Author's Note: 05-17-03 Hello Readers! I have to say, writing is fun, and so are 500 level History classes. But they are also difficult and time consuming. And because I'm being graded on one, the other invariably suffers. Such is life. But I've been trying. One must understand that though Return to Normalcy had many bad people in it, the story lacks a villain. It's very character driven, so I actually am getting somewhere with this. On a side note, I don't seem to be a very good editor, so if someone would have the patience to beta read for me, I would be grateful. Enough chat, enjoy!
Zenan Remembered
Crono was eight years old again. It was the summer of 990, and after much begging and pleading and gnashing of teeth, Crono had gotten permission to bring Lucca along on the family holiday. A few weeks later, Lara Ashtear would be maimed into paraplegia, with Lucca as a blood soaked witness. A bit of Lucca would die then, and she would never be quite the same. But the two children, left to their own devices on the Zenan Bridge were wholly unaware of what was to come.
"…And Dad says it was here that the great Ozzie lead the final attack on Guardia by the armies of the Magus. But the knights of the Square Table would have none of it and stood like a stone wall, breaking the enemy, with their blades and bodies! Wouldn't it be so cool, huh? If we could have been there? To see noble knights and valiant steeds and the Mystic hordes? Huh, huh?"
Crono was on the point of hyperventilating. Zenan Bridge, over a mile in length, was for centuries the largest bridge, wooden or otherwise, in the world. Because the Zenan Straights underneath were the closest the Zenan and Porria Islands came to one another, it was also the only bridge that connected the two. It was the playground of heroes, but no battle there could compare to the Battle of Zenan Bridge.
Lucca sighed half-heartedly, "Yeah, I guess it would've been cool."
Crono looked at her puzzled, "Lucca, what's wrong?"
"What do you think, Crono?"
"But I told you before, your new house is huge! Omicrones could live there! The Obachi family lived there for like 300 years or something, and they were nobles!"
"Some nobles. King Alexander freed the serfs, and the Obachis slid right into ignominy." Lucca said grumpily.
"Ig-nom-iny?"
"I dunno. Dad used it. I think it means they stopped being real nobles cause they had no more money."
"Oh."
"Yeah, the house is huge, and Dad's happy he has the room to work on some really big stuff. There's this huge thing in the living room…but we were neighbors for like, well, forever! I'll only be able to see you in school, and to do that I'll have to take the trolley clear across the city. This sucks, it's not fair!"
Crono got very serious for a moment. "Hey, Lucca," he put his hand on her shoulder. With the reflection from her huge glasses, he could barely see her eyes, but he knew they were sad ones. "I'll always be here for you, okay? I'll always be your friend. So buck up!" he said, flashing a boyish grin.
Lucca warmly smiled back at him. "Thanks Crono. So we're gonna be friends forever?"
"Yep." He unsheathed a large, thick, stick. "Now, just imagine it. We're there, it's pouring rain, hordes of Mystics are on the bridge, hoping to cross and destroy Guardia once and for all! Now Sir Andre of Petrona, worthy successor to Sir Cyrus that he is, has sent us, the greatest knights of the Kingdom, to show the Keeks…"
"Crono, that's a bad word!"
"Well, that's what the grownups call them! And I'm eight in a half, that's practically ten!" Lucca sighed in resignation. If he got a mouthful of soap, it wasn't her problem.
"…Anyway, to show Mystics why they should never, ever fight with Humans!" He pointed his stick forward. "Charge!"
They broke into a dead run, screaming their little heads off. A few yards down the bridge, they stopped, and Crono began to duel imaginary foes, doing his part to win a battle fought 390 years before. Lucca, armed with a similar stick, brought it up to cheek, and began acting as though she were fighting recoil.
"Lucca, what are you doing?!" her friend demanded.
"I'm blowing them away with my Winchester!"
