Daylight crept back behind the mountains to the west, its recline beneath a wisp of cumulus staining the dusky sky pink and turquoise. The many cobbled avenues of Vector, which had been teeming with street vendors and their patrons less than an hour earlier, had since grown dark and quiet. Like a recently dammed-up river, only the scattered trickle of activity continued on into the night. It was the idea of their city being overrun by late-night drunkards and streetwalkers that made Maria finally close the shutters for the evening.
"Novel?" she asked her husband, sitting alongside him near the mantelpiece.
"Novella," he corrected. "Some lad by the name of Yohalem wrote it. Figured I'd do a little reading for a change, to try and get my mind off of what happened today."
She leaned her head on his shoulder while brushing a hand across his chest. "Is it doing the trick?"
"Not really." She picked her head up momentarily as he clamped the book shut and slid it back into place on one of the shelves. "Bit of a grim tale, to be honest. Does little to soothe the soul."
"Well, if it helps to ease your mind any, the little ones are doing much better now than they had been this morning. Banon's injury wasn't all that serious to begin with, and it doesn't look like Gestahl broke anything in that fall he took."
Draco moved to place an arm around her, which she nestled into soundlessly.
"Still, I'll feel a lot better after that doctor from town shows up and gives them each a clean bill of health. I look forward to putting this day behind us."
They both sat silently for several moments, basking in the glow of their candlelight as well as each other. After some time, Draco felt her sink deeper into his arms and he began to think she was starting to doze off. He, then, saw that her eyes were wide open, apparently staring at the long, dark shadows which their candelabras wrought upon the stone walls.
"Some gil for your thoughts?" he asked.
She gave a shake with her head that sent her golden hair dancing. "You'll think that I'm foolish."
"Never."
So, she turned and looked at him. "I think this city has begun to make me a bit paranoid. It's not the innocent little hamlet it was when we first became king and queen. These people are changing, everything's changing."
"That is the way the world works, Maria."
"But does it really have to? You . . ." She broke eye contact with him, struggling against mincing words with her husband of all people. "I'm not blind to what it is you're trying to do for them. You lay down a network of trade routes, you keep peace treaties with the hinterlands. You like keeping everybody connected, but control can unite in ways diplomacy can't."
Her last statement in particular seemed to strike a nerve with him. "Are you implying that Vector is a kingdom of undisciplined ruffians?"
"What I'm saying is that fear is as every bit the tool of a kingdom's success as peace. If a nation isn't feared by its enemies, what will stop our enemies from plowing right over us?"
"I think I hear the doctor knocking," he said, more for the sake of ending their conversation than pursuing it any further.
It was unbeknownst to either of them that the entire time his two parents had been talking, Gestahl was resting in a tub of shallow water in the room next door - hanging intently on their every word . . .
"Somebody call for a doctor?"
The two silver-clad guards posted at the castle entrance regarded the spectacled little man before them with suspicion. While their king had given them no real detail as to the one that was expected to arrive, the man which entreated entrance before them now looked more the part of a doctor's apprentice than an actual doctor.
"Are you sure you're the one His Majesty sent for?" uttered the leftmost guard in a monotone voice. "We were informed that the one stopping by this evening was closer to middle-aged."
"Yes," said the man before them, pushing the horn-rimmed specs up along the bridge of his nose. "Well, the town physician has requested that I see his patients this evening. I completed my apprenticeship beneath his tutelage just last week."
The second guard stepped forward, more for the purpose of putting his own two cents in than to be thorough with their visitor. "Gonna have to see your stamp collection first, son."
"Ah, yes. Well, I have a better idea." Very discreetly, the man reached into his robe pockets. "How about you take two of these--"
Two tiny vials of glimmering red dust were suddenly airborne, shattering upside each guard's visor. Before either of them could draw a sword, they both went down in discordant heaps - snoring soundly.
"--and call me in the morning?"
He hastily flung aside the phony robe and glasses, reminding himself not to get overconfident while there was still a short-tempered esper running amok. With a quick brushdown of his white-and-scarlet cape, he took in a tired breath and allowed himself in . . .
