Reviews:
Pyromania101: Harry and Guts are back this chapter, and happy to see you thought Snape was in character in how he behaved. There definitely has to be some consequence with the demon child in the manga and I'll do my best to try and show how that might turn out in future events.
Greyjedi449t: Glad to see the ending was exciting, it was a blast to write that scene.
cool man 96: If you have an idea for a crossover, you're free to write it, I'm just not really at a point where I can take any more ideas at the time.
Greer123: Snape, like many other side characters, will have an arc to him. This chapter is more Falconia centered with Harry and Guts toward the end.
Gwen Zenier: Thank you! I try to keep everyone as in character as possible and hopefully everything will tie together plotwise once the story is finished and make for a good binge read as well.
kaxipoptos: Yeah, Rickman's portrayal really added a layer of likeability to him more so than the books did. Ricket's moment is at hand and that hand is against the side of Femto's face. I loved writing for Silat and Luca and played with the idea if they would be a couple later on, but I'm leaving it more as bickering allies for now. Zodd still lives for the challenge and he will be important with a future battle. The end scene was a blast to write since there is some sort of relationship between Femto and the demon child. Umbridge will be coming into play very soon.
Necrogod: No problem, here's the next one.
KCstills17: Glad to see you enjoyed it, yes, Berserk does need more of a fandom on this site. As for Harry, I tried to include a few scenes early on about he was uneasy about killing and felt guilt when others died and tried to reflect it later with the talk he had with Schiekre a few chapters back. Hopefully, it isn't too big an issue and as long as it doesn't detract from the overall story that's good to hear.
Hairul The Nightrage Beast: The moonlight boy will have a part to play for sure, and the road to healing Casca is closer than ever before.
Disclaimer- Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and Berserk is owned by Kentaro Miura. I own nothing.
Shortly after arriving in Falconia and securing a room at an inn for both he and Erica, Rickert set out in search of blacksmithing work. Erica was convinced that he would be able to apprentice for any smith willing to have him, he did serve under her father for over two years after all. Rickert considered it good providence that he had taken some of his tinker inventions along to show some of the smiths in order to better impress them.
They included a miniaturized repeating crossbow similar to the one Guts possessed currently, a design for new wagon wheels, and maybe his favorite out of the bunch; a hose. It seemed simple but the meaning and value behind it had much greater value. The hose came attached to a wooden chamber and pump and when filled with water could spray out the end to douse out of control flames. It had been something Godo had been working on as he was always worried that living above a forge his home would one day be set ablaze from the sparks and embers below. With a paranoid mind and the will to keep Erica safe, the two of them had got to work on making the first of its kind.
"Did you make all this stuff yourself, lad?" one blacksmith asked him as Rickert traveled the clean streets of the city.
"Mostly," Rickert answered modestly. "I had the designs for a lot of other inventions as well, but I was only able to gather so much before monsters started showing up all over the land."
"Monsters? Ain't that the truth. I remember a time when this world wasn't so complicated; all I had to worry about then was the threat of real humans during the Hundred-Year War, now it's like everything has been turned up on its head. We got people from Chuder flocking in here, people who were rich and poor, and even Kushan. Funny how a common threat will bring people together like that. Thank God for Grifith."
"Yeah. He must be something." Is this really Griffith? Rickert wondered. The last he saw of his former leader he had ridden off on Zodd after Guts and Harry tried attacking him. They had both been very secretive, only mentioning that Griffith was the reason all the rest of the Hawk's had perished that day.
The blacksmith slid a piece of parchment over to Rickert. "Tell you what, you got me interested in some of these designs, they're not what you see in everyday surroundings; but Falconia isn't like any other city, now, is it? Can you write your name?"
"Sure I can," Rickert said, trying not to seem insulted by the question. He knew many people from his social standing usually couldn't read.
"Why don't you go and put your name down, I'll be sure to send it in." he handed Rickert a quill as well.
"Oh, are you not the blacksmith?" Rickert asked, confused as to why he was being asked to do so.
"Of course I'm the blacksmith here!" he gave a hearty laugh. "This is just to send up to the officials in the palace."
"Huh?"
"Hm? Oh, right, you're new. You see, it's a way of keeping a head count of the population, right. Anyone who arrives and seeks out work, a home or anything has to send their name in. If they know how many people are here, they know how much food they'll need to grow. The land just outside the city walls is fertile that farmers have already begun plowing the fields. You probably saw when you came in, but those giant glowing rocks out there, they keep the monsters away; just something about them that helps keep us all safe."
"Right, that makes sense, I suppose." Rickert dipped the quill in ink and wrote out his name.
"Much appreciated, lad." The blacksmith gave him a nod of his head. "I'll send this up soon as I finish up work today. I expect to see you back here tomorrow morning before the sun rises, and that is a 'yes' to the apprenticeship."
Rickert returned to the inn he and Erica were staying soon after that meeting. Knocking on the door before entering, Rickert called out, "Erica, you were right, I got the job at the blacksmith." He didn't hear her young voice call back to him. "Erica?"
Stepping into the room he saw that it was the same as it had been before he had left. The two beds were looking cozy and the sheets had been made. The pile of parts and other tinker devices were kept in a semi-organized pile in the corner of the room. Everything was where it ought to be, except for Erica.
Rickert wasted no time in rushing back to the base level of the inn and subsequent tavern. "Erica?" Rickert called out again. He didn't know what he was expecting, the tavern was only playing host to two other patrons, none of which had Erica with them.
Starting to panic, Rickert exited the inn and headed to the closest location, the stables. The only figure here was an elderly man with his cloak pulled up over his head. He held a walking stick with one hand considering one had was all he had to hold it with. The old man muttered something in a language Rickert couldn't understand and the horses instantly returned to their stables.
"Excuse me, sir, have you seen a young girl come around here?" knowing Erica's fascination with animals it wouldn't be too shocking if she had run off to this place.
