Hey people. I actually DO have fans! (wipes eyes with Kleenex, sniffles.) THANK YOU! (Sniffle.) Merry Christmas to all of you.
I know this story is supposed to be all about Siegfried/Ivy, but it's grown past that. This is my retelling of SC 2, a great game which simply has too much in it not to make a fanfic from. However, a return to Siegfried and Ivy is initiated this chapter.
Oh well. Enough of that. It's...
"SHOWTIME!"
Chapter 4
Bolt and Shard
Streets of London, near Scotland Yard. Late morning.
Siegfried turned to Ivy. Countless hordes of people rushed by him, merchants hawked their wares above the noise of the crowd, a fire-eater displayed immense gastric strength on a box nearby for the joy of the crowds (and for his own profit)... and Siegfried was very, very confused.
[ I hate cities,] he thought grumpily, utterly bewildered by the sheer mass of human life here. He had been raised in Germany, where forests and small villages were still the rule, and compared to the size of London they were no more than ant hills. More people lived in London than he had known his entire life. He was hoping Ivy knew where Scotland Yard was. He'd been there before, when he'd been looking for bounties, but he'd had a guide then. Now, he was as lost as a babe in the woods. His face was a study case of what happens when a small town man enters a big city- huge eyes and all.
Ivy, however, felt no such disorientation. Having been raised in London, she actually enjoyed the size of it. Walking in London, living in London, was like sitting on the engine of an enormous train- you could *feel* the power here, the sense of greatness and growth. She loved the sights and sounds of it. In contrast, forests and plains scared her (although she'd never admit it to anyone- pride and all that) because they were so empty and devoid of life to her. She may have lived a solitary life, but the presence of all that humanity was comforting to her nonetheless.
Siegfried, noting the proud look in her eyes and the tilt of her chin, said, " I assume you know where we're going? Because I don't."
Ivy looked at him and smiled. " Yes. Follow me."
Siegfried followed behind Ivy, noting how tall she was. She was about his size, although not as broad as him. Her relative slimness made her seem taller. Her hair was recovering from the blow Thok'ti had given her, but it was still rather thin. He saw scar marks shaped like a hand and shivered. Thok'ti had been horrendous.
His eyes traveled down her back. Her sword hung in a scabbard from her right shoulder, and at the moment the damn thing (as Siegfried always thought of the Snake Sword) was still. He wondered if it ever just leaped out of it's scabbard and tried to kill people. He wouldn't have doubted it a bit.
His eyes moving down the scabbard, they stopped at Ivy's behind. The way Ivy's outfit was made, he could see a great deal of it. Out of respect for Ivy, he looked up quickly... and then found himself going right back to it. It was quite nice. He wondered what it would be like to feel of it, right before...
[ Siegfried,] he told himself, forcing his gaze upwards, [ don't even THINK about it. You just met her. She'd cut you up and feed you to that damn sword. So DON'T LOOK.]
Through dint of sheer effort, he kept his gaze on the back of Ivy's head. Unfortunately for him, someone else was too.
Someone who happened to be behind a crossbow.
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" The Raving Fool", tavern near London's docks. Same time.
Kilik got up, groaning with effort. He'd overslept again. His nightly searches for Maxi were taking their toll on him. He almost never slept past dawn, and even then he was usually up before the sun had finished rising. He rolled over and picked up the Kali-Yuga. Walking out of his "room" (that moniker was a joke; it was barely a closet), he paid the innkeeper and headed out into the streets of London, blinking at the daylight. Although he'd lived in a monastery, his time on The Journey had brought him to many cities. He was used to the hustle and bustle of city life. He set off, not really going anywhere, just walking along aimlessly. His seemingly random travels took him to a small square nearby, where something very bad was about to happen.
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City Square in London, five minutes later.