Crono grabbed his face in frustration, "For the last time, Lucca! There were no guns in 600! No Winchesters, no repeaters, no factories in Arland to build Winchester Repeaters! Nothing: only swords! You've got a sword in your hands because there were no Repeaters at the Battle of Zenan Bridge…"
…Plasma Pistols were another matter it seemed. Lucca was standing staggered, and except for a great increase in height and her quirky brown leather cap, looked not much different from the little girl she had been. She was taking aimed shots at some Mystics who got too close to their position. The blasts coming out of the barrel were green, which apparently meant the power cell was almost drained. A look of angry concentration was on her face. My best friend is hot, Crono thought amusedly.
With Lucca's cover fire, Crono was safe enough to risk a spell. The golden hued automaton, then known to Crono as "Robo," was locked in melee with an animated skeleton. It was the last of those small golems that the Great Ozzie had brought forth by the darkest of necromancy. Crono tried to concentrate as his feet left the bridge and magic power focused within him. He hated the floating, and his feet on instinct reached for solid ground. He did his best to ignore the fear. Wind swept over him, making the moderate rain at the battle into a torrent around his person.
Lightning…yes, elemental power. No… electricity, lights, power, Volta's battery, Edison's light bulb, positive, negative, discharge, Franklin's key on the kite…wait, Lucca and I did that when we were eight! Knocked us out cold and damn near killed us!
Crono used that memory, the smell of ozone, his whole body convulsing and shaking, and the half-second of fear that burned the scene into his mind forever. Then Crono felt it. The closest thing he could compare it to, though he was loathe to do so, was orgasm. Though not as pleasurable, the intense effort was suddenly relieved from him, making him feel slightly drained, and fatigued. It was definitely like orgasm.
That moment, a bolt descended out of nothing, hitting the skeleton with full force and a deafening thunderclap. In an instant, those bones were torn asunder, fragmenting out like a pineapple grenade. Two years of mandatory Civic Defense classes compelled Lucca to hit the deck, while a charging Hench suddenly found himself with three quarters of a face. He didn't even scream, he just fell down deadweight. The wind around Crono protected him from the flying bone fragments, but it could not protect him from his mind's eye.
When narrow corridors called for dismounting, Guardian Knights typically fought in three man squads. Many squads had been wiped out earlier in the day, and Ozzie had used the corpses of one of them to create these skeletons. One of those men was still alive, mortally wounded to be sure, but still unaffected by shock and blood loss. He had screamed horribly as his bones ripped through his flesh. Because the extremities came though first, he saw it too. Until the day he died, Crono never forgot the look on that man's face. Every time he prayed, he interceded for the soul of that man.
Crono landed on his feet, now that the spell was completed, and looked for the next opponent to slay. But if he had his way, he would have popped his eardrums. Crono had never quite believed his paternal grandfather, a veteran of the battle of San Domino, when alcohol had loosened his tongue enough to speak of it. Algus Carpenter had said there were a few moments of the clanging of blades, and musket pop, but mostly the din of battle was the screaming. The screaming of the attack, the screaming of the cowards, and worst: the screaming and wailing of the wounded.
There was a knight; about 20 yards back slumped against a wooden rail. A nice, clean slice through the gullet had felled him, and he was now dripping with blood, though his left hand kept his internal organs internal. Crono knew there was a marked difference between the legends and epic poems of antiquity, and the flowery novels of heroism that dominated the 10th Century, now; at this moment, he knew why. Antiquity was succinct: "he fell in battle." Modernity was not, and was prone to giving descriptions of the fallen, as mortally wounded, with a smile upon his face, knowing he had nobly served God, King, Motherland, and the forces of Righteousness. Though he dies, he is happy knowing his brave, and equally noble companions shall carry the day, and that he did not die in vain.
The truth was this: that knight held his gut with his left, and his crucifix in the other. Blood dribbled from the corners of his mouth, and his brown eyes were fast clouding over. Those eyes had a look of terror that made Crono squirm when he looked at them.
The knight did not whisper, he did not utter, rather he screamed at the top of his lungs in sheer terror. "Oh God!" he would gasp, "Forgive me!" He would gasp again, "Consign me not to damnation! Please…don't let me go to Hell! Please! Forgive my transgressions, oh Lord!" Then he would scream in agony, right himself and begin again. It was vernacular trying to be noble; it may very well have been his own, private liturgy.
