PART I

Chapter One -- Farewell, Iksay

Solis 466, Iksay Village

The morning breeze was refreshingly cold against his face. He took a moment to pause and close his eyes, feeling the warmth of the sun on the horizon.

The best view was always by the windmills. Beyond the vast fields, it rose above the land, bathing the rich harvest in a captivating golden light. It was enough to humble the farmer with such gratitude to his goddess--for the crops, for the peace, and for his living. He patted his dampened forehead, smiled, and resumed to work. It was a good day.

Just as he was bent over his crops, he heard the sound of a horse's speedy galloping. Curious, he looked over his shoulder to see who it was.

A rider's silhouette was in stark contrast against the morning sun. He could not distinguish the face in direct sunlight, even as he squinted his eyes to see better. Rider and steed raced past him, against the wind, and the farmer followed the perfect form and speed with his gaze. He smiled now, as he realized who it was. He didn't see the rider's face, but he didn't have to. There was only one person in the village who could ride like that.

"Percy!"

A roguish smile played on the boys lips as soon as he saw the older woman beckon to him. "You're up pretty early," she remarked, as soon as the boy was close enough to hear. She wiped her hands clean on the apron tied to her waist, and pointed an accusing finger at him. "Are you up to something, m'boy?"

Percival laughed and raked a hand through his unruly ebony locks. "I'm always up early, Bertha" he replied easily.

The chubby, old woman snorted. "Not this early. Don't tell me you're nervous?"

His eyes twinkled. "Hmm. And if I were?"

Bertha spared him a fondly-expressed smirk and told him quite frankly, "Then I'd say you're a wise boy." Chuckling, she hit him heartily on the shoulder, and added, "Thought I'd forgotten, hadn't you? Hah!" Percy grinned in response, and trailed behind the woman as she entered a pen to grab a small sack of chicken feed. "It's not everyday that one of our boys goes off to be knighted."

Percival gave a shake of his head, the grin remaining. "I'm not even a soldier yet, Bertha," he reminded her.

She cut him off with an impatient wave of her hand. "Same thing!"

It was his turn to snort. "Well, in case you've forgotten, it takes years to be knighted. I haven't even begun a soldier's basic training yet."

The old woman's back was turned to him, but she went on to speak, "If they know what's good for them, and for Zexen, they can't miss you, Percy."

Percival smiled at that heartfelt statement, and was about to say something, but Bertha turned around abruptly and looked at him squarely in the eye. "You listen to me, boy. Never sell yourself short." She gave a grunt and nodded her head airily at his direction before looking seriously back at him. "You go show them what you're made of," she told him.

"Haven't I always?" Percival said, and winked.

"You've got guts, m'boy. And hell will you need it." Bertha smiled fondly at the sixteen-year old boy whom she treated like the son she never had. "Now go and get yourself ready then! Don't forget to come round here before you go off for Brass Castle! I'm not having you leave without a decent lunchbox. You were never a good cook."

"I won't, Bertha,", he said, waving goodbye and heading home.

She shook her fist at his retreating figure, and called out one last time: "And go take a shower! Your horse smells better than you do!"

A half-hour later, Percival sat down by the edge of his bed, pausing from all the preparation for a moment. After all, there wasn't much to pack anyway. Everything that he had to bring with him to Brass Castle was wrapped and packed two days ago. All that was left to do was to check up on everything that he had packed so far. That...and one other thing.

Reaching underneath the bed, his hands came upon a familiar object wrapped in animal hide. He held it now before him, in a single hand, feeling his nervousness diminish with the heavy weight of steel within his palm. Placing it on the bed, he pulled on the leather strings, unwrapping the parcel gingerly.

Don't tell me you're nervous.

He almost laughed in spite of himself. He hated to admit it, but he was nervous. Starting today, he would only see Iksay on occassion. He would live the rest of his training days back and forth the Zexen capital, Vinay del Zexay, and Brass Castle. His life would change. And though he was never one to oppose changes, free-spirited as he was, changes this drastic never failed to arouse anxiety from anyone. He was no exception. But there was something comforting at the familiar sight of the broadsword he used to practice long hours with. It was old, created in a dated fashion, but it had served him his purpose for years. It would not fail him now.

