Disclaimer: I do not own Ragnarok Online. I do not own Crimson Twilight. Score that to Tom Valor, and I recommend that fic to any RO lover.
Prologue
The bells of the tower tolled as the clock struck an hour. The deep, rumbling sounds echoed ominously inside the archaic edifice of Alchemy, mingling with the hoarse humming of the antediluvian machinery. "You're not convincing the girl? How new is that?"
Firdauze Sarazen's amethyst eyes twinkled mysteriously in the dimness of the Clock Tower. They always conveyed some sort of deep enigma, interspersing with the entrenched detestation glimmering at the depths of her eyes. "Now, Darkhaven, you don't think I'm only about 'suicidal plans' do you?" She smiled softly at the young woman before her. "I do have a heart."
Khallian Darkhaven gave a cynical snort and folded her arms. Her vividly crimson eyes seemed to sparkle in their own sardonic light, glinting eerily against the shadows. "This is the first time, Sarazen. I'm extremely sorry for the reaction, but it sounded too unbelievable."
The purple-haired sage merely looked at the red-haired wizard indignantly. She sighed deeply as she spoke. "It doesn't mean that because the only time I check on her is when I want to convince her about my plans, I'm a callous person."
"Just like what I've said, it sounds so strange for Firdauze Sarazen, it's unbelievable."
Nothing was said for a while. The ancient cogs and gearwheels revolved slowly in a rasping chorus, the sound reverberating unnervingly inside the stately edifice. Khallian surveyed the sage intently, scrutinizing her carefully for any trace of staging a charade, but found strangely nothing. 'Why a sudden bout of sisterly kindness?'
"Just for once, Darkhaven, remove that expression of scrutiny from me," Firdauze said wearily, pacing back and forth the walkway. "I just want to know if she's doing well, that's all! You think it's very unlikely for me, but tell me, isn't your dear Rived just like that?"
Khallian scoffed at the last part of the statement and eyed the sage darkly. "At least my brother regularly sends the signals unlike you, who checks on her distant relative only when catching the sickness of thoughtfulness." Firdauze stopped pacing about and glared at her intensely. She doesn't know if she should consider the statement as a mere comment or a deliberate insult. The wizard's expression was unyielding under such gaze. "Just don't compare yourself with him."
Firdauze bit her lip and closed her eyes to soothe herself from retaliating. Maybe talking with Khallian was not a good idea after all. The conversation is steering towards an argument, and it is something she doesn't want to happen. Khallian Darkhaven is deceptively frail and delicate. "Fine, high wizard. I should've known that your…loyalty outweighs the concerns of someone closer to your friend."
The high wizard simply smirked at the purple-haired woman. She knows better. Much, much better. "Closer to my friend? Concerns? I doubt that relationship."
"Vailtren! You're such a liability!"
Eliria looked over shoulder to see her wizard friend jogging, visibly tired, a few steps behind her. "Couldn't you be any faster? We're late, for goodness' sakes!"
"I'm a wizard, Eliria, not a hunter, thief or some other darn nippy person!" the wizard said raggedly, his breathing uneven. "My lungs are about to burst!"
"I'm the one who should complain, you spell blower! Why did you forget where'd you put your rod, of all possible times! We spent half-hour searching for that damn stick!" The sage knew that their friends might've gone inside the tower – waiting for them for thirty minutes in such swelteringly hot day is certainly out of their patience, especially Sennos'. Her legs are beginning to numb, and she had bumped into at least ten persons and did not even bothered to say an apology. "There's Clock Tower now! And quit whining about your numb feet, will you?"
The commanding structure loomed ahead of them, its familiar tolling ringing in their ears. The clock had struck an hour. 'An hour?' Eliria thought in confusion. Her eyes widened in realization. So…it means that they have searched the cursed arc wand for nearly an hour? "Vailtren, Elfean and the others would surely skin us!" she cried out in annoyance, looking over her shoulder to the diffident Vailtren. "They're surely inside now, and knowing how large the tower is, it's like spotting a single cogwheel inside a mass of mechanisms! Next time, will you improve your-"
Vailtren gasped as his sage friend collided into a wizard. Or at least to whom he supposed to be a wizard.
