(A/N) Hey guys! FINALLY got this out... AP tests are over and my classes are essentially finished, so that means time to update more regularly. You can expect lots more in the near future (especially cuz we're getting to the good parts) now that I have ample time to complete it. Sorry about the long wait- my version of studying is serious cramming because I don't study all year, but we don't have to worry about that anymore.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything but the storyline... shame, too. The things I could do with ToS...*sigh*

Kratos heaved a deep breath and slipped out from his hiding place. His conviction was set along with his first silent step, and his targets came into view. Their silver chest plates and helmets flashed intermittently in the patches of light between branches and his sure-footed trek led him straight at their unsuspecting backs. The Knights walked side-by-side in a professional manner, but they didn't know what hit them.

Holding his sword handy, he slammed the butt of the hilt hard against the back of the right-side guard's helmet and landed a heavy kick in the upper back of the left-hand guard. Their armor clanged hollowly with the force of both blows, but it did them little good and they crumpled to the ground. In the split-second following the preliminary assault, the central Knight whirled to face Kratos while the shield in his left arm came up defensively. His right hand shot towards his sheathed weapon, but Kratos used his heel to sweep the man's legs out. Spotting his chance, Kratos sharply struck the crown of the Knight's head with his hilt, and consequently at a seam in the smooth metal of his helmet. After the man was rendered unconscious, Kratos stood there for a moment to catch his breath.

He thought he'd gotten away without being recognized, but it was difficult to tell. The only gaugeable characteristic underneath all the shell-like metal encasements were the eyes of the Royal Guards. The visors on the helmets were slanted inwards in just the way to shed light on a 'V'-shaped band across the face. The hazel eyes on the central guard had widened noticeably in either shock or recognition- though probably a combination of the two- before Kratos had knocked him out. Hopefully any impeding headaches would clear up that problem. He spent a moment to reassure himself that the Knights were completely unconscious and nothing more serious before examining their apparel.

He needed to blend in with the Knights that were bound to be on duty for crowd control. Nobody would give a Royal Knight a second glance. He slid an undamaged helmet off of one of the men's heads carefully. He found it to fit him fine and took various pieces of armor off of the others. Hopefully they'd think that the missing items were randomly plucked, and to reinforce that he scattered some of their belongings in the general vicinity. It was nothing less than a cut-and-dry robbery. He was just trying to conceal the purpose for the items he stole. His tunic, like those of the guards, would be covered up by most of the solid metal, so it was of little importance. After outfitting himself with the uncomfortable uniform, Kratos readjusted his sheath and set off towards Meltokio once again. His breath echoed oddly off of the helmet, but his vision wasn't impaired at all, nor did it slow him down much. Even with all this trouble, he was probably saving time that would've been spent sneaking through the sewer and drifting through alleyways.

Padding softly through the well-worn dirt path, Kratos saw the main gate through cracks in the trees. It served as the Northern entrance to Meltokio, and was the one most travelers were expected to arrive through for security purposes. A single, solitary Knight would seem rather out of place. As far as he knew, they travelled in teams of three or more. He'd still have to make that detour to the sewers, then.

A Knight could manage by himself inside the city easily enough.

Before the gate-keepers could spot him, Kratos cut swiftly to his right to follow the perimeter of the capital's walls. If his memory served properly, the sewer cut-off was along the older section of the wall, where the grey bricks and mortar were chipped and weathered to a paler hue. That section of the city would be about half a mile from his current location around the slight curvature of the wall. He could handle this.

The scenery around the city was at that brink between tree cover and civilization, so the canopy of leaves provided by the woods broke in some places and had a gradually fading effect as he neared the wall. He was confident, now, that any perimeter set by the Tethe'allan guard would be much farther out. His left glove trailed the regal display of Meltokian architecture as he walked. The sun was setting, and he was right on time. Soon he came across a break in the base of the wall.

Some broken stone supports and pillars hoisted up the weight of the underground's ceiling in a small enclave in the wall. The sewer itself had a fairly small opening in comparison to the height of the rest of the wall. It was also curved in such a way that the location could be overlooked by security. Had Kratos not been following the immediate side of the city, he may have overshot it or missed the location entirely. A thin rivulet of filtered wastewater ran along the barricade for a distance to his right in a small trench. Kratos recalled it fed into a small tributary. The water trail would make it much easier to find, then, if the Sylvaranti had been looking for it. Regardless, the murmur of trickling water seemed to intensify within the musty darkness of the cavern in front of him.