Banon tossed in his sleep, unable to keep visions of their fiery attacker from his mind for more than a few seconds at a time. In the dark, his bed sheets rustled and his voice called out against something that wasn't there - at least, not there in the room with him. From climbing trees to scaling foothills, he thought for sure that all the day's activity would have tired him out too much to take notice of a passing nightmare. But that simply wasn't the case. He finally bolted upright in his bed, sweat clinging to his brow like a shiny cloth.
"Mom, dad . . . ow!" He grimaced as the bandage around his arm twisted against his skin. "I had a bad dream and I can't get back to sleep."
His bare feet made soft patting sounds against the cold flagstone as he made his way to the door. He started to reach out for the knob when he heard a loud clatter from somewhere down on the first level. It sounded akin to pots and pans crashing onto the floor and for a moment, Banon got the idea that his mother was making him something in the kitchen. Just as he finally found the doorknob, however, a peek out through the frame told him a much different story.
The large double doors in their foyer hung open, both guards posted at the bridge were now unconscious, and a strange man Banon had never laid eyes on before was saundering about as though he owned the place.
Could he be their doctor? Banon wondered silently. And if he was, what reason could he possibly have for knocking out their night watchmen?
Deciding to go with his gut instinct, he huddled down near the door and ever so carefully pried it open. Down below, the stranger lingered near the bannister of their grand staircase. His eyes cased over each of the castle's rooms that were within eyeshot and detected movement. Upstairs, Banon scrambled around a corner and down a hallway before the red-caped man could find him. Heavy boots galloped up the stairway, and Banon disappeared behind the first door his hands found the knob to. Gestahl's door.
"Gestahl? Gestahl, wake up!" He shook at the bed sheets vehemently, waiting for a reaction but not immediately receiving one. "Gestahl!"
His brother finally gave a grunt as Banon's hands found a sore spot along his back. Gestahl turned over, saw that it was his brother, then turned over again. "What do 'you' want?" he murmured, half asleep.
Banon was too panic-stricken to notice the suddenly surly tone to Gestahl's voice. "It's a robber or something. He's going to find us, I think he's already found me! We have to get to mom and dad and get out of here!"
"Relax, would ya? The castle guards will take care of him."
"No!" Banon swung around to the other side of his brother's bed. "He's already knocked them out. He's coming up the stairs right now and he's gonna get us too. Come on, come on!"
"Fine," he growled, very carefully tossing the covers off of him before going to the door. "We'll get mom and dad. That way, they can ground you for spreading around these ridiculous stories and I can finally get some sle--"
The caped stranger stood out in the hallway, apparently waiting for the two boys to show themselves. Banon and Gestahl opened their mouths to scream but no sound came out. The man before them looked amused by their expressions, keeping a finger over his lips as though silencing them of his own free will.
"It's alright," he said to them, with a voice that was as every bit subtle as his Mute spell. "I'm not going to hurt you. All I want is the esper."
"A . . . an . . . an esper . . ." Banon stammered, intrigued at being able to speak again. "What . . . what's an esper?"
He smiled and stooped down. "It's a monster that can make itself a man. They live in a very far-off place."
Banon began to feel more relaxed. "Far off, like . . . Mobliz?"
The caped man chuckled. "Far off, like another world."
Banon's eyes shone with bewilderment.
"Who . . . who are you, mister?" Gestahl demanded, trying to sound brave but totally blowing it.
"Ah yes, my apologies. My name is Strago, and I've been chasing after this creature for five days now. I was able to track it as far as Albrook, but then got sidetracked when a storm slammed the continent."
"The storm!" Banon exclaimed. "Right. We found it in the foothills the day after it ended."
"Where is it now, do you know?"
Gestahl answered before Banon had a chance to. "Dad said he was going to take care of it, but that could mean anything."
"Alright then, I'll take it from here." He took out a small bronze rod from beneath his cape. Its glimmering crystal head earned another gasp of wonder from the younger sibling. "You two go and find your folks, then get to safety."
