Chapter 1 – Last Breath
Damn, it hurts.
So thought the Seven-Star Paladin as he placed his right hand over a gaping wound right through his upper abdominal region. His palm was covering it in a vain attempt to stem a never-ending trickle of blood. Dragging his focus away from his dire situation, he looked up to avoid the gruesome sight, and took in the sights that were important to him.
He was in a cave, a large one at that, the roof as lost to darkness as the walls seemed too close for comfort. There were great rents in the walls as if carved by a blade. Rock fragments were everywhere, even right below him, dust permeating the cavern to form a haze.
On the floor of the cave around the paladin, there were dozens of bodies lying everywhere, all dressed in the same uniform as himself. All were bloodied and torn, as if a literal tornado had ripped through them, scattering and throwing them across the floor. Even the walls were…damn it. He wished he had not seen that last detail. At the end of the cavern, a magic circle of crimson hue glowed on the ground, pulsing rhythmically as a shape shimmered above the circle, a shape in the form of an hourglass, framed with replicas of golden dragons. Last but definitely not least, the paladin focused on the reason for all the carnage.
"Blasted life-force users, they pop up everywhere no matter the world we find!"
So spoke the Aggressor, a tall man of Japanese features with a look of fury writ in every shift of his posture. He yanked a small needle out of his shoulder, one of the few wounds dealt him, in contrast to the devastation of the cavernous area. The Aggressor gave the small object an annoyed look, then tossed it aside, returning his gaze to the half-kneeling paladin, a gaze full of hate mixed with a modicum of annoyed respect.
So much for that final strike the Paladin thought, legs trembling from exertion, hand clutching his agonizing wound as he sought to gulp more air past his mask, nigh suffocating from moisture buildup. He barely possessed the strength to crane his neck to look up at his attacker, the reason for not only his grievous state, but for all the deaths of his brothers around him.
"Your attention—Hound of the Black Meridian—would be flattering, if I didn't wish—to tear out that throat of yours," rasped the paladin, his eyes gleaming with ferocity even as his breath hitched from the pain of his wound.
"So, you have given me the knee in respect of my power? How very ignoble of you, yet so very appropriate." The Hound mocked, head cocked in malicious amusement as he sauntered towards the paladin. He forgot his wounds as he returned an unopened vial to his pockets. Smirking at the wounded man, his casual air was suddenly transformed into a menacing aura. The Paladin had no time to move as the Hound grasped him by the neck, and lifted him high with little effort.
"Now what to do with you, what to do with you. Should I just use you as a bagpipe to make music with my dagger, or should I just end you right here and now?" The Hound sighed in mock distress. "Ah, the important matters always require so much deliberation."
The paladin gasped through the Hound's hold on his neck holding onto it to ease the pressure on his throat. "No—point."
The Hound's eyes narrowed in annoyance mixed with actual curiosity. "I will be the judge of that, but you better give me an excellent reason for interrupting me."
The wounded man's smirk grew larger. "Distraction. We—were—a—distraction," and he intentionally looked beyond his tormentor. Beyond lay naught but the giant hourglass on the verge of realization. That's right you bastard, you have lost even as you won because you were too full of yourself to make a thorough sweep of the place!
Suddenly understanding the implication of the Paladin's gaze, the Hound whirled around with a snarl. Throwing aside the wounded man, he dashed towards the hourglass in desperation.
But too late. Far, far too late. Even as the Hound of the Black Meridian had stalked towards the seemingly last paladin, a shape had begun to stir among the shadows of several large boulders. Approaching the glowing hourglass, the shape was revealed to be a man, dressed in the same uniform as those lying slain. As the Hound had occupied himself with taunting the wounded paladin, the second survivor had skirted his way around the debris. When the Paladin pointedly directed the Hound's attention to behind him, the other soldier of the slain troop had just finished placing some sort of medal on top of the magic circle. Mission accomplished, the saboteur looked towards the wounded man with a victorious smile…and crumpled like paper beneath the fist of the Hound, flying into the opposing wall with an audible crunch. The man had not moved, nor had he even attempted to dodge the Hound's incoming blow. The seeming lack of survival instinct spoke of the knowledge of the magic circle's saboteur—that there was no leaving this place alive, not so long as the Aggressor stood. Heaving with panic, the Hound released a breath in relief and turned towards the magic circle—and froze.