Crono was on the verge of running back and putting the man out of his misery. He was too busy trying not to swallow his own tongue in fear of death to be reminded of the horrors that awaited the unrighteous. Crono had been a fairly good member of the Guardian Orthodox Church, insofar that he believed and tithed, but was far from pious. In the heat of this terrible slaughter, Crono made all kinds of vows and exhortations to himself to reform and lead an admirable life, free from all sin. Inside he knew that when the danger had passed, those words would be quickly forgotten. Crono looked back, but before he had to make the choice, the wounded man died with a groan.
"Take cover!" Crono was clotheslined by Lucca as a crossbow bolt whizzed overhead. Lucca fired a retaliatory shot, which would have killed the offending gargoyle, except that the gun only made a whirring noise and a click as Lucca depressed the trigger three tries in desperation. Lucca's ensuing "Fuck me!" was probably heard in Truce. In 1000 A.D.
She seemed dumbfounded for a moment as her opponent of the moment began to reload his crossbow. Crono looked at her, and though thick slabs of clear glass distorted her doe blue eyes, it was clear she was panicking. Crono had to get her fighting and fast, but first he had to groan from the clothesline that felt like it could have broken his neck.
"Lucca, the gun!"
"Crono…it's out," she whimpered.
"Not that gun, the other gun!"
And suddenly the panic was gone. "Oh." Lucca placed the Plasma gun in her satchel, leapt to her feet, and made a jerking motion with her right arm. This caused a shoulder strap to slide down, where Lucca caught its attachment: a rifle. At least it wasn't a repeater, or Crono would never hear the end of it. Lucca swiftly brought the gun to eye level, and fired, knocking the gargoyle onto his back, with a large chest wound and twitching extremities. "Gyha ha ha! Say hello to the 10th Century!" Lucca looked at Crono with wide-eyed satisfaction. "What'd I tell ya? Money's tight, but a Mauser is worth every kopeck!"
Crono leapt to his feet, alarmed and angry. He grabbed the woman, who yelped with surprise, "Lucca, you crazy bitch! You were carrying a loaded gun without the safety! We're in enough shit as it is. I don't need to be worried about dying from friendly fire! You know, this almost got you kicked out of the sniper course. You think you're too hot shit for safety first!"
Lucca was quick to respond. "Hey, fuck you. I just nailed a Mystic with an unaimed shot at…15 maybe 20 yards. That's pretty damn good for a civilian! I just saved your life, and what do I get, huh? No 'thank you, Lucca', no 'you saved my life, Lucca,' no 'I wanna make mad, passionate love to you, Lucca' just "Lucca, you crazy bitch!' My God! It's so nice to know I'm appreciated!" Her eyes grew wide as a whizzing sound grew. "Take cover!"
Crono was on the ground again, rolling to the east side of the bridge. A slew of arrows fell near where they had been. When they stopped, Lucca was over him, and Crono would not dare pass up the opportunity. "It seems you like being on top, huh Lucca?" He smiled widely.
Lucca was less than amused, "Keep dreaming, Lover Boy." She sighed. "You know, why couldn't I have gotten the ice magic? Then I could be all safe behind the lines, treating the wounded, not watching your sorry ass."
"I have a very nice ass, thank you ve…Wait." Crono tilted his head back. "Oh…shit." A Mystic formation was on the bridge again, moving in slow lockstep. This time they were in the classic turtle formation, with shields on all sides, and one massive shield, supported by an exceptionally strong Omicrone, held above, protecting them from missiles. Lucca looked up, then down at her friend.
"Pithy."
The Zenan Bridge was the safest place in any battle fought in the area, as it was the key to victory for defender and invader alike. This was going to be the last battle of the war, and both sides, while not knowing that, knew it would be one of the last. The Great Ozzie had skillfully commanded the Mystic hordes for more than a decade, but his many victories had made him terribly arrogant. If Ozzie had learned form his mistakes, he might have later killed Crono when the latter launched his commando raid against the Castle of the Magus. But in this battle, Ozzie had been both sloppy and desperate.
