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 Seven: Dulce Et Decorum Est
"Damn, they must have already left for the Manor." Fedrich swore, looking around the greatroom of the Inn. He stepped outside and looked around at the carts and people, the familiar gray and silver of his people missing. This was just what he needed, being separated again in a city becoming active and hostile.
"By the fangs of Bahamut, those children give me a difficult time!" Diamante commented as he stepped out of the Inn. "Fedrich, you weren't thinking clearly sending them off on their own. Who knows what trouble they may be in?"
"I couldn't risk them staying in one place too long. If they get to the Manor, then Macky and his men will be there."
"Provided they aren't dead!" The elder knight snapped. "Look, you have a valid point, but apart we risk more than we would together. If those raiders are really out for us, then the Manor would have been ready for us beforehand. You cannot assume that it was an isolated incident. For now, I count this whole city against me."
"Then what will we do?"
"Get them and Sir Inquisitor out of here before we get pinned down."
"Out?"
Diamante snorted in frustration. "To the plains! The Dragon's Gate is but a days travel from here, where safety lies. But first, stop wagging your tongue and get moving to the Manor!"
"Right!"
The two knights bounded down the street with lances in hand.
> > >
The skies rained arrows, metal tips bolts covering the cobblestone roundabout in a clatter of loud shrieks. Hawina grit his teeth, seeing no bloody bodies on the ground. He looked up, seeing the Burmecian knights soaring in the sky, legs propelling them to safety.
"Get them!" He cried, charging inside to get to the roof.
On the roof, the archers tried desperately to notch another salvo against the enemy warriors, but the knights fell onto them before strings were drew taught. Perce, after tugging his lance from the body of his slain enemy, didn't hesitate as he charged across the rooftop to the other archers on the farther wings of the Manor. The training and instinct dulled the fear in his heart, luckily for him. He jumped up again, not as high, and flung his polearm down at another archer trying to track his movement. The man cried in pain as the weapon knocked him down, the bow falling from his hands. Perce landed close to him and grabbed the pole, noting with a pause that the man was still alive and conscious.
"Y'bastard..." The archer gritted between his teeth.
Perce had a sudden start, mind catching up with what he had done. He had injured this man grievously in the left shoulder, the blood pooling beneath him. He had killed a man not ten seconds ago. He was killing people, casting life and death with a casual snap of the arm and wrist. He had done a horrible thing.
The archer reached to his belt and drew a dagger.
Perce, in his stupor, thrust the lance down once again and cut the man's throat out. The human gargled words, convulsed a second, then grew still and silent.
"Oh G-Goddess Rei..." Perce stammered, staring at the human he had slain. The second, he realized.
Someone screamed at him, and a second later a sharp pain blossomed between his shoulders. Perce cried out and fell forward, catching himself on his hands and scraping his palms. His muscles grew limp, and he slid to the ground and moaned as torment throbbed in his back. He lay there for what seemed hours until rough hands tugged him, dragging him to a sitting position. Perce's eyes focused on Eria's face, Winston somewhere else on the roof.
"Perce! Oh, come on! Snap out of it!"
"E-Eria..." He managed weakly, trying to think outside the blinding pain.
She smiled desperately. "You're hurt. Can you sit?"
"Yeah..."
"Alright." She moved to his back, and the pain doubled. "Okay. This is gonna hurt, so hold on. I'm gonna pull it out, okay? One, two..."
Perce gasped, cried out in pain as she tore the arrow from his body. Hands tugged at his shirt, and she pulled it back to get a view of the injury. He could almost feel the warm blood soak his fur, trailing down his back to his rear and his tail.
"Oh Goddess..." She swore. "Hold on, Perce, I've got a potion here somewhere. Hold on."
He felt her hands wiping the salve on his wound, the pain almost numb in intensity. A coolness eased itself into his back, the pain ebbing slightly as her fingers worked it into the flesh. A hand appeared from behind him, sticking a potion vial in his face with bloody fingers. The stopper was already out.
"Here, take it." She insisted, waggling it in his eyes.