The magic circle began pulsing with red light, lightly at first, but then with greater and greater frequency and intensity. It did not stop when the Hound kicked the strange glowing medal placed on the magic circle with manic haste, nor did it dwindle as the giant hourglass began to shimmer wildly, as if something were interfering with its realization. With a flash and a boom, the slowly solidifying hourglass shattered into fragments of light. Just as abruptly, it faded away into nothing but slight distortions in the air.
The destruction of the hourglass unleashed a chain of events. A tremor ran through the cave, rock bits fell like rain, covering everything, including the dead, within the cavern in a layer of dust. The Paladin of the seven stars collapsed on his hands and knees, chest heaving and face pale, though nothing could wipe away his pained smile at a plan successfully executed. The Hound began wailing with rage and disbelief, dropping to his knees where the ruined magic circle now flickered as it faded ever more from sight.
The Seven-Star Paladin welcomed the recession of the Hound from his immediate vicinity. Everything about that man felt like a violation of reality, the world itself seeming to cry out that his presence was all wrong, that he should not be here at all. The Paladin whole-heartedly agreed with that sentiment, if for more personal reasons than otherwise. However, he did not remain on his hands and knees for long. Raising a trembling hand, he sought a canister attached to his belt. He fumbled a bit, but with a triumphant, pained hiss, he unlocked it and brought it to his face, only to frown as he realized it was crushed. Gazing intently around the cave, he searched until he saw another canister, unbroken and by the side of a dead comrade. Muttering a quick prayer for the dead man, the Paladin reached for the canister, achieving a tenuous grasp, and carefully pulled it to himself. A quick examination reassured him of its usability. He popped the lid off with his teeth, and pressed the open end to his abdominal wound, ignoring the pain as a foam was ejected into the wound, sealing it shut as it acted simultaneously as adhesive, coagulant, and healing agent. He grimaced as it began to work, knowing that it would only grant a temporary reprieve. He had to see a medic and a surgeon if he wanted to survive.
His thoughts were interrupted by loud mutterings from the cave's end, where the Hound was still kneeling.
"It…It's not over yet, no, it can't be over yet," uttered the Hound of the Black Meridian. "It's not over yet. How can it be? It's just a setback, that's all!" Disbelief left his tone, and was replaced with desperation disguised as determination. The man even threw his head back and let off a bark of nervous laughter, a manic light in his face. "The stupid, primitive cavemen of this world can't possibly stop me, they've only succeeded in stalling me. That's it! I will escape this location, contact my brother and inform him of the aggravating stubbornness of these apes, and get another insertion point of a Dragon's Hourglass installed!"
As the Hound spoke his intentions openly in his attempt to cope with the situation, the Paladin felt shivers go down his back at what he heard, his hair crawling, his rage building. He felt himself seething at the prospect being painted in front of him, one thought dominating his mind:
Why?
Why was this absolute bastard going to still try and bring damnation on all? For what? Fame? Power? Riches of some sort? It could be plain sociopathy for all I care, he is trying harm my world, my brothers-in-arms, and my family.
And no one touches my family. No. One—not the local enforcers, not the government, and most certainly not some walking container of ego incarnate!
Technically, the Hound was trapped in the cave as the Paladin's team was but one of several, the others remaining outside in case the Hound failed to be killed in the cavern. While the others guarding the outside of the cave may be able to stop the Hound, even the brief span of time between the Hound leaving the chamber and him emerging from the cave entirely may spell the difference between certain victory and lingering defeat. He, along with everyone who was brought onto this mission, knew that this monstrosity of a man was able to use strange vials kept on his person that brought every bit of well-earned damage to naught, leaving the Hound fresh for the next battle in seconds. If he wanted his world and family's survival assured, he needed to move, now.
The Seven-star Paladin began to make his way forward with painstaking precision, not to avoid damage to his wound, but to prepare himself for combat. He had to make sure everything was perfect. He only had one shot.
