Random thing, but I gotta say it. Anybody else notice Halgekenia would make an awesome setting for a western RPG? Seriously, adding everything you basically gives you a world filled with fantastic creatures and a place rife with quests perfect for a powerful warrior/mage/thief who has no loyalty. There's even bird people! Bird people! And vampires that are actually more than just a slightly more annoying target.
Oh, and some of the early parts are copied from Baka-tsuki.
Alright, nothing else to say now. Let's just get started.
Raziel looked around the town, wonder adorning his normally blank face.
It was so different from everything, so...diverse. To his left he could see parents laughing along with their children, passing by hawkers who shouted about their wares whether it be food, tools, clothing, or even paid special attention to the children: It was the first time he'd seen people so young. He couldn't even tell how old they were supposed to be. He thought his master would be the youngest person he would see.
He supposed the father and mother would be the one to defend them if something bad ever happened. Then again, given how populous the area was and how many armed guards roamed the streets, he had a feeling danger was somehow far away from this place.
It reminded him of the tales he'd heard of both Lost Izalith (or just Izalith, as the case may have been) and New Londo; a haven of progress with a deep and rich culture that was second only to the God's themselves. It was the folly of the God's that destroyed both of them: The Witch of Izalith attempted to copy the first flame, as Quelana told him, and ended up summoning demons to bear down on the city.
And Gwyn? He drowned the city of New Londo, not even letting a single man, woman, or child walk out of paranoia of the Darkwraiths. He was so deluded into thinking that all humans were expendable that he felt justified into letting an entire city drown in order to kill a select few that he probably could have fought off even if they did come after him.
Sure they tried to paint it as less horrible than it seemed, but it didn't change the fact that mountains of corpses were still there by the time they got back and even the their spirits could find no rest, forced to stay in the place they died and attacking any unlucky enough to wander into the drowned city. Even his designated sealers left. One for altruistic reasons, the other for not so altruistic reasons, and the last one (Ingward) continued to guard till his due had come.
Flames, he really needed to stop thinking about the God's. The God's were dead. Dead and long gone, and by his own hands no less. The only God left that earned his ire was Gwyndolin, and he was sure Kaathe and Frampt would deal with him like they did him. He almost felt a smidgen of pity for the snake legged God.
Almost.
To the right he could see couples walking hand in hand, showing their affection to each other in acceptable - and not so acceptable - capacities. Many of them held hands or leaned shoulders with one another; nothing wrong with that. He supposed it was feasible that they show affection - or at least he assumed it was affection; it was reminiscent of the tales Rhea told him - to one another however they pleased.
And then there were the not so feasible shows of affection. One man was in a daze, bumping into Raziel's shoulder and not even bothering to acknowledge the contact. Raziel supposed it had to with the fact that his left hand was currently...was it down the middle of her dress? Huh, he must've dropped something in her clothes or something. Either that or he somehow found cupping her chest to be appealing for some reason.
Others were somewhat more subtle, but his eyes could pick them up. Some alleys they passed had a pair - usually a man and a woman, though he could also see pairs of the same gender - hidden in nooks and crannies, obviously trying to do something involving their lips and removing their clothes. He didn't know or really care for that matter. What they did with their clothes was their business.
"Hmm, I could've sworn it was here," Louise mumbled to herself, tapping her chin impatiently. She knew for a fact that there was supposed to be a weapon and armor shop around here. somewhere.
"Where are we?" Raziel asked suddenly.
Louise nearly jumped at the sudden question. She still had to get used to the fact that his voice was healing and he could talk somewhat normally now, "Bourdonné Street, Tristain's widest avenue. The palace is straight ahead." She pointed at the towering castle the path led to. Raziel frowned slightly at the sight of the palace. Was that where this place's God's were held? He certainly hoped Gwyndolin was there. He wanted to catch up with his old friend.
Preferably with a giant sword cutting off all his legs and then crushing his face with Smough's hammer. Over and over and over again.
However, even in all his annoyance he didn't miss the nostalgic smile that his master held for just the briefest of seconds. Obviously she had memories there, but what they could possibly be he didn't know.
"So many people," Raziel opined, looking at all the different shops. Various signs adorned the doors; a particularly memorable one being an image of a frog with its tongue sticking out. Unfortunately, he couldn't read the shop's title due to his current illiteracy and-
Raziel blinked. He saw something in the side alley. He didn't know what it was, but it gave him a feeling of suspicion. Without bothering to ask for his master's permission, he began to walk towards the dark alley.
Louise grabbed his ear and pulled, "Hey, don't go wandering off to the alleyways. There are thieves and pickpockets here, and you're carrying my money in those pants of yours."
"Thieves?" That didn't sound good. Thieves had this uncanny ability to come out of doorways and slit him by the throat without him noticing. By the third time it happened he'd resorted to chucking prism stones and firebombs down every corner out of paranoia. It didn't work.
"Yes, thieves. And the weight of the coins will make it very hard for you to run. Your injuries also mark you as an easy target and you're unarmed, so I'm not sure how much you can do to fight back," Actually, she wanted to say that she thought he would rip a signpost out and use it as a spear, but she held back he tongue. He would do it if she suggested it.
