Romance Notes: I compiled all the reviews one evening and realized how many demands there have been for this or that pairing for Ryu. Let me just say this: it's out of my hands. Seriously. The entire story's all outlined from chapter twenty to the very end. Because outlines make life so much simpler, I intend to stick to it. For good or ill, Ryu's love life has already been determined; all I'm doing now is filling in the details. An exception to this is an event in St. Eva Church, which I might alter from the original game…or not.
Final note: I've been working on a Final Fantasy Tactics novel while doing this. As such, updates will be less frequent, but still regular. Expect an update once a week. In any event, I'll still be finished around December, 2006.
This chapter's intentionally short; focus is on Turvoe and Sten. Next chapter will be the finish of Highfort. Then things will get rocky again for our heroes. Just to settle things, here's a list of characters who won't be showing up: Bow, Spar, and Bleu.
Chapter Twenty-Six: KarmaHighfort, the mercenary kingdom. The most militarily advanced of the modern nations, it boasts some of the finest soldiers and tacticians in history. The Academies of War were filled with those young, inquisitive, and creative minds from all across the globe—yet no foreigner could ever hope to rival a Highlander's uncanny cunning on the battlefield.
But tactics alone does not an army make. Factories belch white smoke into the sky, where the munitions lines construct the implements of war: sword, spear, shield, plate, and even the mighty gun. Chemists work night and day, concocting the volatile powders and liquids needed to create deadly flames and blasts. Gunpowder, bomb, and cannon were as common as knife, blade, and arrow.
It was this place that the party of adventurers had come, under the sage advice of the Wise Tree, Yggdrasil. It was to this place that Sten Legacy never wanted to return.
His agitation was palpable. The normally professional Highlander scratched at his scarred visage mercilessly, as if the self-infliction of pain would deter his mind from more agonizing memories. The others took note of his strange habit, and looked on him in concern. But it was a fight that only he alone could wage; Sten grew more and more distant the closer and closer that he got to Highfort.
At last, the party walked across the great drawbridge that led to High Castle, capital fortress of the warrior clan. Sten was decidedly melancholy.
Thus, it was surprising that he reached out one long arm and grasped Ryu's shoulder. "Let me speak to them first," said the former soldier in resignation. "My people are not as open as ye might think; they will…be more cooperative with our quest if I were to explain." For they had come to discover the machinations of Saint Eva—Deathevan. At this, Ryu gave a quiet nod, realizing how difficult this trial must be for the Highlander.
Sten sighed to fortify himself and walked up to the gate guards. "Halt, and speak your purpose!" commanded one of the guards.
"Sten Legacy…and guests. We come to make inquiries."
The guards could only gasp and sputter. "S-Sten L-Legacy? Tha' Sten Legacy? Captain! Tha' Captain has returned! Open tha' gates! Open it, ye pukes, ye scoundrels! Hurry, hurry—tha' Captain has returned!"
The party was admitted with due fanfare. Even before they could set their cloaks on a peg, servants came and pampered them as if they were nobility. Baths were drawn, old clothes and backpacks taken to the finest rooms, and dinner of the finest meats and wines prepared just waiting to be supped. Ryu, Yua, and Katt, unaccustomed to such treatment, were flummoxed. Nina, who had spent her earliest years under such accommodations, was more graceful in accepting the rich conduct.
But Sten just moved through the motions like a man without a mind.
The party was conducted to a grand banquet hall, where servants had already laid an impressive meal for them. Just as they took to their seats, three Highlanders in brilliant garb entered and joined them. One was a female, her dress of silk strangely at odds with the ornamental weapons at her belt. She curtsied and sat at the head. Another female, armed to the nines in steel and plate, sat her right. The third, a male, wore a breastplate bearing the ribbons of a captain. He sat to the left.
"Welcome, noble travelers," said the first female in eloquent tones bespeaking of her noble birth, "I am the lady of this castle, Princess Herfarann. I hope we can all becomes friends." Though she spoke to the assembled, her eyes were on Sten alone; the old soldier pointedly ignored this.
"On behalf of the princess and all of Highfort," said the other female in stiff, formal tones, "I, Shupkay, high general of her majesty's forces, welcome you to our table."
The male said nothing, but he, too, kept his eye on Sten.
Nina was the first of the party to speak, being the most experienced in matters of court. "To what do we owe this honor, princess?"
