Angel's Fear

Disclaimer: I do not own Seiken Densetsu III, Squaresoft or any other minor companies or people associated with the release of said game. This is a fanfiction which will never be published.

Chapter II

Beastly Ambition

It was a long journey. Being a mercenary he had been used to trips like these, but then he had prepared beforehand with a sword encyclopedia that he could read during the voyage. On this ship Duran realized that he could only polish a sword so many times. He felt like he had a chance to alleviate his boredom when the crew allowed him to help out on deck. If anything it would at least give him a chance to flex his muscles. He couldn't face off against the crimson mage without being on top of his game physically. The swordsman got his much needed exercise through the work but after several weeks of tying, swabbing, listening to sailor gossip and eating incredibly stale sea biscuits it was safe to assume that he had taken mariner off of his list of preferable career opportunities. Might it also be safe to add that there was something about being up in the crow's nest that made Duran terribly uneasy. Then at last the day came when he could finally get himself off of that goddess-forsaken tugboat. Duran gathered everything together in his satchel and made sure that both of his swords were well secured on his back. He made his way to the front deck and began to carefully make his way down the narrow plank that the crew had laid out. As the mercenary began to take his first step onto dry land something caught his eye. A tan blur which he just slowly began to make out as a human figure when it collided into him. The shock launched Duran back onto the ship, whilst the blur that had now transfigured itself into a lithe young man bounced into the harbor.

"Just when I thought I'd get off of this bloody ship." The swordsman growled to himself, returning to his feet he gazed toward the ripples in the water. "You alright down there." He called into the drink. He expected the man to resurface but as the seconds rolled on it became more and more apparent that this was not to be. Shrugging it off as merely a chance to get some directions he plunged into the brine. The waters of Jad harbor were incredibly murky; Duran had no interest in acquiring the reason. He followed the trail of bubbles down to where the youth lay submerged. The youth was clad in a definitively foreign robe, which seemed suitable for one living in a desert. The swordsman locked his hands around the desert dweller and began swimming to the surface. This feat was made much more difficult considering the fact that he had forgotten to remove his armor before diving. Breaching the surface Duran took a few minutes to regain his breath and then began swimming toward shore. As soon as he laid the desert dweller on the pavement he began to sputter.

"Hey, are you okay?" Duran asked, relieved by the fact didn't have to administer CPR to a man.

"Round…Drop." Muttered the nomad in between coughs.

"Sure thing, just a moment." Duran said as he rummaged through his satchel. While he was doing so he could have sworn that the burden on his back had somehow become lighter.

"Here it is, just remember to watch where you're go…" Duran turned to find that the man had suddenly disappeared. He scratched his head in thought and reached for his sword, only to find that it had been extracted from its sheath. He almost drowned trying to save the life of a thief. But fortunately the bandit didn't take both of the swords. Duran unsheathed his father's sword and scanned the blade. To put simply, it had seen better days. The blade was extremely dull, as if it were sharpened on leather instead of a grinding wheel. Even the nicks in the blade, which might have been useful in reopening wounds, had rounded edges. It was more of a club than a sword. Disappointed, with the recent turn of events he resigned himself to the fact that he could always buy another one. Even though no sword in his honest opinion could replace that little death bringer that he had bought with his military college fund. He walked toward the gate taking notice of two gigantic men guarding it. But could they really be called men? No man he had ever seen had that much that much hair. Looking even closer he could see that they their faces were stretched forward much like that of a wolf. Their masses made the massive figure of that Bruiser chap that he bloodied up back in the tourney resemble a dwarf. Duran would have made further deductions to what exactly was the identity of this fierce looking race if it wasn't for the fact that he had stopped awkwardly in the middle of the gate and was being glared at by the werewolfish guards. Regaining his focus to the issue of being unarmed he set his sights on the nearby weapons shop. Duran gazed at his surroundings, it was a small town completely surrounded by the walls of the castle. Duran assumed that the citizens had bought into a false sense of security, considering the fact the there wasn't any apparent sign of a struggle. He began to wonder if the gate into the castle was always left wide open. Either way it appeared that the Beastmen were relishing there little conquest. Lugar, commander of the Army of United Beasts had no problem rallying his troops to hold minor victory marches throughout the main square. A short five-minute walk later he reached the blacksmith shop. Rechecking to make sure that the thief that he encountered hadn't swiped his wallet he regarded the merchant behind the counter.