"No girls come to talk to me," he spoke with an accent, Kushan to be precise. "None except for the one woman who calls me 'Gramps.'"
"Looking for someone?"
Rickert snapped his attention to the new voice that spoke from behind him. Leaning against the stable door was another Kushan man, this one much younger and wearing clothing befitting a desert environment.
"You are the new arrival, yes?"
Rickert nodded.
"Your sister is the younger girl, near fair-hair and bright eyes."
"You saw her?" Rickert asked, relief rushing back to him.
"The slave driver wanted me to pass along a message to you should you return before she returned."
"Slave driver?" Rickert repeated.
"The woman – Luca. She and the other girls took a trip to the public bath houses. She insisted your sister's hair was in need of a wash."
Luca, that was the name of the woman who ran the inn they were staying at and from what Rickert was able to tell she seemed like a genuinely nice woman. "Oh," Rickert let out a sigh of relief. "Well, that's good to hear. I was getting really worried there for a second."
"Rightfully so. A child's mind is highly susceptible; enough time spent around that woman will be enough to mold anyone's mind to her way of thinking."
The older, one-handed Kushan gave a dry cackle at the remark. "Doesn't all have to be a bad thing. She at least managed to secure me this position as a stable hand. Of course, I have to rely more on my talent than my physical strength." He rubbed at his stub. "Maybe I'll be able to repay that brat one day, but not now."
Rickert felt a bit of sympathy for the elderly man, even if he was Kushan. Guts had also lost a limb, but he didn't let that get in his way. "Well, if you want I could try and help out some here in the stable too when I'm not at the blacksmith that is. Or maybe Erica could, she loves animals and the feeling is mutual."
Rickert saw the younger Kushan roll his eyes. "Not unless you want her to get eaten alive. Let the girl be a girl and try to savor her naivety."
"Eaten?" Rickert parroted. "I'm pretty sure horses don't eat people."
"Horses… right. Let it stay that way, and keep away from the shed around back, the horses there might not be as gentle as these around us now."
In another part of the city,
"Wow!" Erica exclaimed as she dipped her toe into the steamy water. "This feels just like the hot springs around my papa's mine!"
Luca watched the young girl who eyed everything with an excited gaze and she couldn't help but smile at it. These bath houses were reserved strictly for women, the men's being located in the opposite location of the building with guards standing at attention to the entry should any lecherous pervert try and sneak in the woman's side of things. Having come from a small village, fresh water was something to be cherished especially when on the road to St. Albion. Now, it was a luxury that everyone could enjoy.
"You lived out in the mountains, correct?" Luca asked as she slid her legs into the bath before submerging up to her neck, waiting until her skin was accustomed to the feel of the heat. "It's fair that you would make that comparison, a lot of hot springs can be found in mountainous regions."
Erica put one toe in after another before giving up and jumping into the steamy water. Luca felt some of the water from the resulting splash wet her hair. Erica soon resurfaced with her fairer hair clinging damp to her forehead.
"Well, it looks like you saved me the trouble," Luca said, grabbing a towel from the side of the bath, Luca began to dry off Erica's hair. "You have such nice hair; it curls perfectly at the ends."
"You have nice hair too, Miss. Luca." Erica turned herself around so that she could play with a strand of Luca's wet hair. "It's so soft."
"Stay still now," Luca softly commanded the young girl. "Hair like yours should be treated with care and I don't want lice coming into my inn."
"Have you had to wash other's hair often?" Erica asked, kicking her feet to stay afloat but took to sitting on Luca's lap.
"I've had my share of experience. Some of the girls working with me needed help once in a while, but one girl in particular really stood out. She was… incapable of helping herself so I did what I could for her, took her in until some people from her past came to take her to get better."
"That was nice of you," Erica told her. "Papa could be a bit of a grouch, but I knew he really cared."
"Hehe!" Luca laughed. "That sounds like one of the men who knew the girl I took in. such a grim and serious look on his face, but when he saw her, it was like there was something more to him and his dark attire."
"Now that sounds like someone I know!" Erica fiddled with another strand of Luca's hair. "He was one of my papa's customers, his name's Guts."
Luca stopped what she was doing, the name being familiar to her. "Guts?"
"Uh-huh!" Erica nodded. "He's probably the strongest guy I know, he could even lift papa's biggest sword ever!"
A blade that is much too massive and far too thick. "He sounds like quite the figure. Where is he now?"
"He and a few others went to go make my friend feel better. That was a while ago, but I know that they'll be back before long, they promised that we'd all get together one day, maybe even here!"
She was incredibly optimistic about the whole thing, Luca noticed. There wasn't a doubt in her mind that the man Guts was the same as from the Tower of Conviction; a dark demeanor, a huge sword, a quest to heal one terribly afflicted, it all fit. Where are you now, Casca? Outside of the city, monsters ran rampant, but knowing who she was traveling with, Luca knew they stood a better chance than just about anyone else. But what would it be like if they were to return to this city, especially knowing who was looked upon as a savior? He was the same man who rose from the crumbled remains of the Tower of Conviction, the one who held an untouchable appearance to him. There was a history behind him for sure.
"Do you think I'll get to see them again?" Erica asked, her hair was nearly dry at this point.
"Hm? Oh, well… I can't exactly tell you that for sure, I have no idea where they are." She saw Erica's face fall. "But, if they value the happiness of a little girl like you, I'm sure they know better than to go and smash your dreams."
That at least held some improvement for the young maid. "I don't think they would do that."
"Well, the rest is up to them now, isn't it?" Luca asked rhetorically. But still, what are the odds of two people knowing the Black Swordsman and company running into each other at a time like this? If I was more religious, I'd say it sounds like – no! And here I was about to sound like a Holy See priest.
