Disclaimer: I do not own Record of Lodoss War, Ashram, Pirotess, Groder, etc. Although I wish I did. Sigh

Review Replies:

Lady Ferrilonver: Tehe. I like but I'm going to try and update the version too.

euphorbic: I know, I thought the same thing. There is a severe lack of Record of Lodoss War fanfiction, and an even worse lacking in the Ashram (and Pirotess, too)department! Anyway, thanks! I'm glad you like the my depiction of Ashram, but he just a sort of... obsessive kind of man, you know? First it was Beld's dream, then it was taking care of the people of Marmo. The people are so important to him, that it seems he forgets about himself. If he dies, he is just a "necessary shield", I believe was the term. Anyway, yes, this is an alternate universe Crystania fic. :-p Crystania was a good idea, but rather poorly done, in my opinion. Well, actually, no, I like Crystania, but still. Tehe. I'll shut up and get on with it now.

Chapter One

Homestretch

A roar from a few of the nearby boats, the ones carrying Dark Elves, roused many of the occupants. Soon the ships were all awake and rushing to catch the first glance of the elusive land. So many were crowding at the bow, that the captain started yelling; the boat was beginning to pitch forwards. Pirotess was crowded towards Ashram. She was pushed into him, and the heat of his armor burned her skin. She hissed and pulled back, not looking at his glare. She began forcing the desperate civilians back with limited success. It was not until Ashram unsheathed his Demon Sword that everyone calmed down. He glared at the people in the front, not too unkindly, but enough to get the point across. He turned back to the bow of the ship, his eyes narrowing, straining to see the land.

"Pirotess," he called and she smiled; his voice was much stronger already.

"Yes, sire?"

"You see land," he stated and she nodded.

"Yes, sire."

"How far?"

"I cannot tell, sire."

"Then how long until we reach it?"

"I cannot discern that either, sire," she muttered sadly. He turned on her with his black cape swirling.

"You cannot tell?"

"No, sire. The land could be very big yet very far away, or very small yet very close," she answered quietly. She saw him mull it over. He glanced about. His gray eyes landed on several of the ragged people on the ship; they were all staring at him vacantly, expectantly, and hopefully. Pirotess saw his back straighten and go rigid.

"Captain!" Ashram called over the crowd.

"Yes, sire?"

"Send messages to the other ships: we're going full speed ahead," Ashram ordered and the captain paused.

"But sire, we have no more pigeons…"

"Then use lights! Code! Come on man, be resourceful!" Ashram growled and spun back around, facing the horizon.

"Uh, yes, Sire!" came the answer as men scurried to carry out his demands. A man lit a lantern with a shutter and began to blink out messages to the other ships, hoping to catch their attention. After several moments, another sailor approached Ashram; Pirotess intercepted him.

"Please, I must speak with Lord Ashram," he almost pleaded. Pirotess arched a slender eyebrow.

"Problems?" Ashram called without turning to the man.

"Y-yes, sire. We received the order to go full speed ahead, but… we cannot bring out the oars."

"Why not?"

"We are too weak, sire! Even if we could get them out and into the water, we wouldn't be able to move them," the sailor cried and Ashram turned around. He glanced about again.

"You need muscle power?" Ashram asked almost challengingly. He began dragging out what were left of his soldiers, or at least, the healthiest looking ones. "Then you will get power," he growled and began pushing the soldiers below decks. "Everyone who can row, will row," he stated firmly. "You too," Ashram nodded to the sailor, who quickly scurried in front of Ashram and began back to the oars, with Ashram close on his heels.

"Sire?" the sailor quipped as they entered the oar room. Several of the men taking their seats at the oars looked up curiously, and some angrily, at Ashram. Ashram glanced over his shoulder to see Pirotess had indeed followed him. He turned to a corner and removed his cloak. He began unlatching his armor.

"Pirotess, help me with this," he ordered as he loosened his upper armor.

"Sire?"

"You heard me."

"Yes, sire," she obediently helped him pull his heavy armor over his head, leaving him in a dark gray tunic, and set it in the corner. She stood to the side as he removed his waist, and leg armor. She was even more surprised when he set the Soul Crusher beside the pile of armor. He removed his gauntlets and gloves, and handed them to her, turning back towards the men, who stared blankly.

"I said everyone who can row, will row, that includes me," he said flatly and pushed his wayward hair over his shoulder. There was a stunned silence as he took a seat, ignoring Pirotess' indignant squeals. "What? Row!" he yelled, placing his own hands on the oar in front of him. The men around him jumped and quickly followed suit. Soon all but two of the oars were in the water and sweeping determinedly.

Just then Priest Hobb scurried in the doorway.