King Richard, called the Long Suffering, had two years before authorized the first Peasant Levy in the history of Guardia. Their offensive launched the following spring had, by sheer numbers, almost reversed the course of ten years warfare in the Porria, before being slaughtered by a counteroffensive led by the swordsman Slash. The Knights of the Square Table, feeling slighted that the King had armed their serfs, and implicitly given them a vote of no confidence, had refused to aid the commoners in battle. 'Teloga' was used as a rallying cry for agitators of class warfare on both sides of the noble divide ever since. Nonetheless, after the Knights themselves were routed at Rostov, both peasant and noble knew that only together could they triumph. United, they would be unbeatable.
To delay the mobilization of the second Peasant Levy, Mystic raiders had destroyed a greater part of the bridge earlier in the year. Ozzie had gathered together the last of his reserves and marched out against the repaired bridge in early April. The King's order to get Tata across had forced the issue. If the horde were defeated, the Levy would form with little problem and Medina itself would soon be under siege. On the other hand, most of the King's knights were encamped at Zenan, including all of the elite Square Table. If they fell, nothing could stop Ozzie from taking Truce and the Levy would be irrelevant.
All this meant that the battle of Zenan was a frenzied orgy of violence above, below and on the sides of the bridge. Crono could hear more than he could see, even if he peered through the planks, but several knights, only a few with special training, were even now climbing their way through the bridge's superstructure, often clinging for dear life with one hand and welding gladiuses, the short swords of their Vayan forbearers, in the other. Occasionally, Crono would hear a scream that would be cut off by a splash.
A wilder scene played out on the Zenan Straits themselves. Mystic and Guardian catapult batteries fired Ice Bombs into the Sea. Upon detonation these instantly created ice up to several feet thick, depending on volley and concentration. This meant that nearby liquid water, which included the water under the bridge, was so chilled that any who fell in would go into shock. A few minutes later, counter batteries would hurl massive stones to break up the ice. In the meantime, a mass of troops would charge across, slipping and sliding, while ballistas would try to disable the counter batteries. Astute commanders would have raiders dispatched in the rear to harass the same.
Sometimes too, as was the case on the Guardian right, the armies would come out and fight one another in traditional ways of assault, feint, and charge. Witnessing the spectacle firsthand, this part of the battle was pitiful. The rain robbed the ice of all traction, and maintaining formation was impossible. Both lines disintegrated into individual duels, where men and Mystics spent most of the time simply trying to keep upright. Luckily, this favored the Knights, who mostly came from the old boyar families, families that emphasized the swordsmanship of the Vayan legions. It disgusted Crono that although casualties were often tremendous, 'charging the ice' was considered more cost effective in terms of lives than charging chokepoints like bridges, and far more expedient than a massing a sea borne invasion when time was of the essence.
Crono, like most all Guardians, also innately hated Ice Bombs. Before their invention, Guardia was largely free from invasion, as logistics made island invasions by and large unprofitable. This was especially true for barbarians. The Ice Bomb changed all that, and when combined with the catapult, the result was perhaps the most masterful stroke of magi-tech innovation in recorded history. No one was exactly sure of the Ice Bomb's origins, but their first documented use was in December of 240, when Temujin and his Golden Fleet used them to make a corridor between the ships and the docks of Porre. Once the Golden Horde charged off the ships and crossed into the city, the defenders never stood a chance. They then razed the city to the ground, killed all the men and sold the women and children into slavery, destroying what Guardia taken at such cost a mere two generations before. Guardia became a tributary until 380, when the great battle at Kulikovo broke Tartar domination. Then the Huns came. Ever since, Guardia was afflicted with invasion, like divinely ordained plague for some unknown sin. But, all this was just an accident of history.