The feeling coming back felt stronger than it had going to, a clear sign that the connection was only growing stronger with the passing of time. Voldemort barely felt any resistance or pull as he found himself back in the cellar of Malfoy Manor, his Death Eaters following not far behind. They had indeed been detained after that initial skirmish with the brute, and as an additional insult to his pride and status, he was forced to wait a few days as their release was pending.
The filthy muggles and their methods! The disguised God Hand probably ordered them to refuse their release until such a time as he deemed necessary, Voldemort wouldn't put that past him, he wouldn't put anything past that being. He reminded him of himself too much in that regard, a desirable appearance that hid the darkness within all focused around an ambition. He almost wondered if this was how it was like to be on the receiving end of that spectrum, to be the victim.
One by one, his Death Eaters materialized in the cellar next to him, he had yet to speak a word to any of them except to tell them that they were leaving that abomination of a city. Not unsurprisingly, Bellatrix dropped to her knees, kissing at the hem of his robes.
"My Lord, please, forgive me. I have let you down in how I behaved. I will accept any punishment you see fit to give me."
Voldemort cupped her chin with his long, slim fingers. "I do not find disappointment in how you spoke to that royal tart; no. I am disappointed at how easily you were thwarted." He pressed a finger to her temple. "Crucio!" the magic that flowed through him as a courtesy of the God Hand shot into Bellatrix. She screamed and clawed at the cellar floor, her nails leaving deep gouges in the stone.
Once he was sure she had enough, he went and gave the same treatment to his other followers as well. They had allowed a muggle to get the best of them when they possessed the same power similar to him and all. They were meant to be his most loyal and most devout of the bunch, yet they had caused a ruckus despite him telling them to not do anything that might provoke the God Hand. He left the cellar without uttering a word to his recovering subordinates, feeling the shame of their failure.
Sensing for magical energy, he felt Lucius and Narcissa to be alone in their dining room. It was another gift that came with his reborn body as he believed himself to be magic incarnate, he could pick up on magical signatures in a certain radius. Feeling his Death Eaters was easy enough as they all carried the Dark Mark on their arms.
Voldemort cast the door open with a lazy flick of his wrist. "Lucius, I do hope that I'm not interrupting anything." It gave him a small sense of pleasure at seeing the proud pure-blood lord rise instantly from his seat and bow his head upon arrival.
"My Lord! Your arrival was unexpected."
"Was it? I seem to recall saying that I would not be long; is your memory faulty?"
"No, my Lord, it is not."
"Tell me, Lucius, has anything happened during my absence? And I do hope it is beneficial news, my mood is rather a foul as of now. Your sister can testify to that, Narcissa." He aimed the jab directly at her; not forgetting that she hadn't instantly risen to bow like her husband had done. Leave it to the Black in her to be a bit defiant, but a night with Greyback could easily correct that in her.
Much to his surprise, Lucius seemed to gain that confidence back. "Actually, my Lord, there is tremendous news indeed. Dobby!"
With a loud "pop!" the house elf appeared in the dining room. "Master called, Dobby?"
"Yes. Fetch the Daily Prophet from a few days ago, make it fast." Knowing better than to linger, the elf disappeared and popped back not two seconds later. "I believe you will find the headline satisfactory."
No surprise, his return had made front page news, but what really caught the hungry gleam in his eye was the second name mentioned, the name of the boy he had been searching for forever since plotting his scheme with Wormtail and Crouch. Harry Potter.
He wasted no time in reading through the article, his bad mood becoming more uplifted with every word that he read. It happened, Potter was truly back, back in a setting where Voldemort could control the playing field. He was currently at Hogwarts, but so what? He had shown first hand that Dumbledore was getting old, too old to stop him as he was now, and with his new power, even Hogwarts' protective wards would not be able to keep him out forever.
"Well, well, Lucius, you have been most useful in uplifting this funk of mine. See to it that dignitaries are sent out to party with the giants; the dementors will come around when they smell the turn of the tide. Get all sorts of magical creatures, trolls, dragons, the works. I don't care how you obtain them."
Lucius looked like he realized this request could likely empty his vault at Gringotts. "C-certainly, my Lord. But… if I may ask, what will they be of use for?"
"For our upcoming assault on Hogwarts, of course."
It was funny how one bit of information could change the day.
Being a knight did not always require the use of a sword or bow, sometimes it really was just upholding the peace and prosperity for the time being. It could get boring and tedious for sure, but Laban found that it was preferable to the times of conflict. People were much happier when nothing was going on even if they did complain and wished that something exciting would happen.
But riding through the streets of Falconia, he could not complain about the simplest task of delivering a letter. He smiled at the memory of when he and Owen were squires for some knights of the kingdom, they always got stuck doing the lazy jobs and labor for the knights of yesteryear. Granted that was twenty something years ago when they were just boys, but the sense of duty that came with it was worth all the lazy jobs that came with it. And, of course, it helped immensely that the queen at the time was as sweet as they came, not the once-king's second wife, his first, Charlotte's mother, Marie Rhody. She was the kind of queen that anyone would vow their services to and did not expect and gold nor riches in return, just a chance to see her smile and see those blue eyes shine with life
Such a sweet woman, gone before her time. If it was any consolation to the memory of the queen, her daughter looked very much like her, and it always caused Laban a sense of bitter sweetness when he saw Charlotte with the one possession left to remember her mother, a wooden knight figurine.
He pulled the reigns of his horse, signaling it to stop. He had arrived at his destination. He felt the heat before he opened the door, a clear sign that the blacksmith inside was hard at work.
"Heh!" the blacksmith laughed, admiring an arrowhead fresh out of the forge. "At the rate, you're working, you should be the one teaching me all of this."
"I had a good teacher, that's all," the blonde youth told the older smith.
"Ahem." Laban cleared his throat to get their attention.
"Ah, General Laban!" the smith wiped off his hands with a rag. "What can we do for you today?"