"Sorry, I mustn't been looking," the wizard said quickly, grinning apologetically.
Eliria stared at the person before her. She had shoulder length crimson hair that gave the impression her head is bleeding cascades of blood. Vivid bloody eyes stood out from her pale skin, and although they had a kind expression at the moment, they are enthralling and disturbing at the same time.
"Ah no…it's my fault." Eliria said hastily, shaking her head. "Sorry for the trouble…"
"No harm done, so it's fine," the wizard replied amiably. "I suppose you're here for the Clock Tower?"
Eliria abruptly recalled their friends – and their annoyed expressions at their tardiness. Looking behind the red-haired wizard, she noticed a small crowd of people by the entrance. Who the hell cares on what's the ruckus at the moment, the sage thought hastily, seizing her companion's arm and quickly dragging him towards the mobbed entrance. "Sorry again, but we're really in a hurry," she said, grinning sheepishly at the red-haired wizard, pushing Vailtren at the backs of the people.
"Wait for a second!" she called out concernedly. "Be careful, there's-!"
But the pair had wedged their way through the throng, and she found herself staring to the backs of the whispering mob. She thought of following them, but she shook her head. 'They won't let them inside, anyway.'
The knight silently counted the crystal clear bottles lined neatly along the counter. One…two…three…four. Four empty bottles, standing in a straight line, labels all facing the same direction – towards the door. It reminds her of knights facing to salute their commander. Of Prontera. Of the Army.
"Nice record." The young hunter behind the counter remarked lightly. From the moment the warrior stepped inside the spacious bar and until the existent time, he was the first and only person to ever address her. She did not seem to take it very warmly though. The only response hunter got was a jaded glare from her dark brown eyes.
"Easy, lady knight," the hunter said with a slight smile. Everyone inside the bar was apparently anxious of her. Worried eyes darted from her impassive fair face to her formidable armor, giving the final probing look at theclaymore by her side before turning their gaze away in fear of being caught. Simply judging from appearance alone, she looks capable of demolishing the whole establishment apart. Yet this slim and relaxed hunter never has a trace of fear dealing with her. He was talking at her as though they're acquaintances. "It was just out of amusement."
"Do I look amusing, hunter?" her voice was low and barely audible. It was mainly flat and uninterested, yet has a violent edge in it. Dark brown eyes looked intently at the hunter's unperturbed amber ones. Even her men get to cower at such scrutiny.
The hunter rested his arms on the shiny wooden counter, never shrinking against the knight's piercing russet gaze and instead looking blankly back. "Not your appearance, but the alcoholic tendency is." He looked amused and bored at the same time, his amber eyes sparkling like the Alberta champagne shelved tidily behind him. "Four bottles of Aldebaran whiskey in sixty minutes - our second runner up, I suppose. The current record is six bottles straight in half an hour, proudly held by a good blacksmith patron."
She did not answer back but merely took her eyes away from him. Unlike the other ones who promptly groveled at the slightest turn of her head, this hunter here isn't clearly one of them. He matches her cold, stony glares with mildly amused yet polite ones.
'He's quite special, I suppose,' she thought furtively.
People usually don't know the difference between her glare and a simple stare, yet he seems to know that she isn't truly angry. At least not yet.
The lenient hunter was about to continue his little talk when the bar's door unexpectedly opened with a sharp scrape. Everyone turned when a slightly annoyed female voice spoke.
"You have no idea how many bars I actually entered just to search for you, Iriathrina!"
The knight actually looked submissive for a moment before she replied. "This was the first bar I saw."
A red-haired young woman with equally vivid bloody eyes rolled her eyes as she approached the armored warrior. "Whatever, my lady knight. By the way, like I've said, Rived is staying. He just went home after wandering in the tower with me for a while. He'll return to Juno fairly soon though, and-"
"Let's go." Iriathrina slid from her seat and icily walked past her companion. The latter rolled her eyes again in a resigned manner and shrugging before following the knight out of the bar, muttering distinctively, "I don't really get why you accepted going here, when you're only going to get drunk with Aldebaran wine…"
"Some customer eh, Raille?" a patron said as the door snapped close. "I suppose that lady knight was quite a terror." The rest of the customers nodded their assent. "Mind you, she looks really brutal."