He began to go back the way he had come when Gestahl snatched up a handful of his cape. "Get to safety? But this is our home! What do you plan to do with our home?"
"Your home is about to become a battleground, son. Leave with your family while you still have the chance."
"But you can't--"
Strago heard no more of it and leapt down over the second-floor railing in pursuit of his prey.
"Banon, what are we going to do? We can't just let that guy do what he wants in our castle."
"Let's at least get mom and dad and tell them what we know."
Gestahl didn't seem satisfied with Banon's reply but realized there was nothing else he could do. Still in their bed clothes, the two of them ran down towards the end of the hallway where the master bedroom was. When they got there, they found their mother sitting next to the mantelpiece. Her face seemed preoccupied as her old-style music box tried in vain to comfort her with the tunes of "Troian Beauty".
"Mom," Banon called out in the doorway. "Put your robe on! We're leaving!"
"We're not going anywhere." Gestahl shoved his way past his brother, concerned for his mother's aloofness. "Mom, what's the matter? Where's dad?"
Maria tilted her head towards her eldest son, giving him a sad-looking smile. "Your father . . . went downstairs. He said he heard the doctor coming."
"But that's just it, he's not a doctor. He's just some whacko who's out to hunt the creature that attacked us."
"Strago's no whacko!" Banon protested. "He's only trying to protect us from the esper!"
"Oh really, the same way your bringing it here was supposed to protect others?" Gestahl gave him an absolutely unreadable look then, unreadable because he had never shown this much hatred towards his brother before. "It obviously didn't do much to protect those two guards that got knocked out."
"He didn't kill--"
"That's enough!" Maria shouted, finding her feet. "Save your bickering for another time, you two. Right now, we have to find your father."
"Sorry, mom," they both said.
She sighed and disappeared into her closet, apparently heedless of the music that continued to play its Troian ballad. As his mother threw on her robe, Banon twiddled his fingers in apprehension. He couldn't help but ask the question which kept gnawing on his mind.
"Mom, what did dad do with the esper?"
Maria tied the loose sash of her robe tight around her waist. "He didn't kill it, if that's what you're asking. He locked it up down in the cellar."
Banon nodded, then exchanged a nervous glance with Gestahl. It had suddenly occurred to the both of them that they had failed to inform either of their parents of the esper's ability to conjure up flames at will.
"What else do we have in the cellar?" Gestahl asked.
"Nothing much. Some family heirlooms, an old carriage, a wine cellar . . ."
The two brother's looked at each other.
"Why?"
An explosion suddenly rocked Vector castle down to its very foundations. Several smaller ones followed as bottles from the old vineyard detonated several stories below. All three of them had their feet taken out from under them, but Maria was back up in a heartbeat - running out the door and screaming her husband's name.
"Mom, wait!"
Banon helped Gestahl find his bearings again, though he was too concerned with his mother to mutter so much as a simple thank-you in response. Without another word, the two brothers chased her back out into the corrider, trying their best to ignore the flames lashing up at the latticed windows from outside . . .
Several minutes before the first explosion went off, Strago's rod was already prompting him halfway down the spiral stairway into the Vector castle sublevel. His instrument was infallible, being perfectly synchronized with the life energies of any esper within a five-mile radius. Only the quick and the dead stood any chance of falling below the Magi warrior's range, and he used this knowledge to spearhead his search. As he tread deeper and deeper into the musky cellar, the telltale creak from the old wooden steps prompted someone to call out in the darkness.
To Strago's dismay, the voice was human.
"Who goes there?" the voice asked. "Is that you, Maria?"
"Your Majesty, I presume?" Circling around a large motorized carriage to where the voice emanated from, he decided to go ahead and continue where he left off on his role as doctor. "I'm the physician you sent for. For your two children?"
"Ah yes . . ."
On the opposite side of the cellar, Strago could barely make out what appeared to be a large steel cage with its door hanging open. The esper couldn't have been more than a few meters away now, so if the king really was nearby he was taking an awfully big chance by lingering there.
