Ephraim smiled as she looked down to her new apprentice. "Good." She said, allowing the boy to raise up. "Very good, Jaques."
"But… Master Dakan…" He said, his eyes wandering with a confused expression.
Ephraim stopped him before he could finish. "Your old master betrayed you, Jaques. He held you back because he was afraid you would one day see the true person he was someday, therefore if you were to attack him, he would have no problem taking your life."
"But, Dakan doesn't think that wa-"
"Yes he does, Jaques!" She exclaimed, placing her hand upon his shoulder. "Dakan is not the one who you think he is, my apprentice. The true Dakan begged for his father's execution, not because of what he believed in, but rather it was what the King wanted! That, my apprentice, is your former master."
"T…that can't be true…" Replied Jaques, shaking his head.
"I do not lie, child. Being of blood relation allows me to see such truth." Jaques turned his gaze towards his master. "That is right, Jaques. I am his sister. See for yourself…" She slowly pulled off her helmet to reveal her glowing green eyes, narrow and long. Her silver bangs lay vertical and flew freely in the wind. "Are these eyes not my brothers eyes? Does his blood not flow through my veins?"
Jaques bowed his head. "How…how could he do this to me? I trusted him…"
"I know, child. I once trusted him as well…" The Dark Knight said as she began to circle around him slowly, keeping eye contact at all times. Finally, she knelt down and held his chin up. "Allow me to inform you on what type of person your former master truly is, Jaques…"
----
"Windurst has fallen." Silver said blankly toward his president, his eyes weary as he did his best to hold back the tears. "Black Musketeer Maccabee fell in combat. I was unable to . . ." He lowered his head.
The president shook his head. "You can't blame yourself for his death; he knew that there was a chance that his life would be taken when he took this job. It is the life of a soldier, and you, though as hard as it may seem, must move on."
Silver nodded. He knew his words were true, but he didn't want to move on. He didn't want to forget about Maccabee and keep fighting. He just wanted to see his face, full of happiness and laughter. That same face that kept a smile on everyone else's, even in the worst of times. He missed Maccabee, and the more he thought of him, the worse his emotions became. He excused himself from the president's chambers, and made his way to the Metalworks roof.
Off to the side sat Rini and Emira, chatting on matters that no male would dare be interested in. What little he caught inspired him to not only turn away, but to leave altogether. He left the roof and went into the internal second floor, where he caught a glimpse of a most familiar figure.
"Lieutenant Hicks!" He shouted. The impish man looked up to his pupil. He nodded curtly and walked to the second floor, a tall, pointy-eared man following closely after. The three met paths, and Hicks once again turned to Silver.
"Silver Tear, this is Lord Dakan of San d'Oria." He stated, turning his direction toward the Elvaan. "He has decided to leave his post in the San d'Orian military and join our ranks. His knowledge will be of great benefit to our side of the war."
Dakan, quite nervous to be in the dorm of his former enemy, brought out his hand for a polite gesture. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Sir . . ."
"Silver Tear." The Thief replied, offering his hand in return. "Call me Silver. Everyone else does." There was an awkward silence as the two stood there, staring into each other's eyes in uncertainty. "Tell me." Silver asked in a half rude, half unemotional tone. "Why is it that you left those Elvaan bastards that killed my friend?"
"Silver Tear!" Hicks scolded, his large eyes showing much anger. "You insult our guest. I demand that you refrain from this behavior immediately."
Silver shook his head. "Can I speak to you in private, sir?"
"Later, Silver. I have business to attend to." He replied. "I will send for you later. Understood?" Silver nodded, and then left for his chambers.
----
The dormitory hallway was silent, the only true noise being the sound of Silver's boots as he walked down the long corridor. So much had changed since the last time he had been here. Maccabee was alive, and the Black Musketeers had felt so solid. Now, it seemed that they had begun to lose that bond they had once shared. Kraig was away discussing the situation with Jeunonian authorities, Hicks was under so much pressure with the President and with the war, and then there was . . .
"Silver?" The voice of Rini asked from behind. He stopped. "You haven't said so much as a word to me since you got here. Is something wrong?"
A part of him wanted her to just find out for himself, but he felt that as a Musketeer, he shouldn't hide something so serious from her. "Maccabe is . . ."
She bowed her head, staring at the ground. "I was afraid of that." She said, disappointed. "He was a great soldier, and an even better friend."
"I'd rather not talk about it right now." He replied, turning towards her. "What's done is done. We must move on."