Perce weakly took the vial and drank it, tasting the metallic tang of his own blood on the lip. The soothing coolness eased itself into his chest, and he finally took a deep breath to ease his burning lungs.
"This isn't good, Perce, it's pretty deep." She let go of his shirt and skirted around to pace him, hands on his shoulders and eyes staring into his own. Her concern was plain to the face, eyes teary with exaggerated emotions prone to women. "You know magic, don't you? Can you try some of it? Huh?"
"I...can..." Perce mumbled, suddenly remembering that he was skilled in dragoon magic and limited healing spells. He almost laughed, knowing he was more than able to take care of his own injuries without people coddling him. Closing his eyes, he looked to his soul for the mantras to the right spell. Recalling the words, he hummed them gently and focused his strength to it, bound his energy and spirit to the words. He then cast the spell out, lighting the fuse with a word on the tongue. "Cure...!"
The results were dazzling to those unused to magic. Sparkling lights rolled across his body like firebugs, swirling as if in a breeze. They reshaped and coalesced into circular green rings, then sunk into his flesh with an icy tingling that eased his muscles. The pain was almost completely banished by the spell, but still held on and proved a nuisance rather than a crippling restraint.
Eria looked mesmerized, eyes wide like a child. "That's amazing..."
An arrow suddenly clattered by their feet, and any sense of security was shattered. Eria helped Perce to his feet, and they fled to the center of the roof where no archer could see them. They both noted that the soldiers with them were all dead, Winston standing over them with his shoulders slouched, lance barely in his loose fingers. They approached him carefully, discovering that he wasn't just staring at nothing, but a hole in the roof that led to the inside. Perce looked down and saw numerous men in there, swords drawn and hands on the ladder that led to the top.
"Winston?"
"Stalemate." He spoke up with a snarl. "They can't get up, and we can't get down."
"But-"
"Archers." Winston corrected the wounded mystic. "They've got us covered. If we try and jump, we die..."
Perce shivered in understanding. Sitting, he set his lance down and rifled through his own pouched for a more potent potion. He considered himself lucky he wore chain mail, but that simply made the wound less severe. He would need to see a proper healer to have the wound either stitched closed or sealed with more powerful magics than he knew. Finding said potion, he slurped it in one gulp, then tossed the glass vial away.
"Dammit..." Winston cursed, kneeling and sitting on his legs with his lance firm in hand. He looked like a fisherman sitting in a stream, waiting for a trout to wander too close to his reach. The knight in training looked back on his classmates with teeth bared. "Can't you think of something, you two?"
"Like what? You said we were trapped." Eria replied.
Winston ignored her, eyes instead staring at Perce. "You know magic. Can't you do anything to clear those bastards out from that door?"
"I don't know..." The wound was still throbbing on his back, and he knew a headache would come if he cast too many spells. He was glad that he had built an endurance to the pain and difficulty that came with using magic on a regular basis. To cast a spell into such a small space, it would be difficult. He wasn't even confident with his dragoon magic, not a spell that wasn't bound to his lance.
"Didn't Diamante say that you knew the greatest spell? He said something about dragon's essence and a seal."
"Crest..." The mystic murmured. "Dragon's Crest."
"Well, can't you use it?"
"I..." Perce was hesitant to try such a thing. That spell was not difficult to learn, it was taught to most Dragon Knights as they graduated. There was a catch, as most powerful magic had. That spell would summon the spirits of dragons that he had slain, and they would ravage any foe in their path. It was said you could judge the worth of a Dragoon by how strongly he could cast that spell.
He hadn't killed any dragons, however, only two meager hatchlings in the mountains above Burmecia. That would only knock a man over, not hurt nor kill him.
"I'm not strong enough to use it..."
Winston glowered, clearly restraining himself from moving. "You coward! Get over here and cast the damn spell!"
"I can't."
"Can't...or won't? Are you defying my order?"
"You aren't our leader, Winston. I can't use that spell because I'm not strong enough to."