All this was important to know, because it meant that fighting on the bridge consisted mostly of skirmishes. This suited Crono fine, because like all Guardian youths, he had no real military training as of yet. That was for post-primary education. Since the end of the Great Patriotic War, 55 years ago, Civic Defense classes were to take the Guardian youth, most already proficient with some weapon, and make them into effective Partisans. But a Partisan stands no chance against organized, regular troops, like the ones now coming to kill Crono.
'Robo' fell back to their position. Several pieces of bone potmarkered his surface. He knelt beside them and asked, "Do you require assistance?"
Lucca said no, but was almost unheard as Crono said, "I need an assessment."
The Robot made a few beeping noises and his green LED "eyes" flickered. "All damage incurred by me as of this moment is superficial, it seems that in spite of badly misaimed friendly fire by Longbow men on shore, neither you nor miss Ashtear require medical assistance. A Mystic formation five ranks wide and eight deep will, at present speed, overrun us in less than 90 seconds. The Longbowmen have destroyed the formation's Avian air cover, but cannot penetrate the formation's shielding. Crossbowmen could suffice from this distance, but even if mistress Marle were not otherwise engaged, she would lack the necessary firepower for a successful engagement. I advise a hasty retreat."
"Wait, Robo, would this suffice?" Lucca held out her right arm with the rifle in it.
"If that is a Mauser 998 bolt action rifle using 7.62 caliber rounds, then yes it can penetrate, but the firepower…"
"Good enough." Luca rolled off Crono to the very edge of the bridge, jammed the bolt lever upright, pulled it back, then slammed it back into place, reloading the weapon. She aimed as best she could, her tongue protruded from the side of her mouth. Then a loud crack caused Crono's ears to ring and the Omicrone's eye to explode. Blood flew out the back of the giant's head; Crono wasn't sure whether to be horrified or think it was cool. The dead Mystic fell, perhaps crushing some of his comrades, but most broke formation, dazed and confused as to what exactly happened. Their overhead shield was now at their feet and ten seconds later, a deadly missile barrage began felling them. Most fled, some blindly charged forward. Crono charged as well.
Those Mystics that were not knocked off the bridge by Robo's first, with its fifteen-foot chain extension, were then cut to pieces by Crono. These Mystics actually had some training, and every time his sword and theirs connected, Crono's nerves rattled with the very real prospect he could die. Strangely enough, this is what he had wanted to do all his life: become a great warrior and slay the enemies of Guardia. He was greatly annoyed that no one had ever told him that the dead lose bladder control. It was almost as if their piss and shit were a final act of defiance, taking some of the sweetness of victory out of mouths of their conquerors. If he'd known that, perhaps he would have chosen another profession to pursue.
Lucca screamed loudly; it must have been from a terrible surprise as there was no expletive. Crono was momentarily distracted, and an Ogre's claws slashed across his arm. Before "Dr. Carpenter" could perform a much-needed amputation, Robo's metal slammed into the Ogre's head, making a sickening cracking sound and crushing the skull like an empty beer can.
Crono immediately turned and ran to Lucca. Her weapon was discarded, and both her arms were wrapped around a rail pole, but even this death grip was undermined by the moisture soaked wood. She was thrashing about, and seemed to whimper in fear. Crono said not a word to her, readied his sword then thrust his torso over the edge. In a fraction of a second, Crono saw a green imp with a dagger in his teeth, with both hands on Lucca's left boot, though the scratch marks told Crono the little bastard had started at the mid calf, which greatly upset Crono. Then, he thrust his sword and ran the imp through. The little imp died with a scream as gentle thunder broke. Crono yanked, but found his sword was stuck in the imp, and Lucca found she could not shake off the imp's death grip on her boot.
Lucca yelped as Crono grabbed her ass with both hands and essentially threw her back onto the bridge. She rolled onto her back, breathing heavily from fear. Crono meanwhile had yanked the imp free of Lucca's boot put him under his own, and yanked his sword free. In an act of callousness, Crono threw the imp over the edge of the bridge into the sea, and didn't feel the least bit bad about it. He bent over Lucca as he wiped off his sword with a bit of his shirt. "You know, why couldn't I have gotten the ice magic? Then I could be safe behind the lines and not saving your sorry ass."