Rini smiled. "That's very wise of you, Silver." She said, leaning against the wall. "You know, you've changed a lot since you joined us." Silver gave her a questioned look. "You've matured a lot. Even Lieutenant Hicks has noted how brave of a man you've become."
"He has?" He asked while Rini nodded in response. "I agree with him."
Silver sighed dejectedly. "But I couldn't save Mac."
"No." Rini said. "Don't blame yourself for this. Mac would have wanted you to stay strong for all of us, Silver. What would he think of you if he saw you feeling sorry for yourself?"
Silver managed a chuckle, trying to fight back the tears, although a few fell down his cheeks. "He would have told me to stop being such a little girl and suck it up." The two laughed. "Yeah . . . You're right." He said, his eyes meeting hers. "I want to fight for Maccabe. I want to avenge his death and get this war behind us."
"Agreed." Rini stated, nodding. She saluted her comrade, and turned to leave him in peace. She stopped. "Oh." She said, catching his attention a second time. "I wanted you to know that I missed you."
Silver smiled. "Yeah, I missed you too, Rin."
----
After a few hours of rest, Silver was awakened by a messenger. After being instructed to meet his superior in the mines district immediately. He got himself dressed and did as he was told.
His master meditated peacefully atop a tall, thin structure protruding from the ground. Hearing footsteps, he spoke. "I heard your briefing to the President."
"Yes, sir?" Silver replied.
"I am quite interested in this army that you spoke of." There was a long pause. "Tell me. This army . . . Did its warriors resemble that of the dead?"
Silver nodded. "Yes, sir."
"I see . . ." He got to his feet and leapt in front of his pupil. "We are most indefinitely on the road to discovering who has the Eye of Promathia."
"Something doesn't add up though, Sir." Silver replied. "The one who lead this army fought in the name of San d'Oria. If this is true, then that would mean that-"
"Our San d'Orian foes have been deceived." Silver nodded. "Our problem, however clear it has become, has gotten much more difficult. Whoever is using this instrument of death is, without a doubt, a master of the Dark Arts." He stated, walking through the wreckage.
"The Dark Arts, sir? I don't believe I understand."
Hicks shook his head. "No, you wouldn't." He then turned around, facing the Thief. "What I am about to reveal to you I wish not to be repeated."
"Of course, sir."
"You have been exposed to the truth, and I feel that it is time that you are made aware of what exactly it is that is going on." Silver nodded. "The Eye of Promathia is a black pearl enclosed with the powers of a forbidden type of magic known as the Dark Arts. It is an amplifier of magic, if you will." He began to explain while Silver listened attentively. "The Dark Arts are unlike any other. One who is well trained in the Dark Arts is able to generate his or her own hatred and grief into strength, which he or she is then able to cause unimaginable destruction. Although it was outlawed many ages ago, there are some who have whispered the teachings and have passed them down through generations. Only those who are well trained in the Dark Arts are able to use the Eye of Promathia in such a way."
"The one that used the Eye of Promathia was no mortal. Her wings were black and demonic, and I swear that her eyes were as red as blood. She flew above me, and I still remember exactly what she looked like."
"No." Hicks replied. "One who uses the Dark Arts is transformed upon its activation. Normally, the user's hair becomes either black or white, and fangs normally protrude from what would normally be incisors. The one you saw was definitely mortal, but rather, under the influence of the Dark Arts."
Silver nodded. "All we have to do is defeat her, right?"
"It's not that simple." Hicks replied. "The Dark Arts are unlike anything you have ever seen before. One who is as advanced to the point that she can use the Eye of Promathia could wipe out an entire army with ease. It can be done, but this must be thought through thoroughly." Silver nodded. "I will speak with the President. We can assassinate this woman, but we will have to treat this mission with great care. Stand by for details in the morning."
Silver saluted his superior. "Will you be accompanying me back to the Metalworks, lieutenant?"
Hicks shook his head. "No; I will return later." He replied. "I wish to admire the sky for a while." Silver nodded, and left his master in peace.
----
Emira turned in her unmercifully within the guest bed that had been prepared for her. Memories, both good and bad, deprived her of a good night's rest. She lay on her back, staring toward the stone ceiling above. She wanted so badly to speak to this one they called Lieutenant Hicks. Just maybe he could answer her questions. She had no idea what he looked like, what type of personality he had, or anything. All she knew was that the Red Mage they called Rini had told her that this Lieutenant Hicks had been to the frontline. She sighed.
