This story belongs to me and my creative mind. However, most of the characters, names, and places all belong to their respective companies, so don't yell at me for copyright infringements! Remember, Italics represent a person's thoughts or the telling of past events.
Enjoy...
:Faraway Dreams:
Chapter Three:
Fedrich slumped up against a wall, exhaustion making his joints irritable and his muscles all but useless. The second round of eliminations for the Festival was just as harsh as the first, but this time he could see that every warrior had impressive skill. No longer was the winning based partly on chance, everything now was on nothing but skill and experience, where beginners luck had no place. The last rays of the sun spilled onto the castle walls, bathing the stone in deep shades of crimson and orange.
This sword was no help at all... He stared at the reflective surface, trying to see some visible fault. Why won't it cut like it did? Andren's gloves and Saril's staff both stopped it. Why?
No answers came to mind, and the sword didn't look any worse for wear. The lethal edge was sharp as before, but the miracles it performed at Dragoos' shop weren't happening in the battlefield. He carefully tapped his finger on the tip, wincing as it cut the digit and welled up with a drop of blood. Wiping it on his pants leg, he huffed in frustration and instead focused on catching his breath and ability to stand without aid.
"You appear perplexed." A voice came from the side.
Fedrich looked up, seeing the flowing robes of a familiar girl, Flaure. She gave a weak smile, arms folded behind her back and her hair tied back.
"Hello." Fedrich started, moving to stand.
"Might I take a look at your sword?" Flaure asked.
The Regulator paused a moment, but lifted the blade to her. She took it gently, then placed it before her eyes and looked it over with the precise motions of a master smith. Tilting it from side to side, she murmured to herself, then looked up at Fedrich's eyes. Her smile widened.
"Your actions during the trial, they reflected expertise in the art of swordplay, but showed disdain for the weapon's ability." She lowered the blade. "You have a face that reads as easily as a textbook. The sword doesn't meet with your expectations, and only because you set too high a standard for it to meet."
Fedrich's eyed widened as she spoke, surprised that she was able to read so much about his thoughts only from watching how he fought. With an easy motion, she reversed the sword and offered it back to him.
"Andren's gloves were made of adamantium metal, nearly indestructible and most certainly able to withstand a strike from a sword. Saril's staff was made of solid mythril, and if you looked carefully, had several deep cuts in the surface from your attacks at the end of the duel. Despite whatever results you gained with this blade in previous bouts, you are facing equals in this arena, both in skill and in quality weapons." Flaure's smile faded, leaving a professional expression. "Don't think the sword will do all the work for you. By simple observational calculations, as your current self, you stand little chance of succeeding tomorrows trial."
"Thank you, for the...advice." Fedrich sheathed the blade while nodding. "How can you tell all that?"
"I make it my business to see these things." She turned to leave, walking to the exit for the city proper.
Fedrich didn't respond to her last words, watching as she faded into the departing crowds for the Aircab stations. He looked down at his sword, eyes tracing over the hilt and the V-shaped crossguard. It clicked in his head that any warrior who entered the Festival was as likely to own an impressive weapon as he was. Only the best of warriors were able to enter the Festival, so it reasoned that only the best equipment would suffice for them.
I wonder how many of these warriors bought their equipment from Dragoos, or from better dealers? And now I've got people telling me I'm not good enough to win. I guess things won't be getting any easier for me...
..........
Walking slowly through the dimming streets of the Industrial District did little to help Fedrich's sore legs, but having the chance to let his mind wander was relaxing enough. The absolute focus he needed in both fights was a surprise to him, used to only the predictable and cumbersome movements of monsters in the plains. This was a new level of battle, a peak that he had only been on a few times before when against Elric and Claire. He knew that he would have to acclimate to the rigors of fighting equally skilled opponents, if not those with greater skill than his own.
"This really will be the defining moment..." He murmured, letting the words roll off his tongue lazily. "All or nothing, win or lose, nothing inbetween..."