Winston pounded the rooftop, a loud crack issuing from his knuckle. He glared at the mystic, his eyes wide and breath hissing between his teeth. Perce grew tense in fear, feeling that the unruly burman was at his ends and beginning to fray. Winston jerked to his feet, took his lance in both hands, and threw himself down the doorway into the manor. Perce and Eria both gasped at his irrational attack, listening in frozen terror as screaming and the shrieks of metal rang out from within the Manor.
> > >
Fedrich landed and skipped forward a few steps, reigning in his balance and keeping an eye at the front gate of the Manor. Diamante landed close to him, lance resting on a narrow shoulder. The entrance to the manor was closed, a near dozen men standing around with their swords in hand. The citizens gave them a wide berth, unwilling to risk trouble.
"Feh." The elderly knight snorted knowingly. "Already waiting for us."
"Well, we have to find the others."
"Through them?"
Fedrich shook his head. "We need to find another way in."
"Using your head for once, I see. Come, they can't oversee the whole perimeter of the grounds."
They both jumped away from the main gate, passing along the great length of iron rod fence, searching for a spot to get in without being noticed easily. After inspecting many locations, they agreed on a place where the organized fruit trees sat closest to the barrier. They would need only luck to pass unnoticed while in the air, the safety of low hanging branches and thick trunks enough to keep them hidden from wandering eyes.
"Steady..." Diamante let the word hang, waiting for a lull in passerbys. "...Now!"
They both jumped hard, sailing easily over the gate and landing with a rustle of leaves and limbs into the rows of trees. They kept still long enough to pluck twigs and leaves from their bodies, then to peek and inspect the guard.
"Listen..." Diamante said quietly, leaning forwards.
Fedrich did as he was told, concentration on the sounds and noises around him. He heard the bustle of carts, people, and society behind him in the city, a background roar like a flowing river. The sway of branches came as a zephyr passed now and then. Ahead he heard a sharp sound that his elder must have noticed. He waited anxiously, then heard it again; it was the sharp twang of a bow and brief whistle of the arrow.
"Archers?"
"Those fools must be nearby, 'less the men are shooting at dummy targets to pass the time." Diamante pressed ahead slowly, eyes keenly focused on the manor walls. "Follow quietly."
Fedrich fell into line, keeping an eye out for anyone on patrol that might notice them. Slowly they passed through the trees, sneaking closer to the Manor proper. The sound of bows releasing became clearer, and the figures of archers were evident throughout the green grass in front of the windows and the wings of the great hall. Diamante stopped suddenly, and Fedrich bumped into his back.
"I'll take them."
"There's too many of them."
Diamante only chuckled. "That's what I hope to put an end to. Hold back and watch what my travels have brought me."
"...Okay. Be careful."
Diamante nodded, then stood straight and held his lance parallel to the earth, pointed to the occupied archers. Slowly, he tilted the lance upward, bending his elbow as it rose. With utmost caution, he rested the haft of the polearm on his muzzle, then began chanting words below their advanced hearing. The lance took on an otherworldly glow, and the light began to spin around it like a pinwheel. His words became louder, yet foreign and thick in rhythm. In an instant, the light disappeared, and Diamante again pointed the lance to the enemy ahead.
"Dragon's Crest!" He shouted, casting the spell as if throwing a spear.
Beneath the archers, a glow rose from the earth similar to the one that enveloped Diamante's weapon. While difficult to see, the glowing took the shape of a giant sigil, the head of a dragon surrounded by runes and ancient patterns of symbology. The head of the dragon suddenly rose from the earth followed by several others. In an explosive roar that shook the earth, dozens of ethereal dragons swirled around the Manor and the sky. The archers, whose interest in the sight was panic and fear, were thrown around and broken like wood dolls, armor shattering and blood spilt. The spirits then disappeared like mist, leaving the bodies of the deceased on the earth.
Fedrich was struck with a sense of awe unlike any he felt before. He was witness to spells of caliber, yet to see such a display of strength his people alone wielded was a joy that warmed his heart. He was certain, then, that the Burmecian nation was not so weak as people claimed.