Lucca growled as she reached out and took possession of her gun. She stood up and looked at Crono. "No, you saved me. You gave my sorry ass a wegie." She stuck her free hand down her pants to rectify the situation, "Besides, I have a glorious ass."
"Beauty's in the eye of the beholder, I guess."
"You know, you never say this shit to Marle. You like her or something?"
Crono wasn't entirely honest, "It's not that." Then he was scrupulously honest, "It's that if I did, she'd punch my arm; then I'd break hers, and that wouldn't be good for anyone. More to the point, only a baboon has more hair on its butt than you."
"A baboon doesn't have hair on its butt!"
"Exactly so."
"Uh…thank you?"
"Crono! Lucca! More are coming!" Robo broke into their conversation.
They looked around. The rain was still moderate, but the southern sky was very dark, and moving north. The sun was sinking below the horizon. The wind was picking up, and soon early May would feel like late February, though for the moment, it was more dark than cold. Robo suddenly shot out a laser beam above the bridge. Crono and Lucca could now see a flock of Avians, carrying other Mystics. The beam connected, and Crono instinctively thought of, then wished for, roasted chicken. The unfortunate Mystic dropped his cargo, an exceptionally wide Hench. This one could think on his feet; the second he landed, he rolled himself into a ball and rolled toward Lucca. Crono was too stunned to do anything, so the Hench rolled on unopposed. Lucca did the only thing she could think of, she jumped, spreading her legs as much as possible. Amazingly enough, it worked. She landed, turned and without thinking, shot the Mauser one handed, sending a bullet straight into the Hench's back. He began to groan terribly, until Lucca reloaded and with both hands, shot him in the head.
In the mean time, the other Avians released their cargo, another Hench and an Omnicrone. If the turtle formation had survived, this could have been an excellent battle insertion. As it was, it showed inflexible and sloppy planning on Ozzie's part. Crono wished Lucca could use her fire magic here, instead of simply relying on the gun. Nonetheless, Robo quickly killed the Hench. Lucca shot the Omicrone in the stomach, and when the giant doubled over in pain, Crono lopped his head off with a clean slice.
Crono staggered away from his victim, then leaned heavily on a rail. He panted heavily, and his muscles were beginning to ache. Lucca looked at him, then at the machine. She said, "Hey Robo, can you scout ahead? We need a little breather."
"Certainly, Lucca," and the robot began to walk away.
Lucca walked over to her friend, and gently ran her hand through his thick and thoroughly saturated hair, taking it off his forehead, and back onto his scalp. She smiled slightly. "Didn't I tell you sophomore year, first day of Civic Defense, that fighting with an overgrown streaknife was a stupid idea? And did you listen to me: your best friend who is a genius?" She shook her head. "No, you didn't. 'Run hither thither, and you will whither.'"
He looked at her tiredly, "I never heard that saying before." He was sure Lucca had to be sweating at this point, but the rain made an assessment impossible. But she looked only a little worn, whereas Crono felt quite haggard.
"I just made it up. Here," she took out a little ether bottle, removed the cap and stuck it under his nose.
He took a whiff, and made a face. "Oh, that'll put hair on your balls." Now more awake, Crono said, "First, I am the best swordsman in Truce. Period. I led the Fencing Jesters to victory in the Court two years ago, while winning first place in the katana class two years in a row. I haven't begun to slice and dice. And second, thank you, Lucca."
"You're welcome."
"You know, they're gonna keep putting that stuff in Marle's face to keep her on healing duty. She's going to be so out of it."
"Not anymore than usual, I should think."
"Ha, ha, ha. Very funny, Lucca. Now…we gotta start moving again or I'm going to be too sore to stand." Crono's speech was slurring ever so slightly, and mentally, he begged God for a wonderful, soft, bed where he could rest for the next two or three years.
"Alright, let's get through before we all come down with pneumonia. But first, do you need a tonic?"
"I think you need one with those scratches on your legs."
She looked at leg wounds. "Nah, I save my tonics for when I really need them."