Laban raised his hands to show that he wasn't here to make a purchase or place an order. "Nothing of that sort. I come here with an invitation."
"Invitation?" the smith asked. "What for?"
"For this young man," Laban took out the scroll he had been assigned. "It's a formal invitation to a youth named Rickert to meet with Griffith in Falconia Palace."
"M-me? Griffith wants to see me?" he seemed shocked, but also nervous. It was to be expected to come from one like Griffith. "Why? For what reason?"
"He didn't say," Laban answered truthfully. "All he said was that he would very much like to see you once he learned that a youth by your name had entered the city and was working as a smith in this location."
Rickert was silent, his head hung in contemplation. "…Did he say when?"
"Any time at your earliest preference."
"…hmm…"
"Why not take the rest of the day off, lad," the smith offered Rickert. "You've made twice as many pieces as I have today and I wouldn't want to deprive anyone of the chance to see Griffith in person."
Rickert still seemed hesitant. "…Very well then."
Anyone could tell that the palace of Falconia was a large structure, it was one of those obvious things like the fact that the sky was blue, or that grass was green. The main access point into the palace was up a zigzagging road that continued to elevate until reaching just beneath the head of the falcon-like structure of a monument. And unlike the previous castle, this palace seemed accessible to everyone. Farmers passed by with oxen, carriages knights on horses, and Rickert was left to travel on foot. He felt sweat coat his brow as he paused to catch his breath from the walk.
"I should have… taken a carriage." He wiped some of the sweat aside. "Sturdiness will only take me so far." He looked up at how much farther he had left to go. He had made it at least three-quarters of the way already with a clear ending in sight.
Passing under a guard tower, there was a drawbridge that was lowered, fully connecting the zigzagging roadway to the interior of the palace beyond. Rickert spared a look behind him at the sprawling layout of the city below. He was high up, easily over a hundred feet in the air, maybe more than that. But he didn't need to know how high it was; any fall off this road would be an instant death.
He fell into line with the other visitors to the palace, presenting the invitation he received to the guard standing sentry just beyond the drawbridge.
"Please wait here briefly," the guard instructed from behind his helmeted visor.
Realizing he would have to wait, Rickert took another analytical view of his surroundings. This place really did have a different design style than the buildings of the city below.
Falconia, the Hawk's city – the Hawk's castle. As if it were personally ordered just for Griffith. There's nothing left of the old Windham Castle… where we spent so much of our time. It's all gone.
"Are you Rickert?" he saw a blonde man with chin-length hair walking forward to greet him. "Sir Laban told me about you. I am Owen, Head of Falconia's castle guard."
"General Owen?!" Rickert said in surprise. "You… needn't have come in person, milord."
"No need for formality," the high ranking knight told him. "You were once a part of the old Band of the Hawk, were you not? I saw it fitting to greet you in person. Allow me to be your guide."
"Oh! Sorry, I wouldn't have figured that you would recognize me. You assisted us against the Blue Whale Knights, and we only spoke briefly at the Victory Ball. It has been some time since I was in the capital, it was back when we were labeled outlaws."
"Hm." Owen looked a bit guilty. "For what it's worth, you have my apologies for that. The old king was not in the right frame of mind when he made that decision. I assure you, the queen does not share in that sentiment. Being as long as it has, I imagine you wish to be reunited with the Hawk soon."
Talking with General Owen helped to partly quell the feeling of anxiety that Rickert had been feeling since getting the invite to see Griffith after all this time. Maybe it helped knowing that there were at least some people out there who were still in some way connected with how things used to be.
"Griffith is currently attending a funeral ceremony for more victims lost during the war," Owen told him as they passed a series of columns. "Until he finishes, I'm afraid your reunion will have to wait."
"If you are in need of time, I would be happy to take over until our leader is available." Another knight stepped out from behind one of the columns. He was tall as a knight should be, but not overly muscular. He had a handsome enough face and long dark locks that fell to his shoulders. His armor was shiny like moonlight reflecting over a the ocean.
"Ah, Sir Locus," Owen greeted the other knight, but sounding a bit hesitant. Rickert had a guess as to why.
This knight, I can tell that he isn't human. It had to do with those eyes. Those slit-like pupils.
"Our leader is a busy man," Locus continued. "Tell me, have either of you heard of the Divine Right of Kings?"
"Divine Right of Kings?" Rickert repeated.
"Yes. It means that something like the throne is bestowed by the hand of God. Therefore none must violate it. A high spiritual rank links a legitimate king to the land, guiding the realm to prosperity. It's a theme that often occurs in myths and legends. Many royal families like the ancestors of our queen claim that it is true in their case." Locus observed their reactions. "But in any case, it will take some time before the ceremony ends."
Divine Right of Kings…
"Sir Owen, if you don't mind, I'd like to borrow him for a bit. There's something I wish to tell him in private, as he was of the old Band of the Hawk."
"Ah, so you heard about him?" Owen looked conflicted. "I was hoping to speak to him as well about a few people I met while in Vritannis, but if you insist, Sir Locus. But-,"
"General Owen!" two guardsmen came running up to him. "We believe a thief to have entered the castle! Two guards were discovered unconscious!"
That had Owen looking concerned. "A thief? A thief in this castle? I apologize, Rickert. As you heard, I must go."
"Y-yes, sir." Rickert was none too excited about being alone with Locus.
"Sir Locus, please take care of him until I return." Locus gave a small nod, barely.
"Well then," Locus was already walking in a different direction. "Let us be off." He looked over his shoulder at Rickert, his black locks obscuring part of his face. "You were once one of the Hawk's feathers. There is something of which you really ought to be aware of."
Oh, how Rickert really wished he had brought some sort of weapon with him. Locus wasn't doing anything directly to harm or threaten him, but that feeling about him… it just wouldn't go away.