"I will blast my way through any reinforcements, then once so much as a single dragon's hourglass is installed, I can finally have my fill of vengeance and the choice of women in this world!" The voice of the Hound rose much more, showing that he was stuck in a loop within his mind as he put his hands to the floor, clearly intending to help himself back up.
The paladin began to run, the slight sounds he made masked by the vibrations of the cave shifting. The wound completely reopened, blood seeping through the foam sealant. He had finally burst something major. Pain racked him, but with the hyper-focus of a dying man, he put everything into reaching inside himself, drawing his inner energy as much as possible into his hands. As a multi-striped black belt in Shaolin Kempo, he had unlocked his potential for Ki-infused strikes.
Pushing himself up, the Hound suddenly stiffened. Whether it was some noise that alerted him, or instinct that warned him of approaching danger, he nevertheless turned towards the oncoming paladin. The Hound's eyes widened upon seeing the face of the nearly-dead man right before him, and attempted to whip out a knife from his belt.
He succeeded, but too late to prevent what came next. The paladin ducked underneath a flailing arm, coiling like a spring and launching himself forward and upward. His pointer and index fingers were straightened and pressed together, all his gathered Ki focused into them, forming Immortal Man. With a shout, he thrust his fingers straight into the nearest eye of the Hound, driving them to the hilt of his hand. The Hound jerked, then sagged, falling full-length onto the floor. The Paladin followed him, and fell.
I…did it…somehow, thought the paladin. It had been a gamble, but it turned out that the Hound had in fact been brought to low health even with his precious "status magic" (whatever that was) which weakened blows at best and completely nullified them most of the time. The Hound had then been arrogantly convinced of his essential invincibility; he had not even bothered doing a basic sit-rep on himself. Not that I'm complaining, of course.
…Still, pity that for all my hidden approach, that dog was still too fast, if the knife in my chest is any indication…His thoughts drifted for a moment as his hand fell to his side, carrying a medal with it. It was a holy medal he had worn from his youth, a gift from his deeply religious mother. It had never left his person for any reason, not even now, especially now with death approaching.
…Welp, guess it's time for a prayer or two… I wonder why the medal is glowing…
~~o0o~~
Anschel shot up in place, chest heaving as he clutched his chest as he frantically looked around to see where he was. Taking in his surroundings, his countenance relaxed as he realized that he was just in a bedroom. Breath evening out, he allowed himself to flop back onto the surprisingly cushy bed, checking his main status to make sure that everything was normal.
Anschel ? ? ? ?
Class: ? ? ? ?
Equipment: pajamas, ? ? ? ?
? ? ? ?: ? ? ? ?
Magic Attribute: Shadow, ? ? ? ?
? ? ? ?
…Yep, everything was perfectly normal.
Shaking his head, Anschel let himself relax into the covers as he pondered the reemergence of that strange dream. Boy! was it a strange dream. He first had it when he was twelve years of age, when he was just another orphan working in the manor of lord Seaetto, under the current queen Mirellia of Melromarc. That first time, the dream had caused him, an otherwise calm and settled lad, to wake up screaming and tearing at his chest to remove the imaginary dagger. The dream remained consistent throughout the years, even as other weird dreams began to emerge. The only difference with this last repeat, was that he had viewed the unfolding action of the dream from a different perspective. Previously, he had experienced the dream like he would read a story—uninvolved and observing. He viewed everything as if he was in the cave himself, invisible and incapable of interaction. But, this time, he had seen everything…from the Paladin's perspective, as if he were the Paladin.
Let it not be said he understood this troubling new development.
Who are these "Seven-star Paladins"? Are they real, or are they just a fragment of my imagination? If they are real, what are their goals? His thoughts dwelt on the matter as he laid there looking at the ceiling, still not fully cognizant of where he was. However, his questions were already engulfed by a greater shock. He had had suspicions since the first dream. But now, they were confirmed.
Those men that fight the "Hound" had no connection to, or even a clue what Status Magic was.
