Reviews:
Greyjedi449t: Thanks, here it is.
Pyromania101: I will definitely continue drawing parallels between the pair of them on each of their stories.
Greer123: Thank you, I'm glad that you enjoyed it.
Necrogod: no problem, here's the next one.
Disclaimer- Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling, and Berserk is owned by Kentaro Miura. I own nothing.
Where to go from here? How does he respond to that? Merlin; that was what she had said. The Merlin; the one nearly every child knew of back in Britain. It was mindboggling and added more question to the already impressive list that he had been keeping file inside of his head. And as those questions and others swirled around in his head trying to make sense of it all, the old woman sat there, smiling at him like some long overdue guest at a party.
The younger girl-apprentice-Schierke seemed a bit more cautious around him. Although Harry was facing away from her, he could almost feel her large turquoise eyes boring into the back of his head, and then alternate to look at her mistress almost like she was feeling left out of some silent conversation that wasn't going on. Her clear suspicion towards him was actually far more comforting a thought that the woman's reaction or lack thereof.
"You have heard his name before, no?" she asked, but it was clear that she already knew the answer.
Harry nodded. "I have, yes."
"I apologize for the golem," she said. "It sensed your presence when you came within close proximity of our spirit-tree mansion. You fought it, but did not destroy the source of its magic; it would have kept fighting with you, so I sent Schierke to go and collect you."
"You make it sound like you were suspecting me," Harry said without thinking.
Instead of trying to deny it, she gave a half-shrug and a close-lipped grin. "A contact of mine told me that I might be getting a visitor one of these days."
An acquaintance? Harry pondered. Who? Who could have known that he would come here? Schierke seemed to wonder the same thing; she was clearly out of the loop. "A contact, mistress? But no one ever comes here, you made this place near impossible to locate." And yet Harry had managed to stumble upon it.
"Someone from my past, you've never been introduced yet, Schierke." Her voice sounded a bit teasing, like a mother to a curious young daughter. "And speaking of introductions, I do not believe that I have introduced myself." She gave a curt bow of her head. "I am Flora; the Mistress of the Spirit-Tree."
Flora turned her gaze to her young apprentice. "Care to properly introduce yourself as well, my disciple?"
Schierke looked a bit embarrassed for a quick second, before giving a polite, but also seemingly forced bow of her head. "I am Schierke, the sole disciple of Mistress Flora."
The tiny pink, winged creature flew out from under Schierke's hat, and close to Harry's face. "And I am Ivalera, Schierke's best friend."
Harry didn't want to sound rude, but he asked, "You're a fairy?"
Ivalera tilted her tiny head to the side, almost insulted that he had to ask. "I am an elf. Haven't you ever seen an elf before?"
"Er-no, sorry," Harry said truthfully. Of course, he hadn't. Godo had said that all the elves had gone from Midland and virtually everywhere else. Where would he have possibly come across an elf before now? He kept that to himself though. It wouldn't be wise to insult them.
"Do not be sorry, young Harry," Flora told him, her attention back to him now. "The world has changed, and with it, many of what once was." She looked him over as if examining him. "You have traveled a long way to come here, you look exhausted." If he looked it, he didn't feel it. Anxiety and anticipation were flooding through his systems. "We can discuss your journey and its purpose in the morning; you should take some time to rest. Schierke, can you show our visitor to a vacant quarter?"
"You're inviting me to stay?" it wasn't that Harry wasn't grateful for being offered a place to spend the night, but he had only just arrived. He was an outsider, basically a complete stranger to them. There were so many questions that he wanted answers to.
Schierke, however, seemed to take it upon herself to voice the doubt Harry was feeling. "Mistress, I've never doubted your teachings, but inviting him to stay… I don't know how I feel about that. He doesn't know of our ways of life." She sent a suspicious look in his direction, but Harry didn't back away from it.
With a soft chuckle, Flora responded, "Everyone is an outsider before finding their place, Schierke. When you grow to be as old as I am, you tend to become a very good judge of character; you're growing into an exceptional witch after all." The young girl's cheeks reddened and she seemed to take an interest in a part of the floor.
