Rumbarrel shrugged a little, his eyes picking out dogs and ladies from the clouds lolling lazily overhead. "I just wanted some time alone with you, is all, buddy. We're officers, but that doesn't mean that we can't just goof off every now and then, right?"
Laughing, Mooncant turned his head the way his friend was looking, joining in his activity. "That's true, that is very true. All work and no play makes the duo a dull couple." He sighed and stretched out a little, using his arms as pillows for his head. "Remember before we joined the guild? All the parties and the company?"
"Ah, those were the days. You provided the entertainment, and I provided the alcohal that actually made it entertaining." Rumbarrel chuckled as Mooncant ribbed him with his shoe. "I wish we could just go back to that time. You and me, brothers, not in battle, but in booze and bashes."
Mooncant shrugged a bit, "Well, we can still be like that. This guild's not that bad. Sure, that new Adjunct can be a little harsh sometimes, but it's not like we aren't allowed to have a little fun in the fortress every once in a while, right?" Rumbarrel sighed, and did not reply. Moonchant looked over, raising an eyebrow, "You okay there, buddy?"
Rumbarrel sighed again, shaking his head, "Nothing's wrong. It's just..."
"Just what?"
"We've done nothing but kill, plunder, and murder the entire time we've been in this guild. What's the point? This guild asks us to be savages for God. Why do we need to be? Why did we join in the first place?" He looked over at Mooncant's uncharacteristically drawn face. "Why, Johann?"
Mooncant was silent for a bit, and his voice was low and level as he replied, "You know why we joined, Kharic." His eyes hardened as he looked into Rumbarrel's, "You know exactly why we joined."
The other man's face was pleading, his features drawn to a mask of barely contained inner turmoil, "It's not right, buddy. Not right at all."
"I don't want to continue this conversation..." Mooncant whispered, staring at an indeterminate point in the grass in front of him. "Please, something else."
Shaking his head, Rumbarrel turned his attentions back to the sky. "What do you think about the new adjunct?"
"What do you mean?"
The alchemist shrugged, "I mean whatever."
Laughing a little, Mooncant scartched at the back of his hand as he said, "Raziel isn't too bad a kid. He's certainly got a lot of potential as a leader. A lot of moxie too."
"Yeah, but he's also got a stick in his ass that just won't come out. If anything, if he wanted the strong and silent type, the First Sword should have gone with Bartholomew."
Grinning with a chuckle, Mooncant looked over at his old friend again, "What, you don't like Wintrysong?"
Rumbarrel's nose crinkled, "Of course not, she's a whore, and the worst of the worst. And I've known a lot of whores."
"So has your bed." They both laughed a little, even though the joke wasn't all that funny. "Well, she's not so bad as everyone says."
"Pssh, she's a violent little bitch." Rumbarrel glared up at the sky, shooting daggers at Wintrysong's shape in the heavenly bodies floating overhead.
"She's not so. She can be nice, even tender sometimes." Johann shrugged a little.
"Johann, I know you pride yourself on your abilities at staying neutral when it comes to officer squabbles, but this is not just another feud. There's no neutral, you either on the right side or the wrong side about her."
Mooncant burst out laughing, "Listen to yourself, Lardbarrel! 'Right side or wrong side'? You're joking! There IS no right side or wrong side to this!" Rumbarrel glared at him as he continued, "Rummy, we all have our weaknesses and strengths. We can't forget our own and simply point out another's. We can't let ourselves be blinded by hatred."
"She's got a few sticks up her ass too, bud, and you're only defending her because one of them is yours." There was silence, a very long, uneasy silence. "I just don't want you to get hurt, buddy." Rumbarrel's eyes were the epitome of concern, but they were lost on Mooncant's darkened mood.
"Kharic... I need to go back to the castle." The bard stood, brushing grass from his trousers and cape. Without a further word or glance, he slung his mandolin over his shoulder and stalked off, disappearing beyond the farthest knoll as Rumbarrel looked on after him.
It was a serene day in the metropolis known as Prontera. The skies lay bare overhead, shedding from the celestial body the light that it had hidden away the previous sequence of days within a cloak of dark cloud. Birds flew in their flocks and formations high above, as townspeople milled about in their colorful garb and gaudy stalls, merchants pandering to the tastes of this particular day's crowd as men and women alike hawked their wares over the white cobbles. Children darted back and forth between their mothers and the other people of the crowd, reenacting grand battles and desperate assassinations with sticks and other makeshift weaponry, unheeded and unnoticed in the bustle of the marketplace. Pack birds groaned under the weight of their burdens, the loud, powerful Pecos lumbering through the streets behind their owners, lead by strong leather leashes. Trade was blossoming today, and merchants from Morocc, Aldebaran, Geffen, Alberta, and Yuno all were in the central square, proudly flaunting the flamboyant colors and crests of their hometowns. Conspicuous in the crowds, the warriors and mercenaries hired to protect the caravans walked and stopped, many succumbing to the flavors of the market and buying exotic fruits and meats to bring home to friends, families, or just for themselves. Others kicked away or offered food and money to the numerous beggars that arose from nowhere, plying their own unique trade within the throng of wealthy merchants, alchemists, and blacksmiths, and their customers. The whole of the streets were bathed in a full spectrum of the human race.