A beautiful sound suddenly caught her attention. In the far off distance, a sound of a stringed instrument softly being picked in the night whispered into her furry ears. She couldn't sleep, and she knew that she wouldn't be able to for quite some time. She got to her feet, and looked down, realizing what she was wearing. It was a white silk nightgown, beautifully woven with clever and elegant designs. All of this had been prepared for her, just as Silver had requested. She loved it so much that she decided to wear it through the halls as she searched for this sound.
As she left the Metalworks, the music became louder. She turned corner after corner of the rubble of Bastok, growing ever more curious as she ventured closer to the beautiful playing. Finally, after traveling all the way to the Mines, she found the source.
A Taru, dressed in a simple robe with his medium length hair let down and draped over his shoulders softly picked at a lute with great feeling and care. His eyes were closed. Although his playing continued, his attention directed itself to the Mithra before him. "Oh, I'm sorry if I-"
"No, not at all." He replied, continuing to play. "Why are you awake at such a late hour?" He returned to his playing.
"I . . ." She hesitated, but somehow she felt that she could trust this Bard. "I can't sleep. Too much on my mind."
"Oh?" He replied. "And what kind of thoughts would do this to you?"
"Thoughts of my husband." She replied, taking a seat on a rock nearby. "You see, I haven't seen him in some time. He went off to war."
"I apologize." He stated.
She laughed. "I probably shouldn't be bothering you with such personal matters, though. Sorry if I bothered you."
"No; it's no bother." The two sat there, listening to the music. "Tell me about your husband."
She smiled at his curiosity. "Well, he's tall, dark and handsome. What girl wouldn't love him?" She said with a feint laugh. "He has a great sense of patriotism, obviously . . . His hair is long and black, and he has the type of eyes that'll stare right through you. He's a well-trained Paladin from San d'Oria." She explained, smiling as she thought of him.
The Bard's playing suddenly stopped.
He stared down towards his instrument, while the Mithra stared at him. "He . . ." Emira's heart began to pound in her chest. " . . . fought well."
"No . . ." She shook her head. "No . . . you don't know that! There's tons of Elvaans with long, black hair!"
"I'm sorry . . ."
"Don't say that!" She yelled, running back to Metalworks, sobbing.
Hicks shook his head. Such horrible things happened all because of war, and because of war, loved ones had to die. Every man that he cut down was someone's son, someone's brother, or someone's husband or father. He suddenly no longer felt like playing.
----
The next morning, the remaining Black Musketeers, along with a quiet Emira and a nervous Dakan, awaited for Hicks to appear from within the President's office. Suddenly, the doors came creaking open.
The Taru walked slowly down the steps. "We have received confirmation from our President to enter the frontline in an attempt to assassinate this soldier that has slain Windurst." Silently, the Black Musketeers were filled with satisfaction. "The plan has been carefully thought out and prepared. All of you, along with myself, will enter the battlefield via a small airship. We will then make a path into the city and will fight our way into Chateu d' Oraguille, where we will then barricade from the inside. Thanks to Sir Dakan, we were able to draw out a map of the chateu." He explained, displaying a large blueprint. "There are two main entrances to the castle. We will divide into groups of two and fight off any that try to enter the castle thereafter. While the castle is broken off by San d'Orian defences, I will make the assassination attempt myself. After we get this Dark Knight out of the way, we hope that her influence on the King will cease, and he will become much more reasonable, bringing this war to an end."
"Lieutenant Hicks." Said Emira, stepping forward.
Emotionlessly, Hicks turned to her. "Yes?"
" . . . I want to fight. Regardless of who my husband fought for, I know that what the San d'Orians are doing is wrong. I want to help stop this war along with the rest of you."
Hicks nodded. "Very well. You will accompany Dakan in the barricade." He saluted the young mithra, and turned back to the Musketeers. "The mission will commence in one hour. Musketeers, prepare yourselves for battle."
----
The airship landed itself on the roof of Metalworks. Coming from the second floor came a wave of soldiers in black and purple aketons, medals and honors shining in the light of the son. On one side was a Paladin, his white armor shining brightly, while a long white cape carrying the Bastokan symbol proudly from behind. On the other side was a young mithra dressed in a similar aketon, her tail twitching back and fourth at her newfound attire while a long black cloak draped itself over her shoulders. Their hearts were filled with determination, and their minds were prepared for battle. They boarded the airship, and left for the battle that they all hoped would end this foolish war.
They were the Black Musketeers.