These coins were heavy? Raziel grabbed the pouch from his pocket and shook it slightly. If they were supposed to be heavy then he certainly couldn't tell. He chalked it up to their different body strengths and moved on. To his master, even a shortsword must've weighed heavily.
It still amazed him that they used currency apart from souls here. Admittedly it shouldn't have come as a shock: Petrus, may his soul wander for eternity, had given him a copper coin and he sometimes found silver and gold coins on his journeys around Lordran. He had gotten so used to the energy based consumption that he forgot that they used regular currency outside Lordran.
"And don't think just because the bag is heavy that they'll be slowed down too," Louise continued, "Magic can make even the heaviest bag as light as a feather."
"Sorcerer thieves?" Raziel asked in slight disbelief, "Nobles rob other nobles?" As his master and Siesta told him, all mages in the Academy had nobility in their blood, similar to Rhea and Chester, by the magic in their blood. It was completely different from the way things were run in the Vinheim dragon school.
"You could say that," Why did he keep calling them sorcerers? "All nobles are mages, but not all mages are nobles. To be an aristocrat one needs magic in their blood, but its possible to have your title taken from you if you commit a deep enough offense. A noble can also drop his title willingly to become a criminal or mercenary, or for other reasons, then they are mage with no title."
"Like Logan," He remarked. Logan had dropped his status as Vinheim's top researcher and journeyed to Lordran simply because of his love for research.
Louise nodded absently, pointing at the signs they passed and marking off each of their uses so she could keep track of them. Eventually she came to a narrow road facing the left and she followed it, Raziel shadowing her closely.
Immediately a putrid stench assaulted both of their nostrils, obviously coming from the trash and other nasty things scattered haphazardly all over the small road. Louise nearly gagged at the awful aroma but Raziel showed no reaction to the stench. Really, as long as it wasn't a bunch of smoke and fire attacking his nose then he would have no problem.
"Right, now we have to follow the road forward and take the first right, then we should see the shop."
Raziel nodded and followed Louise, who was using her cloak to cover her nose and did her best to breath through her mouth. Nobles rarely ever came here, so the commoners running the area felt no need to make false pretenses.
"Ah, found it!" Louise visibly sighed in relief as she spotted the sword shaped sign hanging above the door. She quickly scrambled in, dragging her confused Familar behind her and closing the door with a loud clang.
Despite the bright sunlight outside, it was dark inside; the only source of light being a lamp hanging on the wall. The walls and shelves were cluttered with all kinds of weapons. Off to the side she could make out a detailed suit of knight armor, but everything else was either weapons of all sizes or empty spaces filled with dust and grime.
The owner of the shop, a gray haired man in his late years of adulthood smoking a pipe, looked up and gave Louise a suspicious stare. That is, until he saw the golden button of her cloak; the markings of a noble. Immediately suspicion was replaced by a fake smile and he stood up with energy unfitting of his age.
"My lady! My noble lady! All of my wares here are real and reasonably priced! There's nothing criminal here!" He chirped, repeating the same well-rehearsed speech he gave every noble customer that passed by here, "Are you buying for a friend or perhaps-"
"I'll be your customer," Louise interrupted, not in the mood for fake pleasantries.
"Oh, you are buying? That is odd," The man commented, "I've never heard of nobles buy swords before!" He said with fake zeal.
"Why is that?" She asked, raising an eyebrow curiously.
"Well, priests wave sacred staffs, soldiers wave swords, and nobles wave wands. Isn't that the rule?"
Louise nodded. He had a point there, "To be more specific: I am buying it, but I will not be the one to use it. My Familiar will."
Raziel was too busy looking at all the weapons in the shop to pay attention to their conversation. He picked up each weapon carefully, examined it thoroughly, before placing it back where he found it with a disappointed sigh. They were decent, but none of them were even close to the level of strength and make his former weapons had. Even the Zweinhanders and Claymores seemed almost fragile in his hands.
Louise ignored him and continued, "I'm not very knowledgeable about swords, so please show me anything that is reasonable."
The shopkeeper nodded and walked into the backroom, cackling to himself, "Oh, this is too great! I can raise the prices so high with this." He muttered excitedly. Hurrying back to the noble customer, he returned with a longsword of about a mail in length. It was a very exquisitely decorated golden sword. It looked like one could swing it with just one hand. There was even a hand guard on the short handle.
"Impressive," Louise nodded, neutrally as possible,
The shopkeeper nodded vigorously with a wide smile, "Speaking of which, it seems that nobles like to let their servants bear swords lately. The last time any of them came to pick one from me, they picked this type of sword."
Louise supposed it made sense. To a noble, appearance was very important. Getting a sword that was not only both exquisite in appearance and powerful in strength was a given- Wait, did he say servants wielded swords now?
"Servants wield these types of sword now? Is that the trend?"
Another nod, "Of course. It seems there's been an increase in thievery lately and some of the lords are getting antsy. They've taken to arming their servants now in lieu of getting more guards."
"Thievery?" Who could steal from the nobility?
"Yes. Some mage thief that calls himself or herself something like 'Fouquet the Crumbling Dirt,' and I heard he or she stole a lot of treasures from the nobles. Those nobles are getting really rattled, so they're arming their servants with swords just in case."