And the dark, searching eye of Raziel looked on at the gaudy ants under his gaze, an arm bracing him against the balcony and the other hanging lazily over the edge, dangling in air below him, seeming to carelessly reach for one of the multicolored insects in the streets below to inspect further or simply to crush and toss aside. His face held the very slightest of signs of the incursion of boredom, his eyes still wide open and alert though his mouth had slackened and his body had slumped against the stone balcony he now stood in to gaze at the market in full bloom before him. An impudent zephyr floated about his head and body, pulling at his cape and tugging at the hair hanging over his face, before swirling away to nothingness behind him. A sudden slap to the back had him jerk upright, snapping his head to his side to see Uriel greet him, the same friendly smile still plastered to the younger man's face, beaming as he took a spot next to the older crusader. The violet-haired man still wore that feminine ribbon. His choice in hairstyle was an abomination, and Raziel wanted desperately to rip that disgusting ribbon out of the knight's hair and toss it to the buildings below.
But he did not, and Uriel's piercing blue eyes left his own sullen brown ones to survey the spectacle in the streets. After a moment of contemplation, then a deep breath, taking in the sweet scent of the pristine noontime, he spoke again, saying, "Pretty day out today, huh?"
Raziel shrugged his heavily-armored shoulders and turned his waning attention back to the crowd below him, "The weather has been alright, if that's what you mean. The day's been rather uneventful, however. Somewhat boring."
The violet-clad knight laughed a little, responding, "After what happened last week, and all the noise Wintrysong's made about slaughtering you in your sleep, I should think that a quiet day would be a good one for you." He turned, leaning his back against the balcony and propping himself up with his elbows, hands resting safely over the balcony floor. His face turned slightly to allow him to regard Raziel thoughtfully for a moment, before tilting slightly as he asked the Adjunct, "So, Raziel, big guy, what's it like being the second-in-command? Adjunct to the First Sword? Darius' right hand man? I haven't had a chance to bother you in a week or two, how have you been doing? What have you been up to?"
Raziel's eyes darted to collide with Uriel's glance as the silver-armored warrior replied, "I've been alive and well. The new position has granted me a glorious amount of prestige and power, and I have enjoyed working as closely as I have with the First Sword. Beyond that, however, is my business and mine alone, and definitely not something I wish to discuss with a man-woman who insists on wearing that disgusting ornament in his hair."
An eyebrow on Uriel's face arched upward, as the smile on his lips faltered under the weight of the uncalled-for insult. He cleared his throat, then painted the grin back on his face, asking again, "Well, how has Karma been? I haven't seen her in a while either. Has she been with you a lot in the past week? What has she been working on?"
Raziel's eyes narrowed suspiciously, looking the knight up and down before his lips moved to issue a reply, "Why all the questions? What's your reason for pestering me with your idiocy today, Zarium?"
Uriel shrugged and laughed, "Oh, I don't know. I guess I was just bored today. The monastary creeps me out, so I try to stay away from there as often as I can help it, and nobody but you and Moonchant have been in the castle all day."
"Why don't you go bother Moonchant then and leave me alone?"
Uriel shrugged again, "He left. Rumbarrel showed up and just pulled him away, and they left, without a single goodbye or sign that I was alive." He shook his head and sighed, "I just haven't mustered the energy or will to just go out and do anything myself, either. I guess I'm bringing this on myself."
Raziel turned away and resumed staring at the crowd, smirking a little as he noticed an assassin's form darting between merchants and warriors. His agents were working again today, seeking out signs of heresy among the marketplace. That was a good sign indeed. The blacks and reds of his witchhunters blended in with the crowd below, and they could easily be mistaken for more of the mercenaries hired to protect the merchants. They would never be suspected by anyone. Already, two had apprehended a man as he was talking to a decoy, and with minimum hassle or suspicion had dragged him from the crowd, writing him off as a murderer of merchants on their way to the city. All believed them and let them go unmolested, against the man's cries of innocence; cries which, though barely audible to Raziel, even so high up as he was, were lost completely on Uriel.