The elf-Ivalera flew over to the girl's shoulder to talk in her ear. "Don't be embarrassed, Schierke. You've come so far in your practice." the elf assured her companion.
Flora continued. "While you may be an outsider from the land of the Holy See's influence, it goes against my better nature to turn away anyone in need; much like that one boy who found this place nearly fifty years ago." She sent Harry an almost apologetic look. "Any questions you most assuredly have can be saved for the morning. No harm will come to you by accepting our offer for shelter; you have my word on that."
She sounded genuine enough alright, but Harry was still a bit skeptical. Flora was not acting at all like he expected, Schierke was taking to that role much better than she was currently doing, and she was clearly suspicious of him after all. Flora, on the other hand, seemed far too trusting for someone of her age. But that didn't mean that she was lying, either. If she had wanted him dead, then she would have just let him face that golem alone, and she had helped Morgan out with his sick mother all those years ago for seemingly no other motive other than she wanted to.
"…And would you answer some of my questions in the morning?" Harry asked before giving his final answer.
"To the best of my ability," Flora answered.
"Then yes. I'll stay here."
She nodded. "Very well. Schierke, would you please." Flora motioned to the door.
"O-of course, mistress," Schierke bowed in acceptance. "Come along then." Harry knew she was talking to him and followed her.
"Sleep well," Flora called after them. "Tomorrow will be a most interesting day."
Schierke led him through the halls of the tree-mansion, not bothering to pause for Harry to take in the sight of all the ingredients, potions, decorations, and artifacts that lined the walls. The mansion sure beat the idea of a witch's hovel, but still managed to keep a deep sense of nature intact with every aspect of its design. Not only that, but the place practically felt magical; it was almost as if his mind felt clearer, even calmer than he had thought possible.
Stopping at the end of a hallway, Schierke opened a door and stepped aside for him to enter. The room was small, but not cramped. There was space enough for a bed, a wardrobe, an opening in the wood that served as a window of sorts, and desk. Feeling the mattress, he realized that it was stuffed with feathers. Schierke stood on the threshold, watching him examine the room. Ivalera fluttered up to sit on her shoulder, watching as well.
"Well thank you," Harry said to the witch apprentice.
"Of course," Schierke said. "It was my mistress' request after all." The way she worded it let him know that she had only done so because of her teacher, not of her own choosing. "Well… good night then." She closed the door, leaving him alone.
With little left to do, Harry plopped himself down on the bed, and sleep came upon him almost instantly.
And he dreamt of the tree, very similar to the one he found himself in right now. But this one was different-it was shining-it was on fire. The flames seemed to move in the pattern of a serpent, twisting and wriggling as if alive, completely surrounding the tree.
The sun shone down from up above, but that light was starting to fade; a great black shadow was working its way to cover its polar opposite. When the two finally overlapped, two six digit hands moved to seemingly cup the two of them together forever. His sewn eyes betrayed no emotion to what he was thinking with that massive brain of his, but the brand that flickered to life between his hands glowed with malice.
"Sacrifice." The voice seemed to speak, either to him, or another, or in a distant memory, it was unclear.
And then it was like he was never there. Now he saw the back of a chair and a snake slithering along the floor beside it. There was someone sitting down in the chair, and for some reason, Harry did not want to see who it was. There, a fragile hand held a small item, emerald green in color, and with various facial features arranged all over it.
A cold voice drew his attention away from that accursed egg. "Potter…"
Harry awoke in a cold sweat, his dream already becoming a distant memory. He hurriedly put his glasses on and looked out the nook that served as a window in the tree-mansion. It was dark outside, the sun having set some hours ago. "No," Harry said to himself. He grabbed his stick and sword, strapping them to his belt.
The brand, he was branded and it was past sundown. They would be upon him any minute. What was he thinking, agreeing to stay the night? No. that was it, he hadn't been thinking. He had instead been so caught up in the prospect of finding the witch in the forest, that his cursed luck had been forgotten. He would leave and return in the morning. If not then he would have just doomed the tree's two residents.