Louise held no interests for thieves, so she chose to focus on the sword instead, "Compared to the sword he used before, this looks extremely fragile," She looked down at the blade, "My Familiar wielded a sword far larger than this last time."
The construct sword was larger than a longsword, mostly because it was made to be wielded by the bronze Valkyries. And yet he swung it around with one hand easily and even wielded a spear in tandem with it. She needed something bigger.
"I want something bigger and broader."
The shopkeeper looked at the frail young man suspiciously before looking back at Louise, "Madam, please forgive my bluntness - Sword and swordsman have compatibilities; just like men and women. If you want your Familiar to be able to use a sword effectively, then-"
"Didn't I state my preference?" Louise interrupted, annoyance seeping into her voice. The shopkeeper sighed and went back to the backroom, mumbling some obscenities under his breath. While he did want to get maximum profits for his weapons, he also wanted the customers to be able to actually use the weapons, if only to stop them from demanding refunds.
But if the girl wanted bigger and broader, then he'd give her bigger and broader.
"What about this one?" It was a splendid broadsword of around a mail and a half in length. The handle was made for two-handed wielding and was lavishly decorated with jewels of all kinds. The mirror-like golden blade reflected the light with an irresistible glow. Anyone could look at it and say it was a very sharp and broad blade. "This is the best thing I have. Rather than say it's for nobles, it's more like something nobles wish they can wear on their waists, but that's something reserved for very strong men. If not, wearing it on the back isn't half bad." He recited his sales pitch.
Raziel joined Louise and stared closely at the blade. While it was exquisite in design and looked to be very sharp, he had a feeling that it was mostly just appearances that the blade had going for it. While he could make no claim to being a blacksmith, he knew enough about weapons that he could discern their makes and effectiveness.
"How much?" Louise asked, confident she could buy it.
"Well… it's made by the famous Germanian alchemist Earl Arstor. It can cut through metal like butter because of the magic infused in it!" The Shopkeeper rattled on, "See this inscription here?" He proudly pointed at the words on the handle. "You can't get this cheaper anywhere else!"
"Hmph, I am a noble," She stated with barely constrained pride.
And that was his cue to blow her confidence out of the water, "It costs Three thousand new gold coins."
Louise visibly deflated at the price, "What?! You can buy a holiday home with a garden with that!" Louise yelled , shocked. Raziel, who was too busy examining the blade, ignored her protests.
"A famous sword is worth as much as a castle, my lady. A holiday home is quite cheap compared to this." The shopkeeper answered back.
"I brought a thousand new gold coins with me today, and I still need to buy him a suit of armor," Louise, being a noble, had little skill in bargaining, and made the taboo of giving away her wallet's contents. She would've had more than the amount she currently had if she was allowed to get a full refund of the unused medicine she ordered. Unfortunately, the most she could just was just under half of her money back.
The shopkeeper only waved his hand dismissively. "Come on, even standard broadswords cost at least 200 new gold coins." Whether he was telling the truth or not, neither Louise or Raziel knew. He was a salesman, after all.
Louise's face turned red. 'I didn't even know swords cost that much.'
"Don't buy it," Louise and the older male turned to look at Raziel, who was holding the sword with both hands and examining it, "It's too fragile...and the material is weak," He frowned. While it looked nice, its strength and usefulness barely reached up to the swords even the Hollow's swung around. It was an ornamental decoration, nothing more.
"Weak!?" The shopkeeper cried indignantly, "I'll have you know that sword is-"
"In either case," Louise interrupted before the old man could ramble, "We can't buy it because we can't afford it. We need to get something that we can buy but will still allow us to buy a decent suit of armor."
Raziel nodded, putting the sword back on the counter, and then tilted his head to the side. He could hear laughter, "Kehehehehe," It sounded like it was coming from the pile of swords stuck in the corner. A moment passed before the laughter resounded again, even louder this time. Both Louise and the store owner heard it, the latter sighing in annoyance.
"Heh, what kind of shopkeeper are you? Can't even scam a noble girl and her sick servant. Getting sloppy in your old age there?"
Raziel and Louise turned to the source of the voice while the old man placed both hands on his face and groaned. He was sincerely hoping something like this wouldn't happen today. Business had been slow and he needed no customers complained.
"Why don't you look at yourself for a moment?" The voice goaded Raziel, "You? Wield that sword? Don't make me laugh. At least you know a good sword and a piece of crap when you see one, but the fact is you're only built for using sticks and clubs! I mean look at you, you look like you're going to drop dead the second a gust of wind passes by!"
Raziel paid the insults no mind. He'd heard worse.
"And you, girly," It turned to Louise now, "How stupid do you have to be to not see he's scamming you? Even your servant could tell you were being sold a piece of utter garbage!"
"Sh-Shut up!" Louise yelled back, stamping her foot for emphasis.
"Oooh, the big bad noble's stomping her foot! That means you're serious now, right? Would you like me to pretend to be scared now or should I not bother?"
Raziel stalked forward, ignoring his master as she prepared to throw another barb at the mysterious voice, and walked towards the source of the voice, "Come out from where's you're hiding, coward!"