Lucca seemed to be waiting for him, so Crono shook his head violently to wake himself, pelting a flinching Lucca with yet more water. "You know, all I wanted was one year, just one fucking year between High School and the Military Academy. Just one year of freedom before my ass becomes government issue. Cause you know, once I graduate, they'll probably send me on garrison duty in Port Arthur for the rest of my life, with a bunch of peasant conscripts who'd like nothing more than to string me up by my testicles. It doesn't matter." He suddenly felt called. "I need to piss." In the midst of this titanic battle raging all around, he unbuttoned the front of his pants and that's exactly what he did, right off the bridge. He didn't even notice that right behind him was the decapitated body of an Omicrone lying in a pool of his own blood.
Out of respect, Lucca faced towards the rail, right beside Crono. He would never have been so blunt or crude to anyone else, but Lucca was his best friend. For her part, she didn't want to think about the rain, and began the conversation again. "Hey Crono, relax. Heh, heh, all you gotta do is get a monocle and grow a waxed mustache and you're set for the General Staff." She laughed a little more. "Of course, you could always join the Navy. That way, you'd probably end up in the Krondstadt and that's right across the harbor."
"Oh, no, Lucca. All Navys work on rum, sodomy and the lash, and I only like one of those. And no jokes from you, you know it's the rum."
"Awe! I just got my dominatrix outfit in the mail, and I was so eager to try it out too."
Crono groaned. "Lucca, do you ever listen? Wait, that's rhetorical. Anyway, my year's been shot to shit. I mean, I know that saving the world is, well, more worthwhile than drinking, philandering, and picking fights with dockworkers, but I really wish I didn't have the cops hunting me down while I'm doing it. I mean, I would have liked to do some real research instead of hopping right into the gate, after getting you that pea-shooting monstrosity. You know there's two or three seminaries with 30 miles of Truce, and I'm sure the library at the University of Truce would have something." Realizing his business had been completed; he buttoned his pants as the rain became torrential.
"Well, sometimes you don't get what you want. Like right now, I want an umbrella."
Crono sighed. "Yes, that's true. The problem is, that our best lead comes from a Mystic legend. I mean it does make sense considering the Magus' sudden disappearance shortly after Zenan, but I've never head that story before."
"Neither have I." Lucca said in protest.
"Yeah, but you forgot Queen Leene was saved by the then named 'Sir Frog in the Manoria Cathedral.'"
"That's because you didn't tell me on the way to the cathedral, you heartless Bastard! You know I'm scared of Frogs!"
"I wasn't sure if Glenn of Trann was going to show up or not after we changed things. Besides, the look on your face was priceless. And, wait, you know what? The kidnapping of Queen Leene is one of the most important events of the Mystic War, and if you forget something like that, you deserve to have the bejeezus scared out of you."
"I told you, History's not my thing, okay? Up until now, history was useless to me. And don't you get all huffy puffy about it."
"Lucca…if you want to know the path, you have to know where you've been, as well as where you're going."
Lucca looked at him quizzically, "Crono, why don't you go to University? You're not as smart as me, but you've got a fine mind. I think you're wasting your time if you go into the military. I know you: you don't strike me as…bellicose enough to make a career of this shit. Much less pick fights with dockworkers." She snorted, "Much less philandering: you've told me several times in inebriation that you want to save yourself for the right girl. So why do keep running your mouth, saying that stupid shit? Wait, that's rhetorical."
"In the days of the Republic, before it was overthrown by Gaius Julius Czar, may he burn in Hell forever, the Vayan Legionaries elected their officers for their stable temperament and good judgment. Fire-eating gives indigestion; clear thinking gives victory."
"You see? That's what I'm talking about."
"Lucca, Guardia needs men like me. I could go to University, but I'm only good at Philosophy, Literature and History. The liberal arts are useless unless you want to teach. I want to do something useful. I want to be remembered by history, not spend my life teaching it. History only remembers those whose exploits are worth remembering, and no teacher is worth remembering." Crono added, "Except Sewcrates, Cupo, and Aristotelian, of course, but that's mostly because they were the first real philosophers."