"WHAAAAT! What do you mean you have no weapons!" Duran shouted at the man behind the counter.

"Sorry sir, but the Beast Army has confiscated all of my blades." Said the merchant calmly even though he could tell he was missing out on a valued sucker, err customer.

"What about knives, you've gotta have at least some kind of knife." Duran pleaded, "A dirk, dagger, switchblade, butter knife, anything." All of his options met with the owner's shaken head. Duran turned away from the counter and retreated into his thoughts. His mind seethed with curses, how could he possibly expect to go against the scarlet wizard without a sword. The whole thought of beating the mage into the ground with his father's "club of righteousness" while amusing was pretty unlikely. But today he had a new enemy, the Army of United Beasts. They would pay dearly for interfering in his quest. His plotting then reached a sudden end when he noticed that one of the nearby bookshelves was shaking slightly. Duran crept closer to the bookcase, within moments analyzing that there was definitely something wriggling behind it. The recently disarmed swordsman had a mind to smite whatever lay behind it with his heel. He gripped the corner of the shelf and with a quick motion toppled it. Amid the cloud of dust and the shop owner's calls for compensation Duran expected to find the vermin. The rat he had sought to crush beneath his grieves wasn't even a rat at all, it was a man. But that overgrown hair was present however, it was another Beastman.

"Gah, please don't hurt Kevin!" the Beastman wailed, his arms quaking with fear. There was something odd about this Beastman, Duran thought to himself. Even though he had the wolfen hair and ears, the mercenary noticed that there he didn't seem to have any claws. That and with harmless looking eyes like those there was no way that he could see him killing anybody or anything for that matter.

"Do you know the commander?" Duran asked down toward the cowardly Beastman, mulling over whether or not he should spare his fists.

"Yes, Kevin knows him. But Kevin can't be seen in this form, not now." Kevin said drawing further and further into the corner. Duran averted his glance from the pathetic halfling and began making steps toward the door. Once outside the gears in his head started turning again. Should his aim be towards the removal of the commander or should he take the time to dispatch every single soldier in the Beast Army? While the former option was much more practical, the latter could not be ignored. The thrill of destroying an entire army would be a great way to start off his quest for vengeance and the way he was feeling then he honestly thought he could succeed. He was so carried away with these vengeful thoughts that he failed to realize where he was going and collided into something large and hairy.

"Hey you, watch where yer goin." Grunted the Beastman toward the angry little warrior that he had just knocked over. Duran smiled a smile that wasn't even attempting to mask its malice. Apparently Plan B was about to set itself into motion. "What're you smiling like that for? Ya looking for a fight?" the beast soldier said returning a grin.

"Just bring it, you freak." Duran glared back at the soldier, waving his thumb in front of his face in a threatening gesture. The Beastman curled back in preparation to strike. Duran braced himself and placed his fists in plain sight. They were the only true weapons he owned. The Beastman lunged forward his massive fists aimed directly for Duran's face. Duran brought his arms up blocking the thrust, praising in his mind the fact that he remembered to wear his armor. If he hadn't the strike would have easily killed him. At this point he began to notice his one disadvantage. His arms were too short. Well, they weren't exactly stubby but compared to the behemothesque span of the average Beastman; his were nothing to get excited about. But he couldn't give up because of some minor shortcoming like that. Duran fired several quick jabs into the beast soldier's horrendously ugly mug, doing little but aggravate the beast. He needed something more powerful and quick, considering that it was only a matter of time before those monstrous beast arms started swinging again. The Beastman dropped his guard, if there was time to strike this was it. Duran opted for a strong hook. He curled his fist back and shot it forward. It caught empty air. The Beastman had already ducked and was preparing for his next strike. The aforementioned strike being a head butt. The beast soldier's head slammed into Duran's skull. His vision swam, he was stunned and was unable to anticipate or even attempt to block an uppercut that followed. The attack sent Duran skyward in the direction of a nearby stairwell. His body bounced off the top step and continued bouncing, hitting every step on the way down. When he finally reached the bottom stair with a sickly thud his world faded to black.