Raille smiled at the comment before sweeping the empty Aldebaran whiskey bottles off the counter. "Not really." She's probably just lonely.
A wickedly sharp dagger gleamed in the midnight moonlight before it darted through the still air. There was a sudden gasp as the blade went through the flimsy clothing and pierced a chest. Blood spurted out before a body promptly dropped to the floor, lifeless.
"Out of disgust, dear?"
A slim form emerged from the shadows, barely clothed in the cool night air, yet still maintaining an alluring grace. Soft viridian eyes showed a kind of dignified charm, the waist-length powder blue hair falling freely down her back accentuating her natural elegance.
"You could say that, yes."
The assassin gave the faintest trace of a smile behind her mask, standing insensitively over her hapless victim. The elderly sage's face still bore the distressed expression of someone meeting their most unexpected nightmare.
"Mind you, I could still remember the last thing he said," she said nonchalantly, her deep violet eyes surveying the dagger protruding from her prey with a trace of satisfaction. "It was like…you ingrate or something resembling that."
"I don't blame them," the blue-haired dancer responded, looking at the assassin. "But you're not exactly an ingrate, are you, Eliaris?"
Eliaris pulled down the mask covering her mouth, the skin tingling in the caress of the cool night breeze. Her chestnut-colored hair was tied in a simple ponytail, drifting gracefully with the wind. Like the dancer, she carries a certain air of charm and elegance, but it was seemingly concealed behind an ominous aura of an unpredictable assassin.
"Geffen already has too many magic users, sister dear," she answered coolly, gazing at the resplendent structures of the famed city of magic. "It won't hurt to take one, would it?"
"Even though the victim would be a kin?" the dancer slowly asked. Her sister could be so whimsical at times; her volatile moods are as predictable as the weather. A midnight visit isn't precisely very prudent for both of them – with Geffen's situation nowadays there are a lot of people who are still out in the streets or nevertheless awake.
The assassin unceremoniously stepped over the limp body of her 'uncle', never sparing even a mournful look. "Considerations might come into my mind." Eliaris casually emerged from the shadowy alley, giving a quick glance at the empty streets. "It is just that he would merrily prance to our dear father to report the big news that the prodigal daughter is back in Geffen, and would be a nice opportunity to shut her inside the house for eternity." Her intense amethyst eyes met the dancer's gentle viridian ones. "Our Uncle is just at the wrong place at the wrong time, Eloiris. Who wants to get imprisoned in that hellhole and live with an old buffoon obsessed with repute?"
Eloiris followed her sister into the moonlit street, feeling the wind embracing her mildly tanned and flawless skin. Looking at her sister, it feels like looking into a mirror. Both are very much alike – from height to the contours of the face down to the skin color. Only their hair and eyes physically distinguish them from each other, but she knows that they are as different as fire and water when it concerns disposition.
"Fine, so Geffen is currently a drag for both of us." The dancer said, leaning at a lamppost and folding her arms. "But then…things are making a bit of a change."
"And I bet Dad doesn't want to get involved." Eliaris replied with a trace of derision. "I think I heard those insurgency talks earlier…like, in every corner…"
"And you know what that means don't you?" Eloiris said perceptively. "A city in insurgency beckons an army in fury."
Eliaris smirked at Eloiris' words. After all, she's not the only 'prodigal daughter' in the family.
"I think we should schedule a reunion then…"
Vailtren didn't know what to do when he saw them. It was totally unexpected. Never in his imagination or ill-wishes would he ever dare. But looking at the bloodied and mangled bodies, mutilated and torn to the point of indescribable, the wizard knew that it was his worst nightmare.
"A couple found them in one of the more secluded spots," a guard informed them offhandedly. "Flocked with alarms and skeletons…they said they were about…fifteen of them? I don't trust the number much though – it's enough to kill, but too much for a weirdly dressed wizard and a dark armored knight to dispose of without any other people."