He sighed. "Lucca, I'm tired, bloody, and my feet hurt. I'm soaked to bone, and cold as hell, and I'm not done yet. I've seen things so horrible today that I wanna tear my eyes out." He sighed again, "I, I wasn't really scared in the Cathedral; I wasn't scared in the ruins, not in the labs or Arris, or the factory. I wasn't even scared when they were going to lop my head off, that was…just too surreal for me to comprehend. But I'm scared now. I mean; I've never felt made real, more alive, and never more afraid to lose what I have. Guardia's victory in this battle is a foregone conclusion, but I can't let these people fight it out, I can't stand by and watch them die if I can save them, any of them. I want to run, I probably should, but I can't. Why?"
She smiled a little. "Because you're a good man. You've always had courage my friend, but wisdom, well, it nice to know you're getting it." She looked right at him "Hey, I've seen everything you have today. Crono, I don't want to be here either. But we can't go home, and what we're doing needs to be done. Forget all that crap you read about knights and maidens, cause that's what it is, crap. This…" she spread her arms wide, right index finger on the rifle trigger, "…is glory." She spit disdainfully. "Heroics is dirty, dangerous work, and I want no part of it. In the end though, we're both suckers. But, I want you to know that I'll always be there when you need me. I got your back, okay? Now, we've had our breather, lets do this and go to bed…" And they trudged south, to more terror and death.
Crono awoke slightly uneasy. He was in his own bed, but the cuts and abrasions all over his body told him that, well, it told him nothing. He remembered with too much clarity for it to be a dream. It was a memory, a flashback. That's right; yesterday, he'd killed Lavos and survived to tell the tale. After Lucca had dropped him off in the Sheld Woods, he'd barely been able to walk the few hundred yards back to his house, get inside and strip, then fall asleep.
After all that, he should have been happy. But now that he was fully rested, he felt like throwing up. He also felt a weight upon him. He wanted to crawl into bed, and sleep some more, but feeling inexplicable skittishness, he knew that was impossible. He turned to his right and threw off the covers, making sure not to look at the painfully bright sunshine streaming in through his window.
'What's wrong with you, Crono?' he thought to himself. 'You just defeated the greatest threat humanity has ever faced. You've won the heart of the fairest maiden in the land, the princess no less! You've been on a glorious adventure most men can only dream of. And you're letting a little pitched battle get to you? It does not become a savior of mankind.'
Crono said nothing as he got up. He willed the weight to the back of his mind, and put a smile on his face. After all, he'd become a hero, and gotten everything a hero could want, even a measure of wealth. He looked at the little windup alarm clock on his desk, the one he'd never used as an alarm. It was 8:46 A.M. and unless he'd slept for two days straight, it was October 30th, 1000 A.D. This was going to be a good day. After all, it was the first day of 'happily ever after.'
Author's Note: Though it makes for good gaming to have constant and incremental weapon upgrades, I just can't imagine cavemen selling guns. It just doesn't work for me. So, in the interest of logic, I had Lucca buy the best gun available on the market in her time as soon as she got back from the future. That's what anyone going on a dangerous expedition would do I think. Zealean guns and plasma weapons might be better, but I figure Lucca would have to have readily available ammunition, which she could buy in 1000 A.D.
Another thing I couldn't help myself on: I know there was never any mention of Ice Bombs in Chrono Trigger. However, it seems to me that in a word where one can imbue objects with magical properties, that something that could facilitate rapid movement across small bodies of water would provide an immense and decisive tactical advantage. So much so, that everyone and their mother would try and discover it.
I basically wrote this scene to see if I could write a battle satisfactorily. I figured that if Crono and company were to be volunteers at Zeenan, I think the princess would best be used behind the lines, where her healing powers could best be put to use. At any rate, I was hoping to achieve a violent callousness like Sergio Leone. However, after watching AMC's digitally remastered "The Good, The Bad and the Ugly," the attempt looks quite feeble. As always, all reviews, good, bad and ugly are greatly appreciated.