27 ~Weapons~

By: Little Ucchan

Chapter 3: The Devil's Advocate

"Come over here and speak with me. Unless you have too much pride to lower yourself from that high chair of yours." ~Cale

The sky was painted black over the mountain horizon; small white holes called stars puncturing the thick backdrop to offer some of its light to the dark world that the night has created. But it was not enough. The world had stopped for the evening. It was time to rest. Time to relax. Replenish the tired soul with energy for the next day. But some places never rest. And one city could not, or rather it would not, distinguish the difference between night and day.

Metna, the largest city in the world, did not tire. It never did, the corona created by the many street lamps always illuminating the night skies with its iridescent glow. There was always something to do in Metna. Day or night. It wasn't a place to pass by.

No. With its endless parties, countless events, and its historical heritage, not to mention it being the location of the famous Compass Point Lodgings (CPL), Metna was a city too enticing to pass up, travelers usually staying three to four days at the least in the golden capital of the country of Argon. The 'Center of the Universe' as it was usually called; a microcosm of the world that surrounded it.

There was always something to do in Metna. Even if you were a weary traveler only looking for a place to stay, an inn's agenda for the evening would be enough to keep you entertained and fed till late into the night. And if you were lucky enough to stay in one of the CPLs… you wouldn't want to leave the next day.

That's how one young man felt, eating gourmet cooking and being served fine wine by one of the numerous good-looking waitresses in the inn's dining hall. The Northern Lights, was it? The place where he would be staying for the night? He could hardly believe that there was a room available, this inn being one of the busiest out of the nine inns that made up the profitable partnership business.

Yes… Nine inns. One for each direction. Including the founding inn, Central, located right in the heart of Metna. Inevitably, it's the hardest inn to get into, but the most desired. Nothing less that the royal treatment is given to guests who come to stay there. Many famous and important people hold their parties at Central as well, so of course tourists, and even inhabitants of the city, would want to stay there at least for a night in hopes of catching a glimpse of a popular celebrity.

Forget the celebrities, the man thought, taking another swig of his drink. It'd just be fun to stay there and be treated like a king, being waited on hand and foot with countless beautiful single women attending to his every command. Heaven.

It'd also be fun to be rich for a change. The career of a freelance mercenary wasn't exactly the most stable of jobs out there. But he had to admit he liked what he did. Just wish I'd get a break one of these days.

He inclined his head in gratitude to the waitress who took the time to refill his glass. Well… a bigger break, that is. He wasn't exactly poor. One the contrary. He just came back from San Felico, one of the tropical island nations south of Argon, and the ideal vacation spot in his opinion. It was a bit too hot to his liking, but the fact that many of the inhabitants, native or foreign, believed that swimwear was the normal dress attire had made his week. Ah, the bikini-clad goddesses of San Felico… Could he help it that he was a normal guy? He smiled at the thought of how Sala would have reacted to his girl chasing has she accompanied him on his trip.

Sala…

And Kit, and Gordo, and Meli. That's why he needed more money.

Finishing up his dinner and downing his glass in one gulp, Cale reclined back into his seat, watching the latest stage singer do her act. It was a simple number, satisfying the calm, cool air that was the atmosphere of the dining hall. He remembered that The Northern Lights was known for its classy feel. Not the elegant type, but the kind of style that was dominated by jazz-like music, with solo female singers, saxophone players, and other musicians of equal talent. Cale deduced that the music was what made eating at this inn more enjoyable than at the others. It added to the flavor of the food and made every meal a relaxing pastime. Even the wine tasted better here.

A mocking smile crossed his lips. If only the singer were better.

True, Compass Point wouldn't hire and incompetent, but he could tell that she was still an amateur. Possibly her first night performing for the lodging, if he took her slightly shaking hand as any indication. Poor girl. Maybe he shouldn't criticize her like that. It must be hard being the new girl. But at the moment, he was in one of his moods, having a desire for real classy music. Now if only there was a performer out there that would measure up to his expectations.

The gods must have been listening to Cale's silent request for once the song came to a close the lights in the dining room dimmed, casting a soft shadow across the floor. The spotlight shone on the velvet blue curtains of the stage and out came an elegant woman with hair the color of the moonlight and pale sky blue eyes, making an onlooker think of pure snow in the wintertime. All was quiet as she took center stage, the figure-flattering dress she wore shimmering with every movement. Alas, a professional has come to entertain them tonight.

But wait! Has he seen this woman before?

Cale felt a tinge of recognition as the song began to play, her voice easily blending in with the music from the accompanying pianist. I've heard this melody.

