Alaia Skyhawk: Ah we're back into the hefty stuff now. Here are some faces you haven't seen yet, but it's finally time to introduce.
I don't own Tales of Symphonia so please don't sue me. I do however own Krishka, Dallinius (Dalli), Aluran, the Alurannai and any OCs, except Sanaro and Annule, who belong to Mr.Who2123, and Mika and Fiuras, who belong to WingedWithFireyMana, so please don't steal them...
Enjoy
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Chapter 54: Short Travellers
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I can't stay here. I don't care what will happen to me if I'm caught.
Creeping down a tunnel lit by the occasional glowing crystal, the heavily built figure snuck towards the waterfall that hid the entrance to this ancient city of his people. Guilt wracked him, he had cast no weapon against the innocent, but even so the work he had spent his life thus far crafting had cost more lives than a soldier during the Kharlan war may have taken in his entire career. He couldn't take it anymore. To be damned with the risks, he was going to try and get away. Cruxis didn't know how many dwarves were in Graashim, and certainly didn't know what any of them looked like. His absence would be noticed only by his fellows and they would never betray him. Cruxis may have enslaved this city, but its people still clung to what honour they could. If one of their number succeeded in escaping, it would be counted at a small victory for those remaining, a spark of rebellious hope to keep them going.
Dwarven Vow number sixty-four: Giving up is the coward's path, and not the path of a dwarf.
Slipping out past the waterfall, the dwarf apprehensively scanned the dawn sky with squinting grey eyes. He'd always had that squint, but it didn't interfere with his work, he was as skilled as any other in Graashim and those skills would let him make a living once he'd escaped. Once far away from here he could pass himself off as a dwarf having come from one of the other Dwarven Cities, the freedom of those cities bought by the willing submission of Graashim. Only in this place did dwarves know the truth about Cruxis, the others were as in the dark as the rest of the people in the two worlds, but that too had been part of the price of their freedom, that they would never know the truth.
Seeing no angels, he made for one of the more obscure trails out of the valley, never moving more than a few meters before stopping to check the sky once more. He was taking a big chance leaving at this hour, but he'd reasoned that the angels that guarded the valley would be less alert to the possibility of an escape at such an hour. After all, who in their right mind would try to escape at a time when you could leave a two hundred foot long shadow across the valley floor if you stepped into the light of the rising sun?
Nearing just such a danger spot, he began to crawl as low to the ground as he could, praying that he'd get past it before the sun rose high enough to make him cast a shadow even while in this position. Inch by inch he moved, even as inch by inch the sun crept down the far side of the valley. Finally reaching the lea behind the next ridgeline, he sighed with relief. Just a few miles more and he'd be out of the valley and safe, the angels forbidden from passing the entrance in case they were seen by travellers heading to one of the three coastal towns between here and the eastern tip of the Rymett'riron continent.
Determined, the aging man scanned the sky again before continuing on. He'd made it this far and he wasn't going to give up, such was not the way of a dwarf.
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"You're not leaving! Do you hear me?! I won't allow it!"
Ignoring the shouts of the homely figured dwarven woman yelling at him, the young man continued to stuff his few possessions into the side pockets of large pack on his floor which already contained a basic set of crafting tools and all the supplies he'd need to make a journey of a few weeks. As he closed the last of them, he shouldered the pack and turned to face her.
"Mother, Ah'm a grown man and more than able to make my own decisions. You've no right to make them for me." Walking over to her, he put a hand on her shoulder. "Ah want to see some of the world, meet some of the people out there. It won't be forever, and ah won't be the first dwarf to have gone out to ply his trade for a few years. Have some faith in me."
Lip trembling, the woman stroked the short, bristly cut red-brown hair on her son's head as he smiled at her over his beard, brown eyes sparkling.
"Dirk, you'll always be my little boy." She hugged him tight. "If you don't come back safe and sound some day, I'll haunt you for the rest of eternity in the afterlife."
Pushing her back gently, he smiled again at his mother who stood five inches shorter than his own four foot.
"Don't you worry, ah'll even visit now and then every few years, ah'm not planning on going that far. Ah thought I'd build a house near that Iselia place, there's some good bedrock round there, good solid ground for a dwarf to live on, and with all the pilgrims that go there ah'll get to meet all the different peoples ah've been wanting to. Ah'm only twenty-six, ah've got a good thirty decades yet. Let me spend a couple doing something ah've wanted to do since ah was yay high."