Kratos was about to enter his back-door scheme, but a glimmer of metal caught his eye from behind one of the cement pillars.

Recollections of the battle that took place in that location were still fresh. Who else would have been in such a spot since? Kratos back-tracked a bit to investigate the shiny object. Crouching down into a squat, he swept aside a couple of brick sized pieces of rubble. It revealed the better part of a sheathed sword. His sword. The hilt had been wedged at just the right angle to catch the remainder of the evening light on a thin and round plate of metal on the butt of the sword. The shining blade itself flared with reflections as he unsheathed it. It was beyond a pleasant surprise. Kratos allowed a small smile to grace his lips when he gave it greater thought.

Yuan would've had no other choice but to ditch his weapon as soon as possible. He'd been stupid not to have expected as much. The half-elf wasn't even creative with his hiding place. He could've dumped it in the sewage, but Kratos had been fortunate enough to spot it. Happily, Kratos swapped Typhon's excellently crafted blade for his own. It lay in its place, perfectly hanging at his side.

The evening light was now giving way to a dimmer tint, and soon complete darkness would be upon him. He crept into the dank gloom that was the sewer system. The various catwalks- without railings he might add- were near impossible to make out. He didn't have the holy bottle he'd used to escape with, and the light during his mid-morning flight was more useful than the diffuse jets of weak light that streamed through holes here and there now. His improved eyesight gave him an advantage, but the walk was still much slower going.

The corner of Kratos' mouth twitched up at the memory. What was Yuan doing at this very moment? It would be improbable that they ever cross paths again, Symphonia was an enormous place. Yet, somehow Kratos knew he wouldn't be surprised if he ran into the Sylvaranti half-elf once again.

Yuan slid a battered helmet over his head and tightened the straps on his armor. Time to take the offensive. The more he thought about it, the more blatantly obvious it seemed that the Tethe'allans would strike with as much power as they could muster after the King's death. They weren't foolish. It would be an organized attack from the Sylvaranti forces that would unhinge them without a commander-in-chief. If they could prevent that attack, then they could probably order themselves in the chaos that ensued. The late King's daughter, Nyx Kratos had called her, would have to be decisive and quick on her feet after she was crowned. As far as Yuan knew, she would officially be crowned Queen of Tethe'alla after the funeral service. So the separate military commanders of the Tethe'allan army would be acting on their own.

Just as likely that they'd be playing their strongest cards.

Yuan and his regiment planned to catch them by surprise. If they could just flank the enemy and push them back to retreat to the pass, then it would be an even battlefield again. The problem with Latheon Gorge was that it was near impossible to maneuver. It remained a valuable location to either side because of the single stony bridge that traversed the deep trench. Whichever side controlled the bridge could control their own flow of forces into the enemy's country. Without it, an army would have to travel a considerably larger distance to be met with a well fortified and easily defensible border. For the Sylvaranti, this pass was their closest option to launch an assault on the Tethe'allan capital of Meltokio. For the Tethe'allans, winning it could surely guarantee the capture of the isolated desert city of Triet. Whatever the case, both sides wanted the pass under their control.

Yuan wouldn't let the Tethe'allans take Triet. That was his town. His home, too, when he chose to stay there. His regiment felt the same way and was prepared to fight for it.

It was early morning and they were all well rested. Yuan planned to split his team into two groups to out flank both sides of the Tethe'allan controlled territory. They'd only have to push the Tethe'allans back a half a mile before they could try to take the bridge. Kenta would lead one group and he would head the other. It could be a foolish mistake, but Yuan figured now was as good as any time to strike.

He summoned his butterfly blade, mentally preparing himself. The ground was too rocky for the hooves of horses, it would a battle of infantry. His men were ready, the sun was already high up in the sky, and he was primed. There was no excuse to falter.

"Let's go!" He roared out to his troops confidently. Their grim, battle-hardened faces nodded back at him. Then, they marched off towards the deepest ravine in all of Symphonia.

Kratos blinked in the sunlight. Something about the morning felt ominous and looming, as if something treacherous and awful was about to take place. It was an eerie feeling, and Kratos couldn't seem to shake it. The streets of Meltokio were crowded and bustling, but not in its usual boisterous manner. Everyone wore dark shades of grey and black, aside from the Knights whom were armor-clad. Mourning did not fit this city, but the quiet shuffling of bodies spoke otherwise.