Eliria quickly broke down on his shoulder as soon as she recognized the unrecognizable. He had never seen her cry in such an upset manner. He himself could feel the sorrow welling in his chest, but it was more of fear gripping him. For years, the Clock Tower had taken lives, but his friends'…Vailtren closed his eyes as he gazed their gashed faces, still manifesting the extreme terror they faced. His knees are almost giving in.
"W-where's the knight and the wizard?" he shakily asked at the guard, who was looking at the bodies sympathetically. At least they took the pains for taking their friends' remains back, no matter how unbelievable it may seem. Vailtren doesn't care for the moment how could a wizard and a knight dispatch a horde of alarms single-handedly.
"Before we know it, they're gone, like they've quietly evaporated or something," The guard answered perplexedly, scratching his scraggly head. "The wizard's quite a looker and the knight's looks pretty formidable, so they're hard to miss. Both of them had red hair and red eyes…it looks really distinctive…"
An image of an unusually dressed female wizard with scarlet hair and blood-red eyes and apologizing at them cordially raced in his memory. He glanced back at the murmuring and pitying crowds, hoping to catch a glimpse of her again, but not a strand of her plain red hair was apparent. The bright scarlet eyes were not among the condolatory ones staring and ogling at them.
"We missed her…" he muttered under his breath, barely audible through Eliria's devastated sobs. "That wizard…"
Rived Darkhaven watched as the crowd slowly dispersed and the Aldebaran guards carried the bodies off on stretchers. A sage and a wizard followed them, the former weeping her heart out while the latter tried to soothe her. His deep red eyes looked away from the couple as a veiled memory raced past his mind. Now is not the time to reminisce.
He was supposed to go alone, just like what he wants, but his sister Khallian demanded to go with him. He doesn't mind, anyway – his demeanor doesn't change whether he has a companion or not. She was only there to meet Firdauze Sarazen, and did nothing more than a slight delay. The conversation was 'private' and the lord knight wasn't interested to nose around, so what he did was to maintain some distance and devoted his time in hacking alarms and clocks apart. Besides, that was the reason he was there. The Clock Tower was only a pastime.
Rived could tell that the meeting didn't went very well for his sister. She emerged from the shadows looking slightly miffed, her usually relaxed crimson eyes in a frown. She abruptly suggested blasting alarms and skeletons to smithereens to palliate her irritation. He did not made any move to calm her himself – pacifying her could only make matters worse and it wasn't his forte anyway. He let the high wizard blast everything and anything moving in sight and soon they were surrounded with burning debris of alarms, frozen bones and deep-fried clocks. It had no effect for Rived other than lessen the beings for him to dice apart, which is quite disappointing for him, but as an 'understanding' brother he let it pass.
The 'magic spree' continued to rage on, walking at random paths and squeezing themselves between gigantic cogwheels and mechanisms that threatened to crush them when they moved. It seemed like his younger sister's temper would last until their return to the outside world, but when he heard a sharp gasp from her, he knew that something took her mind off the irritation. It transpired that a horde of alarms massacred a party of three – a grisly picture that effectively scared the annoyance off her and brought back her senses. She immediately nagged him to bring the bodies out, since it would be a little too unsightly and she was absolutely touched. Rived did not find the energy to argue with her, and in the end he was doing a miraculous corporal work of mercy. It didn't bother him much, but it did stain his dark armor with blood. It looked like he was the one who killed them…
'Be a Darkhaven for once…'
The lord knight smirked as he recalled her words. He may be 'not' one of them, but he knows them very well. Mercy isn't exactly a virtue of a Darkhaven.
The people began to pour inside again, disregarding the grim warning that Clock Tower's next victim could be them.
To Tom Valor: Thanks a million! The revamped versions of the story were…on the other computer sighs and not on the one I'm using to type this. I'll get it again though. You're the best.
Okay, so what I said to be a revamp for chapter 1 became a revamp for the whole thing. I now had a quite solid plot in mind with a huge lineup of characters – and my problem is that they're just TOO many! Even my best pal proofreader Angelica is saying so. Argh. I hope this is at least better than the earlier prologue! It's a bit more confusing with the characters, I know, but they're quite vital in the story! I just couldn't think of other characters to squish in the prologue. And I'm VERY sorry for the update! I know it's been a long time, but I AM busy. I could also retype this for grammar reasons…