How was that even possible? Everyone knew what status magic was! Everyone had Status Magic! From the moment a person was born, a generic class and status were assigned to them, and they had access to the ability to level up and increase their physical stats. Their field of view could be altered at will to visually show themselves their own abilities and current state. Dragon Hourglasses? How could anyone not be aware of those ancient mystical devices? Hosted in every country, the scholars state that they count down towards the emergence of the calamity known as "The Waves". This was knowledge every child had!
Lying in bed, he was suddenly disturbed by the thought that the bed upon which he was currently laying, was not his actual bed, back near lord Seaetto's manor. The bed was not unfamiliar, but it was decidedly not his bed. Once again, he raised himself up and cautiously peered at his surroundings, a steady calm welling up in him. From what he could see, he was in a small, but decidedly comfortable room, spartan in furnishings as if intended for guests and not family. The shutters were closed, but he could see sunlight peeping through, along with a whiff of sea-side air…
…Wait, the sea?
Memory resurged just as several knocks echoed on the door, the faintness of sound indicative of a small fist.
"Good morning Anschel, are you awake? Mama told me to tell you breakfast is made!" a young girl's voice said, bubbling through the door like a stream over rocks.
Grinning away, Anschel launched himself out of bed and grabbed his clothes. "Don't worry Raphtalia, I will be coming down in a moment!"
That's right, he had a job to finish today! He was currently resting within the village of Lurolona, had been constructed at the end of the Melromarc-Siltvelt war a decade ago. As a gesture of peace, Queen Mirellia and the council of Siltvelt reached an agreement, where the village housed refugees from the latter country to help it combat the racism they would face in Melromarc as demi-humans. Anschel was guiding a supply caravan, organized by lord Seaetto, in tandem with multiple merchants to insure sufficient food stores here and at the manor itself. After proper provisioning, it will bring the choice of the fishing season's catch to the capital of Melromarc itself at the behest of lord Seaetto. Of course, none of that mattered at the moment as his breakfast was just around the corner. And that demanded his entire, devoted attention.
A few moments were all it took before he was presentable in a loose, blousy shirt and breeches. With practiced ease, he quickly threw open the door, surprising the little girl behind it. Raphtalia gave a little "Eep!" and leaped back, that motion revealed her to be a demi-human as her tanuki tail stiffened straight behind her and her additional tanuki ears perked up. At that sight, Anschel simply grinned, for how could he not? She was already a cute little girl, and the addition of ears and a tail from her lineage just enhanced it further.
And to think that our country of Melromarc looks down on demi-humans. That's just a crime against cuteness.
"Ugh, Anschel, you did that on purpose!" Huffed the little girl, eyes attempting to glare at him as she tried to brush down her spiky tail. Anschel couldn't help it—he started chuckling, then outright laughing as the little girl tried to maintain her offended demeanor. Soon giving in, she started giggling too. She ended her laughing with a smile that could outshine the sun.
It was only a moment before her smile turned competitive, and Raphtalia suddenly turned around and raced down the stairs, as her mother's admonitions floated up from the kitchen below. Grinning, he quickly walked down the stairs to where breakfast was being served. Raphtalia was already sitting, all gooey-eyed over the far-too-wholesome looking eggs and fried fish, sizzling in some kind of buttery sauce. Raphtalia's mother was serving up and beckoned him forward with a head tilt and a gracious smile. Raphtalia's father was just settling in his chair, beaming a welcoming smile to Anschel.
"Good morning to you, Anschel," said Raphtalia's father, with an inclination of his head.
"A great morning indeed, Markael," replied Anschel, returning the greeting with a nod of his head. A strange name for the older demi-human, but not the only case in Lurolona. It was an open secret that most of the refugee families changed their names to keep their distance from the past. Of course, changing their names and customs to match their current country would not easily sway the attitudes of the common populace; but there was always hope, even if a literal cult had a hold on the country and fanned tensions between humans and demi-humans.
Considering everything, Anschel was glad to be so warmly welcomed and accepted as a friend. And now, after all this time, they were more akin to family. Being an orphan, that meant the world to the young man.