Unlike Owen, Locus barely talked to him, and maybe that was for the better. He was leading Rickert back, straight back to the back end of the palace where another gate awaited them like the main one in front. There was a bridge here as well, but instead of zigzagging, it was a straight ride across to… what was that?
It was like a dark, giant sphere of a shape, partly obscured by the mist that covered the other end of the bridge; the light from those luminous tree branches did little to show what it actually was he was looking at except for the spherical side of it.
"Wh-what is that?" Rickert asked the first words he had spoken since being left alone with Sir Locus. "Why are there no guards on this bridge?"
"Pandemonium." Locus did not look back at him. "The den of the War Demons – the Hawk of Light's bodyguards."
"War Demons?" Rickert pictured the monstrous forms of Zodd and Irvine both.
Locus spared a look back. "It seems you know of them." The silence was answer enough. "Your name is Rickert, yes? Tell me, why did you accept the Hawk's invite? Do you seek nothing more than to rekindle an old friendship? To try and gain a patron to help establish you here in this city? Both of those things? Or, perhaps, to question him? Question him about what fully happened beneath the Day of Black Sun of Abstract Time."
That day. The day he saw that whirlwind, seeing that Skull Knight fight with Zodd, the Skull Knight pulling Guts, Casca and Harry from that twister, the day Guts had lost his arm and eye, the day Harry had nearly bled to death and the day Casca lost her sanity.
"How did you…?"
"It is a simple deduction," Locus answered. "A feather of the former Band of the Hawk lacks the scent of the Brand. That means, for some reason you were spared the ceremony of abstract time. It's only natural you would want to ask what happened that day – and where your comrades vanished to."
"…I… already know the answer to that." Death was a simple answer.
"Oh. Then do you wish to hear it from the Hawk's mouth in a remorseful tone? To me, your eyes do not seem to be tainted with hatred." They arrived at a large set of doors leading to the sphere beyond. "But there is a world of difference between knowing and experiencing. If you ask, or don't, first you ought to see them." The doors began to open. "These who are, the Hawk of Light's beak and talons."
Pandemonium was perfect to describe it.
It was styled in an arena like setting with the spectators sitting all around the rows, roaring and cheering as the two monsters in the pit duked it out in a bloody engagement. The first Rickert recognized as being a giant ogre, the second was a quadruped covered in hard rock-like scales with a giant maw filled with teeth, this seemed to be more than just a monster as it did have a human like body protruding from the top of it. He also seemed to be the crowd favorite.
"These are the War Demons." Locus was leaning down right next to his face. His face only visible from Rickert's peripheral vision as his attention was directed to seeing the ogre pierced through by a spear. "They are, generally speaking, combative. Captured monsters are brought into the castle and they thus devote themselves day and night to combat training. That is the official story, but many of them just have bloodlust."
The ogre brought its club down on the head of the War Demon piercing it with a lance; pieces of splintered wood finding weak points in the armor coated hide. But putting more force behind its hind legs, the War Demon charged forward and slammed the ogre against the arena's wall. With it pinned, it used its maw to take a bite out of the ogre's stomach. There was the sound of tearing flesh over the sound of the crowd giving a wild cheer of approval.
It's like a scene out of hell!
"In exchange for these monsters, Griffith took the Band of the Hawk and he-!"
"They're human." Locus calmly interrupted Rickert's would-be tirade of horror. "Originally human. These are those refashioned by causality and extraordinary obsession. These are apostles." Rickert's dread grew with every syllable Locus spoke. "Were it not for the Hawk of Light leading them, they'd simply indulge in their own desires. Doing nothing but harm to the world of men. Beasts to be simply shunned, feared, and detested. But the Hawk of Light forged them together into a sword. He made them walk with men, compelling them to be guard beasts for their world." Locus face grew more solemn. "He gave even brutes like us a place where we belong."
The way Locus talked, he was totally indoctrinated by Griffith. He probably didn't know Griffith as a person, just by the idea and image he represented. Griffith was like a painting to Locus, something beyond comprehension, but still visible to the eye.
"No great king in history has ever been able to achieve a balance like this, an incisive utopia, no one, not even Gaiseric. That is the land the Hawk of Light brings about for mankind. Falconia."
It was a startling change going from a place as violent as Pandemonium to a more sweet and serene setting as the royal garden located near the back of the top of the palace's structure. In the time elapsed since being taken by Locus, Griffith had finished up with the ceremony he had been conducting and had taken a break in this place.
Rickert instantly picked Griffith out sitting under a gazebo with a few others. There was an old man who must be the High Pontiff of the Holy See, a young knight as a guard, a blonde girl eating a few pieces of cake, and a young woman with brown hair and innocent blue eyes that could only be Princess Charlotte – or rather, Queen Charlotte now.
A short, small white bridge ran across a short stream to the patch of land where Griffith sat with his guests. Locus stood behind Rickert, his face an impassive mask, sure of himself that he had given Rickert a proper education as to do or say nothing that might offend his idol.
Griffith took notice of their presence. He rose from his seat, muttering a few words of an excuse as he slowly made the walk to the bridge where Rickert stood waiting for his arrival.
What will I say? Rickert wondered as Griffith neared. He was aware of Locus' eyes boring into the back of his head. After seeing all those people flocking to the city, the pleading looks that they all had in their eyes at the sight of this place. After seeing the bustling capital which I never thought I would ever see again.
It really is all so different. It is like a god-like exploit. Images of the roaring laughter from Pandemonium flashed before him.
Fiendish exploits too. It is like a mix of both at the same time but the image of good and prosperity somehow always trumping the other in the end. It is all so much, so much beyond what I thought possible. And here I am so tiny.
Griffith was close now. He was more than close, he was standing right in front of him, a light breeze barely disturbed his white hair or cape. His face was as flawless as ever, his hair seemed healthier as well, he looked like Griffith.