Lamps started to flicker to life, illuminating the streets from the darkness of nightfall. Most everyone was already at home or leaving from the few taverns still open, all manners of business done for the day. Passing through the darkened paths would be unnerving for most people, but Fedrich's nerves were still edged with adrenaline. If anyone tried to mug him, he smirked, they'd find themselves rapidly put down with their skin flayed off.
Fortunately, Fedrich arrived at his destination without any trouble. The massive wrought-iron gates of the Fulmen manor looked even more intimidating in the night, but he paid them little attention and stepped up to them. Two guards were standing on the inside courtyard, both armed with compact crossbows.
"Excuse me?" Fedrich started, catching their attention.
"What do you want?" One guard demanded, annoyed.
"I'd like to talk with Gordan if he's around, could you see if he's busy?"
The first guard laughed. "Try another one, kid."
Fedrich frowned. "He's a member of the Regulators, and so am I, and I was in this very manor when Setzer Gestahl was assassinated by a thief named Riyu, and I was the one who caught his accomplice named Claire in Treno not but a week later and flew back here on the company Airship named the Diamond Blackjack!"
The first guard looked flustered at the long statement, but the second stepped up. "What's your name?"
"Fedrich Castor." The Burman huffed. "Look, could one of you just go inside and ask one of the servants to check on him? He'll recognize my name and we'll get an answer and leave this arguing for another day."
The first sighed. "I'll do it if you'll be quiet and leave when he gives you the boot."
"Fine by me."
The guard took a casual pace to the manor proper, and Fedrich leaned against the gates to await the answer. Obviously Gordan had hired new security, the previous attendants knew his face and let him in whenever he came by to visit. It was a full ten minutes later when the guard came jogging back, unlocking the gate with an embarrassed face.
"Sorry about the trouble. He's waiting in the front room."
"No problem." Fedrich walked past him with a knowing smile, heading for the massive double doors ahead.
The manor was well lit, artificial lamplight shining across most of the grass near the actual building and every window illuminated from within under muted colors of drapes. A servant girl was standing at the double doors, holding them open and waiting for him to enter. Several strides took him up the stairs and through the passage, eyes wincing a second as they were bombarded by even brighter lights. Eventually he saw Gordan reclining in one of many chairs surrounding a central table, the noblemen waving him closer.
"Good evening, Fedrich! Please, have a seat." He waited until the Burman was properly rested, sipping at a glass of water. "Care for a drink?"
"No thanks."
"Okay." He shifted position. "So what brings you here tonight, friend?"
Fedrich took a breath. "I just feel like talking. It's been a hard day."
"Evidently. Is it because of the Festival?"
A long pause.
"It is, then." Gordan set the glass aside and leaned forward, cupping his chin with his fingers. "Something about you speaks of unforeseen difficulties."
"It's not that it's difficult, just demanding!" Fedrich defended himself casually. "I'm just...worried about tomorrow. The two warriors I fought today both gave me a hard time, and it's only going to get worse. Plus there's this girl, she keeps talking to me and giving me advice."
"By advice I assume you mean descriptions of weaknesses you were not aware of."
A nod. "Yes."
"Well, no person is without their flaws and weaknesses. This girl is doing you a favor by pointing them out to you instead of not, an unusual trait for someone in the trials to become a Hunter."
"She's got this attitude, like she can give out hints and still come out the winner. She looks barely old enough to be done growing, much younger than Ruthy. She knows a lot about swords, was able to read my thoughts just from how I acted, and has a reputation as being a favored Hunter."
"Does this girl have a name?"
"Yeah, Flaure Highguard."
Gordan's expression shifted to surprise. "You are certain?"
Another nod.
Gordan sat upright and ran fingers through his hair. "Curious...most curious."
"What? Do you know her?"
"Not personally, no, but the Highguard name is a well respected family within Lindblum. There name ranks among some of the richest nobility in the three nations. The family men personally lead the Nanten, knights of the noble family holdings."
"Nobles have their own army?" Fedrich's mouth gaped. "They must be richer than some cities!"
"They are, speaking on the subject. The city of Kohlingen on the Metalark shores is practically their own property now, the population living solely to tend to the cotton fields and to fish off the coast. Albeit a small population, it is solely for the Highguard's own business."