Breakfast was a quiet affair, enjoyment of the meal superseding the need for conversation. It was the final step in preparing for the day, for today was important as the merchant wagons Anschel had guided in did not simply bring food. Already, the din of the villagers could be heard as they were thronging around the wagons, haggling for accessories, jewels, toys of all sorts with merchants underneath their canopies. Observing all this from the doorstep of the house, Anschel took a deep breath as he prioritized the wagons most needful of unloading in his head. He waved absently to an energetic Raphtalia as she shot by, dragging her bemused mother after her as she sought to see it all.
"You know that your work with the caravan is temporarily halted? Why don't you rest a bit and enjoy the sea and the village gaiety?" Markael said as he emerged alongside Anschel from the front doorway. He indicated himself. "Ensuring the proper storage and distribution of the supplies is the affair of the elders," he said with a smile as the buzzing around the merchant wagons intensified from proximity.
Anschel grinned back. "I find that my conscience rests easier if I see the task through. It's not like the men wouldn't appreciate the extra hand in maneuvering the carts. Besides, shouldn't I be asking you the same question, unofficial head of the village?"
Markael gave a bark of laughter. "I suppose not, Anschel, I suppose not," he said as they both shook their heads. While there was no actual village head, everyone in the village looked up to Markael for leadership whenever affairs needed to be settled. This was akin to how everyone looked towards Markael's foster daughter Sadeena, an orca demi-human, in times of hunting or defending the village from monsters. Although she was only a couple of years older than he, her abilities on the hunt were impressive. At the astounding level of 72, she was a devil in the eyes of all those who had dared to disturb the village.
Speak of the devil…
"Good morning Dad~" cheerfully sang the Orca demi-human, appearing out of nowhere and throwing her arms around both in a giant hug. Drawn in close, the two men simultaneously sighed as her smiling face popped between them. Tilting her head, she focused on the younger man in her hug. "A great morning to you too, young man," she practically purred, smirking at Anschel. Markael rolled his eyes, though he grinned at Anschel nonetheless. Anschel also grinned back, though it had a uneasy quality to it. It was nothing against her, in fact the problem was quite the opposite: Sadeena was a beautiful woman, and she had no compunctions about revealing the fact (at least when he was about, no one else seems to remark on that). Nor, for that matter, did she have any compunctions about mercilessly teasing him for his gentlemanly fluster.
"So…", she began with an eager and expectant glow about her. "When do you think you'll be released from your job to join Raphtalia and I in fishing? You did promise her you would be there last night~." She leaned in, invading his personal space with ease and unspoken permission.
"N-not long now, just a few details to clarify," Anschel managed to say, barely removing a stutter from his voice.
Markael took the lead, knowing very well about Anschel's awkwardness at conversing with people in his age group. "I take it my lovely daughter deigns to grace us with her presence today for the merchant's fair?" He said, reaching over and tousling her hair.
Sadeena squirmed, caught in the trap of her own hug. "Aw, you'll muck up my hair! And after spending so much time combing out the knots!" She complained, pouting at Markael.
The man in question just chuckled as he removed his hand. "It's not everyday I see my lovely daughter in demi-human form. Besides, I know how much you like it."
She groaned but did not reply, letting go so that they could continue their walk to the fringe of the crowd about the wagons.
"Well, time for me to go," said Anschel as he separated from Markael and Sadeena.
"I'll see you later by the docks for the outing, Sadeena!" He shouted over the bubbling of the crowd. After waving in answer to Markael and Sadeena's farewell, he began weaving his way through both bystanders and cargo haulers towards the wagons and his work.
~~o0o~~
"Sadeena, no!" Remonstrated a very irate and slightly unnerved Anschel, grasping for dear life to the frail boat as it perilously rocked from the churning of sea monsters surrounding him.
"Sadeena yes~" replied a certain smug Orca demi-human in a sing-song voice, raising a harpoon above her boat and finishing the preparation for her magic chant. She was now in her therianthrope form, an ability displayed by few demi-humans due to the innate qualities and arduous training required. Metamorphized into a humanoid shape akin to the orca associated with her race, Sadeena boasted enhanced stats that turned an already formidable fighter into an overwhelming one.
