-1Chapter 30 - Trust
"Orin? The prince of Granseal?" the elderly chancellor of New Granseal stood as rigid as stone as Simon looked at him with an unfaltering stare. "How can this be?"
"I am not sent to deliver a message of reason." Simon said simply. "He's wounded, he seeks healing, shelter, and further care. He will die if he does not receive such."
"Oh…well…" the chancellor looked to the soldiers behind him, both of whom were somewhat wide eyed. "Yes…take him in! Hurry, now!"
The soldiers both bolted forward, and, as gently as possible, removed Orin from the centaur's back.
"Bring him in, yes. Lay him in my chambers." the chancellor said, still looking quite awestruck. "I'll take care of him personally."
"You'll need a priest of some kind…" Simon started.
"I am a vicar…" the chancellor said, his eyes tightening. "Who are you, anyway?"
"I was in his company and I brought him here. Nothing else is important." Simon turned away slowly. "I'll return later."
"Perhaps with an explanation!" the chancellor called after him, annoyed with his tone.
He was, in fact, the closest thing to a king here in New Granseal. Though they were technically a growing colony of sorts and part of Granseal itself, the chancellor controlled things here under Bowie's directions. Everything that was not important enough to send word to Bowie directly, the chancellor took care of instead. It was quite an important position.
Simon disappeared within a few minutes, having exited the city through the front gates. The chancellor stood still quite rigid under the dark sky, puzzled at the situation. Why in hell was Orin here, of all places? What had happened? The chancellor had received no word of the happenings on Grans Island, and so, he was completely oblivious to the situation.
-----
"Everything ready?" Vahn stood, a large knapsack strapped to his back, his eyes scanning everyone before him.
Trevor had a similar pack on, Ikara at his side, canteens and the like under her arm. Keith slung a net full of coconuts over his right shoulder, his bow on the other. Tess held very little, but tied to her belt, several satchels could be seen dangling, most likely filled with flints and a majority of their funds. Sye had already disappeared, as midnight was close at hand. Trevor hoped he had strayed far enough from them so they would not meet until morning. Iris was busy reattaching his mantel and gauntlets. Jo had already taken to the skies. A loud flapping sound passed overhead every now and again.
"We've got the essentials." Trevor assured him, rubbing his chin. "Basically food, cots, and water."
"Are we short anyone…?" Vahn scanned through them again.
He did so several times, and noticed some of them hung their heads and said nothing, and only then did he realize who wasn't among them.
'Duran…and now Orin.' Vahn thought, as he turned away from them.
"Here we go, then…" Vahn started off in front, his staff doubling as a walking stick.
The earlier battle as well as his draining attempts to stabilize Orin had left him utterly exhausted. He was surprised he was actually trekking out while his legs felt very similar to jelly. Trevor was also still aching, his arm, he felt, was still bleeding a bit. He had already replaced the bandages within the last few hours, and yet the blood was still slowly oozing through.
"What do you think New Granseal is like…?" Iris said in a low tone to no one in particular.
Vahn had realized after Simon's departure that the town he spoke of could only be New Granseal. Until then he had completely forgotten about Granseal's distant mainland colony. Even as he and Jo had searched about for a civilization of some kind just hours earlier, the fact that there was only one city with several miles, and that it was that very colony had slipped his mind.
"A watered down version of Granseal itself, I'd expect." Keith said, his eyes to the west. "They probably don't even have a real castle."
"I'm sure they have something like that." Trevor said. "I've been to the Exile colonies, and I'd seen Galam before it was destroyed. Each small encampment mimicked the layout of the original on a smaller scale, brick walls and cobblestone paths and all."
"So who heads the place?" Keith asked, looking expectedly in Vahn's direction.
"High Priest Frayja." Vahn said, knowing it was his question to answer.
He looked back over his shoulder at Keith.
"He used to be second only to my mother in Granseal, but he requested to work with the council here in Parmecia." He explained. "My mother said he didn't like to be too low on the chain of command…"
"Your mother isn't even a royal advisor, though." Keith said, his eyebrow raised. "Why would he be jealous of her if she had no political standing?"
"I think it was because he used to be held in high regard in Pacalon for a short time." Vahn said, looking down at his feet now. "Didn't like being thrown into a position that only concentrated on religious standing."
"So he works on a council or something? Doesn't sound much more beneficial…" Keith was now interested in Frayja and his quest for a position of influence.
"It wasn't…that's why the council was disbanded." Iris said, seemingly from nowhere. "My father was surprised at that, actually. He'd been making a trade triangle between both Granseal and its colony. When the council was wiped out, Frayja became Chancellor and took control of trade."
"I remember that." said Ikara. "The whole town was talking about Nazca trading only on a single route with Granseal. They stopped sending goods to the colony."