He picked it up, along with its wrapping, and headed outside. He walked across his home and rounded the corner to the blacksmith's. The sword he held in his hand was still in good condition. It had only been a few weeks since he last had it sharpened, but one never knows. After all, no one could tell when his next visit to Iksay's blacksmith would be, if ever.

As he neared the place, he noticed someone else sitting quietly in a secluded corner of the shop's yard, facing the fields. It was a girl, facing her canvas and mixing paint on a tiny tin basin placed on her lap. Percival stood there for a moment, until the girl finally took notice of him. Her sweet, heart-shaped face showed a slight surprise, then softened as she stood up to greet him. "Percival," she acknowledged, nodding, her lips curving into a small smile.

"Eve," he nodded back, then looked at the unfinished painting the girl was working on a few moments before. "You've started painting again?"

She looked up at him with her cerulean eyes, brushing back a few tendrils of chestnut brown curls that had gotten loose from her ponytail. "Yes," she answered him. She looked over her shoulder at the painting. "There hasn't been much to do these days. I thought for a while I had given it all up. But then I realized I can't imagine doing anything else for the rest of my life." She tilted her head to the side, and glanced up at him again, briefly, her eyes turning thoughtful. "Except maybe for one thing."

"And what is that?" Percival blurted out, not really meaning to.

Eve gave him a gentle smile that was both sad and meaningful. Percival averted his gaze, at the same time trying to smile back in return. He realized too late that he shouldn't have asked. Still...

"So you're going to have your sword sharpened?" she asked, gesturing to the sheathed weapon he carried.

"Uh, yeah," he replied, scratching his head, looking a bit sheepish. "I thought...maybe. You know...one last time," he muttered.

Eve nodded. "It looks like we wouldn't be seeing each other in a while."

"Perhaps..."

"I'm leaving Iksay, too."

Percival looked at her in surprise. "You are?"

She nodded. "I thought about going around Zexen and looking for work. Sell off a couple of artworks for a year or so. I've earned enough to finish my schooling at the academy, but I'm also thinking of staying at Greenhill for a while after that."

"Greenhill? That's quite far."

"I know," she said. "But there are a lot of opportunities there for artists like myself. And you know, I've always liked to see more of the world."

Percival nodded in agreement. "That's great, Eve. I know you can do it."

Her lips formed into a rueful smile. "We're going our seperate ways."

"Eve..." he began.

She shook her head, and he he fell silent for a moment. She stepped closer towards him, and looked up at him in earnest. It had been a long time since Percival had seen an expression like that on her face, so long since the two of them had been like this together. "I always knew you'd follow your dreams," she told him, her voice soft. Her eyes clouded, but she closed them now, stood on her tiptoes, and threw her arms around him. Percival was surprised, and hesitantly returned her embrace.

She brought her lips close to his ears so he could hear her. "No matter what..." she whispered, "My heart is yours. Even if you don't feel the same way anymore, I won't change." She stepped away from him, and swiped a tear from her eye. She looked up at him again, trying to smile brightly. "Perhaps someday, we'll get to meet each other again. Maybe by then, you'll be a well-known knight..."

Percival smiled. "Take care of yourself, Eve."

"Until then, Percival..."

Author's Notes:

I've taken a lot of liberties with the Zexen knights' background and history. You will see what I mean as we go along the story. As the game itself did not provide intricate details, and I find myself researching European knighting. I mixed in a few things here and there that would fit my story aptly.

Kidd's investigation in the game did mention that Percival applied for his current status, and that he struggled to be where he is now. I guess in Suikoden world, the same thing applies--that knighthood are mostly comprised of nobles. I am not certain as to what age aspiring Zexen knights start their training as a page/squire/knight, but for the purposes of this fic, I made my own system (not entirely borrowed from the European system, but close. Just changed a few things). Hehehe. Please bear with it.

The fic starts with Percival as sixteen, but most of the story takes place a year later, which is why in the summary I said that Percival is a seventeen-year old village boy. ^.^