He must have seen her perform at another place sometime during his travels, for the match between the face and the song was undeniable. But where? Metna maybe? It was possible, being the only city he knew that had nightclubs fitted to the style she sang. And yes, it was at a nightclub. This is the first time he's stayed at The Northern Lights, and all the other CPLs he's stayed in didn't play this kind of music. Central would, but he's never had the privilege of staying there. So it had to be a nightclub. Now which one?

Aha!! Cale snapped his fingers as the thought came to him. Cardinal Flower. That was the name of the club. Now for her name… Um… Um… He continuously snapped his fingers as he thought, hoping that the clicking sound would jog his memory. I know this!!

Right when he had it at the tip of his tongue, a guest, irritated by the noise he was making, nudged the leg of Cale's chair hard enough to grab the man's attention and stop his incessant snapping. Cale gave the man an apologetic look before turning back to the dazzling woman as she closed her song for the evening. She bowed as a round of applause began to gather itself in the room. A standing ovation was in order, so Cale stood along with the rest of the diners, showing his gratitude by applauding and whistling loudly. She bowed one more time before exiting the stage, walking down the staircase to go and mingle with a few of the guests.

Maybe she'll come over to my table and have a drink with me. The thought made his lips curl up into a smile. A drink with an enchanting stage singer… That would be an ideal way to end his evening. Cale sat back down in his seat, not taking his eyes off of the beautiful vixen that was now holding a conversation with a young couple. I'll talk to her before she leaves, he thought, absently taking note of the waiter who had suddenly approached his table. He nodded his head slightly, accepting the boy's offer to pour him more wine and not giving him another thought until Cale noticed that the young servant did not move to leave. Instead, he lingered for an uncertain moment as if he were debating inside his head whether to speak what was on his mind.

"Uh… sir?" he began tentatively, not liking the look the blue-haired man was giving him. And the long sword strapped onto the mercenary's belt wasn't helping any. There should have be a rule about brining weapons into the dining hall.

"Um… that man, on the edge of the bar wishes to speak with you," he managed to stutter out, drawing Cale's attention to a tall, thin man possibly in his late twenties casually sipping at his drink, his back to the two of them. Cale slightly frowned, a small pang clinging to his mind the moment he laid eyes on him. He's not ordinary. That's for sure.

"Um… he'd like it if you would meet with him," the waiter continued after another uncertain pause, the pounding of his heart making his throat dry. "Shkoll's Tavern. After the late dinner hour… It's rather urgent, he says. And…"

"If it's so urgent then why doesn't he come over here himself instead of sending a servant to do his work?" Cale demanded, turning his rough eyes onto the unfortunate messenger, watching the boy as he cowered under his sharp gaze. "Tell him exactly what I say. 'Come over here and speak with me. Unless you have too much pride to lower yourself from that high chair of yours'."

With a very small nod, the waiter backed away from his table, almost tripping over his own two feet as he made his way to the Sorcerer. A foul taste entered Cale's mouth at the very thought of that word, as if the mentioning of a Sorcerer, or the country of Celdonia for that matter, made him sick to his stomach.

It was true that probably everyone who was born in Argon that had a love for the art of combat would have a deep resentment towards graduates from the Celdonian Institution of the Higher Arts (CIHA), and vise versa. Weapons versus Magic. Force against Mind. These two powers have always clashed, no matter what point in the history of man. And in this modern day and age, now was no different from back then.

Cale was no exception.

Other than the fact that he despised the usage of magic, seeing it as a 'dishonorable' way to do combat, the young man could never stand Celdonians in general. For a small country, they had a rather high sense of pride that one can almost classify as arrogance. It was a type of haughtiness that was not normally present in a defeated nation. And yet it still remained. Even now, three years after the country's old regime was defeated and the new Republic of Celdonia was created, that stuck up 'I'm better than you' attitude still remained.

And the stench of rich blood reeked from that man, Like a bloodhound on the hunt, Cale could sniff out anyone of Celdonian descent, even if that man was dressed in smooth-flowing oriental silk robes from Altai, Argon's neighbor to the east. Having had spent a good five years of his life among its citizens, he knew that the lanky man with long white hair was not a native of the eastern country.

So… He took a small sip of his wineglass, not taking his eyes off of him as the waiter delivered his message with much reluctance. A well-traveled Sorcerer of Celdonian aristocracy wishes to speak with the likes of me. He smiled ruefully to himself. Well, once he hears of my message, he won't want to any longer. No Celdonian, especially a Sorcerer, would comply with a mercenary's demands. Especially one from Argon.

Now maybe I can enjoy the rest of my evening in peace and get back to—

The white-haired man rose from his seat and, with his glass and wine bottle in hand, approached Cale's table.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Gently placing his own glass back on the tabletop, Cale used the time the man took to reach him in order to compose himself, having had received a bad shock when, instead of muttering some audacious comment and storming away, the Celdonian decided to take him up on his rather rude offer. This man… His hand unconsciously fell to rest on top of the hilt of his sword. He's different but…

The Sorcerer stopped in front of Cale, giving him a disarming smile.