"Who are you calling a coward!? I'll have you know-"
Whatever he was about to say was drowned by the sounds of the sword pile collapsing as Raziel kicked. The voice came from inside the pile, and yet he saw no one there. What was going on? Was it someone using a chameleon spell to blend into the environment? He needed to see if any of the items were moving.
"Hah, you missed!" The voice taunted him, "Still can't see me? Look down!"
Raziel looked down and saw a sword lying next to his feet, away from the pile. It was the same length as that huge broadsword, though its blade was slightly less broad and was shaped more similarly to an Uchigatana. It was a thin longsword, although its surface was coated with rust, and saying it was well made to any degree would be a giant lie.
"Yeah, that's me you're nearly stepping on!"
The Shopkeeper finally had enough and yelled, "Hey Derf, stop insulting my customers and go back to sleep!"
"Customer? A customer that can't wield a sword?" 'Derf cackled, the sword's rusted handle shaking in tune with the laughter, "You've got to be kidding me! This shop's quality must've really gone down the drain if you're getting this desperate."
"Is-Is the sword talking? Is that a sentient sword?" Asked Louise, halfway between surprise and exasperation.
"That's right, lady. It's a sentient, magical, intelligent sword. I wonder what kind of mage could make a sword speak, but its got a rotten tongue, always arguing with my customers," He turned back to the sword, "Hey, Derf! Keep acting like that and I'll ask this noble here to melt you!"
"Sounds good to me! I'd like to see you try it! I'm kinda tired of this world. I'd love to be melted down!" Derf taunted back.
The old man scowled and shouted back, "Fine, then I'm melting you down! I'm tired of your nonsense!" The old man moved to grab the talking sword, but Raziel held up a hand to stop him.
"Wait," Raziel knelt down and grabbed the sword's hilt. Already he could tell this was no chameleon spell; the feeling of the sword in his hands was something that could not be replicated, "You are called "Derf'?"
"Wrong!" The sword answered, "My name is Lord Derflinger, remember it!"
Raziel nodded, "Lord Derflinger," He called the sword by its proper name.
Derflinger's handle shook up and down, but no words came out. Raziel began to worry before he realized that Derflinger was laughing, "Hahahaha, you actually did it! Nobody's ever really called me that before! I can tell this is going to be a great partnership!"
Raziel stood up and held the sword at length. The rust covered every inch of the blade, but his instinctual knowledge already told him that Derflinger was of extremely well make and use. It was the best weapon he'd seen in his entire time at the shop.
"So, you're user aren't you? Strange, you're not like the others that came before you. There's something...unnatural about you. I can't place my blade on it, but there's something that makes you different from everybody else."
"User?" Raziel asked.
"What, you don't know?" Derf questioned incredulously, "Now that that I'm getting a better feel, there's actually something wrong with the runes in your hand. There seems to be some kind of seal in place, blocking you from being able to use the full powers." Runes? He looked down at his left hand, at the runes. He remembered them glowing during his fight with the bronze Valkyrie's, but he ignored them since he was too caught up in the fighting.
"Hmm, I can remove the first block, but you might want to wait till you're somewhere more private for that. So why don't you buy me?" Derflinger suddenly changed the subject.
Raziel nodded silently and turned back to his confused master, "Master...can we buy this?"
Louise wanted to complain. The sword had insulted her and it was a rusty piece of crap, but something in her gut told her that it would help her to buy the old thing. That and she didn't really have enough money for anything else, Sighing, she turned back to the storekeeper and managed to ask, "How much is the talking sword?"
"Eh, 100 will do," He shrugged.
"That's pretty cheap," Not that she was complaining, but it seemed way too low given how expensive all his other weapons were.
"For that one? Hah, take it with you for cheap and just make sure it doesn't come back here." He waved a hand dismissively.
Nodding, Louise took her pouch from her Familiar and grabbed 100 gold coins, placing them on the counter. With a word of thanks from the couple and one last insult from the rusted sword, the two left the shop.
The lands of Halgekenia were known for their beautiful and varied geography. From the floating islands of Albion to the rich earth of Germania, the lands were undoubtedly blessed with great natural beauties.
Tristain was known for its deep and lush forests. An unmatched beauty that even the best paintings failed to replicate. Many believers attributed their lands beauty due to the favor of Founder Brimir, as did every other country proud of its beauty. The lush forests ensured that Tristain, despite its lack of standing army, was a vital country for trade and protected them from any would be invaders.
Unfortunately, what wasbeautiful and wondrous could also be used for dark purposes. Bandits and mercenaries were all too common in the lands, and Tristan's thick forests often meant that the authorities were often unable to catch them when they escaped deep enough in. It was common knowledge that many outlaws of all types made their homes in the forests. Rarely anyone ventured off the beaten path alone for fear of encountering them.
Right now, there was one woman who was doing exactly that.
Between the thick trees, a woman walked. Her features were covered by a heavy brown cloak and her footsteps didn't make a single sound; the obvious mark of a thief.
Her name was Foquet, her runic name was 'The Crumbling Dirt'. A well known thief even outside of Tristain, she'd robbed and taken from the highest nobles using the power of her earth magic. Right now she was forced to walk through the forest, ignoring every feeling in her gut telling her to turn back and take her chances elsewhere.