Siegfried and Ivy pushed through the crowd and came out onto a relatively open space in the middle of a square. Nearby, an orange vendor was using the slogan " Avoid sailor's plague! Eat my oranges!" and a cloth vendor was advertising her wares as " The finest tailor-made clothes in all of London! Soft as silk without the cost!" One look was enough to convince Siegfried otherwise. The clothes looked tougher than the armor he wore.
Ivy turned to him, and was about to say something when someone in the crowd (and Siegfried thought he knew that voice; where had he heard it before?) yelled "Look out! Assassin!"
Siegfried whirled towards the voice and saw a man in red clothes running towards him and Ivy. The man held a long scarlet staff in his right hand, and a diamond pendant hung on his neck. His left hand was stretched out, pointing towards something. Siegfried followed his finger and looked in the second-floor window of a condemned building. And there, barely visible from the street, in the shadow of the window, he saw something gleam. With no time to explain, he grabbed Ivy and jerked her down. He ended up on top of her, in a jumble of arms and legs. He heard the distinctive sound of a crossbow twanging, and then a buzzing sound passed over his head. A crossbow bolt, quivering from the impact, was stuck in the ground not two feet behind him. Rolling off Ivy, he pulled Requiem off his back and ran towards the condemned building's stony-gray walls. The would-be assassin, seeing his shot miss, drew back from the window. Siegfried noted that it was the only window not covered by boards, a glaring black eye on the crumbled stone facade. Someone had been planning this.
The man who'd yelled the warning out caught up with him near the door of the building. Siegfried said, as they ran towards the barricaded door, " Thanks for the warning. What's your name?"
Kilik, running beside him, said, " Kilik. Yours?"
Siegfried didn't replly immediately. Memory rushed back to him, memory of a burning landscape and laughter in the dark...
He shrugged them aside and said, " Siegfried."
There wasn't time to say more. At that point, both warriors had reached the door. Siegfried saw the boards, put his shoulder forward, and busted right through. He wasn't scratched because of his armor, but already his shoulder was raising an angry cry. It didn't enjoy being used as a battering ram.
Kilik ran in behind him. They both gazed around. This had apparently been an inn at some point, a fancy one at that. A large desk with a traveler's log sat before them, and a crumbled staircase sat nearby, majesty in decay. The halls and doors they could see were all in the same condition. Everything was old... except the rope leading down from the upper floor. It was made of hemp and looked very new. It led to a landing on the second floor.
Siegfried looked at Kilik and said, " Wanna bet that's his?"
Kilik nodded. Ivy came in right behind them, the Snake Sword out. A crowd was gathering behind them, with the eternal fascination city people have with such things. The trio ignored them.
Ivy said, " What was that?" Her voice was slightly muffled. A thin line of blood dribbled out the side of her mouth. She spat on the floor, and a dash of crimson appeared amidst the dirt.
Kilik, looking around for the assassin, said, " An assassin. One of the Scarabs, I think."
Siegfried nodded. He knew of the Scarabs, the thieves from the Middle East. Fygul Cestemus, a strange order that he'd had dealings with as Nightmare, was quite fond of them. They had an odd habit of wrapping brown cloth around their heads. " What the hell are they doing here? And why were they after us?"
" After me," Ivy corrected him, spitting on the ground again. " That shot was aimed at me."
Kilik nodded. " Yes, I thought he was aiming at you... are you bleeding?"
" What the hell does it look like? Yes, I'm bleeding." She spat on the ground and used her fingers to try and wipe away the thin line of blood on her face. " Bit my tongue when Siegfried knocked me down."
Siegfried shrugged. " Sorry about that..."
She shook her head. " That's all right. You saved my life. A little pain's worth it." Turning to Kilik, she said, " And thanks to you too. Who are you?"
" Kilik."
" Ivy. Good to meet you. Now let's get him and find out why he tried to kill me."
She walked forward, teeth bared. Siegfried and Kilik followed. As they neared the rope, Siegfried said, " Ivy, he could be waiting..."
" Shhh," was her reply. She indicated for them to stop, and then drew something from her belt. It was a small vial of grey fluid. Kilik looked at Siegfried, who merely gestured to be quiet. From what he'd seen of Ivy's potions, he thought the assassin was going to get one hell of a surprise.