He rushed from the room provided to him, banging his knee against an end table in the hall as he did. "Ow!" some of the decorations on it nearly fell off had he not grabbed them first. His stick made a "clunk" with every step he took, but it wasn't loud enough to cause any real cause for panic from the two witches who were sure to be asleep by now. Or so he thought.
Before Harry could open the door to exit the tree-mansion, a very tired, and annoyed voice asked, "Where are you going?"
It was Schierke. In place of her purple robes she now wore a blue and white nightgown, minus a cap which left a strand of her green hair free to poke out of place. Her eyes were only half open and she more or less leaned on her staff for support. "Where are you even-ahhhhhh," she yawned, "doing up?"
"Yeah?" Ivalera flew up to sit on Schierke's shoulder. "Some of us were trying to sleep before you started making all that ruckus."
"I need to leave for the night," came Harry's vague reply.
"Huh?" they both said.
"I-I just need to leave for the night, alright?" he cracked the door open, slowly. He half expected there to be the glowing eyes of a possessed corpse or animal waiting for him. Much to his surprise, the coast looked clear, but that did not put him at ease.
"Why?" Schierke asked. "Planning on telling the nearest village where this tree is?" she sounded less tired now than she was.
"That's pretty low, mister." Ivalera scolded. "We take you in, and then you sneak off to rat us out. You were right about him, Schierke."
"No, no that's not it at all," Harry said, trying to diffuse the growing tension. "I-I'm cursed, alright."
"Cursed?" they both asked. Ivalera is sounding more curious and Schierke sounding more skeptical.
How to even explain this to them? "Yes, cursed. I have this mark. Every night it happens. If I don't get away from here soon this place is going to be crawling with possessive spirits."
Ivalera pondered his claim. "Sounds mighty fishy to me. Don't you agree, Schierke?"
He expected her to agree, and run off to report him to Flora, but she instead said, "It isn't impossible. I noticed a scar on his head when I went to collect him. But even if what you say is true, I doubt you're in any real danger."
"Not just me, the both of you too!"
"Shush! Keep your voice down." Schierke ordered. "Follow me, I'll show you what I mean." She pushed the door open all the way and stepped outside. "Coming?"
"You want to go out there?" Harry asked. This girl had no idea what she was getting into if she did.
"That's what you were planning on doing," she retorted. "And like I said, you won't be in any real danger."
Now it was Harry's turn to look unconvinced. "What makes you so certain?"
"I'll show you, that's what." Schierke would probably roll her eyes if she could fully open them. "And I'm pretty efficient in magic too."
Ivalera nodded. "That's right, she is. So don't try and pull a fast one and try to run away. She might turn you into a cat if you do."
The pair of them walked through the dark forest, their only sources of light were the moon which reflected off of Harry's drawn blade, and the luminous natural light produced by Ivalera and the beating of her wings.
Every creak had Harry turning his attention in that direction; ready to defend against the danger. Schierke continued on like nothing was the matter, probably thinking that he was being overly paranoid. At last, they came upon the site where Harry had fought with the golem earlier that day.
She pointed at a tree. "See that?"
Ivalera flew closer so it was lighter. Etched into the bark of the tree was a symbol of some sort. "I see it," Harry admitted.
"This was carved by Mistress Flora herself," Schierke explained. "It's a talisman. They are carved into different trees surrounding the spirit-tree to form a border and- ahhhh-," she yawned again, "and keep trespassers out. That was how the golem found you."
"Yup, the golems have talismans inside of them that let them know about those sort of things." Ivalera elaborated.
Schierke nodded. "As long as you're behind the border, you're safe from any evil spirit."
"Hey, look!" Ivalera pointed past the border where a sinister pair of purplish eyes gleamed in the darkness. It was a wolf, one possessed to be exact. Harry readied himself, but the wolf did not advance. It just stared at him, almost like it knew he was there, but could do nothing about it. It was weird. The only other place that offered sanctuary at night was Godo's cave where Casca was being kept under lock and key for her own safety.