In her hands she held a letter sealed in a common envelope, with no indication of who it belonged to or where it came from. A common countermeasure when dealing with...untrustworthy assets like her. Though they tried to hide it, her mysterious benefactors - though she used that term loosely - had obviously considered her a valuable but ultimately expendable asset.
Just like they did everyone else.
She sighed, stopping in her tracks and ripping open the envelope again. Despite the large parchment inside, there were only a few words, "Get help. Follow the directions written on the parchment," She muttered under her breath, eyebrows crinkling in annoyance. They'd made it as cryptic as they could without compromising the instructions.
It was a safe countermeasure, she supposed. Every letter had the chance to be intercepted whether by chance or specific machinations, and writing down the minutiae of their plans on every order would have led to their downfall. She was a piece of the puzzle and she was given what little she needed to survive.
Along with the letter came a pouch of coins. 5000 new gold, better than many commoners and even some nobles could earn in years. It was an 'incentive' to coerce whoever she was supposed to ask for help. She had half a mind to spend the gold on herself; she had certain obligations to certain people, and it wasn't like she owed them loyalty or anything, given that she was a thief.
But of course, they had all planned for that. They knew her identity, had proof of her deeds, and they would spread them once they found her too much of a risk to continue using. It was for that reason alone that she, a well-known thief and mage, was working for them now. A 'representative' of theirs came to her earlier with an offer.
Work for them in order to earn riches and power beyond her wildest dreams, or spend her remaining life in a dungeon for the crimes she committed. She found the 'choice' to be an easy one to make.
A snap of the twig and a muffled curse behind her alerted her to what she already knew: Two people were following her. As an extra letter (which had long burned by now) told her, they were sending in a couple of recruits to tail her to the meeting place. The letter specified that they were two young nobles, dot class mages, who were capable of using fire and wind respectively.
The reason for them being there was simple. They wanted someone to keep tracks on her. They obviously didn't trust her and they needed someone to keep an eye on her.
It was also because, like her, they were expendable. She had a sneaking suspicion that the ones who sent them here didn't expect them to return; whether or not she stayed loyal was irrelevant. Who better to watch an expendable asset than another expendable asset? They lose nothing either way.
Foquet's lips twitched, a wry smile making its way to her face. The forests near the capital city were the thickest in all of Tristain and, even though it was still just approaching noon, only traces of sunlight managed to breach the thick foliage, giving the area an appearance of a forest at night. Foquet mused to herself that she would use the forests in the future when she needed it.
Another hour of walking passed before Fouquet saw the first signs of human presence: The distant light of a fire and the smell of burning meat. She'd found the camp she was looking for.
Her task was monumental. Steal into the vault in the Tristain Academy of Magic and take the most valuable item inside: The staff of destruction. One of the earlier letters, which she was also advised to burn after reading, mentioned that she also needed to find out how to use it before sending it to them, or else the job is considered a failure.
Unfortunately, the vault was stationed with guards 24/7 and various magical bindings made breaking in and out undetected near impossible. She would have to brute force her way in.
According to info she'd gleaned off of Professor Colbert - who was readily giving away the info since he never suspected her (she didn't know whether to laugh at his naivete or feel flattered that he considered her trustworthy) - enough force would break the vault's walls, but it was naturally impossible for even a square class mage unless all the guards were somehow absent.
And this is why she came here.
Stepping closer, she could finally see through the trees at the place beyond. It was an open field, surrounded by trees on all sides and even darker than the rest of the forest. No sunlight pierced through the large leaves overlooking the clearing and the only sign of it being populated, apart from the people themselves, was a singular large campfire in the center and a few tents. Easily collapsed and, if the need came, destroyed to cut of all trace of activity.
There weren't many people in the clearing; she could count at least 20 by one glance alone, but she was sure there were a much more stalking the forest somewhere. All of them were male, no surprise there, and wore leather and cloth armor of varying makes. The only thing that marked them as being in the same group were the dark color of their armors; various shades of black, gray, and brown.
'Bandits,' Fouquet thought distastefully. She supposed it was hypocritical in a way. She was a thief, was she not? She held no moral superiority to them and she was certainly not their better.
But there was something in their eyes. A book she'd read long ago said 'The eyes are the window to the soul'. She considered it silly at first, but now she thought it might have had a point. When she saw into their eyes she could see who they were, what they were: They'd given in to their baser needs, they cared nothing about others lives, not even each others. She saw evil, the capacity to destroy, to dominate, to take what they wanted.
In a way, they were perfect for the job.
All eyes in the camp immediately turned to face her. They knew she was coming; a messenger from her benefactors had told them of her arrival and that she had a deal. It didn't stop the majority of them from staring at her. Or rather, the feminine body she concealed under their cloak. She was no fool. She knew what they saw her as, what they would have done if they could.
Unconsciously, she gripped the wand hidden under her cloak tighter. If they tried anything then she would kill them, objectives be damned. She wasn't going to die because of some males pent up desires. Turning her head back just briefly, she could no longer see the two noblemen following her. Most likely they had run off and left her behind.