"Anyway, I don't really know if Bowie let it pass or if Frayja found some convincing argument that said the council was no good." Iris said. "But my father didn't like the smell of it. I'm not sure I would have been quite that paranoid."
"Well when it comes to the safety of a kingdom, you can never be too safe." Trevor laughed.
"Frayja's only been chancellor for a few months…I really haven't heard whether he's doing well or not." Iris looked at the sky, thinking about it.
"It doesn't really matter…" Vahn said as he ruffled his own hair. "We should be worrying about Orin. If Frayja is someone who can't really be trusted, maybe we should be twice as worried about Orin's safety, seeing as the Chancellor would most definitely be hovering over him as he healed…"
"I doubt he's untrustworthy." said Keith, quite suddenly. "Wasn't Frayja part of the Shining Force, too? If Bowie put him in such a high position, he must have been."
"I don't know." Vahn replied as he looked over his shoulder again. "My mother never really said he was, and I only knew of a choice few who were once part of the Force…"
"Regardless, I really can't think of a reason why Orin would be any worse off than he already is…" Keith said, his eyes to the ground.
They remained utterly silent for quite a while after that. The stars across the black sky seemed to be even dimmer than usual. The moon was a silver sliver that hung limply in the sky, it's almost invisible dark side only vaguely apparent with a great amount of concentration and focus of the eyes. Though there was a moderate breeze that swept across the plains every now and again, everything was quite tranquil. Yet, this only allowed them all concentrate of the graveness of the situation in silence. With Orin at Death's door, there was very little else that could truly do him much harm. And yet, in his condition, anything negative could be something just fatal enough to push him to his end.
Mortals were not made to be invincible, or durable even. They were made with a powerful mind and the ability to defend themselves. Even so, through endeavors and human error, these imperfect creatures showed their vulnerability. They showed the greatest weakness of being mortal was just that: Mortality. They were graced with the ability to succumb to death.
-----
The cold was indescribable. A numbing beyond words. All thought was erased. Even if Orin attempted to think, gain his bearings, to recollect, all attempts failed within moments because of this soul chilling cold. Orin felt nothing, numbness, heard nothing, silence, tasted nothing, smelt nothing, and could see nothing. Nothing but Bowie. An eternity surely must have passed by now. Surely eternity could come and go. It had to have an end. Maybe the end was very close. Maybe ten seconds away. Orin counted.
One…two…three…It was no use. Orin lost count because of the mind numbing cold. He could think of nothing. Yet, quite suddenly, the cold subsided and vanished. Orin took the opportunity to immediately regain his composure. When had the cold come? Why had it come? Why did it go…? Something else also began to change quite suddenly. Bowie began to fade before Orin, and as he disappeared completely from sight, leaving Orin in complete darkness, something became audible in his mind.
"I'll be here, even if you can't see me. I promise I will, as long as you trust in me, Orin."
'I did…' Orin thought. 'Of course…I did."
"…as long as you trust in me…"
'I did!'
"I'll be here."
'WHERE?'
"…even if you can't see me."
Orin felt as if he could cry. He would have in his own mind if he had the ability. He had the unbearable sense of betrayal and sorrow building up inside of him.
"I promise…"
'You lied.' Orin said, now sobbing heavily inside his own mind.
"…as long as you trust in me…"
'GAH!' Orin couldn't shake that feeling. It haunted him.
"…trust…in me……trust…in…me…"
'You bastard! I did! And what have I got to show for it? You could have fought it! You could have! Damnit!'
"…trust…"
Orin could do nothing but weep.
"…in…"
He would have pounded his fists into the ground if he could.
"…me…"
He wished he had never left Granseal.
"……Orin."
His eyes snapped open. A gray cloud seemed to be sitting right above his face. He could see nothing but dark, murky blots hovering over him. He was alive?
"Orin." said a voice.
It was not the voice he had just heard. It was much more gruff and deep.
"Oh, yes, yes." the voice said. "I'm so glad to see you awake."
Orin's green eyes were still slightly glazed. He wasn't quite out of the woods yet, but he somehow felt his energy slowly growing.
"I haven't used healing magic in quite some time. Nothing that powerful either." said the voice. "Sleep, Orin. You'll be fine."
"Wh…" Orin croaked weakly.
He could hardly breath out with enough force to compose words. He was temporarily mute because he was so drained of energy.
"I'm exhausted myself after this little fiasco." said the voice.
The dark blot moved out of Orin's view.
"I have to rest as well. I'll check back soon." Whomever was speaking had gone, the distant sound of a closing door could be heard as Orin tried to focus his eyes on what he could see in front of him.
The blotted shape of a ceiling began to come into view, slowly focusing and beginning to look normal as Orin's eyes adjusted. He had lived…he'd actually lived. How?