He spoke. "Will you still dream the same dream?" the first words Griffith spoke to him. "Have you found an answer to that question on the Hill of Swords, Rickert?"
The Hill of Swords, the place he used to mark the missing graves of all those they had lost from the Band of the Hawk that day. The day that changed everything. He had made one for Griffith too, believing him to be dead.
The one who looked like Griffith stood before him. Same hair, same face, same voice, the same sense of composure. His eyes were lacking.
Slap!
Rickert's hand connected with the side of Griffith's face, the sound of the slap resonated throughout the entire garden. Not a sound was heard as Griffith recoiled from the hit, not even the sound of the stream was audible, and if a pin were to drop it would be like a hammer on an anvil.
The silence was broken by a cry of, "Griffith!"
Rickert didn't need to turn around to see the look on Locus' face, he could instead hear the loathing in his tone. "How… how dare you! You cur!"
He saw Griffith raise a hand, stopping the knight in his tracks. He looked at Rickert instead, he didn't even seem emotionally invested in just getting slapped.
"I was ashamed of myself," Rickert began. "That I couldn't go with everyone to Windham to rescue you that day. I felt like I owed a debt for not getting to share in the fate of the others. For being unable to get mad or take responsibility, for only be able to watch everyone go. But then, that Hill of Swords, I was the one to make that as grave markers."
Rickert took out the one thing he had brought with him, a token he had been keeping safe with him since that day. A badge of the Band of the Hawk. "Have you noticed that the shape of the wings on this is different from the new one?"
Griffith eyed the badge with those eyes of his. "That it is."
"I'm Rickert, member of the Band of the Hawk, led by Griffith, the White Hawk. My leader isn't the Hawk of Light." He pocketed the badge. He turned his back to Griffith, ready to show himself the way out. "Goodbye."
His eyes watched the boy leave down the roadway back down to the city. Look at him go, walking like he hadn't just assaulted the Hawk of Light, a member of the God Hand! He had told the boy much to try and warn him from doing anything rash, but nothing about the God Hand, that did not concern a knave like that boy.
Locus placed his hand on the balcony railing, a dark shadow falling across his face as he watched the boy leave. No one stops him, no guards step in front of him to impede his progress, no knights run out on horseback to run him down, he is leaving without repercussion for his disgraceful action.
It was a good thing that the other visiting apostle, Lord Voldemort had left already. Unlike the new Band of the Hawk, he was acting as his own agent in pursuit of some brat, he was an outsider who did not fully share the belief in the Divine Right of the Hawk. Locus could only cringe at the thought of what that lord would have said or done had he seen the Hawk of Light be disgraced like that. If one could make God bleed, people would stop believing in him.
He knew about disgrace, he knew what it felt to be disgraced, to try and try but to inevitably fail in the end and have all that was built up collapse around you. He knew that feeling all too well, but he owed it to the God Hand for improving him beyond what he had been before, he owed it to Griffith for allowing him a rank in the new Band of the Hawk. He was a knight now, a knight fully prepared to do what was necessary when duty called for it. Peace was a fickle thing for a knight, the call of action was always there, there and walking away like nothing had happened.
Something had to be done. That was what it meant to be a knight.
He squeezed so hard on the railing that the stone began to crack from the pressure applied to it.
Locus withdrew his hand. He was a knight, and it was beneath a knight to stoop to assassination. Let that be handled by a true monster, one shrouded in darkness. Rakshas perhaps, yes. And maybe that girl, Rosine. She was far too lax, not having sworn personal loyalty to the Hawk of Light, just tailing Irvine. Yes, leave it to the real monsters, he was a knight. A proud knight serving the Hawk of Light.
He wasn't sure that he would ever get used to it, being here, that is, but if there was one flip side to this whole crazy scenario it was that things had finally started to settle down to some extent. Roderick had filled his crew in on the current situation, leaving nothing out, but still keeping it very vague in some areas that would no doubt be too much to take in all at once. It was perhaps the name Roderick carried and serving under him for years that kept the men from jumping ship or starting an outright mutiny of the ship.
Even Sir Azan, who was still going under the name of the Black Moustache Knight saw this as nothing more than a slight detour that would not hinder the path of good and righteous intentions. Those were his words, not Harry's.
The only one of real concern was Farnese's older brother, Magnifico.
"Please tell me there is a plan to get back, Roderick!" Harry had overheard the aristocrat talking to the captain below deck. "You have to have a plan, you always have a plan!"
"Of course there's a plan, my friend," Roderick had assured him.
"Oh, thank the Holy See," Magnifico let out a sigh of relief. "What is it?"
"Something that will probably involve magic," Roderick had nonchalantly answered.
"You have to be kidding me!" Magnifico had wailed. "It was something involving magic that got us here to begin with. This whole trip and engagement to my sister was meant as a power play within my family and now it's turned into some sort of… magical conundrum! I've barely gotten any sleep with those maniacs shooting sparks up day and knight."
"Really? I've been sleeping like a log. That little witch offered to put a sound proof charm by my cabin window as thanks for offering my ship and her services to our guests. Has she not done so for your quarters?"
"…Farnese came by to offer her assistance by using that practice."
"And you refused her?" Roderick rhetorically asked.
"She's a Vandimion!" Magnifico had exclaimed. "She used to hunt people who practiced witchcraft for a living, even if it was father's way of getting her out of the house."
"Didn't your father also send you to study abroad?" Roderick followed up. "You're both the outcasts of your family in that regard."
"I have yet to prove myself, that is all." He did not sound happy about admitting his embarrassment.
"You may yet get your chance then," Roderick had offered his friend. "Once we find a way back, you can claim to be the first Vandimion son to have sailed where no man has gone before. I know I'll be telling the tale back in Lith."
"To some barmaid no doubt."
"Maybe in the past, but your sister… she has a quality to her few girls possess. She fascinates me."