It was a familiar scene, a little too familiar. He had someway found a way inside of his house but it seemed really large. Duran looked around, it looked so much like how he used to remember it, before that day… It couldn't be. Duran decided to look from his surroundings to himself. He was small, wearing children's clothes, just like that day. His mother emerged from the kitchen holding several plates.

"Wait a second, my mother's dead but she's alive here, I'm small. It can't be, can it?" Duran thought as Aunt Stella walked down the staircase. Duran briefly gazed at her. She was holding Wendy, who was still an infant. Suddenly a knock came from the door. Duran's mother answered the call and opened the door confirming Duran's fear. He was trapped in his worst memory. A heavily scarred Prince Richard emerged from the door with two Knights of Gold at his side. His father wasn't present.

"Simone, may I have a word?" asked the crown prince trying to hold his burden.

"Surely, what is it my lord? She responded even though by the look that crossed her face hinted that she already knew.

"Your husband, Sir Loki…. is dead." The prince said with a heavy heart. The prince then pulled out the fallen knight's golden helm from beneath his cloak. Duran doubled back from the wave of emotion felt through the room. It was too painful, but he knew that the worst was yet to come. "In our last battle we cornered the Dragon Emperor before a vast precipice." The prince continued. "The enemy sacrificed his soul to summon a gigantic beast. Loki knowing that he would not survive leaped into the fray. He fought valiantly until the end where he and the emperor fell into the never-ending pit never to resurface." The prince ended his account in memoriam. "I'm truly sorry."

"It's okay, I'm sure he wouldn't have had it any other way." Trying to hold back a torrent of grieving tears she grabbed her fallen husband's helm and started slowly treading toward the kitchen. She then stopped abruptly; her body seizing up as she dropped the helm. The sound of her collapse echoed the clang of the helm. Aunt Stella rushed to her aid along with the Prince. Within a few moments they helped Duran's mother into her bed. Duran rushed his young body over to the bedside, He really didn't want to be any closer to the harsh reality but he was trapped.

"Simone, are you all right?" The prince called to the widow as she regained her consciousness.

"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine." She responded. The Prince took her word and left. Stella moved closer to the bedside.

"Sis, what were you thinking, allowing for your illness to get this bad."? Aunt Stella asked highly concerned by her sister's actions.

"I had to, or else he would have never left." She said quietly. "Now I can finally be near him again." The hand that she pressed to Stella's cheek fell limp at the bedside.

"No, MOM!" Duran cried. He couldn't believe he'd lost her again. He had to escape from this nightmare. He had to wake up. With a great surge of will power he opened his eyes. His vision met with a young blond woman standing over him.

"I see you've finally come to." Sighed the girl with some relief.

"Ugh, Where am I?" groaned Duran while he tried to identify his new surroundings.

"You're still in Jad, even though considering how long you've slept I would have thought you'd gone onto the other world." She blushed though Duran couldn't seem to grasp the reason why. "You were in awful shape whenever I dragged you here, that beast must given you quite a hard time." She started trailing off, Duran lost his train of thought slightly when his mind suddenly registered that she was rather stunning. She had long blond hair held back in a green ribbon; he assumed that it must be her color considering that her cuirass of was of that exact shade of emerald. Speaking of that cuirass, Duran would have sworn that it was molded directly to her skin. But then his gaze shifted to the large pike that she grasped in her left hand. A woman in arms and from what it looked like an amazon. She might just be his type, he considered in his mind but then his mind drifted to all those painful failed attempts back in Forcena. Any Forcenian could easily tell that Duran was NOT a ladies man.

"Um…miss I didn't get your name, could I ask what it is? Duran asked attempting to be suave but failing entirely.

"Oh, It's Lise." The amazon replied, feeling just as awkward as the man she had just saved.

"What um… brings you to Jad, Lise?" asked trying to find some common link.

"I'd rather not talk about it. What about you?" Lise returned.

"I'm on a quest for revenge; a man in a crimson robe hath stolen my honor." Duran voiced this in a more dramatic tone to make his quest sound nobler.

"With a sword like that?" the blond haired amazon commented pointing to the club.

"No with my other sword, if I ever get it back." Duran muttered bitterly.

"Good luck." Lise responded nonchalantly. "By the way have you seen my brother? The amazon cut back in suddenly.

"Your what?" Duran responded in a state of confusion.

