For the umpteenth time, I don't own the characters or the basic storyline here. The dialogue is more or less of my own design, just to let you know.


Chapter Two -- The Sound of Her Voice


Where he was Alphonse didn't know, nor did he particularly care. If this was dying, then it wasn't all that bad, aside from the disorientation. When he finally opened his eyes, he was disappointed. He'd hoped Heaven would be a bit more glorious than this. He couldn't make out specifics of anything - it was still too dark for him to be able to give titles to the shadowy objects here and there. The only items that were distinguishable to him was a golden censor on an end table beside him and a silver chalice and Eucharist plate. Most would have found such things odd, but Alphonse had known Rictor since early childhood and the two had often played in and about the cathedrals in Felis. Perhaps it was that intimate acquaintance with the dim halls, rife with the scent of incense and other reminders of the days long past that had prompted Rictor to seek his future there. Or, more likely, it was because he was the second son of a Duke. In accordance with tradition, the first son in any noble family was named heir to whatever title the family possessed. The second was promised to the church, and the third was often given into the military to seek a fortune in the ways of knighthood.
In Rictor's case, his older brother had passed away of illness while he was in ordination. Because of this, he was not only priest but heir as well. Alphonse had often been secretly jealous of such prestige. His own lot was not nearly so grand. All nobility in the line Loher belonged to his mother's eldest brother. All he knew of his father was that he was once a knight of moderate repute. Not widely known by any means, but with enough latent influence to ensure Alphonse a good place among knights of the Order of the Sacred Flame.
All his musings faded with the rising of the sun. The storms of the night before- if indeed it was the night before that the battle had taken place - were gone now. Bright rays transformed the rolling hills into a stratum of brilliant liquid gold. He tried to sit upright for a better view, only to be defeated by a sharp, lancing pain that spread indiscriminantly across his chest. Surrendering to the softness of the bed was bittersweet, and try as he might, he couldn't fight the hold of the white folds around him, looking for all the world like misplaced clouds.

A faint voice broke him once again from any sort of deeper thought he might have established. Full of sleep, he lay quietly, eyes on the ceiling until the voice roused him. He grit his teeth and forced himself upward in one motion, causing the girl in the doorway, for that was who it was, to start. I...I didn't know you were awake...
Where am I? He asked at last, hoping any kind of conversation would serve to stimulate his mind. What is this place? He already had some basic idea. Most peasants and villagers didn't keep Eucharist materials in their homes. Perhaps he was in the residence of the bishop, or, more likely...
This is Solea. You're in the church, under the care of the brothers and sisters of our Order. My name is Eleanor. She added almost shyly. As she said this, he paused for a moment to really look at her. Golden hair reached her shoulders, curving gently around an almost elfin face. She was of very fair skin. Indeed, she was very fair in many ways. Instead of a habit, she wore the more simple garb of a novitiate, which was better suited to her light frame.
I probably should be dead by now. He said candidly, glancing back toward the western window. I don't swim well.
I found you on the beach. I don't know how you came to be here. Maybe a mermaid saved you. Here she stopped for a moment, apparently embarrassed by her own words. There are still some living on the smaller islands around Ovis. When I was younger, I saw one some distance out in the waves. Her scales were bright gold...
Alphonse felt a bit strange being privy to such information. It occurred to him that he hadn't even told this peculiar young girl his name yet. For some reason, it didn't really seem to matter. She talked idly for some time, comforting him inadvertently with the sound of her voice. While she spoke, she went about removing his tunic deftly, changing the bandages over his arrow wound with him nearly none the wiser. Finished, she eyed him critically.
She said at last. You look much more presentable. You have a guest already. She's been here for two days, waiting for you to recover.
Two days?!He burst out at last. How long have I been unconscious? Instead of answering him, she went to the door and exited, giving him a discreet smile as she did so. A taller woman, resplendent in red armor that contrasted with her gray eyes and raven hair, took her place.
So the young Knight lives. She laughed. It was an interesting sound, neither grating or condescending. It was simply...kind. When he didn't reply she came closer to his side. Her hand found his brow and she left it there for a moment, guiding him back into the soft billows around him. I've made quite a journey for your sake, young man. Might I trouble you for a name?
He said grudgingly, wondering what exactly was going on. Alphonse Loeher.
A good name. Well, Alphonse, I am known as Ivanna of Ranaculus.
His breath hissed between his teeth at the mention of the northern province. Then you are a knight of the White Fang?
I was at one time. Her voice was much more measured and patient than his would have been if he had been asked such a question. It was futile not to admit that.
But that was some time in the past. I assume you must be part of the new Order that landed here three days ago. Am I correct?
Alphonse only nodded, still puzzled by her presence here and her apparent interest in him. Something didn't feel quite normal, though he was inclined to trust Ivanna against his better judgment. Maybe it was the way she spoke, or the look in her eyes. She remained at his side for the next few hours, helping him garb himself while giving him small tidbits of information about the island and its inhabitants. He learned, for example, that Anser had no military force of its own since the Reformation, but the Lord Protector of Ranaculus still maintained a rather impressive army and held it at his personal disposal. The White Fang troop was only the offensive branch of this force, and the farther Alphonse ventured, the more likely he was to encounter the current Duke.
All of these things are by the by. She said at last. I'd heard from men in strange armor in port Scabellum that they had lost a comrade in the storm and were looking for him. It seems it was my good fortune to find you first. When you feel you are up to it, we will venture north together if you wish it so.
Rictor was searching for him. he should have known that it would happen. Thinking of nothing else to say, he accepted her offer as graciously as he could manage. From her bearing, he deemed Ivanna would be a Knight to be reckoned with, no matter with whom her loyalties lay. As the day began to ebb, Alphonse sought out Eleanor.
You'll be leaving then? Was all she said at first, her eyes on the ocean rather than on him. You have a difficult road ahead of you. I don't suppose we'll see each other again...
Who knows what God has in store for us? He replied lightly. Thank Father Hamen for me, please. He said, naming the priest of the church who he had yet to meet. He was nearly Eleanor's stepfather, or so she had told him, but he hadn't the opportunity to see the man.If by some chance we happen this way again, I'll be certain to come see you, but I think we both know better than to make idle promises. He was afraid he might upset her with this last statement, but she only smiled and let him kiss her hand.

