the strange position of thinking the localized NA voices actually sound more fitting for their characters than the original Japanese voices. (With the notable exception of Rosary. She sounds like some teenage ditzy... brat… girl… thing. Ick.)

Disclaimer: I own nothing

Nietzsche didn't like it when people argued. It was pretty loud and confusing and people acted mean to each other and sometimes it got nasty and people got hurt. And when it got really nasty it could end up in those really big wars and fights that Nietzsche had participated in not too long ago.

That was why Nietzsche was understandably distressed to see Roswell walk out of the Aqua Palace having a heated argument with a woman – a woman that seemed vaguely familiar to Nietzsche…

"... and of course it didn't occur to you, at any one point in time, that maybe I liked being dead? Just so you know, Heaven is a very nice place, with quite a lot of the things that I enjoy doing taking place there, it's all very relaxing and such. Of course you wouldn't have the slightest idea how much dragging me back down here pisses me off and –" Here the rose-eyed woman broke off, breathing heavily. "Oh, for – I'd forgotten how easily bodies run out of breath."

The Necromancer took advantage of this brief gap in her speech to reply. "As I recall, Lady Yggdra recounted that she fought you in the Holy Land – and you didn't seem particularly happy there. Further, you kept…" Then he broke off, shaking his head.

"Kept what?" The woman crossed her arms, glaring suspiciously at Roswell.

"Nothing. Forget it."

"Well, whatever this 'nothing' was, it was important enough for you to half-kill yourself trying to bring me back down here, and since it directly involves my current state of well-being, I'd like to hear it."

Roswell sighed and looked away. "I had nightmares, Rosary. Nightmares more real and vivid than anything I've ever had before. In it, you were there. Pleading, demanding me to bring you back… that I was the only one who could do it. They just… wouldn't stop. I just kept getting reminded of how it was pure chance that I survived and you died, that how it could just as easily have been me getting stormed in my manor… Of how the whole reason we were fighting in the first place was because of just plain, stupid selfishness, and…" He closed his eyes. "I thought… I thought this would be the only way to make amends."

"Hmph. So this was to satisfy your own guilty conscience." Rosary rolled her eyes, but the edge in her voice had softened. "Typical Roswell." She turned away, looking out over the water capital of Elise. "Well, you succeeded. I'm back. Now what?"

The wizard sighed. "Well, seeing as how a large portion of the continent's a wreck – by the way, were you able to see how things were going down here while you were… um, up there?"

"Yes, but… well, for some reason, what was going on here didn't seem quite so important up there..." A frown appeared on Rosary's face. "Drat. I'm already forgetting everything that occurred in Heaven. They told me this would happen…"

"…Ah, anyway, as I was saying, the land's absolutely devastated after the war – I was planning to offer my services to Lady Yggdra. I was wondering… if you'd come along too."

The lady rolled her eyes again – she seemed to like doing that a lot, Nietzsche thought. "Oh, I'm certain that it'd be a wonderful meeting. Hello there, your Majesty. I'm that witch you killed in dispute involving the Ankhs, remember?"

Roswell chuckled, and Nietzsche blinked. She didn't expect such a mirthful sound to come from the brooding mage. "Queen Yggdra is not the sort to dwell on such matters. We do share some of the responsibility for the state of the land – the Ankhs… they were used to defend the gates of Flarewerk."

"And ended up destroying a good portion of city in the end." Rosary nodded. "Yes, I remember watching that." Flipping some of her hair back over her shoulder, she turned to face Roswell. "I trust you were competent enough to keep the entirety of the Verlaine Hills running smoothly in my absence, hm?"

"More or less." The Necromancer was already turning and walking down the curved path that led to the lower levels – for obvious reasons, the Aqua Palace did not have stairs. "I've already talked to the Undines about preparing some of the local cuisine for the evening meal – I hope you like seafood. Of course it's probably not going to be anywhere near as good as the food you've partaken of in heaven, but as you just said, you can't remember it anymore, so it shouldn't be much of an issue…"

And with that, both masters of sorcery left.

Milanor was good at fighting in scorched, parched areas strewn with all sorts of rocky outcroppings and treacherous footing and all that sort of thing. Heck, he was a bandit, he was better at those places than most any other location.

For all that he was skilled at that sort of terrain, it was a drastically different experience when the terrain had literally been created not five minutes ago.