"Drifa Chain Lightning!" She chanted, and a brilliant bolt of lightning emerged from the tip of her weapon, followed by several more as they each successively struck the water. The water became alive with flashes and little arcs of electricity. As the spell name hinted, the lightning visibly chained underneath the water, leaping from shape to murky shape, all of them monsters and all of them very much dead if the smell of fried seafood was any indication. As the corpses floated to the surface, Sadeena looked over with a grin towards Anschel, but more important to her was the giddy Raphtalia right next to him. The little girl was laughing and clapping at the display, even as lingering static electricity caused her hair to frizzle and stand on end.
Anschel shook his head at the ridiculousness of the situation. "Please don't treat me as an excuse to go wild and show off for Raphtalia. You know I cannot do much, actually anything, to stop you." He gave a significant glance towards Sadeena's side, where a young boy, a canine demi-human by the name of Keel, mirrored Raphtalia's reactions, albeit less noticeability.
Sadeena laughed, the merry sound of a woman content to be in her natural environment. "Oh, don't worry Anschel, Raphtalia and Keel are always in good hands between you and I." Then her smile got even more toothy. "Besides, we do appreciate how you attract all these monsters; no need to wait with lures." Even as Anschel grumbled under his breath about that last line, Raphtalia unexpectedly leaned over and hugged the young man. "Thank you for coming with us, Anschel," she said with wide eyes and a bright smile.
Wrenching his focus from the bundle of cute next to him, Anschel sighed. "Alright, just please remember that Markael was very explicit about having everyone return in one piece, no exceptions."
"Noted~" replied Sadeena, before she suddenly became focused on the water. Standing up with her harpoon poised, she seemingly aimed her weapon near the young man. "Anschel, please be a good boy and don't move for a moment."
Anschel was taken aback even as he asked why. "Sadeena? What are you…Wait, Sadeena, NO!"
"SADEENA YES!" replied a cheering Raphtalia, Keel joining in the cheering as Anschel's world was inundated with water, and a lot of it.
~~o0o~~
It was a tired, if rather content, troupe that sailed back that evening, unloading their haul from the boats, with Keel attempting as always to carry the largest portion as a "man of the sea." As he finished wringing some water that escaped Sadeena's magical attempts at drying, even Anschel had to admit to having a good time despite all the scares.
Still, never thought I would find common ground (or is it water?) with that squid attempting to escape Sadeena, he thought with a wry grin, grabbing his own load of assorted fried monsters. He smiled absently while listening to Raphtalia trying to convince Sadeena to let Keel join the deep-sea fishing expedition occurring tomorrow. That expedition, an annual cooperative between multiple villages, was in fact the main reason for the merchant caravan coming to Seaetto. After they had finished selling their wares at the manor, they were going to swing back towards Lurolona, returning at the close of the expedition. They would then pick up choice monster parts used in the manufacturing of a wide variety of goods from potions to armor, and sell them all along the way to Melromarc castle.
"You sure he can't just sneak aboard? I can help him write a note for to his dad explaining that he is with big sister Sadeena." Raphtalia looked at Sadeena with puppy eyes, attempting to charm her foster sister.
Keel added in with actual puppy eyes, "I just turned ten. If I don't go, I will have to wait 'till next season, and that's all the way in next year! Dad said I could be a 'Man of the sea', but now that I am old enough, he tries to stop me." His eyes implored. "Please, sister Sadeena, please tell dad that I've been working hard and I'm ready!"
Sadeena closed her eyes and sighed. Opening them again, she stuck her basket of less-fried fish to the side towards Anschel. It took him a moment to recognize his cue. And then it hit him. He needed to take that basket. With limited time until embarrassment set in, he lunged forward and grabbed it, stumbling away to give them space. Relieved of her burden, Sadeena went down on one knee, she facing Keel with a serious face.
"Keel," she said, "You have been training hard to take your place by your father's side, that is very true. In fact, I dare say that he is already aware of your dedication." Seeing Keel perk up, she added. "If your dad is holding you back, then I think I know why."
"Huh? Why would dad do that, big sister?" asked a puzzled Keel.
