This story belongs to me and my creative mind. However, many 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...
:A Moment of Discord:
Chapter Six: Odds and ends
Macky grunted as he fell to the stone ground, arms sore from being dragged away from the central hall of the manor. He stood quickly to turn on his jailers, but the iron bar door slammed shut and clicked with a lock. He grabbed the bars and shook them, hardly able to elict a squeak from them.
"Eh heh. You're foolin' yourself, little man. Those bars will keep you 'ere a long time."
"Let me go and I'll forget you did this."
"Sorry, but orders is orders."
The northerner turned and walked away from the small cell, one of a few in the basement of the manor. His footsteps echoed along the walls, then disappeared as he closed the wood door to the surface. Darkness loomed in the basement, lit only by a tiny window and a few electric torches along the opposite wall. Macky pounded the bars, regretting it as his hands hurt.
"Bastards." He swore. The cell was barren save a rotten wood chair and a bucket for his toilet. Around him were barrels and crates, probably stores of foods in the tough winters months. He tested each iron bar, finding not a single weak one that might bend with the proper force. Taking up the chair, he swung it at the door and succeeded in shattering the wood to splinters and shards. He growled as a piece of wood stuck in his palm. Tugging it out, he winced and sucked at the wound.
"Well, this is just fuckin' great." He sat on the ground, taking a kerchief and tying it badly around his palm. He regretted the rash action. Luck would see that the cut got infected, and he suspected the jailers wouldn't go fetch a healer strictly for a prisoner.
He hoped they at least remembered to give him food and water.
> > >
The streets closest to the docks were the most lively, people filling any empty space with bodies or carts overflowing with goods to sell. The shouting of merchants to gain the attention of a customer was painful to Fedrich's ears, and he wished to see to the pirate's actions and leave quickly. Such noise wasn't going to help his hearing in the long run.
A voice yelled into his ear from close, and Fedrich looked to see who it was. Diamante spoke something again, but Fedrich shook his head to show he hadn't heard. Tugging his sleeve, he pointed up. Fedrich saw a building with a flat roof, and looking back to the elder knight, saw him trying to make a gesture to show the should go up there. He looked around, but saw no open door that led into the home. Diamante shook his head, then waved his arms around him to clear some space. In a heartbeat, he jumped up and landed on the roof. Fedrich grinned, then alerted the students and gave proper motions to do the same.
Up top, the sound was only a slight background noise. Fedrich rubbed his ears.
"How can a man get around in that ruckus?" Diamante asked in a huff. "You'd go deaf in a day!"
"Humans don't have hearing as advanced as ours. They probably don't think it's very loud." Perce replied. "My ears are still ringing."
"Well, now that we can talk, what's there to do?"
"Macky wanted us to check on the raiders, so we will." Fedrich pointed at the docks proper. "It isn't as crowded along the docks. We'll split up and check things out on our own. If you run into any trouble, get on the roofs and try to find me or anyone else. We'll meet at the Inn at noon. Everyone have a watch?"
They nodded.
"Good. Try to be casual. If you think you can, try to hear what the raiders are doing. Don't get on their ships, but just listen in."
"That'll be the day in this din." Winston growled.
"Quit it, boy." Diamante added. "Do as your ordered unless you want to forget about being a Dragon Knight."
"This is part of your training. If you can't handle something simple like this, how can you expect to be a Knight?" Fedrich continued, staring at the youth with the same angry glare. "Proper Knights don't question their commanders. Got it?"
Winston scowled, raising his hand in a salute. "Yes Sir."
"Then move out!" Fedrich ordered.
The students all jumped across rooftops, heading for the docks where they could get down without trampling someone. Fedrich made to go, but Diamante held him back. The elder knight looked bothered by something, his lips drawn tight.
"Something the matter between you and Winston?"
Fedrich crossed his arms casually. "He and I don't see eye to eye on certain things."
"Thing such as?"
"...Private things."
Diamante considered the words. "Alright, then. Just remember, you may be in command of this assignment, but they are my students and answer to me. Don't let that line blur any more than it needs to."
Fedrich nodded, and the elder Knight leapt away.
'He may be your student, Diamante, but if Winston crosses me like he's done, he won't get away with it so easily...'