A single blast – a single shot from the Twin Ankhs had scorched the entirety of the land ahead of them away, leaving nothing but charred, blackened ash ahead of them. The Imperial Army's intent had been to demonstrate the destructive potential of the Ankhs, and in that they succeeded. The sheer power of the weapon was insane.

Not half as insane, of course, as the simple fact that they were going to charge straight at it.

There was simply no other way. The Silver Wolf looked to Yggdra, her face pale but her expression resolute. With a single sweeping motion, her weapon was now pointed straight at the very top of the battlements of Flarewerk, where the hazy form of the Blazing Emperor could still be made out, staring down at them.

Even as Yggdra opened her mouth, Milanor could tell what she was going to say. Uttered countless times across countless battlefields, a rallying cry that the thief wasn't sure even Yggdra believed in anymore… but it was symbolic of what they fought for, regardless.

"Justice lies with the Holy Sword! CHARGE!"

And they were off, charging across a barren landscape with absolutely no cover, straight towards the lines of the Gulcasa's elite legions. The fish in the proverbial barrel, some might say.

Apparently whoever was in charge of the Ankh wanted to have some fun with the beleaguered Royal Army, for instead of another massive sphere of destruction, what rained down upon them this time were countless beams of pure light, burning away soldiers to ash as they fit. One knight slightly ahead and to the left of Milanor had the time to half-turn away, which meant the thief got an excellent view of the doomed soldier's agonized face as his body crumbled away to dust.

Forcing the gruesome image from his mind, Milanor continued their doomed, desperate charge. Once he reached the enemy troops, they'd be safe. Gulcasa wouldn't order them to fire on his own troops… he hoped.

Then the sadistic bastard manning the Ankhs changed tacks yet again, now with pillars of light making sweeping runs across the entire field, further decimating their troops.

"We're getting slaughtered out here…" He muttered to herself. "We need a miracle."

And then the miracle occurred.

"Milanor!" The cry was faint but unmistakeable.

The silver-haired thief glanced up. "Kylier?" He sputtered. He could see the Al wheeling about in the sky. A moment later she wheeled in, face shining with concern.

"You came back!"

"Yeah, forget that. What the heck's going on – what's that thing?"

"Those Ankhs? They're some sort of magic crystal thingy – I don't know, ask Roswell. Point is, as long as it's up and running, we don't have a hope in hell of breaking through." Milanor wasn't really paying much attention to the conversation, his primary focus on sidestepping loose rock as he continued ever closer to the massive obsidian gates – Al could keep up with him without even trying.

"Oh… that's it, huh?" Kylier's voice carried an odd note to it, something that would have made Milanor swivel his head to stare at her under normal circumstances. As it was, a pillar of light passed so close to them Milanor could swear some of his skin had crisped, and he only heard the words as an afterthought.

And then Kylier spoke again.

"Don't worry, Mil. I'll deal with the Ankhs. Just… promise me you won't die, okay? Promise me you'll live… that you'll be happy." This was jarring enough for Milanor to look over his shoulder at her – and nearly trip over a loose rock in the process.

"Kylier, what are you – KYLIER!" Even as he spoke the griffon rider was wheeling away, soaring up towards the glowing weapon.

And then Milanor found that he had changed course, that his legs were pumping frantically, that he was running faster, faster than he had ever ran before, but it wasn't fast enough, it just wasn't good enough, and he couldn't catch up with the winged beast.

"KYLIER, STOP!" He didn't know why, he didn't know what was going to happen, but he couldn't shake this awful, awful feeling in his gut that grew exponentially the closer the Vanir flew to the Twin Ankhs.

And then a sharp crackling sound, and pure light blazed out from where the Ankhs were – had been – and the force of the explosion was so great that the entire Royal Army was blown backwards, sent tumbling head over heels and thick clouds of dust were thrown up all over the place, so that Milanor couldn't see Kylier, couldn't see where she went, couldn't see if she was all right.

And then Milanor opened his eyes – blinked.

He was back in Castle Karona, back in the room assigned to him. Based on the view outside his window, it was evening now.

"Sheez, how long was I out?" The thief muttered to himself as he clambered out of bed. Striding over to the door, he yanked it open.