Ivy walked forward until she was barely under the rope, then made a "come on" gesture. They walked forward as silently as they could, Kilik having far less trouble than Siegfried did (it was very hard to be quiet in plate armor). When they got to the rope, Ivy tossed the vial in the air and snapped the Snake Sword at it. The long, bladed links of the whip struck the vial and shattered it. As the liquid inside hit the air, it suddenly changed into a cloud of thick smoke. They heard someone shout, and then Ivy was yelling.
" Move it!" she yelled, grabbing the rope and climbing as fast as she could, her sword clenched between her teeth. Siegfried followed her, reluctantly sheathing Requiem so he could climb. He closed his eyes as he entered the smoke.
Kilik, doubting the rope could hold much more weight, looked for an alternate way up. He looked at the ruined staircase and had an idea. He ran along the floor towards the center of the spiraling staircase, and planted his staff firmly on the floor. Swinging himself up on his staff, he ran along the outside of the bannister, turning as he went. He leaped as he reached the end of Kali-Yuga's reach and landed on the second floor just as Siegfried reached the top.
Siegfried was busy trying to clamber onto the landing from the rope, not the easiest feat in armor. Turning his head to look at the monk from his rather ignoble hanging position, he said, " Well, since you're feeling so energetic, help me up!"
Kilik grabbed his hand and pulled him up. Siegfried hefted a leg up and rolled onto the landing. Sitting up, he looked over towards the open window he'd seen from outside- and the dead man there. Ivy was looking at the man critically, almost as if suspecting him of shamming his death. From what Siegfried could see, the man was most honestly dead. He'd stabbed himself with a scimitar, driving it into his heart and killing himself. Blood was still coming out, and the man's body twitched. His right hand lay around the hilt of his sword, while the left lay on the ground, clenched tightly.
" He must have done it as soon as he saw the smoke," Ivy said. Next to the corpse, the crossbow that almost killed her lay where he had dropped it after firing. She kicked it. " Damn. I hate it when they do this."
Siegfried sighed. " It's custom. They kill themselves if they fail their mission."
" Any idea why they were after you?" Kilik said. " The Scarabs usually go after big targets, like kings or queens. Why would they want you dead?" He looked down at the floor, frowning, as he thought about it.
And then Siegfried heard it. A beating, rushing madness. Kilik's head snapped up, and Ivy's eyes widened as they heard it too (although nowhere near as loud as Siegfried did). The echoes of thousands screaming. Power throbbing like an endless heartbeat. It was coming from the assassin's left hand.
Kilik reached down with numb fingers. And out of the assassin's clenched fist, he pulled out a shard of the Soul Edge. It glowed crimson, and the eye upon it seemed to laugh as it glared at them.
" Oh shit," Siegfried said.
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Chili-san, Lee Dynasty Korea. Three days before. Near midnight.
Yunsung sat in his room and gazed at his reflection in the White Storm. The candlelight played over the blade and cast shadows all about the room. Seung Mina had given it to him, and as much as he hated her, he guessed he owed it to her for giving it to him. Of course, she was just doing it as a joke, one of the constant games she was playing with him... but he intended this joke to be her last.
[ Damn you,] he thought. [ Damn you, Seung Mina.]
His room was sparse and bare (if he had been European, it would have been called "Spartan"). It consisted of a bed on the left side of the room, a chest for clothes on the right, and a rack for his weapons at the foot of the bed. It's walls had no medals, no awards hanging on them, even though Yunsung had won many in his time at the dojo. Though Yunsung would have ignored anyone who suggested it, the room reflected his personality. Yunsung had removed everything from himself that was not necessary for one thing: victory. All he wished was to be the greatest warrior. And to do that, he would give all he had.