Her eyes surveyed the camp once again before finding her target. With a calming breath, she stepped towards the center, the camp's inhabitant's gazes following her...except one.
At the center, sitting on a log, was a dark haired man, barely into his adulthood. Fouquet had to admit he was handsome: A lean but fit build, curly dark hair just reaching past his neck, a closely shaved stubble, and his olive skin marking him as either of Romalian or Germanian descent. The outfit he wore was nearly indistinguishable from the rest of his little group: Dark leather with a black cloak. Fouquet guessed it was so it would be hard to tell who the leader of the group was.
"Well, it appears we have a visitor," He looked up at her and flashed a charming smile. Fouquet knew better than to let down her guard; it was the smile of a snake and a traitor, albeit a charming one, "Come, sit down and let your feet rest. It must have taken a long time to journey here," His velvety voiced soothed.
Fouquet raised an eyebrow at the affable act, but she sat down on a log across from him. The light of the bonfire gave him an unsettling appearance despite his handsome features.
"There, is this not much better?" He asked, "I despite having to set up camp so far into the forest, but the authorities do not take kindly to our...activities well. Do you not agree, Miss... Oh, I do apologize, I did not catch your name."
He was asking for her name. She was advised not to trust him beforehand and not to get friendly with him on any means, "My name is Lucrezia," She gave her own charming smile. The name was the same as the main character of a play she saw when she was younger, "May I ask for your name as well?" She countered.
"I suppose it is proper manners," He leaned forward, the light of the fire casting another sinister gleam on his rugged face, "My name is Cesare Borgia, though you may call me Cesare. I understand it is the name of a famous Romalian conqueror, but I pay little attention to such things."
He was lying. The name was another character she'd seen in the same play; the older brother of the main character who's name she used. He had seen though her bluff and was taunting her.
"Well then, Cesare, can we get down to my reason for coming here?"
"Indeed," Cesare smiled, though it did nothing to soothe the thief's nerves, "The letter I received came from the same benefactor as yours, did it not? I wonder, how much do you know about them?"
"It is of no concern to me who he or she may be. I am offered a job in exchange for something I want, and I accepted. Were you not made the same offer?" Fouquet replied neutrally.
"It appears so," Cesare gave an amused shake of the head, "When I...questioned the messenger, he revealed to me that all he knew was that the orders came from 'His Eminence'. I wonder, did we somehow get entangled into the affairs of the church now? I thought they would have no need for rabble like us. Do you do this out of a loyalty to the papacy and the clergy?"
"How are you sure he was not lying?" Foquet challenged.
"Oh, I doubt that very much," He smirked, "Micheletto has a...way with convincing others to divulge all they know. He is a master of the technique as I recall," His face suddenly brightened and he called out, "Ah, Micheletto, just in time! Have you collected our guests?"
Fouquet knit her eyebrows in confusion before turning back to where Cesare was calling. What she saw turned her blood to ice.
A man stood, a mop of messy red hair and a beard to match, wearing leathers of brown colors. What scared her was what he held in his hands: On his left was a knife, serrated and dripping with fresh blood. But on his right was something scarier; one of the young men that followed her before, his face cut up with multiple knife wounds and his tunic drenched with his own blood.
"My apologies Cesare, but one of them proved...uncooperative. I had to release him from my hold," Micheletto replied softly, without emotion or feeling. Fouquet knew that the young man's partner was dead. She saw it in the way the torturer's lips smiled ever so slightly when he mentioned release. He was a sadist, but there was no hostility in him. He felt nothing when killing.
"No matter, I am sure you did your best," Cesare turned back to her, "Is this young man with you? I was very clear with my demands to your messenger earlier. I wanted one representative, not two. So the question is; which one of you is the person that was sent to meet me, and which one is an intruder? I advise you to answer carefully: We do not deal with intruders...lightly"
Fouquet felt her anger boil. He was enjoying this, he relished in seeing her discomfort because he already knew what she would answer.
The young man looked up, staring straight at her. Though his bloodied eyes she saw it: Fear and desperation. He didn't want to die, he wanted Fouquet to save him. He had gotten in over his head and he wanted a second chance. He'd seen death take his friend and he wanted to escape that fate, no matter what. Fouquet looked down at him, sympathy in her eyes.
She couldn't save him.
"I am afraid I do not know who this man is," His eyes widened as he realized the reality of his situation, "Please do not place the blame on me if your camp is easily spotted by curious nobles looking to play adventure."
Cesare smiled, "Very well," He nodded to Micheletto, "Deal with him."
The young man barely had time to scream before Micheletto dragged the knife from one side of his neck to another, exposing another torrent of blood to the earth. As his life faded from him, he tried to scream out curses and revenge, but the blood clogged his throat and eventually his eyes emptied, the life having drained out of them.
"Well, that was certainly entertaining."
Fouquet felt sick. She had seen a man die in front of her, and the worst part of it was that she claimed at least partial responsibility for them.
But she knew she couldn't blame herself fully. Her benefactors knew who they wanted her to hire, knew the methods they used, and they still sent them there for reasons unknown to her. Perhaps they were sons of a rival noble family, or perhaps they simply found death amusing, but either way they had sent these two knowing full well they would die if they came.