"Because he wants you to enjoy your childhood, Keel" Sadeena answered, a subtle contemplative inflection to her words. "You have a loving father, you have two best friends in Raphtalia and little Rifana, and you have me." She said the last part with a coquettish smile, which made Keel giggle. Sadeena continued; "Back when I first came here, I had to grow up fast, since there were dangerous men and monsters always lurking nearby. Now that they have gone away, you can learn everything at a normal pace, take your time to find out all the little secrets of this strange world."
Keel struggled to accept Sadeena's words. "But, but I…"
"Do you want to leave your best friends behind just so that you can be a man sooner?" Sadeena said, throwing in her trump card. "You know Rifana likes you a lot, won't she be sad if you grow up ahead of her?" At seeing Keel slump his shoulders in sad resignation, she stood up and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Besides, whether you want to or not, you will become a man, so your place on the high seas is assured."
Keel looked up, his smile growing as his exuberance from before returned. "You're right, big sister Sadeena! Just wait, I'll be as big as you and even meaner to the monsters of the seas!" He then hurried past her and picked up a basket of fish meant for his father, and bolted, shouting back. "Thanks, Sadeena!"
Sadeena laughed and waved him off, before turning back around towards Raphtalia and Anschel. "Sorry about that little wait…" She began, before trailing off.
"All done big sis!" proudly proclaimed Raphtalia, surreptitiously waving a half-eaten fried fish as Anschel just shrugged and grinned. Sadeena let her gaze wander to the cart filled to the brim with sea-life. Then, she looked back at them and shook her head in amused exasperation.
"I think it's about time we go home," finished Sadeena.
Raphtalia let out a cheer before running over to the cart and hopping onto it in order to relish munching on her snack again. Anschel and Sadeena finished adjusting the harnessing of the cart to the horse, before beginning to make their way up the nearby path.
A thought occurred to Anschel as he took a glance at Sadeena, still in her therianthrope form. "You know, I've always wondered," he ventured, "I've rarely seen you outside your current form. The extra stats from temporarily being a giant, walking orca can be useful, but isn't it bit awkward for meals? And doesn't it take something from you to maintain it?"
Sadeena give him a smirk. "Nosy, aren't we? Think this little lady here must be suffering some backlash from the transformation?" Her voice was saturated with sauciness. "It is true that staying in a therianthrope form takes magic energy and focus to maintain, but the stronger the shifter is, the greater the control, and the less it takes out of one." She proudly pointed towards her substantial chest. "Very few people are stronger or better than I at this art, but that is what practice does." The smirk came back. "Besides, surely you of all people can appreciate the power of hard work, being the practice dummy for the lady Eclair."
Striking a pose expressing wounded dignity, Anschel protested, "Hurtful!...And true," his voice trailed off.
"Are you going to see the strawberry lady when you go to the manor?" Interrupted Raphtalia, taking a final bite of her fried shrimp at the end of her question. Anschel's wounded expression changed as he chuckled in amusement at the little girl's nickname for the (in)famous knight lady from this region.
"I sure hope so; lady Eclair has the best advice for strengthening one's body," Anschel enthusiastically agreed. The only daughter of lord Seaetto, she was known for her nigh-fanatical devotion to becoming foremost of the knights of Melromarc—those who serve the queen of Melromarc and her consort the Wise Sage king. The lady Eclair was unyielding in her daily training, (unless forcefully restrained), all to reach that goal with the firmness associated with her father and now her.
"You know, for someone who is quite apathetic about matters when he wishes, you take being beaten up by the heir of Seaetto quite seriously," remarked Sadeena, an eyebrow raised in questioning. "I would have thought that scaring the lord's cattle into a stampede the last time you practiced combat with the lady would have dampened your enthusiasm."
"Well, you know that…" Anschel began, only to pause in his march and nearly experience whiplash from how fast he turned to look at Sadeena in horror.
"Wait, Sadeena, how long did you know that?" He swallowed nervously as Raphtalia looked at him in puzzlement. "No—wait—on second thought, how do you know that I was even there? Lady Eclair claimed sole responsibility for the affair!"
In answer, Sadeena covered her mouth and hitched her eyebrows up in mock surprise. "Ara ara, you seem to be quite unaware of the rumors involving you," her hidden smirk betrayed by her voice.