A single award hung from the walls, one given by the master of the dojo himself. A gold amulet shaped like a sword, it hung from the wall next to his bed. Upon entering the room, it was the first thing one saw. He was proud of it, although not obnoxiously so. It was also the single award he had that Seung Mina had never gotten. When he had won it, she'd punched his shoulder and said " Pretty good kid." One of the few times she hadn't ridiculed him.
He sat there and felt the old anger rise up again. He hated her. It was as simple as that. Or so he thought when he first felt the anger, when it hadn't proceeded to the point where he could think clearer. At that point he'd realize it was something more than just that.
He sat there, holding the White Storm in one hand (a gift from Seung Mina that would have gotten him kicked out of the dojo and thrown into a dungeon faster than he could blink) and looking at nothing. His face was a study in concentration. He could feel the effects of his anger, the boiling rage that washed over him. But unlike so many whose thoughts became muddled, his became more clear. He thought best when he was mad.
As it cleared his mind, he thought through the anger. He hated Seung Mina because she always taunted and mocked him, yes. But it was more than that. Her father was Seung Han Myong, the hero of Korea. He had been granted the status of nobility for his part in the Soul Edge battles. And that placed him and his daughter above normal people, above peasants and soldiers like Yunsung. Yet she always pretended they were friends. As if she didn't know that on a whim, she could have Yunsung beheaded. As if she thought they were equals. The thought entered his head that the sudden change in status hadn't really gotten very far in her mind, then dismissed it. No. She reminded him of her status every day. It had gotten very far in her mind. Very far indeed.
There was also the fact that she was beautiful. Yunsung, like pretty much every male in the dojo, had gotten a crush on her almost instantly. Yunsung had driven his below the surface, but he knew that Seung Mina knew about it. Why else would she flirt and tease him? He hated himself for wanting her, but hated her more for taunting him about it. She was twenty-three, five years older than Yunsung. Even if she had been a peasant or a soldier, she would have been too old for him. But she kept at it. He never returned her advances or teases, and at all times tried to keep a straight face. He would not play her game.
And one thing more. He had a sword from her, the first thing she'd ever given him. Every day he took it out from it's hiding place under the bed and stared at it. Stared at the words written on the hilt. Words that said, " For a child." Words that infuriated him, that made the black hate in his heart grow deeper.
He gazed in the White Storm. What he saw there was more or less what he expected. It neither surprised nor angered him.
In it, he saw two scenarios, separated by the blood groove cut in the sword. On one side, he saw himself married to Seung Mina. He saw her acknowledging him, viewing him as a man and not a boy. He saw Seung Han Myong, his childhood hero and now-rival, fighting him in an honorable duel. He saw himself best Myong, defeating Korea's hero. He saw him helping his father-in-law up from the ground of the Pheonix arena. He saw himself acknowledged by the King himself. He saw a long life of honorable battles, fighting for Korea.
He thought of this as the dream of his childish side. A side of him to be ignored and forgotten.
On the other side, the one on his right, he saw something very different. He saw Seung Mina waking up to find him over her. Her wrists and ankles bound to the bed. He saw her struggling as he raised his sword and buried it in her heart, her last gasps for air flecked with blood. He did not want to rape her; rape was a crime for weaklings. Death was what he wanted. He saw himself fight Seung Han Myong, besting him. But instead of helping him up, he saw himself cut his head off. He saw himself become a monster, a nightmare warrior feared by all.
More and more, he preferred this side of the sword.
He shook his head. He could not do it. He lacked the power. He didn't think he could defeat Seung Han Myong yet. And part of him still wanted to be recognized by Seung Mina. At least before he killed her, anyway.
He stood up. What he needed was the Sword of Salvation. The sword Seung Han Myong had never found. With it, he would prove his worth to them all. And with it, he would slay them both. He would kill Han Myong first. He wanted Seung Mina to suffer.
But would he kill them?
He shook his head. He would find out when he had the sword. He would find out then, and only then.
And so, his heart a battleground between good and evil, he packed up his few supplies and headed out. He easily passed the guards and walls on his way towards his new destination: Ayutthaya.