…But how? And why do I suddenly feel on edge?

"Forgive me if I was rude in any way. I didn't mean for you to take offense," he began in a cordial manner, bowing apologetically to him. "I hope you'll accept my apology and allow me to share a drink with you." He sloshed around the contents of the bottle. "There's still some left. How about it?"

As much as he wanted to accept his offer, especially since he carried in his hand a stronger bottle of liquor compared to the soft wine the servants were serving, Cale quietly shook his head. "I'll accept your apology. But as for the drink, I'll have to say no."

"And why is that?" he asked, a bit puzzled. "Excuse me for saying, but you don't seem to be the type to decline a free drink."

"True." He nodded. "But then again, you don't seem like the type to be a member of the Guild."

The man's lips curled up into a knowing smile. "Nice counter," he commented, seating himself in the empty chair across from Cale. "No more games. I'll get right down to the point as to why I am here."

He nodded, secretly grateful that revealing this man's identity straight to his face didn't have any unwanted setbacks. So… he didn't try to kill me. A Guild member, when unwittingly discovered, usually attacks on the spot. Now, how did he know this? Well, Cale has made the mistake of pointing out members for sport several times and had to duel with each member whose cover he had blown. They were very anal about it too, since part of their training had to do with being inconspicuous, and found it a blow to their pride once Cale had asked, in the middle of a busy street corner, if the Guild paid them to wear those stupid get-ups or was it due to just bad taste on their part. But then again, if he were to repeat lines similar to those to any other man in the city, the same result would have come about, regardless.

The Guild…

Not much was known about the organization, other than its members were hired out on missions all across the globe. Kinda like an employment group for mercenaries of exceptional skill and expertise. And if you had enough money, you could send a request to the Guild and hire their members' services.

But… Cale frowned inwardly to himself, watching the man quietly as he took a sip of his drink. Only the newbies and less skilled Guild members are assigned to jobs from outside clients. Those were the types of members that the people were familiar with. The acting men for hire. And they never traveled alone, so… He again looked at the pure silver pin clipped on the inside of the man's collar; the one that identified him as a Guild member. Could he be an Elitist? But what business would he have with me?

After a slight pause, the white-haired man pulled the glass away from his lips, setting it gently on the table. "I see you're looking at my pin."

Cale nodded. "I've never seen a Guild member wear a metal spider as a certification pin before."

He smirked that knowing smirk again. "That's because I am the only member who carries such a pin."

The swordsman did well in hiding his surprise. "So I was right in assuming that you're one of the few elite members of the Guild."

A short nod. "And I was right in assuming that you were the man I was looking for, Cale."

"…So the Guild does spying as well."

"Frankly it wasn't hard to do," he said. "You have a rather well established reputation among the Guild."

Cale blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"

The Celdonian started to laugh. "Don't act like you don't know! Did you not fight and defeat three Blue Medal Juniors when you were only 16?"

At that, the mercenary immediately stood up from his seat, slamming his palms flat down on the dining table. "You guys still remember that?!" Cale cried, fully astonished. "That was almost ten years ago!!!"

"Well," he stroked his chin thoughtfully. "They were rather upset when they returned back to base. Took them nearly a year to get their morale up again." That familiar smirk returned. "Besides, that incident wasn't the only time your name has popped up among the Guild. You've lead a rather interesting life since that day."

Cale quietly sat back down in his seat, looking at the man uneasily. "I hope the Guild isn't going to hold any of those other 'incidents' against me."

The Sorcerer shook his head, a bit amused. "You're safe, so long as all of your encounters were with Juniors."

A nod. "They're the only ones that handle outside jobs, right?"

"You're well informed," he commented. "The three ranks of the Junior class — Red, Blue, and Yellow Medal — are the only Guild members that handle client calls."

Three ranks, huh? He was aware of the split between Juniors, Seniors, and Elitists, but Cale didn't know that there were subdivisions. Actually, there was a lot he didn't know about the Guild. Most of his information came from bits and pieces that he was able to piece together during his travels, unraveling the basic layout of the group. But his knowledge was extensively on the Juniors. He knew next to nothing about what the Seniors or Elitists did, or anything about the founders of the organization. Neither did anyone else. The Guild was very secretive when it came to its own affairs.

And yet here was a member of its elite willingly giving out information.

Why?

"You said that I was the one you were looking for."

The Celdonian nodded.

"For what?" Cale asked, looking at the man square in the eyes. "What is it exactly that you want from me? What does the Guild want?"