"Convinced now?" Schierke asked him. "Because if it's all the same to you; I'd like to get back to bed." She yawned once more. "C'mon, Ivalera."
Harry took a bit longer. He stared a little longer at the talisman carved into the tree, an idea coming to mind before he too followed Shierke back to the spirit-tree.
They walked in silence for a few minutes, until the silence was-surprisingly-broken by Schierke. "So, what exactly is it you want with Mistress Flora, anyway? Why come all the way out here if you don't plan on telling more outsiders of our existence?"
"Well… I came here to study magic," Harry had no reason to lie to her. He could tell she didn't trust him much and giving her a vague answer wouldn't do much to change that. "I had heard from a friend of mine that the woods around Enoch were rumored to be magic. So when I found out I had magic, I-,"
Schierke interrupted. "What do you mean you "found out" you had magic?"
Now Harry was confused. "What do you mean, "what do I mean?" I found out I could do magical things when I had a conversation with a snake. No one else could do it."
"That's probably because they didn't study how" Schierke argued. "You mean to tell me that you just discovered one day that you had a magical talent?"
"That's kind of what happened," Harry admitted, it sounded much less anti-climatic the way she said it. Casca had nearly had a heart attack when she witnessed it. The memory brought a bitter-sweet feeling of nostalgia. "How did you discover you had magic then?" it was a personal question, but seeing as that he had told her his-it would even them.
"I was just taught," Schierke confessed. "Mistress Flora took me in when I was very young-,"
"Younger than you are already?" Harry interrupted.
She sighed. "Yes, younger than I am right now. But don't go looking all clever; you're not that much older than me, you know." She cleared her throat. "But yes, she took me in and trained me in the art of magic. I just learned from her."
Now that was odd. "So… magic can be learned, by anyone?"
"So long as they have an imaginative and open mind they can. Magic is a school of thought, exploring beyond reason."
"You know, for someone so little, you sure know a lot." Harry complimented, but Schierke seemed to take it a different way.
"What do you mean little?"
Ivalera shook her head. "You're not little, Schierke. You're just-um, vertically challenged!"
From back at the spirit-tree, Flora watched from her window as the two younglings neared the mansion. But she was not alone. A second visitor had shown up for the night, but unlike Harry, she knew this one was not going to stay.
"How long have you been following him?" she asked with a hint of a teasing knowingness.
"Long enough. I have been alternating."
She smiled. "My, have you been developing a caring side in these few long years?"
"It has been longer than a few years."
"Indeed, but time does fly," she felt a twinge of nostalgia. "Do you ever yearn for the old days?" she could feel his glowing eye sockets fix her with a stare.
"Past mistakes cannot be undone."
"They can't. But new ones can be avoided," she pointed out. "I suspect that is why you brought him to this land. Their influence is starting to spread to other realms."
"They will struggle, that much I know."
"You will not remain until he returns? I'm sure he will be surprised to see you here of all places." It was a fickle effort and she already knew the answer. His visits were never long.
"I will not. I will observe the progress of the Struggler next." His large feet made little sound on the wooden floor. "Farewell, for now, Witch."
"Farewell, old friend."
He had been unchained from the ceiling and left to lay on a pile of hay that reeked of aged piss. New lashes and scorch marks marred his torso and back, but he never gave the torturer the satisfaction of eliciting any noise. Right now, the men from Koka Castle were probably on their way right now to either take him into custody themselves or raze the town to the ground. Either way, he would be faced with the Baron soon enough.
The bars of the opening, which served as his primary source of light above him, reflected a faint glowing from the town outside. They were an orange hue, someone probably had torches lit, either the town guard or the men that were sure to be escorting the Baron. It was then put at a complete contrast with the mix of blue light suddenly appearing. Poking his tiny head through the bars, the small blue creature flew down to where he was situated on the floor. It was only a few inches tall, with a set of bug wings sprouting from its back; it was that elf from earlier at the tavern, Puck.
"Hey, I finally found you!" Puck exclaimed like they were some sort of long lost friends, which he had no right to. After guts had been taken into custody, the elf had flown off on his own. "This town sure is big for someone like me."