If Harry had gauged two things from that conversation it was that one, Roderick was actually a decent man, and two, they might have to start watching Magnifico. He didn't think the elder Vandimion sibling would sell them out to anyone from Hogwarts, but his motives were all about getting recognition for himself and furthering his own position in his family.
But even still, life carried on. Isidro, tired and bored with just sitting on the ship all day was itching for something to happen already. To quell the growing boredom he had demanded a spar from both Sir Azan and Harry, claiming that he was ready for next level training.
To Harry's surprise, Isidro was actually holding up quite nicely with Sir Azan, dodging the older knight's broad strikes with ease and using his small and nimble frame to roll under the attacks to try and land a blow on his armor.
But even his small size and fast reflexes didn't guarantee Isidro the victory. Seeing the rolling maneuver that Isidro had just pulled, Sir Azan used his sparring weapon, a mop, and hopped to the side, the blunt of the handle catching Isidro in his midsection.
"Oof!" Isidro clutched at his stomach where he had been hit. "Damn it man, that really frecking hurts, you know that?!"
"Ta-ha!" Sir Azan chuckled. "All too well, lad. A knight must be prepared to endure any sort of physical pain if he is to truly succeed. Why I recall a time when…"
Those on deck began to tune the hedge knight out as he began to explain the story of one of his adventures throughout the land. "Yeah, yeah, whatever." Isidro pouted. "If I had my Salamander Dagger that mop would be up in flames right now."
Puck flew down from the crow's nest. He had taken it upon himself to help keep watch, as well as scout around the castle grounds at night. He was entirely convinced that if he flew fast enough, any spectators would mistake him for a firefly. Of course, Ivalera had been quick to point out that it was a magic castle and they probably wouldn't bat an eye to seeing a magical creature fly by.
"Remember my dear disciple, you will not always have a weapon on hand. It is important to keep moving on your feet and think fast." That was probably one of the more useful tips Puck had given to him. "And when that fails, remember to try and hit them really hard." Yeah, that was more like it.
"What about you, Harry?" Isidro pointed his mop at him. "I'm pretty sure you still owe me one."
"From when?" Harry asked.
"From, uh… I don't know, just from before."
"What a solid argument you have made," Schierke glanced up from the text she was going over with Farnese. She was progressing so fast in such a short amount of time. Today Schierke was going over the pronunciation of incantations and the results that they would produce.
"C'mon!" Isidro near pleaded. "I'd rather it be with you than gramps over there." He pointed a thumb over his shoulder to Sir Azan who was telling his story to the only person listening now, Puck.
"Fine." Harry reluctantly agreed, picking up a mop of his own. "First person to get first strike wins. Sound good?"
"Hell yeah."
They tapped the tip of their mops together as they assumed their stances. Guts watched them from the rail of the ship, his line of vision mainly aimed to the bow of the boat, watching Casca as she chased some stray owls around the deck.
Isidro made the first move of the mock duel, instantly going for his signature rolling strike. Seeing it coming, Harry jumped to the side, ready to bring his mop down and whack Isidro to end the duel, but Isidro had learned from his previous match with Azan; he brought his arm and mop up to block the downward strike.
"Ha! Wasn't expecting that, were you?" Isidro smiled at his own accomplishment.
"Honestly, no."
A vein throbbed in Isidro's temple. "At least give me some credit here."
Harry broke the lock and swiped down, aiming for the feet. Like a monkey, Isidro jumped over the swing. With his mop raised above his head and letting out a battle cry, Isidro had full intention of whacking him over the head.
Before that could happen, Harry made a quick jab and hit Isidro square in the chest with the end of his mop. "Ffoo!" Isidro wheezed as he landed on the deck. "Damn it."
"You left yourself wide open, foolish monkey," Ivalera shook her head in disappointment. "What did you think was going to happen?"
"Rematch?" Isidro asked as Harry helped him up.
"You agreed to just the one round," Harry reminded the other boy.
"Yeah, and that was barely a round," Isidro argued. "That was like, barely breaking a sweat for either of us. If I ask Guts, it would be over quicker than it was with you."
"Um, I don't mean to interrupt anything," Farnese looked up from her study with Schierke. "But it would seem we would have more company on the way."
Much like one of the days previous, a small rowboat could be seen making its way across the waters of the lake to where their ship was anchored. This time, there looked to be two people in the boat.
"Go fetch the captain!" the first mate hollered a command, the crew on deck racing to man their stations.
"What is it this time?" Guts asked, leaving his position of solitude to eye the approaching vessel. "Oh, it's those two." His hand that had been itching toward Dragonslayer paused, if only slightly as he recognized the two occupants of the approaching boat.
"What's going on?" Roderick asked as he joined them on the deck.
"Our two dignitaries have seen fit to pay us a visit," Serpico observed from the ropes of the main mast.
Indeed, the nearer the boat got, the more distinguisible the figures of Black and Lupin appeared to become. They were moving at a moderate speed, not fast like they were about to start swarming them or anything.
"Your orders, Captain?" the first mate asked, standing at attention.
"Let them approach," Roderick ordered. "We'll hear them out as they were kind enough before to listen to us. If their intentions are pure, they have my permission to come aboard."
"Roderick!" Magnifico gasped.
"On the condition that they hand over anything that might be considered a weapon," Roderick quickly added seeing the nervous look that had befallen his friend. "Just for safe measures."
Harry watched as the boat that carried the two wizards came to a slow stop on the port side of the ship. Black looked back up ready to be the one to speak first.
"Uh, ahoy there." Did he just say "ahoy?"
"Greetings yourself, Mister Black," Roderick called down. "I don't believe any of us were expecting to see you again quite so soon after our meeting a few days prior. To what do we owe this visit?"
Lupin handed Black a satchel which he opened to show a multitude of books and other texts crammed in. "We've been doing a bit of light reading."