- Merry Christmas everyone! Happy holidays to all of you.
I know this story is supposed to be all about Siegfried/Ivy, but it's grown past that. This is my retelling of SC 2, a great game which simply has too much in it not to make a fanfic from. However, a return to Siegfried and Ivy is initiated this chapter.
Oh well. Enough of that. It's...
"SHOWTIME!"
Chapter 4
Bolt and Shard
Streets of London, near Scotland Yard. Late morning.
Siegfried turned to Ivy. Countless hordes of people rushed by him, merchants hawked their wares above the noise of the crowd, a fire-eater displayed immense gastric strength on a box nearby for the joy of the crowds (and for his own profit)... and Siegfried was very, very confused.
[ I hate cities,] he thought grumpily, utterly bewildered by the sheer mass of human life here. He had been raised in Germany, where forests and small villages were still the rule, and compared to the size of London they were no more than ant hills. More people lived in London than he had known his entire life. He was hoping Ivy knew where Scotland Yard was. He'd been there before, when he'd been looking for bounties, but he'd had a guide then. Now, he was as lost as a babe in the woods. His face was a study case of what happens when a small town man enters a big city- huge eyes and all.
Ivy, however, felt no such disorientation. Having been raised in London, she actually enjoyed the size of it. Walking in London, living in London, was like sitting on the engine of an enormous train- you could *feel* the power here, the sense of greatness and growth. She loved the sights and sounds of it. In contrast, forests and plains scared her (although she'd never admit it to anyone- pride and all that) because they were so empty and devoid of life to her. She may have lived a solitary life, but the presence of all that humanity was comforting to her nonetheless.
Siegfried, noting the proud look in her eyes and the tilt of her chin, said, " I assume you know where we're going? Because I don't."
Ivy looked at him and smiled. " Yes. Follow me."
Siegfried followed behind Ivy, noting how tall she was. She was about his size, although not as broad as him. Her relative slimness made her seem taller. Her hair was recovering from the blow Thok'ti had given her, but it was still rather thin. He saw scar marks shaped like a hand and shivered. Thok'ti had been horrendous.
His eyes traveled down her back. Her sword hung in a scabbard from her right shoulder, and at the moment the damn thing (as Siegfried always thought of the Snake Sword) was still. He wondered if it ever just leaped out of it's scabbard and tried to kill people. He wouldn't have doubted it a bit.
His eyes moving down the scabbard, they stopped at Ivy's behind. The way Ivy's outfit was made, he could see a great deal of it. Out of respect for Ivy, he looked up quickly... and then found himself going right back to it. It was quite nice. He wondered what it would be like to feel of it, right before...
[ Siegfried,] he told himself, forcing his gaze upwards, [ don't even THINK about it. You just met her. She'd cut you up and feed you to that damn sword. So DON'T LOOK.]
Through dint of sheer effort, he kept his gaze on the back of Ivy's head. Unfortunately for him, someone else was too.
Someone who happened to be behind a crossbow.
************************************************************************
" The Raving Fool", tavern near London's docks. Same time.
Kilik got up, groaning with effort. He'd overslept again. His nightly searches for Maxi were taking their toll on him. He almost never slept past dawn, and even then he was usually up before the sun had finished rising. He rolled over and picked up the Kali-Yuga. Walking out of his "room" (that moniker was a joke; it was barely a closet), he paid the innkeeper and headed out into the streets of London, blinking at the daylight. Although he'd lived in a monastery, his time on The Journey had brought him to many cities. He was used to the hustle and bustle of city life. He set off, not really going anywhere, just walking along aimlessly. His seemingly random travels took him to a small square nearby, where something very bad was about to happen.
************************************************************************
City Square in London, five minutes later.
Siegfried and Ivy pushed through the crowd and came out onto a relatively open space in the middle of a square. Nearby, an orange vendor was using the slogan " Avoid sailor's plague! Eat my oranges!" and a cloth vendor was advertising her wares as " The finest tailor-made clothes in all of London! Soft as silk without the cost!" One look was enough to convince Siegfried otherwise. The clothes looked tougher than the armor he wore.