He stood stiffly in the restrictive armor along the path way in the market. Here he looked to be assigned to a post like so many others. After the last of the stragglers moved in to attend the procession, he would follow. It was a simple plan, one he wasn't sure was going to work because it was so straightforward. Plans were prone to change, so there was no use complicating an already obsolete preparation with details. Due to unforeseeable circumstances, something would come up forcing him to wing it.

Being back in Meltokio was a nostalgic sort of feeling, though he hadn't been gone long. He grew up in these streets, and that only heightened the feeling of melancholy and sorrow at his father's death. Guilt wrenched his gut at the thought of seeing the coffin, hearing the eulogy. God- what had he been thinking when he left? The crowd had thinned out and Kratos allowed himself to drift along behind them. He marched as he was accustomed to seeing the Knights walk. The armor was cumbersome to wear in the city, when there was little to no possibility of attack, but Kratos was thankful the Knights saw it a necessary burden. It would be unfeasible to conceal his face among so many people any other way.

Kratos examined the sides of the narrow streets. Nothing looked out of place, but he couldn't get over the hunch that something was off. There were no people lining the market stalls, and the steady stream of mourners headed to the funeral treaded like ghosts. After rounding the final corner, Kratos could see the massive crowd of people that had accumulated. A sea of downturned heads spanned in front of the courtyard that lay before the royal castle. Still feeling vaguely suspicious, Kratos let his eyes drift over the civilians.

Kratos neared the perimeter of the crowd, still drawing a blank on the cause of his unease. Though, he did notice several other Royal Knights circling the mass, the closest was only about thirty yards to his left. Noticing the man's rigid stance, Kratos mimicked his position, closing the loop leading back to the road. No one spared him a glance, and he had a perfect view of the raised platform at the head of several stairs which elevated the back half of the courtyard. From the several important looking priests and an elegantly dressed woman Kratos could only guess was Nyx from this distance, it was clear that the coffin was to be placed there. His eyes narrowed on Nyx. If she felt uncomfortable, he couldn't tell. She was good at hiding that sort of thing. She appeared to be holding up very well considering the circumstances. Kratos let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding while sizing up her condition.

They were the only ones left, after all.

Kratos was hit by another wave of guilt. He needed to hold it together, or he would be found out. He noticed too late that the guard to his left was approaching him at a brisk march. Damn. He couldn't know already? Kratos did his best to stand calmly, straightening his stance to stand at attention when the guard neared. The man nodded, the only thing visible his sharp blue eyes.

"We've got a problem." The man spoke softly, but his voice was still strong enough to carry a determined edge.

"Where?" Kratos' eyes darted back to the crowd, his suspicions confirmed as he sifted through the faces again.

"At your 10 o'clock, the one wearing the grey traveling cloak." Kratos honed in on the aforementioned man immediately. He blended in nicely, but the way he kept near the back of the crowd and casually snuck glances of his surroundings rubbed Kratos the wrong way. The man had a weapon as well, which wasn't uncommon among Tethe'allans in general, but the manner his hand guarded it reflected apprehension. His dark hair hung over his eyes, adding to the air of not wanting to be noticed. Kratos nodded to the other guard.

"Looks like a Sylvaranti." he muttered quietly. Hopefully there was just one. He frowned. Crashing a funeral was low even for times of war.

"We should handle him." The Knight inclined his head in the direction of the designated Sylvaranti.

Kratos was only able to give a curt nod. Of course he'd get looped into doing something like this. They both started to weave their way through the crowd towards the man. Unfortunately, he chose that moment to glance up in their direction. Steely grey eyes peered from behind the locks of his hair, and momentarily looked caught like deer in the headlights. Instead of staying frozen, though, he broke into a run through the crowd in the opposite direction.

"Dammit" The guard cursed next to him, and they both broke into a run trailing the Sylvaranti.

Cries of surprise trailed their chase as the man roughly shoved through unsuspecting mourners. People shuffled in the densely packed crowd to make way for them, yet it did no good. Kratos did his best to slip through the tangle of people that were left in the man's wake, but it looked as if he was intentionally knocking people over to slow down his pursuers. The sea of people was going to run out soon, as the man had cut across at a shallow angle to make a break for the nearest alleyway. Kratos knew they could make up ground as soon as there were fewer obstacles.