"Anything's better than sticking around and being forced to think about her…" The thief muttered under his breath. It was nearly dinnertime, and Milanor felt sufficiently famished to go join the others for their food.

Rounding the corner, he caught sight of Azel walking ahead, a small frown on his face. Shrugging, the Silver Wolf called his name as he increased his pace to catch up with the Bronquian.

"Hm? Oh. Well met, Sir Milanor."

"Man, you're formal." Milanor grinned slightly. "Anyway, you holding up well? Flone said that you'd pushed yourself a bit much in that last fight, especially since you haven't recovered one hundred percent yet."

"I'm fine. Even Flone said as much. She said I just needed a bit more rest."

The thief nodded at this. "Great. Oh, yeah, how was Elena? You were looking after her, right?"

"Yes, I was. She woke up after the fight, and went back to sleep at my urging. For all I know, she's still in her room."

"Yeah…" Milanor paused. Tact was not high on the priority list of skills for a bandit, and as such Milanor usually had no idea how to bring up potentially awkward conversations with others. Usually he went to Yggdra about it, since she wasn't the type to get overly upset about whatever it was Milanor was talking about, and then she could go deal with the issue using the… um, social graces she had picked up as a young monarch. Obviously it wasn't in the cards now…

Milanor sighed. "Look, there's something I want to ask you. You… uh, you've got a bone to pick with Elena or something?"

He saw Azel's face immediately go blank. "What's it to you?" Came the soft reply.

"Well, let's just say that she's come through for us a whole lot, and she's a pretty nice girl, to boot. She was never very good at hiding her feelings, and it's pretty clear that she gets down in the dumps whenever you're dealing with her."

"…" Azel didn't reply for a while. "Do you believe, then, that I, as nominal commander of this group, am dealing with her unfairly?"

"No, but I think that you, as a person, are making someone else feel like she's a sack of crap. I don't need technical word games where you can go act polite around her while letting her know your contempt for her at the same time."

"No, I've spelt it out quite clearly to her that I hate her. She betrayed her own country-"

"So did Russell – no one's treating him like he's swampwater scum. In fact, wanna guess who's been charged with the jurisdiction of the entire northern region of Fantasinia? And I've seen you talking to him in a rather respectful manner, if I say so myself."

"Sir Russell had his reasons-"

"Oh, and Elena didn't?" Milanor let out a snort. "Like, I don't know, maybe the fact that you Imperial blowhards were acting like a humongous bunch of assholes? Want me to tell you about that nice little incident in the Verlaine Hills where you played the Black and White Roses for fools and made off with their Ankhs? How about not bothering to set up any sort of worthwhile peacekeeping force in Fantasinia after having overthrown the country so that now we're up to our asses in bandit raids? Or, oh yeah, intending to sacrifice Yggdra so you could awaken a giant dragon that'd come out and burn everything to a crisp is pretty big dick move too." He paused. "You wanna talk about patriotism and crap, fine. Hell, all I was fighting for at first was so I could get my grubby paws on Yggdra's castle, since she promised it to me. But Elena's the sort of person who decided that she wanted to fight for the side she could believe was doing the right thing – and damned if that's not something worth respecting."

Azel was silent for a long moment. Then wordlessly, he cut left, heading away from the dining hall, leaving Milanor alone. With a sigh and a shrug, the Silver Wolf continued on his way.

It was funny, Elena mused, how often it was that you could remember seemingly mundane things and details about others, letting it shape your perception of them.

And so even know, as she lay back in her bed, staring at the ceiling, her mind was back to the days of the war, back when life seemed to be one special mission, one assassination, one support force after another.

Like that one particular incident back in the Verlaine Hills campaign…

She's been sitting on a crate, silently adjusting and cleaning her cross bow when she saw Russell enter the camp, his face a black mask.

"Where's Leon?" He questioned to the first soldier within earshot. Elena frowned at this. Being of the same rank as the Black Knight, Sir Russell technically did not have to address Leon with an honorific, but he always did so nonetheless. If he hadn't, he must be extremely upset over something…

The pondering was broken as Leon emerged from one of the tents, a bored expression on his face. "Yeah, what's up?" He snapped. "Did you find some info on the White Witch's weaknesses in her forti-"

"Leon, you led an attack on the White Rose's domain?" Russell questioned softly. To most others, their conversation would have been nigh unintelligible, but, well, Shadow enhanced hearing and all that. Elena kept her head low and continued paying attention.