"What do you want?" Guts asked, annoyed by the mere sight of this elf. "Fly on out of here. Put those wings to good use."
Puck put a finger to his chin in contemplation. "My wings, huh?" he snapped his fingers. "I got it!" he flew over to Guts. "Hold still alright." He looked like he was about to sit down on his person causing Guts to scowl.
"Don't touch me you little-!" Puck fluttered his wings and a glowing dust of sorts sparkled off of them, drifting down on some of Guts' recently acquired wounds. Much to his surprise, the pain began to fade like it had never been there in the first place. A memory came rushing back to him; of himself overlooking many small campfires after having fought a hundred men. She had rubbed "elf dust" on his wounds to help with the healing. This was the exact same sensation now as it had been then.
"There," Puck said, happy with his work. "You should be feeling better real soon." Guts pushed himself to his feet and Puck's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. "Not that soon!"
"That dust trick of yours is handy," Guts gave Puck the closest thing to a compliment as he would allow. "Now buzz off. I'll take care of the rest on my own."
Puck look affronted. "That's it?! I risk my head to come and help you out, and you just tell me to go and get lost?! This is just my way of saying thanks for helping me out earlier. You don't have to be so ungrateful."
"You're right, I don't. But if you really want to help out, then you'll get out of here before I end up squashing you."
Shaking in tiny rage, Puck yelled, "Why do you have to be so mean?!"
Guts fixed him with his sole eye. "I don't have to be. But it sure as hell helps."
Puck was about to retort, but Guts saw him catch sight of the brand on his neck. He turned away from the pint-sized elf. "That mark…" he heard Puck utter.
There were footsteps coming to the cell. The jingling of keys could be heard with each step taken. "Get the prisoner!" one voice ordered. "The Baron's men will burn this town to the ground if we do not surrender him!"
The flickering of the orange light from outside had grown exponentially. The cries of men, women, and children could be heard, they yelled in terror and agony. The Baron had come at last.
Guts heard the sound of the cell door being unlocked and took his stance to the side as the door was swung open and the torturer entered. "Prison-erk!" Guts wrapped his arm around the other man's neck in a chokehold. The other man struggled; clawing at Guts' arm and trying to reach back to hit his face, anything to escape the hold Guts had on him. His legs began to twitch and kick out as the oxygen supply to his brain began to dwindle. "…agh…" he gave one last choked noise before going limp.
Guts let his body go free, before snatching the keys that dangled from around his waist. Puck could only watch wide-eyed in horror. He made a move to exit the cell. "Hey," Puck called. "Where are you going now?"
"To get my gear."
Outside was chaos. Fires burned through the night, consuming the homes of Koka's residents, and spreading quickly to neighboring houses. As the citizens attempted to flee their burning homes, they were quickly trampled by horses and impaled by the spears of the riders. They ran rampant through the streets, anyone lucky enough to make it out alive sought refuge in the surrounding woods.
"Burn it all!" a cold, cruel voice rang out amongst the screams and cries of the citizens. The corpses began to pile up in every street as the Baron's men ran rampant. "It is all ours for the plundering. No one will stop you, do as you please!" his voice was as distinct as the suit of armor that he wore. It was a deep shade of red with a pure white cape strapped to his shoulder plates. His helm was designed like a hissing cobra, and his face was visible through its open mouth. It was easy to see why he was known as the Snake Baron.
A collective cheer rose from the Snake Baron's men, as they relished in the mayhem their leader had graced them with. They had little time to ravish themselves before a quick barrage of crossbow bolts whizzed their way, killing four men.
"Where'd it come from?" "Did you see?" "All the guards should be dead."
"There!"
From under a pile of corpses, he rose. He shrugged off the corpse of a child from his shoulders and took aim once more with his arm-mounted crossbow. Bolts flew as fast as he could crank the handle, cutting down even more of the Snake Baron's men. More bolts struck their targets, and more bodies began to pile up, this time they were not civilians. He kept cranking until his supply of bolts ran out. The Snake Baron's men were quick to notice.