"Wait, rumors? What rumors?" Anschel asked in nervous apprehension. "I know that people sometimes speak of me at the manor, but this is the first I've heard of it extending further than that!"
"Big brother Anschel is famous," said Raphtalia in perfect seriousness, and she raised a hand to wipe the last bits of fish crumbs from her mouth.
"Oh, my dear boy, you try so hard to remain inconspicuous, but you are still mastering the art," Sadeena replied, purposefully resuming the journey. "You see, there is no one in the entire region who has not heard the rumors at some point, about the boy crazy enough to join the lady Eclair in her training regime and actually give her a run for her reputation."
"I—I had no idea," the young man stammered. Suddenly his eyes widened. "Wait, did you say the entire region?"
Sadeena's knowing smile was met by his agonized groan, leaving a befuddled Raphtalia to wonder what was happening. Luckily, they soon reached the house and Anschel was saved from further embarrassment as Raphtalia ran in to hug her mother and chatter about the day's events. Sadeena, Anschel and Raphtalia's father hauled in and temporarily stored the catch of the day. Needless to say, the theme for dinner was fried seafood of all sorts.
~~o0o~~
The next morning found Anschel bowing in respectful farewell to Markael and his wife and a sleepy Raphtalia hanging onto her father's hand.
"Thank you for hosting me, I am very grateful for you always welcoming me whenever I come by," said Anschel with a smile.
"The pleasure is ours. Thank you for staying with us," Markael replied.
"And for being a friend to our daughters, for all their antics and strange ideas," Raphtalia's mom added with a gentle smile.
Anschel indulged the urge to scratch the back of his head in awkward shyness. "Well, it's not as if Sadeena is willing to give me a choice in the matter. What Sadeena believes is best, Sadeena tends to do regardless of differing opinions."
Raphtalia's mom gave a soft laugh in response, her eyes crinkled in knowing merriment. "True, but she has had a role model for that. She is as headstrong as her father." She deliberately ignored Markael's shocked and betrayed expression and gave a bow in return. "Thank you for accepting my headstrong daughter's friendship."
Anschel bowed in return, answering softly. "I will do my best to honor her trust. Her determination is something I try my best to emulate."
He glanced towards the sea to where the sails of the annual deep sea fishing expedition had nearly disappeared beyond the horizon, despite departing but an hour before.
He sat on his haunches and waved to Raphtalia. "I will see you the next time the merchants travel by."
"Bye, big brother Anschel," she waved, then stood there undecided. Seeing Anschel's raised eyebrow and arms spread out in invitation, she gave in and ran to hug him with a pleased smile. He grinned in return, then let go and straightened up. With a final wave, he hefted up the little box of snacks Raphtalia's mother had prepared for him and turned towards the merchant caravan at the edge of the village.
He was just past Markael's house and passing the primitive beginnings of an alleyway when he paused in his footsteps. He felt a tingling down his neck. Deciding to follow his hunch, he carefully let his gaze drift to the space between the houses. He saw nothing. But, he could have sworn he saw a shadow move in his periphery. However, he was in a hurry, and as it was unlikely a common robber could move undetected through this village (or even survive), he decided to ignore it. Turning back, Anschel jogged along the village street until he reached the head of the caravan. There, he took his position as guide and representative at the front of the assembled wagons.
With a hue and a shout passed from wagon to wagon, the spokes and wheels began to groan as the caravan retook its passage to the Seaetto Manor. Now that he was on his way, excitement bubbled within Anschel at the thought of the approaching manor. Having grown up there, he knew many of the elder people around that area for whom he had worked odd jobs directed towards maintenance of the estate. Having been absent from the manor for some weeks, he looked forward to be grounded again in the peaceful rhythm of farm life. After all, he did not know how long such a life would remain his as he, like any young man, eventually would take the chance to travel afar. As if to match his mood, the sky was a brilliant, blue, swathed with clouds where it overhung the sea. The sun was bright, unbearably so in fact, promising a golden day for everyone. Little did he know, that those blue skies would soon turn crimson with fire from the heavens and the earth, and the bright sun veiled in smoke billowing from the living hell soon to descend on them all.