Fedrich shook his head. "And here I keep thinking that I've heard all there is to hear. To have one family own a city? That borders on madness."
"How would it differ from the royal family of Alexandria, or the royal family of your own Burmecia?"
Fedrich arched an eyebrow. "Good point..."
"Anyway, back to topic, this girl sounds like the daughter to the Highguard family here in Lindblum. She must be the Purity Knight Flaure, current sub-commander of their forces. Her rise to leadership is something to behold, considering she is only fifteen."
"Fifteen!?"
"Yes. According to word of mouth, she has had an innate sense of self and of her environment ever since childhood. Once she could keep herself steady on her legs with a weapon, that so described sixth-sense sharped itself to an incredible combat prowess that allows her keep up with those twice her age. She has already mastered all techniques that the Nanten are taught, and I would suppose that she is in the process of learning more. Some would dare to call her a match for the Rose of May, General Beatrix."
"A match? General Beatrix was rumored to have slain a hundred soldiers by herself, and this girl is considered an equal to that!?"
"Perhaps that is the case, but it is all merely rumor and prone to exaggeration. In reality, she may simply be an above average fighter for a girl of her age."
"But she was able to read my thoughts from my moves, so there must be some truth to it." Fedrich sighed. "This isn't sounding good at all. If she's typical of the Hunters in the Festival, what kind of a chance do I have?"
"A decent chance, I say." Gordan insisted, motioning with a hand. "You cannot allow mere rumor to depress your spirits and leave you without courage. If you stick to your training and focus everything on the fight, then I dare say that you will be just as good as any other warrior in the tournament."
"Except I don't have any techniques or skills, just knowledge on how to fight."
"And knowledge is much more important than technique or skill! A person may be the master of the greatest sword skills in the whole world, but that alone does not guarantee victory. Knowing how to fight is just as important as knowing a method to fight." Gordan paused a moment, taking a breath. "Take myself, for example. I have proven myself in combat many times, yet I do not owe allegiance to any technique. Gerick and Illis, Ruthy as well, all fight from the pure knowledge of how to effectively use their respective weapons. You, Fedrich, have the same knowledge. I taught it to you personally and so did your father. Knowing a skill or technique merely adds a sharper edge to your strength, but a sharpness from knowing how to use the weapon is still there."
"So you think I still have a chance?"
"I know that you do. You have worked hard over the past months you have been with the Regulators, and have improved greatly. If anyone stood a chance at winning, it clearly is you."
"Well..." Fedrich paused, trying to come up with words. "Thanks for the vote of confidence. I guess...I just stopped by to know if there was anything else you could teach me."
Gordan smiled. "As of your last lesson, you have managed to excel at all methods of practice that I know of with a short sword. The only thing I can tell you is to remember to treat your sword as an extension of your body. The more about your sword you know, the easier it will be to wield in combat."
"Alright, I'll remember that." Fedrich stood, stretching his legs. "I should be going home to sleep. Thanks again for taking the time to see me."
Gordan stepped forward to offer a hand. "As always, you are welcome here whenever you like."
Fedrich accepted the shake. "Right."
..........
Fedrich's legs fell out from under him, body collapsing onto the spartan comfort of the cot in his room. Weariness settled across his mind, muscles bunched up and knotted from the exertion of the trials. His hand managed to drag the sheets across his form before he gave up all movement to begin his slide into sleep. Morning would come all too soon.
.
Darkness swarmed across his vision, clearing to reveal the shadowy streets of his hometown. The looming clouds of the eternal rains stood still, pouring volumes of water than soaked his fur to the flesh within moments. Fedrich looked around in confusion, but a burst of lightning and the thrown shadow of a familiar person cleared up the problems.
My my, you seem uneasy tonight.
Fedrich chuckled, dispelling the notion. He turned around and saw the shrouded figure resting against a fountain in an intersection of streets. "For some reason I've always tried getting in the first word, but you beat me to the punch once again."
The figure chuckled in return. You're in a strange mood.
"The trials for the Festival today were tough, my body and mind are exhausted. I must be easily amused when so tired."