"He's out!"
"Let's take him now!"
Two riders charged forth, spears extended and ready to skewer him. He waited until they neared, before reaching behind him to grasp the hilt of Dragonslayer. Two cuts and six different halves went flying.
"Did you see that?" the Snake Baron's men asked each other nervously. "He cut them in half."
"Even the horses."
The Snake Baron himself trotted to the front of the formation, battle-ax at the ready. "So you're the one who has been causing so much trouble." The fires that crackled around the street reflected a piece of jewelry that hung from the front of the Snake Baron's armor; a teal egg shape. "You are just a mere human, and a foolish one at that!" he spurred his horse forward. "How can you ever hope to challenge those of a greater power?!"
Guts ran at the charging horse as well, his Dragonslayer ready to cut the Snake Baron in half just like the previous two. The Snake Baron predicted his tactic and twisted his body to the side before the strike could land. And while Guts' strike missed, the Snake Baron's did not. The bottom half of his battle-ax struck him on the back, knocking him down, and Dragonslayer fell from his grasp.
The men cheered their leader on as he reared to charge again and cut Guts in half. Grabbing some more bolts and loading them into his mounted crossbow, Guts fired a volley at the unsuspecting Snake Baron, this time yielding greater results. Five arrows embedded themselves in his chest, and the Snake Baron fell from his horse and into a pile of rubble from a burnt down house.
Cries of, "my lord!" was elicited from the men who feared their leader deceased. They were all startled when a serpentine tail came thrashing out from the rubble, striking Guts across the chest, knocking him aside.
"Ohohohoh!" a laugh enveloped from the rubble which began to shift. "Shoot all you like, no human can kill me!" stepping out, was the body of a giant, red cobra with thin, but strong arms and legs. The face of the Snake Baron was still visible in the mouth of the giant snake, but a long, pinkish tongue lolled about when he spoke.
His tail lashed out once more, striking Guts and sending him flying into a pile of rubble. Guts groaned from the impact, and he made a move to push himself to his feet. It surprised the Snake Baron greatly. "My, you can still move. If you were an average human, that would have killed you."
Guts looked to his side; Dragonslayer was there, just beyond his reach. The tail whipped down on his back twice, causing Guts to cough up some blood from the force of each impact. The Snake Baron sneered down at him. "Now do you see just how weak and fragile humans truly are?" he grabbed Guts by his head and lifted him up to his face. "I will take great enjoyment in drinking the blood from your flesh. Humans are meant to be slaughtered."
Instead of a face of fear, Guts smiled. He moved his metal arm up to the Snake Baron's face, the string running to the prosthetic was clenched between his teeth. The hand flipped down. KABOOOM!
A portion of the Snake Baron's face was completely blown away. "Ahooooooww!" he dropped Guts, who used this opportunity to grab the fallen Dragonslayer. With a cry of fury, Guts brought the massive blade up, and then straight down into the Snake Baron's shoulder. The strike carried all the way through and severed the torso from the rest of the apostle's body.
Now it was Guts' turn to leer down at the defeated apostle. "Didn't you say that no human could defeat you?" he loaded some more bolts into his crossbow.
The Snake Baron's eyes widened. "That… brand… ow!" Guts shot a bolt through one of the apostle's eyes.
"You're right. Humans are weak." He fired another bolt. "But our weakness makes us fight to survive." The elf-Puck fluttered to the top of a house, watching the scene unfold. A look of sadistic glee was etched on guts' face. "Now why don't you experience some of that pain yourself? Understand what it's like to be human." With every sentence, a bolt was fired.
"No… don't kill me…"
Guts spat on his near-dead form. "And what did you say when all these people asked you the same thing?" Bolt after bolt was fired, the Baron's men were long gone at this point. There was just the dead apostle and the Black Swordsman.
"That rage," Puck said, watching Guts leave the town to burn. "I-I felt it."
Castle Windham
"The newest report has come in, your majesty," Sirs Laban and Owen kneeled before the King of Midland. "The town of Koka has been destroyed. Only a dozen or so survivors have been reported."