'I hope everyone else is okay…' Orin thought, wondering where his friends were.
For that matter, where was he? Orin attempted to tilt his head, but to no avail. He was much too weak. He blinked hard as he looked up at the ceiling, thinking hard. Finally, though, he drifted back into unconsciousness. He dreamt of nothing.
-----
"How did you manage to crawl out of your hole this time…?" Mishaela stood poised, one hand on her hip, her body tilted slightly to one side. "More rats got into the shrine?"
"You're sense of humor always was a little cold." Zeon bellowed. "Though, I seem to recall someone else living in a hole until recently."
Mishaela scowled.
"I haven't told her of our intentions. I just gave her the offer." Verdelet appeared from the shadows, his heavy hood covering his face. "I thought you'd prefer to explain."
"Does that mean you agree?" Zeon roared.
"Not yet I don't." Mishaela grinned. "Knowing you and your aimless bullshitting about evil plots, I'd have to hear exactly what you had in mind for me."
Zeon's eyes tightened.
"…Well…?" Mishaela hissed.
"I want you to perform a ritual." Zeon bellowed. "It may be difficult…"
Zeon noticed the already uninterested look on Mishaela's face.
"…I want you to revive Warderer." he said simply.
"…You've finally gone mad. Too much time buried here…" she said, almost laughing.
"Can you do it?" he bellowed in return.
"Why would I want to?" she said, looking quite angry now. "Revive Warderer? That pompous ugly good for nothing…an Iom priest is nothing in comparison to me or you…"
"But he knows well the rituals of reviving an even higher power." Zeon growled. "He brought Iom…"
"Iom was a clod. Even I could have crushed him." Mishaela scoffed.
"Be that as it may…" Verd interrupted. "You can't revive Darksol on your own."
Mishaela spun around, her eyes wide.
"I've done it before!" her eyes were on fire.
"Under extreme duress. You almost died to revive him." Verd's eyes tightened.
"And he was utterly weak. For Max to have defeated him as old as he'd grown? After he'd been beaten by the Shining Force to remove the mask? And Darksol had even transformed and wasn't stronger than he had been during their first encounter." Zeon roared.
"How would you know that?" Mishaela screeched.
"Evil energy gathers here. I know what comes and goes. When Darksol was killed, a mass of energy arrived. When he was revived, a small portion was removed." Zeon explained.
"You need Warderer. We don't plan on keeping him around after he's done his duty." Verd grinned.
"And who says you won't dispose of me afterwards as well?" Mishaela asked, recovering herself.
"Because then, Darksol would want nothing to do with us." Verd explained.
"Wait…your only purpose is to revive Darksol." said Mishaela, turning back to Zeon. "Then what do you get from it?"
"Good question." Zeon bellowed. "A worthy ally."
-----
Hours had come and gone, and the night slowly turned to day as the group marched aimlessly across the plains of Parmecia, knowing their destination was somewhere in the general direction they were currently walking. The smell of something sweet passed by them in the cool, spring morning air.
The group was evenly spread apart. Vahn stood in front, Keith close by. They spoke sparsely now and then as they walked, but about nothing of great importance came up. Both of their minds were elsewhere, Vahn's on his father, and Keith's, for some odd reason, on Ikara…
Tess and Iris walked with one another, but neither of them had spoken at all, really. It was just a matter of the current situation. At any other time Tess might have said something suddenly, or asked an odd question. Now, she walked quietly with her eyes forward, her face expressionless. Iris, on the other hand, was concentrating on her. What an odd girl, with her almost glowing red tattoos, her disheveled, torn clothing. Her face was her only redeeming feature…and her eyes. They were quite bright even in contrast to the blood red that surrounded them.
Ikara walked alone behind the rest of them. She was thinking maybe she could have just stopped walking and stay behind, and maybe everyone would just forget about her. Why had she come with them in the first place? Ikara had been known to be a quite educated, intelligent young woman. In her current state, though, she had only just realized that maybe coming all this way was the stupidest thing she'd ever done, and, at this point, there was no going back. She opted to continue walking, but at some distance from the rest of them. She was still crying.
Trevor also moved alone. His eyes closed as the wind passed over his face. An intense feeling of nostalgia came over him, and he closed his eyes tighter.
'How I've missed that feeling.' he thought.
"So, you're an Exile?" Iris asked, trying to seem uninterested. "You don't really fit the role."
"You're not so princely, yourself." Tess replied, not looking over at him.
"What does that have to do with anything?" he looked at her hard, but she didn't bother looking back.
"I guess we're both not fit for our roles…" she said, turning her eyes to him, but keeping her face forward. "But yeah, I'm Exile."
"Hm…" he kept looking at her, and she kept looking back.
Quite beautiful, her eyes. He looked away.