Ivy turned to him, and was about to say something when someone in the crowd (and Siegfried thought he knew that voice; where had he heard it before?) yelled "Look out! Assassin!"
Siegfried whirled towards the voice and saw a man in red clothes running towards him and Ivy. The man held a long scarlet staff in his right hand, and a diamond pendant hung on his neck. His left hand was stretched out, pointing towards something. Siegfried followed his finger and looked in the second-floor window of a condemned building. And there, barely visible from the street, in the shadow of the window, he saw something gleam. With no time to explain, he grabbed Ivy and jerked her down. He ended up on top of her, in a jumble of arms and legs. He heard the distinctive sound of a crossbow twanging, and then a buzzing sound passed over his head. A crossbow bolt, quivering from the impact, was stuck in the ground not two feet behind him. Rolling off Ivy, he pulled Requiem off his back and ran towards the condemned building's stony-gray walls. The would-be assassin, seeing his shot miss, drew back from the window. Siegfried noted that it was the only window not covered by boards, a glaring black eye on the crumbled stone facade. Someone had been planning this.
The man who'd yelled the warning out caught up with him near the door of the building. Siegfried said, as they ran towards the barricaded door, " Thanks for the warning. What's your name?"
Kilik, running beside him, said, " Kilik. Yours?"
Siegfried didn't replly immediately. Memory rushed back to him, memory of a burning landscape and laughter in the dark...
He shrugged them aside and said, " Siegfried."
There wasn't time to say more. At that point, both warriors had reached the door. Siegfried saw the boards, put his shoulder forward, and busted right through. He wasn't scratched because of his armor, but already his shoulder was raising an angry cry. It didn't enjoy being used as a battering ram.
Kilik ran in behind him. They both gazed around. This had apparently been an inn at some point, a fancy one at that. A large desk with a traveler's log sat before them, and a crumbled staircase sat nearby, majesty in decay. The halls and doors they could see were all in the same condition. Everything was old... except the rope leading down from the upper floor. It was made of hemp and looked very new. It led to a landing on the second floor.
Siegfried looked at Kilik and said, " Wanna bet that's his?"
Kilik nodded. Ivy came in right behind them, the Snake Sword out. A crowd was gathering behind them, with the eternal fascination city people have with such things. The trio ignored them.
Ivy said, " What was that?" Her voice was slightly muffled. A thin line of blood dribbled out the side of her mouth. She spat on the floor, and a dash of crimson appeared amidst the dirt.
Kilik, looking around for the assassin, said, " An assassin. One of the Scarabs, I think."
Siegfried nodded. He knew of the Scarabs, the thieves from the Middle East. Fygul Cestemus, a strange order that he'd had dealings with as Nightmare, was quite fond of them. They had an odd habit of wrapping brown cloth around their heads. " What the hell are they doing here? And why were they after us?"
" After me," Ivy corrected him, spitting on the ground again. " That shot was aimed at me."
Kilik nodded. " Yes, I thought he was aiming at you... are you bleeding?"
" What the hell does it look like? Yes, I'm bleeding." She spat on the ground and used her fingers to try and wipe away the thin line of blood on her face. " Bit my tongue when Siegfried knocked me down."
Siegfried shrugged. " Sorry about that..."
She shook her head. " That's all right. You saved my life. A little pain's worth it." Turning to Kilik, she said, " And thanks to you too. Who are you?"
" Kilik."
" Ivy. Good to meet you. Now let's get him and find out why he tried to kill me."
She walked forward, teeth bared. Siegfried and Kilik followed. As they neared the rope, Siegfried said, " Ivy, he could be waiting..."
" Shhh," was her reply. She indicated for them to stop, and then drew something from her belt. It was a small vial of grey fluid. Kilik looked at Siegfried, who merely gestured to be quiet. From what he'd seen of Ivy's potions, he thought the assassin was going to get one hell of a surprise.