"Fly!" Diamante commanded, and Fedrich obeyed.
The two charged from the groves, seeing that archers were still stationed around the farther ends of the Manor. Keeping on their feet to stay limber, they charged the enemy soldiers. Arrows flew, yet the superior speed and reaction born to burmans allowed them to dodge the bolts like a ball thrown by a child. Polearms were flung, and two archers fell in turn. The Dragon Knights followed this pattern, casting their weapons where needed or simply lacerating flesh and bone in the most vital of human parts.
"Up top?" Fedrich suggested.
Diamante nodded. "Seems a safe wager!"
They leapt skyward, just enough to land on the top of the Manor and not worry about keeping still to be a target. Their worries were unfounded as they saw bloody dead around them, two lanky forms at a crouch ahead.
"Fools." Diamante looked upset to see them, yet his eyes revealed that he was glad of their safety.
Fedrich jogged to meet them, seeing that the girl was sitting and curling her tail around her fingers. Perce was sitting still, the back of his orange tunic stained deeply with blood.
"You two!" Diamante shouted.
They both stood and saluted, habits ever ingrained into their actions. Just as quickly they went on the defensive, looking around and most especially at a door shaped hole in the roof. Fedrich looked at it, figuring it was a means for them to get up in case the roof needed repairs. He looked back to the two students, and suddenly realized that a third was missing.
"Where's Winston?" Both Diamante and Fedrich asked, looking at one another in quiet amusement.
"He...he went down there." Eria squeaked, as if saying this was a terrible guilty admission.
"It was full of men...too many. He looked so mad." Perce added, trying to get the words out. "He was...so mad that I couldn't..."
"Never you mind, boy. So he's down here, is he? How long was it?"
"Maybe...five minutes? Oh, don't!" Eria shouted as her teacher walked to the open door.
Diamante leaned over the edge of the door, but he only recoiled in horror instead of forcibly by swords or arrows. "Ugh. Did he really...?" With that, he jumped down into the Manor proper.
Fedrich stepped to the door, and he looked inside to see what turned Diamante's stomach. Inside it was a small room, a ladder leading to the top. On almost every available surface was blood or a body, the smell of sweat and the faint odor of death lingering like bad eggs. He paused to let the shock pass, and he looked to the students and motioned them to follow. Taking the ladder, he climbed down and carefully picked his way across the room and to a door that led to a hallway. Diamante was present, eyes scanning the carpeted length.
"What happened?"
The elder knight only snorted. "You're pushing it, Ruglia..."
"Hm?"
"Come on, we can follow the blood." He motioned to a trail of spots that went to a set of stairs at the far end of the hall. "Fedrich, you take the back. You two, in the middle. You hurt, Perce?"
"Nothing serious." Perce replied. "I'll be fine."
"Then don't expect me to bail you out if you're lying." Diamante stalked down the hall with a determined step.
Fedrich kept an eye on the closed doors as they walked down the hall. The stairwell was littered with several bodies, blood spattered on the walls in streaks and spats. Each man had a gaping wound where his neck would be, eyes empty but reflective of the terror that befell them. Their swords had a fair share of blood on them, so wherever Winston was, he had to be wounded.
"This is horrible." Eria commented.
"...It'll get worse."
This took Fedrich's attention. Diamante was acting far to calm for this, almost as if he expected this kind of thing to happen. Was Winston capable of this kind of slaughter? It seemed unfeasible on his own, he was still a young man and still raw to battle. He didn't look at all like the type to do this.
Down the stairs, they came upon another hall, but this one had a living man resting against a wall. Diamante approached him carefully, lowering his lance to point at the man's gut. The man was doomed, his neck bleeding profusely, yet shallow enough to give him time to suffer.
"Where is he?"
The man gargled words, eyes wide in fear. "He's a demon...a d-demon! Oh God...save me from...him..." His voice grew weak, then faded. He slumped back, and his eyes grew dim. Diamante retracted his lance and shook his head.
"Diamante."
Said knight looked back to Fedrich. "Hn?"
"What's wrong with Winston?"