"You swing your rapier like it weighs 50 pounds…" she said with a slight grin. "The difference between it and a sword is the part you seem to miss. It's made to be fast, not crushing or sturdy."
"I know…" he replied after a short time. "I get nervous sometimes, too, though."
"Just think fast. Even if you don't know what you're doing, it's better than doing nothing at all." she looked at the ground.
'He did nothing…' Iris thought, remembering how Orin had stood quite motionless while Lettengo drove his blade into him. 'Why did he do nothing? What did he know that we didn't? There has to be a reason.'
Trevor moved in next to Ikara, slowly, subtly. She noticed him only as he sighed loudly, but she said nothing. He did not intend to move in so close, but his eyes were still shut, his right hand resting on his wounded left shoulder. The only hint that he had wondered toward her was the faint smell of something sweet. He opened his eyes.
"Hey." he said with a wide grin.
"Hi." Ikara looked at him, quite surprised.
"You're well?"
"…yes…"
"Almost as good a liar as me." his grin grew even wider.
She looked at the ground.
"Losing people is hard." he said earnestly. "Can't say I know what it feels like to lose a friend…but to lose a love. That, I have mastered understanding."
He looked forward somberly. His eyes were quite empty, even though his face and grin were very alive.
"I see." she managed to say.
"You shouldn't worry about Orin, at least. I've known him only shortly, but there's something about him…" he said, trailing off into thought.
"I know." her eyes were still wet. "It doesn't take long to know who he is and how he acts. Recently though…"
He looked at her calmly.
"…he's changed. What this whole thing has done to him…" she kept her eyes on her feet. "…he's lost something, and I don't know what it is."
"Fighting like this changes people." he said quietly. "You lose a tiny piece of yourself in every swing of a blade, and with the odds against you…there's a lot to lose."
"Then why don't I feel like I've lost something, too?" she asked.
"…Haven't you, though?" he replied.
Her eyes slowly widened. She had really lost a fair bit. A friend, most importantly, and over time, her bearings. She'd lost faith in her own actions. She had lost trust in everyone around her, including herself, and when she realized it, some of her sorrow was replaced with shame.
"When you realize what you've accomplished and what's ahead…" Trevor said, closing his eyes again and grinning as the wind passed over him. "…you'll understand what you've gained from your sacrifices. Reap what you've sown with blood, sweat, and tears."
"I don't want to reap what others have sown, though." she said quietly. "…once they've gone."
"Well it's either that…" he said in just as low a voice. "…or let it all go to waste."
She said nothing.
"I'm quite pleased to be with you." he said slowly. "All of you. This is quite the group I've stumbled upon."
She opened her mouth and began to speak.
"And don't tell me it's not my burden to carry. It's just as much my fight as anyone else's." he looked over at her, the rising sun shown on his face. "People possessed and disappearing? Especially the Shining Force, now that sounds to me like a global threat, and saving humanity could fit quite snuggly into my schedule."
They both smiled.
The sound of distant, rhythmic hoof beats met Trevor's ear, and he turned around with a smile. There, on the horizon, Simon appeared once again. He moved toward them quickly, the same look of neutrality on his face.
"AH! Simon, how have you faired?" Trevor said with a wide grin as the centaur rode toward him.
"Well." he replied. "Orin resides in New Granseal castle under the care of the Chancellor."
"Did you tell him what had happened?" Trevor asked, already knowing the answer.
"Of course not." Simon turned, leading the way. "I'd let you brand me a fool if I had. King of Granseal drives a sword into his own son on Parmecia? Even I almost cannot conceive it."
"True enough." Trevor said, looking over at Ikara.
Her eyes were set again on her feet.
The group had fallen back together now, and they were not so thinly spread.
"Is he well?" Tess asked after a short while.
"We'll know upon arrival." Simon grumbled.
"Frayja will expect a lengthy explanation." Vahn said. "I'd expect he's already informed his soldiers to capture Simon if he's sighted again."
"They'll have to capture the whole lot of us then." Keith said angrily. "Chancellor my ass."
"Can't blame him. Even the truth sounds impossible." Vahn explained. "Hopefully Orin will be awake to tell the story. His word is very much indisputable."
"We'll be quite cautious regardless of the situation." Trevor said, now looking very concentrated.
-----
"My costs for sustaining Warderer are quite lofty." Mishaela pursed her lips, and standing in her usual defiant, yet relaxed position, her hands still on her hips, she lifted one hand to push back her hair. "It will require an enormous amount of evil energy."
"Meaning…?" Zeon's eyes tightened, suspecting a ridiculous answer.
He got one.
"I need this energy taken from someone still living." Mishaela smiled. "Might I suggest sacrificing Verdelet, here?"
Verd smiled.
"Ignorant bitch, you are. Any other suggestions?" he smirked.