Uriel had noticed his smirk, however, and leaned over, looking down at the spot he thought the crusader was staring at. "Why so happy all of a sudden, Raziel? Found a pretty girl in the crowd? Where is she?" He stared, blinking and searching, into the pandemonium of the midday market as Raziel, startled, growled below his breath and stepped back from the ledge.
"What makes you think there's a woman of interest down there, Zarium? Maybe I simply thought of a small joke or a happy occurance?"
Uriel waved it off, "I've seen men smile that one grin over and over, and every time it was for a special lady. Come on, Raz, tell me, where is she?"
Cocking an eyebrow, Raziel smirked a little more, saying, "She's right behind the blacksmith's shop. Keep looking, you should see her sooner or later. She has red hair and is wearing the blue dress of an alchemist."
A few minutes passed before Uriel spoke again, "Hey, Raziel, which one is she? I found... Raziel?" He turned his head, then his body, looking around the room. "Raziel? Where'd you go?" His eyes travelled his surroundings, an armory in the side of the castle with a table, some chairs, and suits of ornamental armor set within an amorphous cell of stonewall and granite floor and scarlet carpet. A moment passed, and the Knight let his head fall dejectedly to his chest, his body slumping a little with it as a sigh floated from his mouth to rest upon the stone at his feet, his only companion in the deserted room.
"Don't speak to me." Raziel slammed the heavy wooden door behind him as he began pacing around the room. His taloned hands grabbed at books, flipped through them, and tossed them back to their shelves, as Karma stood up slowly from Raziel's desk, putting her papers into a folder.
"Raziel, what is wrong? Her concern was conveyed through her voice and her face, but her warm eyes were blocked coldly by Raziel's own harsh ones.
"I said don't speak to me!" he growled as he finally picked up what he was looking for, and roughly pushed past her to sit at his own seat. He lay the book open before him and began poring over its pages, rereading the stories of Darkness defeated he had read almost every day since he had become the Adjunct to Darius. He barely looked at her as she started to leave the room, but his voice spoke up, "Why is he here?"
Her hand faltered at the knob, and she turned her head to the crusader. "Who, Raziel?"
"Why is that knight in this castle? Why is he an officer?" He slammed the book shut and glared up at her, absolutely livid with her.
She sighed, shaking her head as she turned and leaned back against the door, papers held protectively over her bosom. "Raziel, we've been over this countless times..."
"I had told you that that man was a fool, an idiot, an... an... an absolute disgrace to our guild! To the leadership of our guild! Unfit for the position! And you turned around and nominated him for High Fist behind my back!"
Sighing exasperatedly, Karmasutra leaned her head back against the door for a moment before sternly scowling at Raziel, "I did nothing behind your back, and I have told you that the man is a natural born leader. Do you not see how he inspires the men and women before each battle? Do you not remember how many times he's risked his own life over and over again for the lives of all with him? Do you not remember the many times he's saved even your life, Adjunct?"
Groaning, Raziel closed his eyes and let a fist ball up upon his desk. "He has ruined just as many battle plans and has risked the lives of just as many men and women's lives as he has saved. The man is insufferably arrogant, Chaplain."
"So are you." These words brought his glare full-force upon her face.
For a long time, the Chaplain and the Adjunct scowled at each other, before Karmasutra spoke again, softer this time, appeasingly, "The people love him, Raziel. He's an asset to you as much as the rest of the guild. Please... just give him a chance to prove himself. One mission is all he needs."
Raziel glowered at his book for a moment, a hand unclasping the gauntlet on his other arm. Slowly he looked back up at her, asking, "Can you at least get him to start wearing a helm of any kind? If not for the looks he's so worried about, then for some real protection?" He finished removing his arm protection and reached for a quill and some parchment. "If he's going to go risking his life, he may as well at least try to protect himself from further brain damage."
The priestess grinned, as a hand reached for a knob, "I'll try, but I can't promise you anything, Adjunct."
"Thank you." He lowered his head to read over the document before him. He spoke up just as Karma was beginning to leave, "Another thing, Chaplain... It seems that there's some trouble brewing in the outskirts of Geffen. We have been asked to send one of our Officers to investigate. As young Zarium has confessed boredom to me earlier today, I want him sent to investigate." He looked up into Karma's hopeful eyes, "Maybe this is the mission he'll prove himself in, I hope?"
She nodded, truly gladdened by this order, and bowed slightly "I'm certain he will perform extremely well, Adjunct." The door opened, and then fell shut heavily as the retreating sounds of the Guild Chaplain echoed down the stone corridors. Raziel simply sat, listening to the footsteps fade while staring at the book before him.
A slight noise betrayed the presence of another in the room, and his head snapped to the side, "What news bring you?"
The shadowy voice of a Moroccan assassin arrived to his ear as the female hidden by the window replied, "Heresy, my lord."