"My brother, Elliot. He stands about this tall, has blond hair. Have you seen him? Lise asked making proper hand gestures to get her point across.

"Can't say that I have, sorry." Duran answered in complete honesty.

"It's alright, It'll just make my quest even longer." With that she left his side. He'd failed again. He could just hear all the jeers from the other Forcenian knights. Was that the reason why he became a mercenary in the first place? After moments like that he began to wonder. Getting out of his bed he made his way to the innkeeper and offered to pay off his stay. The innkeeper stated that Lise had picked up his tab. When Duran exited the inn he bumped into a woman with long flowing violet hair. He would have stopped in his tracks if had seen more of her. He trudged slowly toward the main square and sat on a nearby bench. His mind began to split off in all directions. What was that dream about? Where was that crimson wizard now? Did Lise really have feelings for him? So much had been thrown at him he began to wonder if it was such a wise idea to embark on this quest. The thoughts began to overwhelm his mind; he had to look to something else. He turned his gaze on an unfortunate townsperson experiencing firsthand the terrors of Beastman brutality. As he watched the man get mauled something set in his mind. He had to do something about this; he had to press on in his quest. He reached toward his sheathes. They were both empty, he'd left his father's sword back at the inn. Dusk started creeping skywards as Duran rushed back to the inn. He opened the door. The innkeeper was off duty…good. He scampered down the hallway. It was the third door on the right. He slid the door open. It appeared to be vacant, but the room was very dimly lit so it was hard to tell. Then he saw what he was searching for. He crept closer; his target was in sight he just had to make it over to the dresser. He rotated his head slightly and his jaw dropped. A few strands of long violet hair draped over the side of the bed. There was somebody there. The mercenary couldn't let it get to him; he had to get that sword. He slinked closer and closer. An elegant head rose out of the sheets; a head which Duran could only dream of being closer to in any other situation. He was almost there. The fair maiden tossed slightly revealing her long slender arms. What he would have done to have those arms wrapped around him, especially after a hellish day like this. The swordless swordsman found it increasingly hard to avert his gaze, but he had to considering he was only three steps away. He made one more step. As his foot barely made contact with the floorboard the entire floor groaned. Out of all of the boards in this room he just had step on the loose one. The maiden's eyes snapped open. She let out a scream; Duran mirrored it, even embarrassingly matching the pitch. But then eyes her eyes shifted. Duran knew that look, those eyes meant death. He had to run, but his legs refused to follow his brain's command. Though part of his stiffness was due to fear for what was to come, the other part was that she had just revealed herself. She was easily wearing the tightest fitting gown that he had ever seen. It was if it was painted on top of her figure, and what a figure it was. She had the hourglass look going for her, complete with legs that he had to gaze not once, not twice, but three times before he could convince himself that they were real. Might it also be added that he had for the first time experienced the stopping power of a woman's cleavage. Duran was so caught up in the vixen's beauty that he failed to realize that she had fetched her staff.

THWACK.

"How DARE you gaze at a princess while she's sleeping!" Get the hell out of my room you perv!" She furiously shouted. Before the untimely swordsman had a chance to state his case her staff connected once again launching him out of the room. She quickly slammed the door afterwards.

"Damn, is everybody armed nowadays?" Duran muttered as he rubbed his cheek. Sure, he deserved it but was all that really necessary. But then it hit him; he still didn't have his father's sword. "Um… lady could I have my sword back please? He called to the vixen.

"What, you mean THIS!" she wailed as she tore the door open and sent his father's sword careening for his head. Duran didn't have time to duck the flying blade. Thank the goddess it was as dull as it was. The sword ricocheted off of his helm and sent both sword and swordsman to the floor. Recovering from the daze associated with having a heavy blunt object thrown at his head, Duran began dusting himself off. Things were getting a little too weird; he had to have a drink to settle his nerves slightly. He set a course for the pub. As he entered a bell chimed above drawing all the other patrons' eyes from their drinks to him. Everybody except for a rather familiar looking desert rat. He was too busy gazing over a blade that lay in front of him. It didn't it take long for the mercenary to realize that was his blade. He began to roll up his sleeves in an attempt to look more intimidating, even though he knew that if his face matched what was going through his mind at the moment it wouldn't be necessary. The thief tilted his head upward at the irate warrior.