"Now, I am listening," Cesare leaned forward, arms clasped together in anticipation.
"Yes...here is the job," She shook herself internally and handed him the pouch of coins along with the letter that came with it, "Half of the details are inside along with your fee. If you agree to the terms of the arrangement, another letter will be sent to you at the designated dead drop along with more money should it be needed."
Cesare nodded, opening the sack and fishing out of the the new gold coins inside. They were genuine, so whoever was paying them for this little excursion had the backing of someone powerful behind them. Throwing the coin back inside, he picked up the letter next and read its contents, skimming through them quickly.
"Do you accept?" Fouquet asked after a moment of silence.
"This is a hefty job," Cesare placed the letter down and looked back at her, "You wish for me and my men to attack the academy of magic in the middle of their little Familiar festival?"
"That is correct," She nodded.
Silence suddenly engulfed the camp. Fouquet's arm reached inside her cloak warily in case of possible attack.
"Hahahahaha!" Cesare laughed, surprising the green haired woman, "I must say, this task you've given us is a unique one. Tell me, what exactly do you expect us to do once we attack? Should we kill all the students? Or is there a specific target you have in mind?"
And that was when she realized. They relished in the idea of doing the impossible. They were willing to risk their lives just to prove they could and still make it out alive. All around the camp she could already see excited murmurs coming from most of the members. They wanted to do this.
"I will break into the Vault, and the princess' visit for the Familiar show means that many of the guards will be assigned to her. However, that does not mean the vault will be unguarded."
"Ah, so we are to serve as distractions then?" Fouquet nodded, "I see. Well, it appears that we have come to an agreement then. We distract the guards and anyone attending this little gathering while you steal whatever it is our client wants."
Fouquet nodded, forcing herself to smile. The stone had been set and there was no turning back now.
"Return my memory?"
"That's right, partner!" Derflinger - or Lord Derflinger, as he preferred to be called - cackled as both Louise and Raziel gave him unsure looks. The three were back in Louise's room now, having finished their shopping trip and managing to buy Raziel a decent suit of armor.
Raziel looked down at his armor in uncertainty. Louise had grossly underestimated the full cost of a suit of armor for a knight, and so they had to compromise.
The armor was mostly made of a dark blue cloth, the design reminiscent of the armors of the thieves from the Undead burg. However, underneath the cloth he could feel the unmistakable texture of a light chainmail, ensuring that he would given at least some minor protection from slashes and piercings. The most protective part of the set, however, was the metallic gauntlet that adorned his right arm.
It was an arm-guard, the shopkeeper said. It protected the warriors sword hand from attacks while allowing them to retain their speed and versatility due to its light weight. It also had, in addition to the cloth already doing so, the added benefit of covering the heavy burn he received on his right arm. The only other thing of note were the boots, which were made of a black leather for easy movement. The only thing that indicated that he was still injured were the bandages around his face and neck.
Raziel thought he looked stupid.
"Hey sword, what are you talking about?" Louise asked from her bed, throwing an irritated glance at both Derflinger and Raziel, who were both sitting on the floor.
"Wow, I really got a couple of winners here!" Derflinger mumbled sarcastically, "Listen, girly, your Familiar's not in full power. Heck, he's not even in half power, and that's really embarrassing!"
Louise gave an irritated sigh, but she stood up from her bed anyway. If she wanted to understand more about her Familiar and why exactly she'd summoned him then she needed to use any info she could find.
Even if it came from stupid talking swords.
"Alright, now the runes in his hands have 7 letters. You see them?" Raziel removed his left glove and stuck his hand out to his master. Louise nodded after a quick countdown, "Right, so user's are supposed to be able to use all the runes from the start of it. That's one of the perks for being chosen," Raziel flinched. Did he have to use that word? "But, there's something different about partner here."
"What do you mean?" Louise asked.
"Its better if I show. Hey partner, unsheathe me will you?"
Raziel nodded and took the sword out of the scabbard with some difficulty. The rust on the blade made it somewhat difficult to pull him from out of his sheath, "What now-" He was interrupted by a sudden burst of light coming from his left hand. The two of them looked down curiously at his hand and saw the runes glowing.
All one of them.
"Hey, why are only one of the runes glowing?" Louise asked Derf incredulously, "All of them were glowing when he fought Guiche! I know they did!"
"That's the problem, see? User's are supposed to be able use the runes to their full power from the start. But partner here? He only gets a slight boost because he's only using one out of the seven."
"Do you know the reason?" Raziel moved his left hand around and placed it against the light of the window. Derf was right; only one out of the 7 symbols were glowing.
"I dunno, something like this has never happened before. Usually the runes stay with the user till death, then they move on to the next one."
"Death..." Louise flinched, "Uh...hey, sword. Yesterday my Familiar got into a fight with someone and he got...stabbed through," She hated remembering that, "It looked like he died there, but the runes started glowing and he got back up. Could that be the problem."
"Nah, that's a normal part of the runes purpose," Derf replied, "When the user is near death the runes can activate so long as he or she has a weapon handy. Its so the user can keep fighting at their limit even when their bodies are failing. If he really did die or his heart stopped beating at any point, then the runes would jsut disappear. I've never seen a case of them being partial before."