"Yeah, what's it to you? That Roswell guy's a real dope. Didn't even think to question why the Empire would want to help his scrawny little ass-"

"Leon, you sent your men in knowing that they'd be slaughtered! I submitted a full report on just how devastating the power of the Ankh was – and I know you read it. Rosary had one of her own!"

"Aw, heck." Leon shrugged. "Yeah, some of my men got fried. Still wouldn't have lost in the end if it weren't for Yggdra and her goons. Guess she just likes playing both sides of the field, huh?"

Russell was obviously trying to keep his temper in check. "Leon. Why did you order your men in on an attack that you knew was going to be all-but suicidal? I ordered an immediate withdrawal from the Black Rose area as soon as I saw what that Ankh could do, and I still suffered heavy casualties. Nearly a third of your forces were lost!"

"Dunno," he shrugged. "Guess I was bored. Wanted a bit of action."

"Bored? BORED? Do the deaths of your men mean so little to you? Are you mad?"

"Do the deaths of your men mean so much to you? Are you weak?" The Black Knight shot back. "I think that's why you Fantasinians lost, you know. You're all alike. The whole spineless, pale, pathetic lot of you. You're also questioning, doubting yourself, trying to figure out some contrived and convoluted plan that'll get you to lose the least amount of men. Well, guess what, weakling – that's not how the Bronquian's do things! We know we'll send soldiers through meatgrinders, and so we train 'em for it. Stick that in your pipe and smoke on it for a while." And Leon brushed past – fairly shoved – Russell and continued on his way, without a care in the world.

Even as she replayed the scene in her mind, Elena still shuddered slightly at it. At how cruel, how cold Leon could become. Why? When? She still questioned herself. How did it all go wrong?

Just then, there was a soft knock on her door. Sitting upright, she turned to face it. "Come in."

The door swung open, and the Astral Fencer stepped in.

"Sir Russell?" She questioned softly.

The knight sighed, looked out the doorway for a moment, and looked back to her.

"The evening meal is ready. Are you hungry?"

'Well… yes." She admitted. She hadn't eaten since hastily consuming some travel rations yesterday on their march to Tern. Clambering out of bed, she stretched her limbs gingerly, feeling for any aches or tugs.

As they left the room, the two of them nearly bumped into Azel who was just rounding the corridor.

"Oh… Elena." Something in the way he said it made her frown. It was… different from the way he usually spoke her name, full on barely concealed anger and contempt. There was a look in his eyes she couldn't read well, and… well, he just seemed different.

Sir Russell, however, did not appear to detect much of an issue. "Sir Azel? Are you going to dinner?"

The crimson knight shook his head. "Not just yet, no. Why don't you go on ahead without me?"

And before either of them could say a word to stop him, he continued down along the corridor.

The next day…

"Roswell?" Rosary stepped through the various archways of the aqua palace, a cross look on her face. Where was that man? "Roswell, we're all ready to move out, where are-"

Then she entered one of the studies and nearly cried out in exasperation.

"Roswell!"

For the necromancer was sitting at his desk, head buried in a book, a frown etched on his face as he flipped through the tome. At her shout, he lifted her head. "Oh, Rosary. I've just been looking back over the spell components, and I can't figure out what's wrong."

"What's wrong?" She echoed. "I'm back. That's a success, isn't it? It's what you were trying to do."

"Well, yes, but…" He turned back to the book. "The energy demand was nearly three times more than I had anticipated. It's puzzling – I can't find any explanation why…"

"Well, maybe the powers that be considered me worth three times an ordinary person so they charged you three times as much." Rosary snarked. "Roswell, don't tell me you've spent all night puzzling over something like this and forgot to pack your things."

"Um…" The mage hesitated, which was really all Rosary needed to know.

"You. Haven't. Changed. A bit." Rosary ground out. Turning, she beckoned a couple of attendants. "Head to Roswell's chambers and stuff everything into bags. Move it," before giving another exasperated sigh and stalking out of the room.

Roswell looked out the room at her departing figure, a wry smile on his face. "Neither have you, apparently." He said to the empty room.

Chapter End

For anyone who cares, the scene deleted from chapter 10 is the 3rd scene.

Thanks for reading, please review.