...Festival?
Fedrich quickly realized that the speaker had no idea what the Festival was. "The Festival of the Hunt is a competition between the strongest warriors of the continent to see who can kill the most monsters in a certain time. Today was the start for the trials to enter it, and it was a challenge for me. Tomorrow I'll go through more trials, and the next day will be the festival itself. I've been training hard to prepare for it, but I still seem far behind the skills of the other warriors."
A means to measure the rate of your improvement, it seems. You are sticking well to the few reccomendations I gave to you.
"I guess I am. Hopefully after the Festival I'll have learned much more, be better off to fight."
To fight, Fedrich, is one thing, but not the only one. Having a capable mind and a flexible mind is just as important as a powerful and adaptable body. When was the last time you opened a book to study from it?
Fedrich paused, then shrugged. "Not since I left home for Lindblum."
The speaker wagged a finger and tsked. Your mind will rot if you don't exercise it as often as your body. You ought to be appreciative of the efforts I make to teach you all this.
"Yes, mother." Fedrich droned.
But on to more important matters, young Burman. The cloaked figure sat down on the fountain, clasping hands on it's lap. What I'm to share with you tonight is the most important information you have received, possibly more than you will ever receive. It is enough to know the enemy, the Golems and their capabilities, but now you must learn how to organize a defense against them.
"I'm listening." Fedrich leaned against a wall.
The Golems, artificial being they are, work well alone or together. As a group they bear the advantage of having offensive and defense magic in use at the same time. Alone they would have to choose one or another. In either case, they are vulnerable to one thing, the time it takes to charge their spells. It can take anywhere from a second to several to cast spells, and when they are doing so, they cannot stop unless willing to sacrifice their spiritual strength. Moving, too, is nearly impossible while preparing the spell. The figure pointed at the demi-human. You, Fedrich, with your natural advantage in speed, can easily close the distance between a Golem and strike it dead while it prepares it's magic.
However, in large enough groups, the Golems can plan the casting of spells so while another group is readying a spell, magic is already in use. This is the deadliest strategy that they can use, and always brings an end to any advance on their position.
"Why exactly is the time to cast a spell different?"
The speaker lifted a hand and pointed a finger up, making a point. Is it easier to throw a one pound stone at a rabbit to ensure a weak but quick injury, or to throw a ten pound stone and ensure lethal wounds or death? Casting a spell is like picking up that rock. A light rock is easy to take, but can't deliver as much force. A heavy rock takes a lot of strength and effort, but one gathered, can be thrown for awesome damage.
"I see...I think." Fedrich pursed his lips together, standing up to take a few meandering steps. "The stronger a spell they try to use, the more vulnerable they'll be, right?"
A nod. Accurate to a point, yes. So you know that attacking while they are readying a spell makes for an easy kill. If you have two warriors for each Golem, the process becomes insultingly simple. One warrior lures the attention of the mage and the other strikes as it readies a spell or leaves itself open to attack. If you are both quick enough, in theory you can run through a group of several Golems and change between hook and bait repeatedly to kill them all before they ever cast a spell.
"So they are easy to distract and easy to blindside, then." A smile lit Fedrich's face. "That would work! It sounds like the only real thing that I can do against them. It's all a matter of striking before they have time to cast their spells!"
As best as we can determine, this is the appropriate strategy to use against them.
"Goddess, this is wonderful. Most of the time you simply lecture me about the dangers the Golems present, but now there's finally some good news to hear. A weakness, and all this time they sounded like perfect tools of war..."
They ARE perfect tools, Fedrich. The speaker restated, serious tone killing Fedrich's giddy feelings. Never let your guard down around them or think that they will be pushovers. There is a reason why we had to resort to this, you know.
"Still, at least now I feel like I can win against them!" Fedrich spun on his heels to confront the phantom, but the cloaked person was gone. The Burman huffed, crossing his arms. "Feh...always leaving with the last word, too." Stepping to a wall, he gave it a solid kick to logically rattle his mind free of the vision, slipping into the dark nothingness of his subconscious dreamworld.