Hugging her one last time, Dirk walked out of his room and then out into the street the house fronted onto. Standing in the doorway, his mother waved him goodbye as he looked back over his shoulder and waved in return. Facing forward once more, he strolled down the street to where one of the Great Stairways cut the city. Just like Graashim, the Dwarven City of Braananir was built as a series of descending terraces that led up to the great tunnel that formed the city entrance. On the edge of the western rim of the Ossa Mountains north of Triet Desert, Braananir was an easy hike from Iselia in terms of terrain. Some forest, gently rolling hills, nothing a dwarf used to mining in rock strewn tunnels and hauling heavy tubs of ore out of the mines couldn't handle. It wasn't as if her were unarmed either, for hanging from his belt was a short handled battle axe with a razor edged blade forged by his own hand. Even without the axe, anything picking a fight with him would have trouble. After all forging hammers could do more than just pound metal.
Reaching the tunnel entrance, he turned and looked back over the city. It would be some time before he saw it again.
Heading into the great passage for the Gates, he took a deep breath to steady himself. This was it he was fulfilling his dream of seeing at least some of the world. But even so, when you've never seen anything but mountains and caves in your life, the thought of open plains couldn't help but make you nervous.
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Scrambling down the slope, sliding more than stepping in some places, he tripped and rolled the last of the way in a tangle of limbs and battered travelling pack. Coughing, he rolled to his feet and froze. He was looking out on open land. Just a hundred yards of rocks lay between him and the Southern Plains of Rymett'riron. Throwing all caution to the wind, he grabbed his pack and sprinted as fast as his stout legs could carry him. Rock and gravel gave way to grass as he kept running, running until the gap that was the valley entrance was but shadow among the rocks of the mountains.
He'd made it! He was free!
Still not quite believing it, he stood there dazed as the sun continued its climb towards zenith. Finally after several minutes he shook himself and set off, following the edge of the mountains towards the north-west. He would head to Heimdall, the Elves and the Dwarves were still friends, and they wouldn't begrudge aiding him by taking him in one of their boats to the Continent of Gaorachia. There was a rocky area near Ozzette where lone dwarves had been known to settle in the past. There he could easily pass himself off as having come from Furaan, the city built in one of the Twin Peaks, the two mountains north of the Gaorachia forest.
With a new confidence and hope in his stride, Altessa Frane walked on in his new freedom towards a future away from the slavery he'd endured under Cruxis.
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The two sisters stood side by side on the steps of the woodcutter's cottage where they lived, both wincing as the sound of coughing came from inside. Their mother was long dead, and now their father was ill. Their future was bleak, unless they did what they had to do.
The younger of the two by just over eleven months, the ten year old girl turned to face her sister.
"Presea... I'm going to accept the apprenticeship to become an handmaiden. I'll have to go to Altamira, but I might be able to come back and visit after a while. Father needs you to help him cut the sacred wood. I'm not as strong as you so you're the only one that can do it."
Pale blue eyes gazed sadly at the girl whose hair like hers was the colour of pale rose, the legacy of some ancient elven connection in her mother's line, so diluted now by the generations that the only trace of it was the unusual hair colour. Their mother's family had faced problems in Ozzette until testing had proven no measurable trace of elven blood existed in them, but even so in the years since then some of the more reserved members of the town still kept their distance. This isolation wasn't a burden for the girls and their parents, they were used to following their father on long trips deep into the woods on those occasions when the older sister wasn't helping a young mother in the village look after her children.
Sighing, she accepted the inevitable.
"I'll miss you, Alicia. Promise me when you go that you'll write as often as you can. I want to be able to show your letters to father when I get them so we can both know how well you're doing."
Pulling her big sister into a tight hug, Alicia pressed her face into the shoulder of the girl's heavy linen working dress, tears dampening the cloth.
"I'll write to you every week, I promise Presea."
Hugging her back, she cried as well. Two sisters who had until know been inseparable, would now have to part ways. Fate had chosen harshly for them, but they would face what they had to for the sake of their father.
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Whistling cheerfully, the bristle haired dwarf strolled down the long winding path to the plains north of Triet desert. Lush and green, they were vastly different from his home of rugged brown terrain scattered with sparse grass and plants glowing in nooks and crevices. It was becoming increasingly clear to him just how different things were going to be for him out there, but right now he was relishing the thought of that challenge.
Hoisting his pack a little higher on his back, Dirk Irving continued down the mountainside on this path he'd dreamed of following since the day he'd first glimpsed those plains from the heights of the mountains...
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Alaia Skyhawk: You might think that was a rather random mix of people and events, but actually Altessa, and Presea and Alicia, both connect to what Rodyle was mulling over at the end of the last chapter, and it was time Dirk was mentioned as well. After all we never found out in the game why he was living near Iselia, so I made an interesting reason for it. Altessa, Presea, and Alicia aren't going to be mentioned that much in Hope though, this is just so that it's shown they're there and that these things are happening. Dirk will likely get some decent page time though.