"Oh, hello there." The thief said as amicably as possible.

"Where did you get that sword?" Duran asked forcefully. His fists were getting eager.

"You mean this? I bought it at the weapon shop the other day."The bandit stated calmly lightly moving his fingers over the blade. As the fingers touched the blade Duran could feel the rage welling up within him.

"Shove it you bloody thief! You stole that blade off of me and I'm going to give you a taste of the Hell I went through finding you." Duran roared at the swindler. The swindler kept on smiling.

"Hey now, don't be so hasty." The bandit said trying to restrain the bullish warrior. To little avail, as Duran's gauntlets started tearing through the air. He thought he could connect at least one of the punches. The guy was a sitting target literally, but as was so often the case recently, his fists completely missed their mark. As he stood there awkwardly in stunned silence his feet slipped up beneath him. He fell back on a chair that had suddenly came into existence behind him. The agile thief took his place on the other side of the table.

"Come on, I know you didn't come here for a fight. You came here for a drink didn't you?" the thief said with a prominent devil-may-care attitude as he signaled the bartender to bring over a round. Duran could only grunt in acceptance, he had feeling that this guy was really cheap, probably even cheaper than that drink that the barmaid was bringing over. "My apologies on that rough start, please allow me to introduce myself." The thief stated receiving a highly bewildered look from the swordsman on the other side of the table. "My name is Hawk, freelance conman and deserter of the Navarrian Thieves Guild."

"The Navarrian what?" Duran stuttered.

"The Navarrian Thieves Guild. You've never heard of them?" the bandit asked.

"Can't say that I have." Duran replied mulling over his past missions in his mind.

"Hmm, Flamekhan's keeping a low profile." Hawk muttered with that ever-present smirk still on his face.

"Yeah, that's just great and all but I want my sword back." Duran stated, his patience with the thief beginning to fail.

"Just waiting for you to bring that up." Hawk calmly replied as he pulled a deck of old playing cards out of his cloak. "I'll play you for it. To the victor goes the sword." Duran could only gape at the deserter. Was he daft, risking a prize that he had so meticulously stolen on a game of cards? Oh well his loss, Duran thought to himself even though the deeper parts of his mind reminded him of all those times that his little sister had managed to clean him out.

"I'm in. What are we playing?" Duran said praying for a round of Piquet.

"Desert Slots." Hawk smugly replied. He then started explaining the rules of the game. Both players would draw three cards from the deck. A short round of betting would occur and then both players would have the option of either swapping one of their cards for the top card on the deck. Another round of betting would occur. This process would repeat itself twice before both players would reveal their hands. Best hand would be A-A-A followed by K-K-K Q-Q-Q etc. If neither player matches three cards than the round and luc go to the highest card. The game is over when either player backs out or goes broke trying to save his own skin.

"Any way to guarantee that you won't cheat, thief?" Duran questioned making sure that he actually stood a chance after all.