Ivy walked forward until she was barely under the rope, then made a "come on" gesture. They walked forward as silently as they could, Kilik having far less trouble than Siegfried did (it was very hard to be quiet in plate armor). When they got to the rope, Ivy tossed the vial in the air and snapped the Snake Sword at it. The long, bladed links of the whip struck the vial and shattered it. As the liquid inside hit the air, it suddenly changed into a cloud of thick smoke. They heard someone shout, and then Ivy was yelling.
" Move it!" she yelled, grabbing the rope and climbing as fast as she could, her sword clenched between her teeth. Siegfried followed her, reluctantly sheathing Requiem so he could climb. He closed his eyes as he entered the smoke.
Kilik, doubting the rope could hold much more weight, looked for an alternate way up. He looked at the ruined staircase and had an idea. He ran along the floor towards the center of the spiraling staircase, and planted his staff firmly on the floor. Swinging himself up on his staff, he ran along the outside of the bannister, turning as he went. He leaped as he reached the end of Kali-Yuga's reach and landed on the second floor just as Siegfried reached the top.
Siegfried was busy trying to clamber onto the landing from the rope, not the easiest feat in armor. Turning his head to look at the monk from his rather ignoble hanging position, he said, " Well, since you're feeling so energetic, help me up!"
Kilik grabbed his hand and pulled him up. Siegfried hefted a leg up and rolled onto the landing. Sitting up, he looked over towards the open window he'd seen from outside- and the dead man there. Ivy was looking at the man critically, almost as if suspecting him of shamming his death. From what Siegfried could see, the man was most honestly dead. He'd stabbed himself with a scimitar, driving it into his heart and killing himself. Blood was still coming out, and the man's body twitched. His right hand lay around the hilt of his sword, while the left lay on the ground, clenched tightly.
" He must have done it as soon as he saw the smoke," Ivy said. Next to the corpse, the crossbow that almost killed her lay where he had dropped it after firing. She kicked it. " Damn. I hate it when they do this."
Siegfried sighed. " It's custom. They kill themselves if they fail their mission."
" Any idea why they were after you?" Kilik said. " The Scarabs usually go after big targets, like kings or queens. Why would they want you dead?" He looked down at the floor, frowning, as he thought about it.
And then Siegfried heard it. A beating, rushing madness. Kilik's head snapped up, and Ivy's eyes widened as they heard it too (although nowhere near as loud as Siegfried did). The echoes of thousands screaming. Power throbbing like an endless heartbeat. It was coming from the assassin's left hand.
Kilik reached down with numb fingers. And out of the assassin's clenched fist, he pulled out a shard of the Soul Edge. It glowed crimson, and the eye upon it seemed to laugh as it glared at them.
" Oh shit," Siegfried said.
************************************************************************
Chili-san, Lee Dynasty Korea. Three days before. Near midnight.
Yunsung sat in his room and gazed at his reflection in the White Storm. The candlelight played over the blade and cast shadows all about the room. Seung Mina had given it to him, and as much as he hated her, he guessed he owed it to her for giving it to him. Of course, she was just doing it as a joke, one of the constant games she was playing with him... but he intended this joke to be her last.
[ Damn you,] he thought. [ Damn you, Seung Mina.]
His room was sparse and bare (if he had been European, it would have been called "Spartan"). It consisted of a bed on the left side of the room, a chest for clothes on the right, and a rack for his weapons at the foot of the bed. It's walls had no medals, no awards hanging on them, even though Yunsung had won many in his time at the dojo. Though Yunsung would have ignored anyone who suggested it, the room reflected his personality. Yunsung had removed everything from himself that was not necessary for one thing: victory. All he wished was to be the greatest warrior. And to do that, he would give all he had.
A single award hung from the walls, one given by the master of the dojo himself. A gold amulet shaped like a sword, it hung from the wall next to his bed. Upon entering the room, it was the first thing one saw. He was proud of it, although not obnoxiously so. It was also the single award he had that Seung Mina had never gotten. When he had won it, she'd punched his shoulder and said " Pretty good kid." One of the few times she hadn't ridiculed him.