"Sire!" Hobb gasped. Ashram would have raised his head defiantly had he not been so preoccupied with the piece of wood in front of him that was the oar.

"Yes, Hobb? I'm a bit busy," Ashram decided to remain nonchalant about his stooping. He was going to get them to land, and if it meant doing a peasant's job, he would do it.

"Oh sire…" Hobb whispered and it looked like he was about to burst into tears. Ashram almost laughed then and there, but then thought better of it. He would probably give nearly everyone around him a heart attack if he broke his façade of ice. "Please, let me help," Hobb said and walked through the benches. Ashram watched him out of the corner of his eye as the Priest made his way up to the platform that held the drum. When Hobb reached the platform, he turned towards the rowers. His sparkling eyes roved over the crowd.

Oh what greatness… was the thought that nearly overwhelmed the Priest. Rallying to his men's side, the Emperor cast aside all pretense and took part in his people's torment. Hobb was once again assured he had made the right choice: Lord Ashram was a hero, in the greatest sense. Hobb watched his Emperor row rhythmically to the beat of the drum, the muscles in his back showing through the light tunic he wore. Hobb nodded to himself as he clasped his hands in front of him shortly. He then raised them in prayer.

"Great Myrii, God of War and Virtue, give these brave men strength to move them forwards, to defeat the enemy that is exhaustion, thirst, and despair," Hobb recited and began to steadily sing. The rowing became more synchronized as the men wondered at their newfound strength.

Pirotess looked about ready to burst, as it seemed she was debating on whether or not to join. Ashram gave himself the privilege of smirking, something he did not too often. "Pirotess," he called her. Her face quickly un-scrunched as she snapped to attention.

"Yes, sire?" she snapped.

"Go and sit in the crow's nest. You keep an eye on the land, and inform the captain of all changes, I don't want us plowing into rocks too far away from the actual land now," he stated. His hair quickly spilled over his broad shoulders and covered half of his face as he leaned forward, and back, forward, and back, rowing with the others. Pirotess bowed slightly and with a 'yes, sire', she disappeared above decks. Ashram felt a burning in his muscles already, as he rowed to the beat of the drum in the back of the room. The room smelled of sweat and salt and he wrinkled his fine-chiseled nose, but he said nothing. He gritted his teeth and stared straight ahead as he determinedly set for what could be a very long time of rowing.

Exactly how long it had been, Ashram could not tell, but his muscles said too long. Four of the oars had been pulled back in, as the rowers fainted, despite Hobb's aide. He had done his best to heal the first ones, but soon gave up, and returned to strengthening those still rowing as the numbers of fainted men increased. Ashram worried that he would be the next to lose consciousness, but he could not. He could not let himself fail when there where still others working. So he continued, even rowing with an extra burst of vigor. Just when his vision was going black, Pirotess darted in the doorway.

"The captain says to bring in the oars!" she said, and the men faltered at their pace.

"What?" Ashram gasped, as the men dropped their oars, and he felt his tendons tear when he suddenly found himself the only one holding the oar.

"We're too close to row in, sire. We'll go by the wind now," she explained and Ashram could not help but stare at the bearer of this news as the men tiredly pulled in the oars. He jumped a little when he realized he was blocking the way for his bench's oar. He quickly, well as quickly as possible, leapt up and cleared the way.

"We're close?" he could not help but repeat, looking at Pirotess. She nodded.

"You can come up and see," she said.

"Yes… I-" he stopped abruptly and made his way up to the decks. He gazed forwards dazedly, as he walked to the bow of the ship almost drunkenly. He practically collapsed upon the railing, but quickly regained his composure and just leaned upon it. "What the hell is this?" he muttered as he gazed forwards and up. A great wall that reached all the way to the sky greeted them.

"I do not know, sire," Pirotess muttered. She could see the despair in her Emperor's face blatantly.

"A wall. We find land… and we can't set foot on it, because of a god-damned wall!" he cried, his voice intensifying. "Why gods! What have we done! Why do you torture us!" he yelled and let himself fall upon the railing. His arms, shoulders, and back were painful and tingling. Pirotess ran to him and knelt at his side. She went to place a hand on him, but thought better of it. His face was burnt from exposure, and his hands were bleeding from the rough wood of the oar.

"Milord," she whispered and her eyes began to sting as she felt tears well up. The gods were cruel.

"All we want is land… is that so much to ask? A land where we aren't constantly hunted and killed. A land where we can live, work, and raise our families… is that so… much… to ask…" his voice shrank and his body shook. For a moment, Pirotess thought he was sobbing, then she realized he was seizing.

Author's Note: Well, sorry about how short this was... But don't worry, the next chapter is much longer! And sorry if Ashram seems a bit OOC, but they've been on ships out in the middle of nowhere for months... he's a bit stressed to say the least.