Putting the resentment aside, he made a great leap across the street and to roofs beyond. Each pass left him suddenly crowded by humanity's roar, then silenced as he swiftly crossed across the artificial ground he tread. Several rooftops later, he bound into the air and into the great expanse of docks and piers at the seaside. Landing and crouched to soften the fall, he stood and looked around him. People stared in shock, paused in their routines. Fedrich tugged on his jacket to seat it comfortably on his shoulders, then began walking to the north as if it were no strange thing.
The cobblestone piers were filled with barrels, crates, and carts selling goods. People and animals equally mingled in the central path of the dock, some common beasts from the wilds and others as strange as the people who led them. Fedrich gazed curiously at horses as tall as a man, people with colorful clothes, and the sounds of many languages. Even the rare Burmecian was among the throng, all from the eastern Vube Desert.
'Not a surprise. The Cleyran tribes were always quicker to trade and travel...'
He looked at the ships at dock, many of them tall crafts that seemed a spider's web of nets, ropes, and sail. Small fishing boats were tucked between their larger brethren, seagulls swarming around them as fish were lugged from the holds. Atop the greatships men swung agilely between masts, setting knots and hauling goods from the deep recesses of the wooden hull. Flags of several nations flew proudly, especially the red dyed banners interrupted by three black vertical bars. These, he knew, were the pirate's ships.
He continued along the dock, taking a leisurely pace as he admired the rush of trade between city-folks and the visitors from across the oceans. Such great commerce he was used to, born to it in Burmecia and admiring of within Lindblum. This, however, felt quite different than normal bartering. Here was the lifeblood of many people, of cities all across Gaia. Intermingled with the salty air, he felt truly at the apex of the interaction between the people of the world.
"'Ey, now!" A great shoulder buffered him, knocking him a step back. Fedrich looked to see who jostled him, and was mildly surprised to be looking at a shoulder level with his eyes. Glancing up, a deep tanned northerner regarded him with a scowl. He adjusted a barrel on his opposite shoulder. "Watch it, furry man!"
"Sorry..." Fedrich squeaked, staring at the giant.
"You ought to be!" He barked, continuing deeper into the mass of people.
Fedrich hurried along, seeing northerners just as immense working atop one of the raiding ships. They seemed content to pick up entire barrels and boxes to haul into the city. Fedrich grew worried, wondering what such strength could do even without a weapon. He was suddenly less sure of his plans if all the northern men were as strong looking. Such a force could take on twice its numbers if they had the training and leadership.
"Didn't I say to move, rat-face?" The same deep voice asked.
Fedrich looked and saw the same man without the barrel, his arms crossed over his chest like great veins of stone.
"What are you trading?" He asked before considering the dangers.
The northerner smiled, teeth yellowish from lack of care. "What's it to you? Get gone!"
"I'm sorry."
"What's all this, rat-face?" The man cracked his knuckles. "Think you can stand 'ere and keep sayin' sorry?"
"I don't want any trouble."
"Oh, you got trouble, skinny man! You don't stand when the great Regolio says to move. Maybe I'll toss you out of my way instead!"
The northerner reached for Fedrich, but the knight jumped back nimbly out of his reach. The man growled and pressed forward, his great frame knocking other people aside. Fedrich tried to keep out of his reach, but a hand grabbed his shoulder and yanked him still. With a grunt, he lifted the Burmecian from the ground and heaved him over the heads of the people around him, crashing into a stand of barrels several feet away. The northerner guffawed loudly, lifting his arms and gaining the cheers and laughter from his crewmates who witnessed the exchange.
"Next time move when told to, rat-face!" The man said as a farewell, treading back to his ship.
Fedrich winced in pain, shifting arms and legs to get his bearings. Pushing with his hands, he leaned up and came to a sitting position around the wood barrels that softened his fall. Standing, he wavered as dizziness struck him.
'Oh Goddess, my head...'
The nausea passed, and he stepped out of the cluster of barrels back to the flow of people. Not a one had stopped to check if he was okay. He wondered if it was out of fear, or because he was one of the Regent's men. He rubbed his hand across the back of his head, and it came back with small stains of blood.
"Great..." He reached into his jacket, discovering his glass vials of healing potions were all smashed, the salve soaked in the fabric and his fur. "Oh, that's just great..." Luck had it his glaive was in one piece, the metal haft meant to take abuse in stride. He flexed his toes and fingers, legs and limbs, feeling intact if not rattled. Looking back to the man who hurled him like a doll, the giant was swaggering to his ship laughing. One half of his mind tore into a rage, wanting to mix it up with the raider and show he wasn't to be pushed around. However, the other eagerly pointed out that the odds weren't in his favor.