Mishaela kept herself restrained for the time being. She had hardly ever been in a position in which she did not have the advantage, or, in one she didn't think she had the upper hand. Therefore, she seldom got angry, but instead, flaunted power as a means of persuasion. She had no power, nor any advantage before Zeon, at least not alone, and therefore, she was prone to enraged outbursts, each of which would show great desperation and weakness.
"Well…maybe if I had a small amount of tainted light energy." she said, pretending to digest the idea. "I could take the tainted bit of light and manifest it. Light energy is much more powerful in smaller amounts than dark energy."
Zeon said nothing. He also seemed to be thinking about it.
"I'd still need a living being, though." she added.
"Lord Verdelet, who of the Force remains?" Zeon bellowed quite suddenly.
Verd seemed taken aback at first. What did the Force have to do with Warderer…
"We have more than half remaining." Verd looked down at the floor, thinking.
"You said we had more than half, earlier…" Zeon hissed. "Which is it?"
"I apologize, I was incorrect." Verd returned with graceful indifference. "There are about 17 left. We do have everyone from Grans, though."
"I need names." Zeon growled.
"Yes, well…" Verd was silent for a short time, but then spoke up again. "Eric, Janet, Peter, Taya, Tyrin, Karna, Zynk, Frayja, May, Kiwi, Rick, Higins, Jaro, Sheela, Claude, Chaz, and Elric. Rhode has been confirmed as dead, Lemon remains in the void."
"You know all of them?" Mishaela looked at Verd with a minimal amount of shock on her face, but her words showed awe nonetheless.
"Thanks to a friend of ours. We knew of several, mainly the most powerful, but we've been alerted of many others over time." Verd explained.
"Our steps towards a bit of revenge do not take priority, but I'm helping myself grow in strength as the Force is possessed." Zeon roared. "But back to my question. Which of the remaining do we have a lock on?"
"The only known locations are of Frayja, who currently resides in New Granseal, Rick, who we believe to be somewhere near Moun or Pacalon, and Peter, who is still in Bedoe…" Verd went through the list quite quickly, knowing very little about the remainder of the missing Force.
"Phoenix, of course he'd be cowering under Volcanon's wing." Zeon growled. "Rick's location is too vague, unconfirmed. Frayja…what does he do in New Granseal?"
"I'm not sure." Verd said in a low voice. "Probably something of importance. He's the only member who resides in the colony."
"Find out more about him." Zeon hissed. "Now."
Verd said nothing. He was simply gone.
"Do you have a possible candidate for me, then?" Mishaela grinned.
"If I cannot find a tainted source of light…" Zeon hissed. "I have the dark energy needed to revive Warderer."
"So why not just let me have it…?" Mishaela, for once, was slightly confused.
"Because I need the holder of this energy for my own." Zeon bellowed. "Of my minions, he is the only survivor. Red Baron is vital to my future plans."
-----
The morning did not come swiftly. As the group pressed on, the sun had reached the horizon, but it seemed to rest there for hours. As they moved, it was watching them from atop the eastern cliffs. Spring time was upon them now, and the breeze was cool, the strange smell of something sweet rose out of the distance.
The force was just a few miles from New Granseal, about an hours walk, to be precise. Vahn lifted his head and cracked his neck wearily, trying to keep in step with everyone else. He'd fallen back quiet a bit since they'd been moving along, his staff slowly becoming a nuisance and a hindrance rather than helpful as a walking stick. He could see the forest in which the small colony sat in the distance. It was quite an ominous looking wood, and upon examining it as they moved closer, he noticed the trees were mostly evergreens and other coniferous trees. That said, unlike the forests they'd passed through before, which were mostly budding and scarcely leafed, this forest was quite full and gloomy looking. The mist that hung amongst the trees made it an even more ominous sight.
"How far into the wood is the city?" Vahn asked, still squinting to see the distant trees.
"Not far. A quarter mile, I expect." Simon said without looking back.
"Anything to fear in there…?" Keith said exactly what Vahn was thinking.
"Nothing to fear, but there are creatures to fend off…" Simon continued.
Vahn looked back at Ikara, who looked slightly better than she had during the past day or so. Trevor still stood near her, his eyes to the sky.
"You fought alone and carried Orin then?" Keith's eyebrow rose slightly.
"I was lucky enough to avoid confrontation."
"Good call." Trevor's voice rose from the back of the group. "Hopefully we're as quiet as mice, like yourself."
Vahn assumed Trevor was grinning one of his wide grins as he spoke, but he didn't bother to look over his shoulder. He was more fixated on getting to that forest as soon as possible, without having to break into a sprint, of course. He kept at a brisk, regular pace, moving up next to Keith again. Vahn could feel Keith moving closer, and he slowed slightly so they were side by side.
Keith leaned in and spoke quiet low, "You really think we've got a chance…?"