Louise sighed. Of course she had to get a Familiar that was crippled in the only thing he could do, "Can you tell what's wrong with him?"
"I dunno. It feels like...he's floating between life and death, if that makes any sense to you, girly. There's something that's blocking the runes from being used to their full power, disregarding when he first used it."
Raziel stayed silent, content to ponder his weapon and master's words. Floating between life and death? How poetic.
"Well can you fix it?" Louise asked.
"Mmmph, I can fix part of it. There's something blocking the second rune, a traumatic memory, but I think I can unlock it - don't ask me how, I don't know myself." Derf interrupted before she could fire off her question, "After that, though, you're going to have to figure out how to unlock the other 5 on your own. There's nothing I can do beyond this."
"How vivid will the memory be?"
"Not very vivid," Derf answered her truthfully, "Since I'm forcing the memory to come out, partner won't be able to see it too clearly. Still, once it plays out, the second rune should unlock. So what do you say, partner? Ready to scar yourself?"
"Do it," Raziel nodded. Maybe it would allow him to finally make sense of what was happening around him.
The pain across his back was unbearable. Feebly he tried to move his arms, only to realize he was being restrained.
He looked up, nearly blinded by the intense light of the sun. On his left and right he could see two armored figures, each one holding into one of his arms. Again he tried to feebly move his limbs, and again it was met with no success. He was trapped.
Ahead of him he could see a figure, his features obscured by the sun and shadows. All he could make out was that he was male and his long white hair, everything else was a blur.
The figure knelt down, observing the edge of the cliff sternly, before turning back and walking past him on the opposite direction. He tried in vain to look up, to even catch a glimpse of the figure's visage, but the sun's bright light continued to blind him.
The armored figures dragged him forward again, the cold rocks scratching against the light armor he wore. They stopped as they reached the edge of the cliff, turning back to the figure for the command.
He turned back to look at him quickly before facing the opposite direction again, "...Cast him in!"
An instinctive fear had gripped him and he struggled harder against the figures, but it was all in vain. He was cast over the edge of the cliff, the air buffeting his limp body in its cold embrace. He looked down and saw what awaited him; a dark vortex of unimaginable power, its true nature unfathomable to him.
He screamed.
Tumbling, burning in white-hot fire, he plunged into the depths of the abyss. Unspeakable pain, relentless agony. Time ceased to exist, only this torture, and a deepening hatred for the hypocrisy that damned him to this hell. This eternal torment.
An eternity passed, and his torment receded. Bringing him back from the precipice of madness.
He stood up, looking around the inky darkness all around him. All he had on his body were the decaying pieces of cloth adorning his arms and legs. His skin stomach had receded, turning a sickly shade of dark blue. He tried to scream, but found that he couldn't; his lower jaw had been destroyed, rotted off just like his stomach.
The descent had destroyed him...and yet, he lived.
Around his shoulder, a brown shoulder cape with an intricate design hung limply. It was the only remained of his past life.
He raised the cape, though it was more of a scarf now, and raised it up to eye level. Suddenly the cape circled around him, blocking his missing lower jaw and covering his entire upper torso. He tried to remove it, but it had fashioned itself around his body. It was part of him now.
As he looked at the void around him, there was only one thought that dominated his mind: Revenge.
"Hey, partner you alright!"
Raziel awoke with a start, taking deep gulps of air like his life defended on it. He was lying down on his master's bed, the girl herself looking at him with a mixture of worry and irritation.
"What happened?" Raziel managed to breath out.
"You collapsed after the stupid sword did his trick." Louise informed him.
Collapsed? So that was a dream. The pain felt so real, it was like he'd been dragged into the Kiln once again. He looked down at his left hand; it was pale, no longer the sickly blue in his dreams. He felt around his lower jaw and gave a relieved sigh. It was still there.
"So, what did you remember? Anything that explains where you came from?" Louise asked, somewhat anxiously.
"No..." He shook his head sadly. He didn't understand a thing that just happened. Was that him who was thrown off the cliff? Was that how he became an undead? He didn't understand. The markings on the cape were those of an aristocrat or someone of great importance. Why did he have that on him?
"Did it work?" His master asked. He already understood what she meant. He stuck out his hand to his master again and saw the results: Two of the Seven runes now glowed, meaning only five were left missing.
"Hmm, at least it worked. That stupid sword is good for something at least." She sighed.
"Who are you calling stupid, pinky!" Derf rebounded at her in irritation.
Raziel tuned out again as the arguments between the two started full force one again. There was only one thing on his mind.
Who was it exactly that threw him to his torment?
Before anybody assumes: NO, THIS IS NOT A CROSSOVER BETWEEN LEGACY OF KAIN AND ZERO NO TSUKAIMA. If it was, I would've placed it in the Legacy of Kain crossovers. I just based it on the Soul Reaver intro because I liked the narration...and the voice of the narrator is epicness in raw form. There's a different story to why he has that memory.
So yes, I just based it off of the Soul Reaver intro, and I'm surprised some of you actually know what it is:) Good to know the fans haven't died out.
Well, no questions that I can answer that won't be answered soon anyway, so lets just leave it at that. Hopefully this chapter is good.