With that, he sought out Ivanna and they made their way north under the last stable rays of the sun. Alphonse was expecting the distance to be much greater than it was in actuality, which was by no means an unpleasant surprise. They traveled on foot along the small road that led from Solea to the rest of the island, reaching the port city of Scabellum as the sun began to die at last, encompassed by the horizon and the assortment of clouds that hurried to obscure it. The wind headed in a generally southern direction, but there was enough of a brine-laden tang in it to suggest it had borrowed a bit of its potency from the ocean, or the Esperar sea. It wasn't important which was correct, because the main of his focus was locked on one woman, who stood patiently in the center of the main road through Scabellum. With her were two male soldiers and one run down, tired looking archer. The village, with its quaint cottages tiered neatly on the hillsides would have been serene but for the ominous air these four added so effectively to their surroundings.
The woman in the village's center said little more than her name, Mullin, and that she had been sent to kill Alphonse. Why am I not surprised?' He thought tiredly, freeing his short sword while Ivanna drew close.
A knight from Ranaculus, obviously. Her voice was a dry whisper, blending and almost lost within the anger of the wind. Likely a spell-caster, from the look of her. The soldiers will protect her until she can strike us with her magic, but if you can get close enough, a sword could answer her. Will you trust me to fight with you?
Not exactly pleased with the way things were turning out, Alphonse had no choice but to agree. Ivanna drew her own long sword and stood at Alphonse's side, suddenly much more intimidating than he would have thought possible. The stained light that managed to break past the brink of the coming storm made her nearly glow, increasing the majesty she radiated.
You will not pass through here. The woman said at length, the soldiers around her tensing. To your dismay, you will learn that no mere warrior can be a match for an enchanter of my quality. Prepare to leave this mortal coil!
Why his life seemed to be turning into one endless battle, Alphonse didn't care to say. These last few days were setting a rather unhealthy precedent for the rest of his stay on Ovis. If he lived through this and could rejoin his battalion, perhaps things would start to look up. He leapt to one side and an arrow shaft grazed his arm. Then again,' he thought, maybe not.'

The worry, it seemed, was warranted. He berated himself for underestimating the four soldiers as he found himself against a wall, lashing out against pikes and spears with his feeble short sword. Ivanna was faring only marginally better, having been struck in the knee, the weak point in her armor, after overpowering and finishing off the smaller of the two men. Mullin was living up to her earlier threats, having decimated a nearby tree and a stack of crates with her long range lightning magic. Fortunately for them, her aim was exceptionally poor. The crates still blazed merrily, but Alphonse glanced at them quickly, confused by what he thought he'd seen there.
Rictor called, emerging from the east behind the burning wreckage. With him was Orson Lamies. The old archer, who was Rictor's advisor and a crewman on the voyage, held his long bow out in front of him, stretched to full length and ready to fire. Thank God we've found you!
At last. It was Mullin's voice that bridged the gap between the three parties in the village, her staff readied in her hands. Rictor Lasanti, High Priest of Felis. How nice of you to join us. Surrender to me quietly and I may let your little friend leave here alive...
Then you must be one of the hired hands of the Lord of Ranaculus. Rictor replied, sneering contemptuously at the woman. I should have known.


Ollen70: Yeah, it's a weird place to leave off, but the next chapter should be up within a few days. Let me know what you think of it so far, alright?