There was a considerable pause that followed his question, the chatter of the late night diners drifting by both men's ears as soft jazz music mingled with the cluster of voices.

Finally, the man leaned back in his chair, resting his folded hands in his lap. "I'm here to present you with a job offer."

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

He knew he must have been sitting there in silence for quite some time. Several servants had passed by their table, some lingering for a moment while others came right up to them to ask if they needed anything. Dais had taken the initiative and ordered another bottle of liquor from the bar.

Dais…

That's what the Celdonian's name was.

He had willingly volunteered it when he had explained the details involving the job, the pay, and who it was he was going to be working with. Apparently, three of the Guild's best Elitists, Dais included, were in the middle of an ongoing mission where new assignments were given to them as they went along traveling across the globe. And Cale was being offered to be an add-on for this quest to help the three Guild members with their assignments. The other two, names not yet given, were to meet with him before the next job, if he were to agree. And as for the pay… A regular salary of `1500 deices a week plus the freedom to keep any treasure or money that might be obtained throughout the journey. It couldn't get any better than that.

But still… for some reason he couldn't commit himself to say yes. Thus explaining the long period of silence that has been predominant at their table for the past half-hour. Luckily, Dais was a rather patient individual.

"Was there something else you wanted to know?" he asked, bringing the brim of the finely shaped glass to his lips. "Just ask me, if you like."

"Why me?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Why pick me?" Cale repeated again. "You have three Elitists on the job already. Why do you need another member, and an outsider at that?"

Dais continued to sip at his drink. "If it bothers you, we can arrange it so that you'll be a Guild member of my ranking. Your salary, of course, will be much higher than what you're being offered right now."

Cale had to take a quick gulp of his drink in order to wash down the sudden dryness in his throat. He's offering me to become a member of the Guild? And an Elitist as well?! Now he knew there was something wrong with this offer. They wanted him for something. And he doubted that it was just for the mission, especially when they'd go so far as to allow him into the Guild. They can't be trusted. Not for anything.

But to pass up this kind of offer…

Sala… Cale thought back to the girl he had left behind in Havenglade. Sala I… I want you to see the clear waters of San Felico… just once…

That was it. He had made up his mind.

"Well, with the current terms that you have offered me, I have no choice but to refuse."

"What?"

"Sorry to have wasted your time… But I can't accept."

Dais stared at him for a moment before diverting his eyes. "I see. Well, it is your choice after all. But may I ask what made you come to that decision?"

"It's rather… complicated." The mission's line of work involved all sorts of things. Maybe even a few tasks that Cale wouldn't want to carry out. Some — like assassination — went against his self-established code of honor. And having a contract with the Guild meant following every order to the letter. No, he couldn't commit to something like that. Especially since he didn't know what they really wanted with him. He'd be a fool to jump headlong into something he didn't understand or couldn't back out of. No one severs a contract with the Guild and lives to see daylight. I can't get involved with such an organization.

"A mercenary's life has no guarantees," Dais spoke softly, catching Cale's attention. "You of all people should know that."

"I do. But, I'd also like to think that I have some guarantees that can't be taken away from me, so long as I lead this life of mine."

A small smile crossed his face. "You're talking about freedom, aren't you."

"That's what it means to be a freelancer, doesn't it?"

"…Yes it does." Dais nodded. "I understand your reasons."

"Good. Then I hope you'll make sure that the Guild understands those reasons as well." Cale rose from his seat, seeing that it was late and the conversation was coming to a close. "I'd like to continue living my life the way it is, if you don't mind."

"No," he smiled, also rising from his seat and outstretching his hand to the other man. "No, not at all. I'm glad that I was able to spend an evening with you."

"It was a pleasure." Taking Dais' hand firmly in his, Cale said his final good-byes and retired to his room, leaving the Elitist standing in the middle of the dining hall. Not a moment after Cale was out of sight that same smirk of his graced his long face. He sat back down at the table, pouring himself another glass of wine and, strangely enough, pouring the remaining contents of the bottle in Cale's empty one.

Leaning back in his chair sipping his drink, Dais waited.

A few minutes later, a young man of his early twenties walked into the dining hall, his straight red hair flowing behind him as he approached Dais, taking the seat across from him. Accepting the offered glass, he downed half of it before he spoke. "I hope that you have a plan to cover up this setback."

"Of course. You don't need to worry."

Although reassured by these words, the newcomer still seemed overly concerned about something. "I don't know. Do we really need him? He seems like he'll cause trouble."

"I doubt he'll break your record, Anubis."

The redhead snorted. "Very funny. But you know what I mean. He's not like us."

"I know." The Celdonian took another casual sip, concealing the smile that split his handsome face. "But he will be."