"And where do these refugees seek to go?" Minister Foss asked from the king's side. "Do they seek refuge here, at the capital?"
"The town of St. Albion have extended their hospitality," Sir Owen mentioned. "The Holy See's presence is strong there and will assist where they can for those displaced souls. The Holy See's good grace can be found in the Holy Iron Chain Knights."
The young girl commander of those knights was present as well. She and her companions had received a bountiful reward for the safe return of Princess Charlotte and her handmaiden, and the king offered them full honors for their services and any request that they had would be granted. She was a young girl for certain, younger than even Princess Charlotte, early to mid teens if Laban had to put a finger to her age. For any other branch of knights, she would be turned away, but the Holy Iron Chain Knights had a tradition that their leader must always be a young maid. It also helped that her family was one of the wealthiest in all of the Holy See controlled territory. Farnese de Vandimion was her name, and if rumors were to be believed, she had quite the history when it came to the Holy See's doctrine of witch hunting.
"But the most troubling thing about this report," Laban continued, "was that there were sightings of a giant snake monster." A few other nobles in attendance snorted at the report, but both he and Owen knew that there was some truth to that claim. "I know that this sounds ridiculous to most of you, but considering Wyald-,"
"-You have taken all remaining Black Dog Knights into custody," Foss cut in. "Have any of them confessed to the claim that their leader could turn into some sort of monster?"
"They have been incredibly tight-lipped," Owen shook his head. "And there was that vague insinuation that the Bakiraka leader made. Perhaps a diplomat should be sent to Kushan land. Their empire has extended rapidly in recent years."
"No one questions either of your honors," Foss was quick to reply. "Only the claim of monsters in human form. And the Kushan are known for their strange cultures, I wouldn't think too much about it. Our king cannot be troubled with claims with no evidence of support." It was a hypocritical thing for him to say considering that the only thing the king was actually worried about was the vendetta against the Band of the Hawk. All evidence pointed to them being dead, yet the king was certain Griffith was out there somewhere.
It had become such an obsession to him, that his hair and beard were now stark white; new wrinkles had appeared on his face and hands, looking much older than he actually was. The only thing that had not changed about their king was the way he treated his daughter; not that anyone saw much of her these days. Charlotte had confined herself to her room since her return, not opening the door for anyone, saves for that handmaiden of hers; it was a miracle that the serving girl still had her head. Perhaps she was holding out on the hope that one day Griffith or someone would return for her.
Foss cleared his throat. "Now, is there anything else of significance in the Koka report?"
"Yes," Lord Wolflame asked, "have wizards been sighted as well?" that elicited a dry chuckle from all save the two knights, the king, and the Vandimion girl.
"There was one other thing that was mentioned," Laban recalled. "Survivors say that the beast was slain by a swordsman dressed all in black." That caused the Vandimion girl to perk up.
"The Hawk of Darkness," she uttered.
"Pardon, Lady Farnese?" Foss asked.
"The one scripture from the book of the Holy See," she elaborated. "The Hawk of Darkness, the one who will bring chaos and death to our world."
Foss appeared to be growing tired of hearing what he must consider nonsense. "Now, I am a stout believer of the Holy See's teachings like all of you; but to believe that this swordsman is the Hawk of Darkness-that is a farfetched assumption."
"These are troubled times indeed," the king spoke, seemingly ignoring Foss' previous statement. "Do you believe this swordsman to be connected somehow, Lady Farnese?"
"It is entirely possible, your majesty." Her sapphire eyes shone with an unspoken passion. "Your hospitality has been greatly appreciated, but with all due respect, my men and I must be departing the capital soon."
The king nodded. "Do as you must, my honored guest. If there is anything I can do to further repay my debt to you, please, do not hesitate to ask."
The Vandimion girl bowed her head. "Thank you, your majesty, but it is high time my men do our service to the people of the Holy See Alliance; we will find and bring this Black Swordsman to justice."
A/N: Happy Thanksgiving, everyone. I hope you all enjoyed reading this chapter, and have a happy holiday.