"Neither of your boys have suffered any life-threatening injuries, however I'd like for you and your family to come with me into town. The young ones may still need some antibiotics."
Something around the corner flared into life then, and the voice that had once belonged to Draco suddenly took on a savage overtone.
"The boys, yes. I shall be moving on to them . . . in a moment . . ."
Strago started to question such an unusual statement, when he rounded the last bend and gasped. It was the same emblazoned esper with cherub wings he had been pursuing for the past week, yet it spoke with King Draco's voice - while King Draco's intestines hung down from its mouth.
" . . . right after I'm through with you!"
He sighed and started twirling his rod about in a wide arch, preparing himself for the onslaught he knew was inevitable. As it cascaded through empty space, the rod began to carve a triangular glyph into the air before him. The esper reacted, roaring as though he had fought this battle before. Fire and lightning erupted from its physique, engulfing the cellar with blinding radiance. Something exploded a split second after the glyph started to spin, sheltering the mage from the blast but giving his hunt ample opportunity to escape.
"Those boys . . . their mother . . ." The mage gave a grunt as he heaved a smoldering rafter up off of him. "This hunt cannot continue now. I must help them to escape, while it can still do them any good."
Coughing and burying his nose in his cape, Strago darted for the spiral stairwell while uttering a hasty spell for breathable air in the process. The amber haze of heat and light caused him to stumble more than once on his way up but finally the creaky wooden causeway came to be replaced with a flagstone floor and walls. The pitter-patter of children's footsteps chased after him and before he could call out, Banon, Gestahl, and Maria rounded a corner to his position. The three of them had some very concerned looks on their faces.
"Did you find the esper?" Banon asked him.
"Where's dad?" Gestahl followed up by saying.
"Who are you?" was all Maria said.
Strago pushed his way passed them, heading for the door. "There's no time to explain right now. We have to get out of here before this castle eats itself out from the ground up."
He felt a pair of hands suddenly seize the middle of his cape and learned that it was Draco's eldest son.
"Where's our father? What did you do with him?" Gestahl shook the mage with each question asked of him. "If you don't tell me right now I'll--"
"The esper got to him before I could." Strago took hold of the boy's suddenly still hands. "There was nothing I could do for him. I'm sorry."
The two brothers simply stared, unable to comprehend the loss. Their mother stood a little ways behind them, a hand held up to her quivering lips.
"Oh my hero, no . . ."
The flagstone foyer at the foot of the entrance unexpectedly crumbled in on itself and below, through the dust and rubble, a set of piercing yellow eyes glared up at them. His arms spread-eagled, Strago backed the family away from the opening in the floor. His eyes strained to stare the creature down.
"Is there another way out of here?" The shellshocked brothers and their mother couldn't bring themselves to answer at first. "Stay with me back there! Is there another door out of this place? Come on, think!"
Banon, breaking from his reverie from the force of the mage's question, finally answered. "The back door," he said, unaware that he was sobbing, "Dad's study has a way out to the gazebo."
"Then go." The crystal-tipped rod was back into Strago's hands in a heartbeat. "I'll hold it back for as long as I can."
Gestahl started to protest. "But this is our--"
"Go!"
His voice seemed magically amplified and the family began to obey when a tide of fire erupted from the hole in the floor, turning flagstone into brimstone. The young mage tried to throw up a Shield spell as quick as he could, but he simply couldn't get the cantrip out fast enough. The four of them were thrown back from the force of the killing tide, with the remnants of Strago's protective aura able to slow down some of the stone fragments but not all of them. As the mage struggled to regain his vertical base, his eyes widened on an esper that was now floating above the rift - and drifting towards them!
"You just don't learn, do you?"
But Banon and Gestahl were no longer paying the two foes any mind. The hellish blast of stone and shrapnel had their mother lying prone on the floor - a large wedge of cornerstone embedded into her chest.
"Mom?"
"Don't move, okay? You're going to be fine."