Vahn's eyes tightened. It was hard to answer a question like that. With all that had happened, between his own father giving he and his comrades quite a thrashing, Bowie having almost slain his own son, and the sudden appearance and apparent death of the goddess Mitula was quite a bit to swallow.
"Of course." Vahn returned after a short pause. "O-of course."
"Maybe." Keith moved away slightly. "But a damn slim one."
Vahn closed his eyes to think. Could he really be doing this right now? Why couldn't this just be a dream? He'd had dreams before, nightmares, good dreams, strange dreams, just like anyone else. Surely this could be just another, as a week could have been not more than a moments thought in his head as he slept. The events that had occurred could have simply been a flash of images resonating throughout his subconscious, a series of memories and sights ever so twisted as to have him imagine such a story. Surely something this epic had to be a dream, or, at least, it would have made a good one.
Time moved sluggishly along, but all the same they reached the forests edge at noon, the sun beating down on them. Vahn could smell the potent stench of fresh pine and tree sap. The forest was actually a relief from the open fields they had been traveling over for the past several hours. An owl hooted somewhere in the distance, it's call echoing hollowly through the trees. Another call was returned from the opposite direction. A chipmunk or two could be seen running across the groups path as they moved. How serene, yet sorrowful this forest seemed to be. It reminded Vahn of something he couldn't place, something he'd felt before, but he wasn't sure what it was or where it had happened.
'Father,' Vahn thought, 'I wish I was home…I so wish I was home."
-----
Orin's eyes popped open to the sound of a distant humming. He couldn't really be sure what it was, but he didn't really care. He was still very exhausted. The sound stopped, and he attempted again to turn his head. This time, with little effort, he looked to his right. He was in a large bed within a fairly lavish, well sized room. The walls were adorned with blue draperies, large shields hung from the walls, phoenix crests upon their faces. Directly in front of the bed, Orin could see an unlit fireplace.
He tried to sit up, now, but that was quite the chore. His entire body stung with pain as he lurched forward into a sitting position. He winced as his body became accustomed to the new position and the pain faded into nothing but an annoying ache. He did his best to remain in his current position as he examined his surroundings more thoroughly. As he looked about, though, he was caught by surprise when the door creaked open and someone entered.
"Oh! Awake, I see!" said this new face.
There, in the doorway, stood a short, portly old man. He stood, his one hand behind his back, on the other on the door handle, a gleaming look of both surprise and glee on his face. Though Orin was not the type to judge anyone, he noticed how large the man's nose was, and how he was, in fact, rather ugly. His lips hung in a smile, his eyes barely open, and then his face faded into an expression of worry.
"My boy, though I am glad to see you are well…" said the man. "I must ask what is going on. How and why are you…"
"Who are you…?" Orin said slowly, before allowing him to finish. "Where am I…?"
"Oh, yes, yes…" a weak smile passed across his lips again, and then faded. "I am Chancellor Frayja, and you are in New Granseal castle. You were brought here wounded and I nursed you back to health."
"New Granseal?" Orin looked down at his feet. "And my friends?"
Frayja's eyes tightened slightly. "I found you personally. I rescued you from death out on the plains."
Orin looked up in surprise.
"There was no one else. Had you been traveling with someone?" Frayja moved closer, closing the door behind him.
"That's not right." Orin looked at Frayja hard. "You ventured all the way out to rescue me? No one was around?"
"I assure you! You were lying near death a few miles from the city. I was on my way…on a morning coach ride for some fresh air, and I spotted you." Frayja still had a look of worry plastered on his face.
"I see." Orin couldn't believe it.
Had his plan failed, or had they just abandoned him? He could only remember the feeling of cold steel being drawn from his chest, and the taste of his own blood rising up out of his throat.
"I am…"
"I know who you are." Frayja walked toward the bed and stood with his hands out in front of him. "Orin, Prince of Granseal. How could I not remember? Last I saw, you were just a young boy…"
"So we've met?" Orin looked slightly surprised.
"Of course. I worked and lived in Granseal with your father until he found me better suited for the job of chancellor here in the colony." Frayja turned away and walked toward the fireplace. "I've not been away from here since."
Orin's eyes widened. Could this Frayja be have been another member of the Shining Force?
"You were one of them, weren't you?" Orin spoke in a low tone. "You fought alongside my father…"
"I'm not fond of those days, much unlike the others." Frayja looked back over his shoulder. "Too much bloodshed for a man of the church. I was glad to be of service to this world, but those were dark times I don't much like to recollect.
There was something very odd about the chancellor.
"Now I must have you answer my questions." Frayja turned back to face Orin again. "Why are you here, and what happened to you?"
"It's a difficult story." Orin looked back at his feet. "I'm sure you'd find it hard to believe."