He sighed. "Winston has...problems. Plainly, he has always been prone to outbursts of violence against anyone in his way. The doctors considered placing him into the knighthood as a means to curb it, but it didn't worked as planned. Now his anger is even worse, as is his tongue. His family line's been cursed with bad blood."
"Bad blood? You mean..."
A nod. "His ancestors were berserkers."
This explained a great deal to Fedrich. Berserkers were a small tribe of burmans that existed centuries back before Burmecia was truly the center of their race. They were vicious warriors and excellent hunters, but their aggression was unsuited to society and they were shunned by other tribes. Some said their rage was so vast that even the greatest of dragons feared their power. It took generations, but they were slowly absorbed into the mainstream culture of Burmecia as were all other tribes. Now they only existed in books, and apparently in certain individuals.
"So he's-"
"Gone berserk, I fear. It happened once before when he first was assigned to my tutelage. He met me on even terms, he barehanded and I armed with a dulled pole. Now I don't even wish to consider what he is capable of in that madness."
"What should we do?"
Diamante looked to the open door that led into the large central hall. "We press on...and hope."
They slowly walked to the door, hearing the brief sounds of clashing metal and curses. As they approached the hall, the sounds slowed, the conflict within coming to an end. As Fedrich stepped ahead and looked into the room, the last man on his feet gripped his neck, then fell into death. Furniture was upended, tables smashed and windows cracked with spider web holes. The fine carpets and rugs were spattered in deep crimson stains. Men, soldiers of the city and northerners from the raiding ships, were equally among the few dozen in the greatroom.
Amidst this was Winston, the young man standing over his latest kill with his lance tightly held in one hand.
"Winston!" Diamante shouted, stepping into the room.
The knight in training looked to the source of the voice, turning to reveal the extent of his injuries. His shirt was cut in several places and more red than burnt orange. One of his ears had a ragged tear in it, and the eye below it was closed. The tip of his tail, several inches of it, was gone. Tufts of fur were missing on his arms and legs, cut away in his mindless fervor. His free hand was terribly broken, fingers jutting in unnatural angles.
"Are you still in it, boy?" The elder knight asked.
"I..." Winston spoke, voice strong. "I...am not...weak!"
He fell to one knee, a hand on the ground to keep balance. The fingers holding his lance went limp, and the weapon clattered to the ground. He had fallen unconscious, yet stayed upright. The sight was a relief and terrifying, that even in such pain he was standing and willing to kill. Winston was always an arrogant and argumentative student. To Fedrich, that image was replaced by a fractured mask hiding the cruel malice of a murderer.
"Eria, Perce, see to his injuries." Diamante ordered. He looked at Fedrich. "Go see where that Inquisitor of yours is."
This gave Fedrich a start. In his desire to find his three young charges, he had completely forgotten about Macky and his own guards. There hadn't been any sign of them in the one wing they traversed, so he assumed he was in the opposite end of the Manor. On quick feet, he ran to the opposing door and began the search.
It was a long number of minutes until Fedrich found where his old friend was kept. After a brief chat, Fedrich spent many more minutes looking for the jailer and the ring of keys he needed to unlock the iron door. Macky explained what the Duke was after, and how he had set up a trap that killed his men. Informed, Fedrich knew there was no other alternative but to head back for Lindblum, even on foot. He was disappointed that there was no means to getting hold of an Airship to ferry them away, but it wasn't due back in three days. They would have to make due.
Back in the main hall, Winston was bound with an almost comical amount of bandages, potions applied and a cure spell to top it off, but he was still limp. Fedrich was worried, knowing he would be dead weight for whomever carried him in their flight to the Dragon's Gate.
"What other choice is there, really?" Macky asked. "I mean, we can't just hang around here any longer."
"Not at all, Sir Inquisitor, and neither will they permit us to stay or leave." Diamante commented.
"They who?"
"That they." He pointed to the Manor's gate, a flood of northern pirates rushing up the cobblestone path brandishing weapons.
Macky chuckled sadly. "Aw hell, so much for the easy way out."