But Maria was barely able to hear them, her conscious thought holding on only by a thread. The lithe and beautiful woman sputtered blood as she reached out a hand to one of her two sons. The one she found was Gestahl.
"Mom, don't go. There'll be no one left to look after us. Mom, please . . ."
Her delicate hand caressed his face as only a loving mother's could. "Take care . . ." she wheezed, ". . . of Vector . . . of yourselves. Be good . . ."
She exhaled one last ragged breath, and the two brothers waited for her to draw in another one. But it never came. Her head lolled, her eyes fluttered, and then the heavy sleep of eternity descended upon her.
All of reality seemed to slow down around them. Neither Gestahl nor Banon heard the fire break its way up from out of the cellar, or even Strago loosing a bolt of elemental magic that brought the ceiling down on top of the war-crazed esper. The next thing they felt was a hand grabbing hold of their shirt collars and shoving them out along the back way. Even that didn't seem quick enough to spare them the horror of it all. The moment stayed with them long after the two brothers fled to the safety of the starry night.
Meanwhile, the esper - buried beneath the burning rubble of Vector castle - smiled.
The day after . . .
The funeral was a simple affair, reserved only for family members, the royal guard, and a handful of foreign dignitaries. Both brothers stood silent throughout the service, paying little or no attention to the condolence speeches given by a Doman sentry or even the chancellor of Figaro. It all passed them by in an instant, until both brothers were alone with their parents' monument on the hillside. The dismal gray overcast only seemed to amplify the sorrow which Banon felt.
Gestahl, on the other hand, was feeling something else entirely.
"I can't believe they're gone." Banon struggled to keep the tears from his eyes, but the obsidian stone in front of them wouldn't let him. "What's going to happen to us without them? Are things ever going to get better for us?"
Gestahl, however, couldn't keep his eyes away from the monument that had been Vector castle - a monument that was now as black as their mother and father's grave marker. "I can't really speak for us," he told him, "I can only speak for myself, and the township of Vector."
Banon sniffled and looked at him. "What are you talking about?"
"Hasn't the chancellor told you?" When it seemed that his only answer would be his brother's dumbfounded face, Gestahl continued. "With both of our parents dead, the throne passes over to the eldest son - me."
"Oh," Banon said, only partially understanding. "But what about me? What do I get?"
Sparks of contempt flashed in Gestahl's eyes, making Banon feel uneasy. It was the same look he had been given the day the two of them brought the esper home.
"The chancellor and I spoke about that, and we both think it would be best if you didn't stay here anymore."
"What? But you can't! We're--"
"We're brothers?" Gestahl finished for him. "No. That excuse won't work anymore, not since you allowed for one of those esper creatures into our home and tear it apart from the inside out."
"But I . . . I did what dad taught us was right. I put the needs of the many before the needs of the few. Mom and dad understood that. Why can't you?"
"Because it's an attitude that will mark the end of Vector!" Gestahl's voice took on a harsh and explosive life. "Fifty years from now, no one will remember this place, these people, not even mom and dad! I'm pulling out the stops here and now, and the stops start with you!"
Banon staggered a little ways down the grassy slope, feeling smaller and more vulnerable than he actually was. Could the chancellor really be condoning all of this? Where was he supposed to go?
"I can't believe you're doing this to me . . . to us." He turned back to their mother and father's obelisk, wanting to take back so many things he had done that fated day in the meadow but unable to do so. "Just . . . why?"
Gestahl remained indifferent as he spoke. "To watch over the legacy our parents left behind. Mom and dad understood that. Why can't you?"
"Brother . . ."
But Gestahl was through listening to him. With a rose in one hand and a makeshift crutch in the other, the Vector prince lingered a moment longer to pay his last respects and then hobbled his way back into town. Banon stayed, not knowing what to do, where to go, or even what to feel. A stiff breeze finally rustled the grass at his feet, and he realized with no small degree of anguish that his own rose lay ruined within his clenched fist. The crushed pedals tumbled from his tiny fingers, fingers that had gone numb since the esper had attacked him. And it was then that it hit him.
The wound on his arm had vanished . . .