"I'm adept at understanding the difficult story." Frayja forced another grin. "I also have much time to spare."
Orin explained what had come to pass over the past week or so. Frayja, to his surprise, did not stop Orin at any point, though, at times, Frayja did have his back to him, as he seemed to be trying to take everything in and understand the complexity of the situation. When Orin was finished, Frayja was facing him again, his expression stern.
"I see." was his only response. "And the wound?"
"When we reached Parmecia, the possessed Force met us here, or at least some of them. My father was one of them, and…" Orin closed his eyes. "I fought him…or, I was forced to, though it wasn't much of a battle."
"There's not much for me to say." Frayja turned around once again. "Except that New Granseal is in clear danger."
"As are you…" Orin interrupted.
"Yes. As long as you're here, we're both in great danger, and so is the rest of the city…no, the continent." Frayja pressed on. "I've been forced in my life to do a lot of things I was never proud of. I once abandoned an entire village in the north simply to keep the rest of the continent from being devoured by devils. I was ashamed, but it was for the greater good, and now…"
Orin was looking at Frayja intently.
Frayja swallowed hard. "I am pressed with just the same decision. And I will make the same choice."
Orin suddenly realized what was happening. His eyes widened.
"You have to leave now. Get out of New Granseal before the devils come here for you. Go back to Granseal. Grans might be decimated by whatever it is that hunts you, but Parmecia is safe from attack by Volcanon and Mitula. You're disrupting the order of things."
"You…" Orin's eyes were still wide.
"Hurry up and leave. You're things are just there on the floor." Frayja looked hard at Orin, his expression unchanging.
"You'd let the entire Force be…" Orin was enraged. "You'd let them all just die? Let their souls be…"
"Quiet your mouth and ready yourself for departure! I won't have you bringing the continent to ruin! The fate of Grans may be sealed, but a moments sentimentality and a foolish child's dreams will not drag the entire race of man with it!" Frayja snorted, his ugly wrinkled face tightened as he bellowed. "Go back to Grans! GO!"
Orin jumped out of the bed, his chest aching as he grabbed up his clothes and dressed within just a few seconds. He grabbed up his sword and scabbard, and made his way to the door. Frayja stood poised in the center of the room. Orin pulled the door open, and it slammed hard into the wall, the handle having dented the wood. Orin turned back, his face radiating his anger.
"I hope they find you and take you back with them. I hope they do worse to you than the rest of them, and I hope they send you my way first…"
"I'll not hear any of it!" Frayja moved forward angrily.
"I hope they send you my way first!" Orin moved toward him as well, his hand tight on the hilt of his sword. "So I can see you writhe before your end."
"GET OUT!" Frayja stepped back, showing some fear, but he yelled as loud as he could.
Orin turned and bolted out as fast as his legs could carry him. Even with the pain in his chest, he managed to run full speed for the door, soldiers on guard watching as he sped by.
'I'll get him…' Orin thought as he made his way outside. "Bastard he is. How? How could he deny them? Sick twisted…I'll get him. For Father, I'll get him."
-----
"I found all history pertaining to Frayja from Byrl" Verd had appeared behind Mishaela, who was sitting, bored looking, in a chair within Zeon's great hall in the ancient tower. "He seems a good candidate, actually."
"Byrl?" Mishaela looked up at Zeon. "Two new cronies, dear?"
"Quiet." Zeon hissed.
Mishaela frowned and leaned against the chair's arm, her head in her hand.
"Well…he's chancellor of New Granseal on Parmecia. He was sent there after complaining to Bowie about certain royal duties of which he was deprived as a bishop. Frayja was originally sent to become part of New Granseal High Council of the Grans Alliance. When he got there, though, the high Council was disbanded and he became chancellor."
"Sounds cunning." Mishaela said. "He forced them to disband, didn't he?"
"That's what's been said." Verd responded., then continued on. "He's since attempted to increase tariffs on goods from Nazca. Nazca eventually stopped trading with the colony because it wasn't making money, but continued trade with Granseal. Moun also slowed trade with New Granseal."
"So he seems quite power starved." Zeon bellowed. "Any word on his rule?"
"Some. Laws are no stricter under his rule than the High Council's, but he's been known to take bribes." Verd explained. "And that's about all there is."
"Mishaela." Zeon bellowed.
Mishaela's head rose immediately, and she stood from the chair.
"O' lordly lord of lords, how shalt thou serve you?" Mishaela grinned.
"Frayja is the best option for the revival. Verd will…"
"I can get him on my own. A weak old man like that. Besides, I'd like to see how this Shining Force matches up to those I've fought." Mishaela turned around and walked toward the only doorway in or out.
"You are aware of what happens if you fail?" Zeon roared after her.
Mishaela stopped in her tracks and looked back over her shoulder.
"You're fucking hilarious."