Fedrich looked to the back of the Manor, seeing the endless plains and distant mountains beyond the town. They had no water, no food save a possible few scraps, and wounded who needed rest and the attention of healers and doctors. The odds he had weighed seemed suddenly stacked against him. Looking back, the pirates were slowing, gathering into a large group and forming in accordance to who led and who followed.
"What can we do?" Perce asked, eyes glued to the massing numbers in the courtyard.
"Let's go." Macky insisted, running to the door that led to the large patio behind the Manor. "Come on! We need to get away from them, now!"
"Where to, though?" Diamante asked.
"Stables! We can get horses or chocs, whatever there is."
The others all knew it was their only chance to get away, burdened with a slow human and badly hurt fellow knight. Fedrich moved to pick up Winston, but the elder Dragon Knight claimed him first. Diamante held him by his shoulders and legs, shaking his head with his lips pressed together. Winston was his student, his responsibility. Fedrich nodded and made for the door along with Perce and Eria, the girl holding her friend's lance along with her own.
Macky pointed them towards a ramshackle collection of wood shacks and a fenced corral. "Over there! Quickly!"
The six of them ran to the stable, breaking the rusted iron lock on the door and stepping into the grounds, feet crunching dirty hay and straw. There were several horses in individual stalls, and in the farthest corner were four pale fellow chocobos. Fedrich hadn't suspected that the Duke might own chocobos, but he was glad to have been corrected.
"Everyone get a bird. Sir Halbred, you'll need to take a horse, those birds can't hold two people for long."
"Won't that-"
"Yes, it'll slow us down, but better than to wear the chocs out halfway to our freedom! We'll be in the clear so long as we can get a lead!"
The dragoon nodded, perturbed to be ordered around by a human.
Fedrich and the students quickly brought the chocobos out from their common stall, petting them while getting saddles strapped to their feathery backs. Macky tried with great trouble to get one of the leaner stallions calm, unable to get him to stand long enough to secure the harness.
"Blast this leggy beast!" Diamante swore. "Can't it stay still?"
"Horses are more wary of being ridden, so get used to it!" Macky growled, failing again to belt the straps.
Diamante shouldered the human out of the way, then tossed Winston with little grace onto the horse's back. He then mounted it bareback, pulling the limp burman upright so he wouldn't fall off. The stallion whinnied in irritation, but allowed this burden on its back with a grudge.
"How do you control it?"
"You use your feet and call to it. Just shout hie to go, whoa to slow down. Prod it with your feet when you say a word so it understands."
Diamante grimaced. "How do you humans get along with these...things?"
"'Cause we're stubborn bastards. Use the reigns to tug him left and right, and don't push him too hard. They can't keep up with chocs."
The knight nodded, and Macky ran to join his comrades on the golden chocobos. He climbed onto the bird, feeling just as nervous about the bird as the knight his horse. It had been years and then some since he last rode. He hoped this bird was amiable and well trained.
"Alright!" Fedrich shouted, ushering his chocobo to the door they entered. "Let's go! Let's go!"
The six carefully tromped out of the stables, and they nearly panicked when they saw the raiders a sparse dozen meters away. The surprise was upon both of them, but the pirates reacted by charging with blades out.
"Go! Ride hard!" Fedrich shouted, jabbing his ankles into the birds sides.
The bird warked and nearly jumped into the sky, clawed feet tearing at the grassy turf and charging towards the plains beyond Coral Cove. Diamante's horse whinnied loudly, hooves drumming the earth to keep up with the swifter birds as they fled the Manor. The others kept together as they ran, the raiders pursuing while others stopped in confusion. Fedrich looked back as they ran, seeing that the raiders had all but given up on the chase. He didn't relax, knowing that the bolder pirates might take horses and pursue. He hoped their sea legs would trouble them with earthbound steeds.
'So this is it, then. This is the start of things. The people will revolt even if their Duke doesn't, not after men of the Regent just killed so many guards and assaulted their leader...'
Fedrich put the ill omens aside, concentrating on staying alive to see this revolution to its end.