He sat there and felt the old anger rise up again. He hated her. It was as simple as that. Or so he thought when he first felt the anger, when it hadn't proceeded to the point where he could think clearer. At that point he'd realize it was something more than just that.
He sat there, holding the White Storm in one hand (a gift from Seung Mina that would have gotten him kicked out of the dojo and thrown into a dungeon faster than he could blink) and looking at nothing. His face was a study in concentration. He could feel the effects of his anger, the boiling rage that washed over him. But unlike so many whose thoughts became muddled, his became more clear. He thought best when he was mad.
As it cleared his mind, he thought through the anger. He hated Seung Mina because she always taunted and mocked him, yes. But it was more than that. Her father was Seung Han Myong, the hero of Korea. He had been granted the status of nobility for his part in the Soul Edge battles. And that placed him and his daughter above normal people, above peasants and soldiers like Yunsung. Yet she always pretended they were friends. As if she didn't know that on a whim, she could have Yunsung beheaded. As if she thought they were equals. The thought entered his head that the sudden change in status hadn't really gotten very far in her mind, then dismissed it. No. She reminded him of her status every day. It had gotten very far in her mind. Very far indeed.
There was also the fact that she was beautiful. Yunsung, like pretty much every male in the dojo, had gotten a crush on her almost instantly. Yunsung had driven his below the surface, but he knew that Seung Mina knew about it. Why else would she flirt and tease him? He hated himself for wanting her, but hated her more for taunting him about it. She was twenty-three, five years older than Yunsung. Even if she had been a peasant or a soldier, she would have been too old for him. But she kept at it. He never returned her advances or teases, and at all times tried to keep a straight face. He would not play her game.
And one thing more. He had a sword from her, the first thing she'd ever given him. Every day he took it out from it's hiding place under the bed and stared at it. Stared at the words written on the hilt. Words that said, " For a child." Words that infuriated him, that made the black hate in his heart grow deeper.
He gazed in the White Storm. What he saw there was more or less what he expected. It neither surprised nor angered him.
In it, he saw two scenarios, separated by the blood groove cut in the sword. On one side, he saw himself married to Seung Mina. He saw her acknowledging him, viewing him as a man and not a boy. He saw Seung Han Myong, his childhood hero and now-rival, fighting him in an honorable duel. He saw himself best Myong, defeating Korea's hero. He saw him helping his father-in-law up from the ground of the Pheonix arena. He saw himself acknowledged by the King himself. He saw a long life of honorable battles, fighting for Korea.
He thought of this as the dream of his childish side. A side of him to be ignored and forgotten.
On the other side, the one on his right, he saw something very different. He saw Seung Mina waking up to find him over her. Her wrists and ankles bound to the bed. He saw her struggling as he raised his sword and buried it in her heart, her last gasps for air flecked with blood. He did not want to rape her; rape was a crime for weaklings. Death was what he wanted. He saw himself fight Seung Han Myong, besting him. But instead of helping him up, he saw himself cut his head off. He saw himself become a monster, a nightmare warrior feared by all.
More and more, he preferred this side of the sword.
He shook his head. He could not do it. He lacked the power. He didn't think he could defeat Seung Han Myong yet. And part of him still wanted to be recognized by Seung Mina. At least before he killed her, anyway.
He stood up. What he needed was the Sword of Salvation. The sword Seung Han Myong had never found. With it, he would prove his worth to them all. And with it, he would slay them both. He would kill Han Myong first. He wanted Seung Mina to suffer.
But would he kill them?
He shook his head. He would find out when he had the sword. He would find out then, and only then.
And so, his heart a battleground between good and evil, he packed up his few supplies and headed out. He easily passed the guards and walls on his way towards his new destination: Ayutthaya.
- Merry Christmas everyone! Happy holidays to all of you.