Herfarann smiled. "You return to us our greatest warrior, Stenanil Legacy, who disappeared ten years ago after the battle of Goonheim. He was presumed dead, but I—that is, we—never stopped believing that he yet lived." The stumble was not lost on the others. The princess acted as if it never happened. "A meal and accommodations are the least we can do for those who have done this great service to our people. We are in your debt, noble ones. Might we know your names, that we will remember them?"
"I am Nina of Windia," she replied, turning a hand to each companion in turn. "This is Katt Chuan of Corsair and Yua and Ryu Bateson of Gate."
Herfarann looked at the siblings with curiosity. It was unbecoming of one of her breeding to stare, but it simply could not be helped, for Ryu's metamorphosis had that effect on people. "You are…brother and sister? You do not look at all alike," she said lightly, hoping to broach the matter gently.
"My appearance," Ryu said quietly, "is indirectly related to why we have come here."
Herfarann only smiled. "Ah, but business can wait, my new friend. Come, let us partake of this repast and make merry." She raised her goblet high. "To new friends, and especially to old ones." She vigorously toasted, as did the others by standards of etiquette, but Sten did not so much as touch his drink or his food the entire dinner.
Much later, after the adventurers had retired to their private guestrooms, Sten sat on the desk that was once his. It was in this office that he held the coveted rank of Captain Commander. Now, he saw that the mantle had been changed, the desk replaced, the name replaced. No longer did Stenanil Legacy hold this high honor. It was another's name now.
"At least he kept the chair," Sten murmured, rubbing the armrests affectionately.
"It's a comfortable chair, hard to find in these dark days," replied a voice from behind.
Sten allowed a thin, ironic smile to cross his weathered visage. "You were the only one who could sneak up behind me, Turvoe. So, ten years—so short a phrase, but so long to live through."
Turvoe, the silent male from the dinner, stalked around Sten like a tiger preparing to maul its prey. "Why'd you come back, Sten? You abandoned your duties and left us all behind. Why return now? For a free meal?" he spat derisively.
"Believe me, if I could have avoided it, I would have," Sten said honestly. "The last thing I want is to be recognized as a hero for my cowardice."
Turvoe was furious at this admission. "How could you betray your own, betray your code? 'Serve the crown,' you told me once! You abandoned it!"
"I couldn't take it, Turvoe!" the soldier cried. "Men died because of me and a mistake I made. Friends perished, their families left bereft and alone of the father who'd protect and comfort them. Wives left to work their hands raw because they had to do the job of two parents. Children cried because of my mistake."
Turvoe grabbed him by the collar and shouted, "You knew this from the beginning, Legacy! All commanders know this! Why did you break down? Why'd you leave? No one would have blamed you, you know that—there was no reason at all to disappear, you fool."
The captain threw Sten against the wall angrily. "We needed you after Goonheim," he said in softer tones. "That war cost us dearly, despite a victory. Our coffers were depleted, our forces sundered. It was four whole seasons before we had anything close to a standing army again. Herfarann had to make some terrible sacrifices to keep Highfort together. Did you know she married the Earl of Lowfort?"
Sten sighed sadly. "Did she now?"
"It was to secure a line of funds during those hard, learn years after you left. She bore him an heir, and her bore her a stipend of two millions in gold nuggets every season—you know how rich the mines of Lowfort are."
Sten rubbed at his scar. "Yes. I do. It was…a wise decision."
"Is that all you can say?" Turvoe asked. "You cared for her once—you helped her mother raise her, after the king died. Rumors said that you even pledged to wed her when she came of age, even though you were old enough to be her father."
"I pledged nothing," said Sten. "It was the other way around—a childish, romantic dream of hers. One that I shared, admittedly."
"Well, you can't have it now," the captain said bitingly.
"You make it sound like this is all my fault. What could I have done? How would have one soldier's presence made any difference, Turvoe?"
The captain spun on him, his anger heating up once more. "Because you're Stenanil Legacy—that alone is reason enough! You are a hero, a leader, a figure that we can all believe in. Never beaten, never defeated, never had victory escaped your grasp. Any war we fought in, no matter the odds, we won because of you. We needed you to lead us to victory again, to win wars, to earn the money we need to live."
Turvoe pointed an accusatory finger at him. "But you left. And we paid for it." He opened the door and made ready to leave. "Enjoy your stay, hero. When you're finished here, don't forget to lock the door."