Grimly, he looked around again and saw that no one was at all interested in the brief grapple. What was it that made a population so numb to an overt attack like this?
The revolution?
The idea formed quickly in his head, that the people might not have interfered because they saw it as part of their revolution against the Regent. Maybe the raiders were given orders to hassle his men and prove that they weren't welcome. He grew worried that his fellow knights might be under the same oppression, especially his eager students. Tugging out his pocketwatch, he frowned at the crack on the glass face, but noted it was only a few minutes past ten 'o clock. It would be two more hours before they were to convene at the Inn. Trying to find them in the great crowds of people would be difficult if not impossible, even if they did stand out among humans. He would try, though, and see if this was just an isolated incident.
Pressing through the lanes of travel in the docks was a test of patience, even the noon business avenues in Lindblum unable to boast of more numbers in such a space. The noise, too, was grating on his ears and nerves.
'It's a wonder at all that people can talk in this din! Even my own thoughts sound muted against this...'
A sudden commotion caused a stir up ahead, and Fedrich stood straight to look above the heads of the shorter humans around him. He was surprised to see a few northerners on horseback yelling to clear room for their steeds, apparently intent on getting to a ship. Slowly they parted the river of people in their relentless drive, and stopped quite suddenly as Fedrich moved out of their way.
"'Ey, ain't he one of them?" One of the dark skinned raiders asked of his fellows.
"That he is, boys." One of the men answered, nodding his head. Waving an arm, his men led their steeds to form around the Burmecian. "Listen, warrior, you're to come with me."
"Who sent you?"
"His Lord, the Duke." The man replied.
"For what reasons?"
"I don't know. When the Duke asks, I obey. Please follow me."
Fedrich was tense, wondering what exactly the Duke would want with him. The man hadn't even directed a friendly word to him, only stared in wonder and scorn. "My men are scattered along the docks, I'll need to find them and-"
"Enough!" One of the northerners shouted, suddenly grabbing at his wide and curved sword, pointing it at Fedrich. "You're comin' with us, like it or else!"
Fedrich gripped his glaive, but did not unleash it from his shoulder restraint. "What's this about? Why does the Duke want to speak with me?"
The leader of the raiders growled in frustration, taking up his own scimitar. "Take him if he won't come!"
Before they could hurdle him in with their horses, Fedrich crouched and leapt into the skies, surprising his would be captors. He landed on a tiled rooftop, almost losing balance and rolling off. He steadied himself, then looked as the raiders argued among one another. One threw his cutlass in anger at the knight, but it bounced harmlessly at the shingles from his feet. They split up, kicking their horses to a trot and bowling people out of their way. Fedrich saw they were heading down the piers to their ships.
'Oh hell. They're getting help...something must have gone wrong at the manor! I gotta find the others and Macky!'
Standing, he took a deep breath and began running along the rooftop, leaping across buildings and looking for any sign of his comrades. If the raiders got ahead of him, then they would overwhelm him while they were separated from one another. But to find his allies among the thousands of people on the docks? He gritted his teeth, wondering how it could be done.
It was a flicker of gray in his eyes, but far down the street Fedrich saw a dot jump up and down a moment. Blessing his fortunes, he flew across the rooftops, leapfrogging to cover the distance as quickly as he could. The gray dot again appeared above the crowd, large enough to tell it was a Burman pushing ahead with natural advantage. Seconds later Fedrich landed on a root adjacent to the figure, and he saw Winston pushing at the unmoving crowds with his usual brash words.
"Winston!" Fedrich cried, gaining the other's ears. He looked up, and his frown deepened at the sight of his commander. Fedrich motioned for him to come frantically, and he hopped up to stand face to face with him.
"What?" The student growled.
"The raiders are on the move! We've got to get the others and meet with Macky, something's gone wrong."
This gave the youth a start, and he looked at the ships as if pirates would suddenly leap from the decks after them.
"Do you know where the others are?"
"I saw the girl a minute ago..."
"Good! You find her and Perce and get to the Inn. I'm going after Diamante. If I'm not back in ten minutes, go to the manor and let Macky know what's happened!"