"Light?" Isidro muttered eyeing some of the books as well.
"I congratulate you on your studies," Roderick informed. "Does it bare any relevance to any of us here?"
Even from up on the deck, Harry didn't miss the smile that worked its way onto Black's face. "As a matter of fact, I believe it does. Is the one woman present, Casca?"
Harry heard the sound of metal boots making their way to the very edge of the railing; Guts looked down at them with an unblinking stare. "What did you say?"
"I took to my family library," Black said, "I spent days and nights searching for anything that might be of use in curing her to her previous state. If you would have us, we'd be willing to share what we found."
"Toss or levitate those books up here first," Guts demanded. "No bullshit."
With a swish and flick of his wand, the satchel floated up to the rail of the ship, guts was quick to snatch it before it could land properly. He reached in grabbing at least two in his large hand and gave one to Harry and Schierke each.
"Guts?" Schierke asked, confused.
"Look it over," Guts instructed, already taking out more books and giving them to Farnese as well. "You both studied under Flora, skim through it, make sure it seems legitimate, something useful."
Looking at some of the titles, Harry saw that they all had to do with mind arts to some varying degree or another unless they had been enchanted to appear different, but that seemed unlikely. As skeptical as Harry was about some of these people, Black and Lupin did seem to want to help, even if it was just by previous affiliation with his father.
"Guts, this book details mind restoration," Schierke skimmed through a few pages. "Different methods, pensieve treatment being one of them. This… this actually sounds like the real deal, not too far off from what Mistress Flora attempted to do back at the Spirit-Tree."
Even though Guts kept a straight face, Harry saw a gleam appear in his singular brown eye.
"What are you thinking, Chief?" Roderick left the decision up to Guts.
Guts' grip remained firmly on one of the books, his knuckles turning white from the force of his rising anxiousness. "Throw them a rope."
Once a rope was sent down and both wizards brought on deck, they agreed to Roderick's condition of surrendering their wands for the time being and were escorted below deck to one of the cabins. Guts, Harry, Schierke, and Farnese were present as well, the latter three due to their magical nature, and Guts because anything concerning Casca had his instant and undivided attention.
"If you intend to heal her mind as quickly as possible, the best bet would be through pensieve treatment," Lupin said as they went over their findings prior to now. "There is a snag associated with it, of course."
"What would that be?" Farnese asked, curious as to what a snag could mean, they had enough of those already.
"As of a decree passed in eighteen-ninety, the Ministry put a severe ban on pensieve based treatment, effectively making it illegal to practice, or at the very least, extremely taboo with a heavy fine involved in caught."
"Who cares about the money?" Guts asked. "You brought it up so that probably means that you don't really care about that law, to begin with."
"Well," despite appearing tired, Black still managed a smile, "I live by the saying rules were meant to be broken. And the ritual we used previous was banned as well, and I'm still out and about."
Lupin fixed his friend with a warning look. "Yes, but news of Harry being back played a huge factor into that. This involves a girl with no magical ties save for her companions, the consequences would be more severe this time around."
"But would it work?" Harry asked. "What are the actual steps to it and if it was banned there must have been a reason for it."
Anticipating that question, Lupin flipped to a page he had bookmarked. "Intense pensieve treatment occurs while the patent is asleep with the back of their head submerged in the fluid of the pensieve. This is to help put the subconscious into a more relaxed state. Depending on how severe the mental damage is, up to three healers may be required. The healers would use the pensieve the same way as functioned, but will fully be able to traverse the patients' mental landscape in order to guide and assist the subconscious into healing itself."
"It heals itself?" Guts asked, not sounding if he believed it or not.
"The mind isn't like a broken bone or torn muscle," Lupin explained. "It is incredibly complex and self preservating."
"And why exactly was this tabooed?" Schierke reiterated the earlier topic. "If there is information on its procedure and practice, there has to be end results to it too."
"Not all healers believed in the practice," Black picked up. "Most agreed that it was far too unorthodox and dangerous believing the healers minds could be put at risk with exposure to the mindscape of a patient."
"But it has worked before?" Harry asked now.
"There have been several documented cases that would suggest so," Lupin had to agree. "Most patients who received the treatment went on about their lives with only minor side effects of the treatment."
"What kind?" Guts instantly asked, his eye narrowed in concentration.
"Memory flashes, mostly," Black told him. "If they see or encounter something from before the treatment, they might experience a sudden overflow of nostalgia, sadness, grief, the works."
Guts was silent, thinking over what was just laid out to him. There was a way. Finally, there was a way. If it worked, how would she react? How would she react to seeing Harry, to seeing him? Apart from Rickert, they were the only ones from her past here and she had tons of memories and feelings for the both of them. Flora had once said that the process would only work f the subject wanted to wake up, and she had made progress with Casca. Somewhere inside of her mind, a part of Casca did want to return.
"How would we even go about it?" Guts asked.
Black looked stunned. "Y-you're trusting us?"
"I trust you to know exactly what will happen if what you just told us means jack all," Guts made sure the end of Dragonslayer was visible.
Black swallowed a lump in his throat. "Message received."
"Dumbledore has a pensieve," Lupin reminded. "If he could be persuaded, he just might lend it for the healing. And then there's Madam Pomfrey, too. She used to work at St. Mungo's but left when they started implementing changes she wasn't comfortable with. If anyone could be persuaded into helping out further, it would be her. She has all the supplies in the hospital wing for proper treatment."
"In the school?" Harry asked. "The place where the students would swarm me if they even caught sight of me? Even if we tried going at night, they could still be waiting in or outside the castle."
Black smiled that boyish smile. "Your father knew his way around Hogwarts. Believe me when I say, there's more than one way into the castle."
A/N: So there's that chapter. Sorry, it took so long to get out, it was graduation week and everyone was busy. Rickert had his moment of glory and the road to healing Casca is in sight. Thank you for reading.