"Don't worry about it, you can deal." Hawk grinned in his own patented disarming way. Duran took the deck and began shuffling it even though the thought briefly crossed him mind of him dealing his own doom. He dealt the cards alternately between them, just in case. He then glanced over his hand; Hawk did the same except that he merely lifted his cards with two fingers whilst the mercenary placed his cards directly in front of his face. These Navarrian cards were strange in the fact that the traditional suits were swapped with odd shapes like that of a scorpion or a dagger. Must have been the product of some shady deal between the guild and the printer. Not that Duran really knew or cared it just made the idea of matching up the suits just slightly more difficult. He didn't have a bad hand (3-3-9) but he just wished it could have been a little higher. He looked at his opponent, still smiling. Was this guy always happy? He didn't know but it made him almost impossible to read. Reaching into his winnings he pulled 15 luc and placed his bet. Hawk returned with 20. Now for the first draw, his palm sweated as he picked up the card. Flipping it over it revealed itself to be a King. Okay, he had two 3s and a King. That King wasn't a bad card, but should he attempt for another two kings or should just discard the king and try for another 3? Either way Duran bet 20 more luc on his hand. Hawk raised him 5. The next draw, Duran's palms sweated as he pulled out the next card; a 5. Dammit, not what he needed. Duran peeked over his cards. Hawk was paying more attention to the barmaid than to his hand. He threw 5 more luc into the pot. Again, Hawk raised him by 5. The last draw, this was it was the goddess on his side or not? Apparently not, the card showed a 2. Duran could not only sit back and wait solemnly for Hawk to reveal his hand. The conman's grin grew even wider when he displayed his 2-2-2. Duran, with some slight reservations, forked over the pot to the thief. He then vowed to not lose any more hands. This wasn't the case considering that over the span of a half hour he failed to win a single round. At times he considered flipping over the table, grabbing the sword and making a dash for the door. But then again there was always the thief's agility to worry about coupled with the fact that this may be his only chance to recover his beloved blade. However, as it was his bag of tournament winnings was only a shadow of it's former self. But how could he lose to a guy who hasn't even looked at his cards for the last five rounds? But then Duran finally got a chance to end this madness. The hand began like any other. Duran dealt and looked at his cards. (3-4-5) He submitted a meager amount of luc from his quickly diminishing wallet and Hawk raised it. Then the first draw came around. Duran picked up the card with little enthusiasm and noticed that it was a King. He threw another 10 coins into the pot and drew the next card. Another King met his eyes and Duran felt some long awaited excitement rise up within him. There might still be some hope left. But Duran couldn't let the thief know that so he threw in a few less luc. The last draw was imminent. As he picked up the last card he prayed. His prayers reached the goddess as the last King appeared in his hand. The mercenary felt a great urge to treat all the patron's to a drink but he did have another way to suppress that urge to win. He then with little warning to Hawk poured all of his remaining funds onto the table.

"I'm all in." Duran said cheerfully.

"Are you sure you want to go with that?" Hawk questioned dropping the oblivious routine and staring into Duran's soul with his amber eyes.

"Certain." Duran replied as he revealed his King-laden hand. "I'll be taking this back, thank you." He said as he reached for his sword.

"Can't say that I didn't warn you." Hawk said simply as he showed his three Aces. "Much obliged," he said as he quickly removed the last of Duran's tourney winnings from the table. After a few moments in shocked silence the mercenary slowly pushed his chair back into the table and trudged towards the door. He wanted to cry but knew that he couldn't in front of this sort of crowd. "Hey, you forgot something." Hawk called from the table. Duran turned his head around expecting the thief to throw his empty wallet at him, but the thief didn't throw anything. He merely pointed at his sword.

"What are you talking about? I lost the game." Duran muttered in yet another state of confusion.

"But what use would I have with a sword I can't even lift over my head?" Hawk hinted as he attempted to lift the unwieldy sword with little success. "Besides this piece of scrap metal is only worth 5 luc. Which is hardly worth bothering with whenever I can sleight 50,000 from just about anybody in a card game." Hawk replied retaining his sneer. But Hawk's comments didn't matter at all to the mercenary. He was finally reunited with his beloved and wanted to embrace it even though it may make him bleed. However, not in a crowded bar like this.

"You're heading for Wendel, right?" Hawk inquired even though he probably already knew the answer.

"Yes, why do you ask? Duran replied, again puzzled by the conman's odd ways.

"The Beastmen can't guard their posts at night. Their animal instincts get the better of them and they feel as if they have to wander. Just thought you oughta know." Hawk replied as he waved the swordsman off. Duran took his advice and resumed his quest. On his way out he couldn't help but notice a gigantic hole in the side of the weapon shop wall. So Kevin was no different, what a shame. He hoped that he wouldn't have to run into him considering that next time he might not be unarmed. But with his sword at his side he knew that someday he would be able to exact his revenge upon that blasted wizard.

Now a short response to reviewers:

Fetch-Thranduilion: Thank you for the review old friend. I'm looking forward to further chapters of Two Story Town. Did I fix that slight error this time around please let me know.

Chibigal4: Thanks, I will get to reviewing every single one of your fics once I've seen more of Yu-Gi-OH! I don't know who Mahaado is.

Fusionite: Yes, to put it simply Content Blockers suck. But I don't understand why it said intimate apparel. I don't think the mention of Chicks in Chainmail would set off. Maybe I should into the issue. Hmmm.

Anyway, looking for more reviews, and yes I accept flames and notices of OOCness. If there is any of that please let me know and seek divine intervention and attempt to correct the error. Until then ta ta.