"Right." He saluted briefly, then spun and jumped away towards the markets deep in the city.
Fedrich followed the same, leaping farther along the docks in the general direction he saw Diamante go when they split up. He hoped the elderly knight wouldn't be away from the docks, else it would be impossible to find him in the twisty and narrow alleys between homes and shops.
> > >
"Sir, what should we do with the soldiers?"
Jon Peradin looked at his Captain with an expression of disdain. Sometimes the man was so simple minded he had to spell out orders as if tutoring a five-year-old. "You should do with them as we do with anyone who is an enemy of the house."
"Execute 'em, then?"
A sigh. "Yes, Captain..."
The man saluted briefly, then turned and began barking commands to his underlings to haul them into the far back of the manor. Jon took another sip of his brandy, enjoying the spicy swirl as it simmered along his throat and belly. It was his best reserve, and he would enjoy it completely as his control of the land was brought to him as it was his father. It was tragedy that stole him away six months ago, unable to see his inherited land truly his own one more time. On his deathbed, he swore vengeance and the reclamation of the state with his father's dying breath. Since then, he felt as if the wizened soul was always close by, offering support.
'You'd be proud of me, father. I've come so far...and now the wheel is in motion. Nothing will stop me from bringing our land back from the Regent.'
"Servant!" He shouted. Immediately one of the men at his aid jumped to his side, keeping a respectful distance.
"Yes, m'Lord?"
"Bring out my messenger and some parchment."
"Right away, m'Lord." The servant vanished into a door to the farther wing.
'Heh, it's so pleasant to have such luxury.'
Jon tipped another gulp of drink into his mouth, savoring the tingling that spread from his torso to his fingers and toes. He set the snifter aside, knowing when enough was enough. This cask would have to last until the state was his, and he didn't want to spoil such a good year on the preliminary effort. The wing door opened again, and the messenger hobbled over to the Duke's side and rested on an opposing chair. In his hands was a large wood tablet, paper scrolls hanging from the top, and a candle with a small metal cup above it. Sitting next to the man was a moogle, the creature rocking forth and back, pom-pom bobbling in turn.
"Are you ready, Sir?" The elderly notary asked.
"Quite." Jon sat up, hummed loudly and paused, gathering words. "To...his eminent Lord Oberon, Duke of Kohlingen. I bring good news from the east." He considered words as the notary wrote them in fluid script. "The raiders from the north agreed to work for plunder in Lindblum, and have shown considerable liking to my orders. Their leader, Tantars, is a wise man who knows his worth. Hold on, hold on..."
"Sir?"
"Gimme a moment." He leaned on his hands, figuring he should have orated the note first, then drank to his desire. "Alright, go on. The Inquisitor from Lindblum was smarter than I'd hoped, and discovered my intentions quite easily. He is currently locked away, and his soldiers are being hunted and killed. I plan to declare open action against the Regent today. I shall secure my land, then rally the men to storm the Grand Castle alongside you in glorious combat. Truly and sincerely yours, Duke Jon Peradin."
The notary slowly nodded. "Finished, Sir."
"Very good! Have this sent to Duke Oberon Highguard right away."
"Of course, Sir." He rolled up the parchment, gently using a small knife to cut the paper to size for the note. He then bound it with a ribbon, tugging out a stamp with a rubber tip. He dipped it into the wax in the cup, and then sealed the message properly. Standing, he walked to one of the doors and held it open for the moogle. The furry critter hovered in the air, wings a blur as it waited for his human to finish preparing the message. Once ready, the moogle took it in tiny hands.
"Did you really...?"
"Heck no, fuzzy, I wrote something sober." The notary sighed. "Idiot nobleman..."
> > >
He looked around the street that ran adjacent to the Inn, eyes carefully picking through the humans to see if his superiors were anywhere to be found. Seeing nothing, he snorted and checked his watch. It was seconds from the ten minutes that the human-rutting dragoon gave him, and he counted them down until it was ten thirty.
"Alright." Winston looked back to his classmates, the girl and boy sitting silently at a bench just outside the Inn doors. "Get up, you two. We're going."
"It's been ten minutes already?" Eria looked at her silver pocketwatch. "Really?"
"No, I'm just making conversation." Winston snarled. "Get moving. We're gonna get some answers from this Duke whether he likes it or not."