And she was gone.
-----
A bulky shadow crossed the plains of North Parmecia. Having seen the distant cloud of darkness and despair that hung stagnantly over Mitula's region from the east, the shadow came over the mountains, using passes unknown to most, used by none. He came cloaked well, with much needed supplies, including coin he'd collected over the years. Human currency was a good investment, but he'd never really needed or wanted to use it until now.
Within a day, on swift feet the cloaked shadow moved to the south, beyond Pacalon, through the caverns, past New Granseal, to Ribble, a small, somewhat remote village in the middle of the forest. There, he rested. It took him only a few hours, really, to cross from the north to the south, something no normal human…no, something no human could ever do. Period. He was lucky he'd made such good time. Especially since, here in Ribble, he found exactly who he was looking for, where he was looking, at exactly the right time.
"The cost of one life?" he said calmly.
"Small. It depends on how powerful the target is."
"17,500 gold." He pressed.
"That would be fine for a peasant…"
"He is no peasant. He once led a powerful army." He pressed harder, his voice was hoarse.
The shadow had not spoken in many years.
"17,500 would be fine if you needed me to slit a baby's throat. A general? 120,000." The young man stood poised under the ancient tree, his arms folded. "I'm being generous."
"I have 110,000. I can offer no more."
"You drive hard." said the young man. "You've just acquired the services of Hunter."
"Fitting name." said the cloaked shadow.
"I thought so, too. The gold?" Hunter outstretched his hand.
"All in the satchel. You can count it when you see fit. Your target is called Bowie, he resides in New Granseal."
"Bowie…Bowie…not THE Bowie…?" Hunter stepped back.
"No…of course not." The shadow lied.
"Good…that's a job too big for me." Hunter tied the satchel to his belt. "And my employer is?"
"It doesn't matter, does it?" the shadow growled.
"Not really, but knowing my employer helps me find him if I find the pay is…unsatisfactory in comparison to the target." Hunter's eyes tightened.
"I am…Orin." The shadow lied again.
"I see. May I ask what a large character such as yourself is doing so heavily robed? You are certainly from somewhere foreign." Hunter pressed.
"A name is as for as I go."
"You're a devil aren't you?"
"I'm not to be compared to devils."
"A beastman then. Those claws don't lie." Hunter grinned.
"No."
"Hm. You must be from the far west…or from East Parmecia. I've been to east Parmecia, there is a whole different brand of evil living out there."
"So I've heard." The shadow croaked. "If you'll excuse this tired old one, I'll be on my way…"
"Well met, Orin. I hope to do business with you again." Hunter turned and walked in the opposite direction.
"Don't bet on it." the shadow said as he exited the city.
Once outside, he drew of his cloak, revealing his robes and heavy cuirass. His eyes wandered the plains.
"Just a bit more to do." said the large creature.
A large set of dragon-like wings spread from his back, and became outstretched. He flapped them heavily. Drawing himself from the ground, and pulling him high into the air, he hung for a few moments, and then turned to the west. He pushed himself forward in the air, and shot into the distance, disappearing into the din of the noon sun.
-----
"Orin!" Vahn stood at the city gates, everyone standing with wide eyes behind him as Orin approached from the castle.
"Over here!" Keith yelled as Orin noticed them.
For a moment, he couldn't believe they were there, but he finally smiled weakly as he realized Frayja must have been lying. He didn't find him, they brought him here.
"I'm glad to see you lot…" Orin said smiling. "Looks like we won't be getting any help here. We're heading back out."
No one said anything, except for Tess, who pushed past Vahn and walked up to Orin. She looked at him for a moment, her expression a mix of sadness and surprise. Her eyes were tearing, and he said nothing, he just looked at her solemnly, understanding her feelings, but not knowing what she would do. She finally moved forward, and slowly embraced him, crying softly into his shoulder. Everyone else just stood, all of them silent. Even Sye seemed to know what was happening.
"She loves him." Jo whispered.
Ikara stood close by, her eyes also tearing. It wasn't that she wouldn't have done the same, but she just didn't feel it right, now. So she just stood silently, as the sun hung quietly overhead. Trevor put his hand gently onto her shoulder, and she looked back at him. He stood, looking straight ahead with a small grin hanging loosely on his lips. So, for the first time in a while, she smiled again, just like Orin had made her smile that morning days ago as they walked toward the ruins of Galam.
"W-why didn't you fight back…?" Tess whispered softly. "You could have…"
"And what would it have done?" Orin closed his eyes. "Instead of them standing to fight us all, I accepted the challenge I was offered. If I hadn't, we all would have died."
She held back a heavy sob, and realized Orin had only just raised his arms from his sides, and accepted the embrace with his own, and the silence that remained seemed to last for quite some time, and for it, Orin was glad.
Fin