The Sylvaranti about ten yards ahead yanked the shoulders of an on looking man and threw him behind directly in the path of Kratos and his new acquaintance. Kratos sidestepped, but his fellow Knight ran head on into the black-clad civilian with a muffled 'Oomph'. Pulling ahead, Kratos finally cleared the barrier into open air and the feeling of claustrophobia lifted considerably. The object of his attention, however, was flashing around the corner, apparently also much lighter on his feet in the open territory.

Another Knight near the perimeter that had been set up called out at the sight of Kratos and his temporary companion, and immediately joined in the pursuit. Kratos spun around the corner and caught sight of the suspicious man, who seemed to be taking the fastest route to the sewers. That was a bad omen, Kratos thought as he heard the other Knights clamoring loudly at his heels. Unfortunately they were nearly there.

Rounding the next corner, Kratos saw the head of dark hair vanishing under the manhole cover. He took no time in plunging after him, having no choice to do anything but appear convicted of his purpose. Picking one side was so much easier than playing both, but it dictated his options too thoroughly. Breathing heavily, Kratos' eyes adjusted quickly, but he didn't hear much.

He tentatively took a step forward, very conscious of the loud echo of his breath against his helmet in the eerie silence. Surely the man couldn't have disappeared so quickly without a noise. A small shuffling noise behind him, paired with a similar sound to his front caused Kratos' eyes to widen slightly.

It was a trap.

"Wait, don't-!" Kratos turned back to the opening from whence he came, swiftly drawing his sword at the same moment the other two Knights clumsily fell through the opening above. Their armor flashed in the only pillar of grey light diffusing through the opening and cast an erratic flare of dim illumination through the cavern. Just enough light to make out several hostile figures surrounding them.

Damn. The Sylvaranti's plan B was clearly to get his hands on information if he was made. Like a fool, Kratos had followed. It wasn't as if Kratos could have made any other choice without drawing attention to himself, though, so he prepared to fight. The Tethe'allans to his back appeared confused, but must've drawn their weapons, because the grating sound of metal on metal screeched abruptly following the vicious assault. Kratos took the initiative, pouncing into the darker area of the sewer where he could still make out several shapes.

His disadvantage was glaringly obvious, and Kratos didn't even know the exact number of attackers that lay in wait. Hopefully they were just as affected by the dark as he was, because the shadows were in sharp contrast with the almost holy spotlight of the entrance.

Kratos heard the whiz of the dagger before he saw it, and shifted the side of his blade to glance off of it, redirecting its course. This would be a battle of fractions; none could deflect quickly enough given such a brief reaction time. Kratos hammered the flat of his blade into what he thought was the midriff of an opponent, twisting as he heard another hiss of sword cutting through air. God, was he grateful for the enhanced hearing his exsphere granted him, Kratos thought as he narrowly avoided what could've been a deadly strike. He ducked and spun into a low kick in order to clear his bordering arena, foot colliding with a shin. He sprung back up and rammed his hilt into the stomach of the newest target he located, feeling the man fall backwards.

"Stop!" A breathless voice- albeit vaguely familiar- called out, tinged with a triumphant edge. Kratos couldn't stop himself from turning towards the sound of the distraction. The initial Sylvaranti had stepped into the beam of afternoon light, holding the first Tethe'allan Knight in a headlock. Somehow, the man's helmet had gotten pulled off. The dagger dug into the skin at the guard's throat, tracing a thin red line down his neck as it sliced the surface. Now Kratos could see the guard's face, the man had sharp blue eyes and grey-brown hair. He was older than Kratos had expected, certainly much older than his Sylvaranti adversary who drew Kratos' full attention.

Dark features and steel grey eyes framed by black hair.

Kratos scowled despite the fact that no one could see it. It was the messenger. The one who notified him of his father's death, though now the man went without the cloth covering over his mouth. If he truly was of Sylvarant, then the enemy of Tethe'alla had penetrated much deeper through espionage than Kratos had suspected. The faux courier smiled eerily as his eyes darted around in the shadows searching for the Royal Knights.

"Surrender or this one dies."

Anyway, sorry for the wait. Just a couple of things to say in my long absence:

Arodelle: No worries, I have not abandoned this. Not even close, I've been insanely busy between exams and soccer, but now I've got time! I appreciate the concern.

Marina Ka-Fai: Thanx a ton for the regular reviews, and I just recently found some of your youtube AMVs on Kratos and Yuan, and I love them... You rock, thanks for the support!

Reina Ann Vilre: Thanks for sticking with this story so long! I know I don't respond to every review, but yours mean a lot!

And thanks to everyone who has fav'd and alerted, you guys keep me going! I'll get another one out soon!