"B-But what about Sir Diamante?"
He glared at Perce, the meeker student shirking at the attention. The mystic was always indecisive and lazy, never doing anything he wasn't ordered to. If there was anything Winston keenly disliked, it was someone who couldn't see ahead of his own nose. Indecisive Perce was quickly adding to his foul mood.
"Forget him! Now get up!"
The two stood quickly, and Winston smiled at their trained reactions to any loud command. He too felt the need to follow orders, but not so much as they. He was of the Ruglia line, and they always were reputed for leadership qualities and a subconscious desire to act. He followed his own desires before considering the words of another or the petty ideals pounded into his head as part of becoming a Dragon Knight. This training was only a necessary burden. As soon as he was versed in battle and able to use dragoon magic, he would make his own path in life and carve himself a little spot in history.
"Look, that Inquisitor told us that if the pirates did anything iffy that we should let him know. They tried to snatch Castor, so we're gonna tell him just that."
"Maybe we should wait, Winston." Eria insisted. "Just a minute. Maybe Fedrich and Sir Diamante are close by, and-"
"We've waited long enough! Eria, Perce, get those legs limber and follow me. We'll make our own road on the rooftops."
Winston crouched, then jumped up high and easily sailed to the height of the four level Inn. Landing on the edge, he leaned forward so he wouldn't fall. Eria followed quickly, but Perce misstepped and almost fell save grabbing the edge of the top. The mystic scrambled to the top, a sheepish grin on his face. Together they sprinted across the tops of homes and businesses, slowing occasionally as they reconsidered their flight. Luckily the Manor was at the far western edge of town, so it wouldn't be very difficult to find it. Getting inside and to the Regent's man, however, would prove more so. Following a large street, Winston spied the orderly fruit trees inside the Manor grounds in the distance.
'Great! Now I can show the others that I don't need those Knights to lead me around like a child!'
The buildings became sparse as they neared the estate, so they shifted to leapfrogging on the earth. After shocking numerous humans that saw them, Winston let the energy of his leaping slack and bring him comfortable close to the gates. Several soldiers were before them, clad in chain mail and bearing many swords. Eria and Perce hovered behind, so Winston strode to the gate without sign of fear.
"Let me in." He demanded of the nearest man. "I'm part of the Inquisitor's guard and I need to speak with him."
The man eyed the Burmecian and smiled smugly. "He's busy. Said he didn't want to be bothered."
"I'll bother him as I like. Let us through, we have important information to give to him."
"Why not tell me, eh? I can send a message."
Winston crossed his arms. "For his ears only, human."
"Well, I ain't 'ta let anyone into the Manor, subber."
Winston growled, baring his teeth. While his exposure to humanity was limited, he still harbored rage to anyone who would mock him. Humans, especially, that took delight in speaking of their physical superiority and how miserable everyone else was in comparison. It took some effort to keep his arms from throttling the man.
"Let me pass." He growled, emphasizing each word to drive his anger home.
The soldier let a hand fall to the hilt of his sword, obviously showing he wasn't going to move. Winston looked back to his two classmates, then jerked his head up to indicate his solution. They nodded after a second, and Winston turned back to the human with a wicked grin.
"Alright, you hairless freak, I'll go inside on my terms."
The soldier drew his sword, but the three knights in training already leapt above their heads and above the gates barring their path. Bounding up the stone path, they continued to the roundabout and fountain and came to a sudden halt. The main door was open, a familiar Captain standing in the doorjamb. Winston only briefly recognized the man who had escorted them into town and made a jibe at him from the start.
"Hold it right there, rats!" Hawina commanded, lifting a hand for emphasis. "You're tresspassin' on the Duke's ground."
"Where is Mackenzie?" Winston demanded, hand taking his lance and holding it ready.
"Archers draw!" Hawina shouted.
Winston flinched, looking around to see where the order went. The anger in his chest grew chilled as he saw men by shrubbery and doors, between trees and on top of the Manor proper. Dozens of them were in view, all holding powerful longbows with arrows strung and tensed to fly. They were all around, and the burman realized in cold terror that he was surrounded. Eria and Perce were holding their lances as well, standing back to back as they surveyed the situation. The archers were too numerous, too scattered, too well placed to attack without being an easy target.
Hawina laughed, smiling. He lifted a hand and snapped his fingers. "Fire."