The sun shone down brightly on the streets of Bervenia city making it look like paths of intertwining gold next to the stone houses. People walked down the streets past the merchants that were selling their cheap, but sometimes reliable, goods. Some were laughing, some arguing, some just simply enjoying the weather.
Marche walked down the street with his sword at his side. He chose not to wear his Judge armor, seeing as it was a casual time. The clan wars were over. This year's winner was the new up and coming team Doned Faction. His brother's team was always one of the top contenders in the 'War of the Clans,' but they never actually won it.
Marche walked toward a house belonging to his friend and former clan-member, Pallanza. In his old clan, Pallanza was a beacon of strength and aggressiveness. In their engagements he would always rush headfirst into the fight with a mad fury. He was truly a powerful ally.
Marche knocked on the door and a voice came from inside. "Come in!"
Hewalked in and saw his friend sitting at a table. "Well, if it issn't Marche! How've you been?" He said as he stood up and walked over to him. They clasped hands and then slammed their shoulders together.
"Pretty good, you?" Marche asked.
"Not to bad myssself," Pallanza said as he let out a chuckle. "Hey, I jusst got in sssome new equipment. Want to take a look?" He said as he pointed to a room behind him with his thumb.
"Sure, what the hell," Marche said. He followed his friend into what he assumed was his den. Pallanza walked over to a corner and picked up a red broadsword that had a yellow tint around the edge of the blade.
"Check thiss out," Pallanza said as he walked over to the window. "The guy I bought it from told me it had an attribute of lightning inside it." He held the sword up into the sunlight and Marche saw little yellow sparks flying through the inside of it.
He let out a low whistle. "That's something, huh? It's amazing what a little magic can do."
"Tell me about it. Thisss little baby cossst me ten thousssand gil." He said. He ran his finger on the edge of it and then set it back in the corner and turned to Marche. "Well, iss there a reasson for your vissit or did you jusst want to sssee me?" He said with a grin.
Marche let out a small laugh and looked at Pallanza. "Nice to see you still got a sense of humor. Nah, I just wanted to see if you wanted to get a drink down at the pub."
"Well, I got nothin' elsse to do. Sssure, let'ss go."
They walked out of the house and strolled down the street. There were people outside the pub eating food at the tables that were set outside. They walked into the pub and sat down. The bartender walked up while he was drying a mug.
"Well if it isn't Marche," He said. "How you been?"
"Pretty good." He looked at the menu. "I'll have the special with a root beer."
"I'll have the Coeurl combo with beer." Pallanza said to the bartender.
"One special with a root beer and a Coeurl combo with a beer, comin' up."
"Thanks Ryan." Marche said.
"No prob," He said
"Hey, there any new rumors going around?" Marche asked him.
"Yes, as a matter of fact," Ryan finished pouring their drinks and handed them to the two.
"Thanksss," Pallanza said as he grabbed the beer from Ryan's hand and took a quick sip. "Is there any that would interest us?"
"Not to many," He said. "There are a few going around that people are poaching Marlboros."
"Yeah, I heard about that. I sent Cheney on the mission about a week ago. He found out that there weren't actually any poachers. It was just some nobles that managed to pay the very high price tag in order to hunt them."
"I hear thossse thingsss cost about 500,000 gil a piessse." Pallanza said as he took another swig of his beer.
"Yeah, well, you can cross that off your list," Marche said.
"Alright," Ryan said. "Thanks."
"Anything elsse?" Pallanza asked. A waiter handed them their food and he picked up a slab of meat and started mowing it down with his fangs.
"Yeah, there's one going around that some sailors were attacked by a foreign vessel."
"Was it big?" Marche asked. He took a drink of his soda.
"Doesn't say, but there's another going around that there were a lot of them."
"Did you find out how many?" Pallanza asked. He took another bite of his food and then took a swig of beer.
"The rumors are that there are about twenty-five of them. But then again it is a rumor," He said.
"Yeah, well, I'll still have to check it out." Marche said. He put a gil on the table, "Can I get a refill?"
"Yup," Ryan grabbed his mug and brought it to barrel. He put the mug under a nozzle and twisted it. The drink started pouring into the cup. He twisted it closed and handed it back to him. "Here you go."
"Thanks," He said.
"Hey Martha!" Ryan yelled.
"Yes?" A blond haired Viera peeked around the corner.
"Can you get the mail for me?"
"Will do." She walked to the back and came back about a minute later with a basket full of letters. Ryan poked through them and saw one that caught his eye. He lifted it up and looked at it for a second. "Well cover me in shit and roll me in bread crumbs." He scratched his head. "This one is addressed specifically for you." He said as he handed the letter to Marche.
"Really?" Marche put his fork down and grabbed the letter. It read:
Judge Marche,
We have recently discovered what looks like a beginning invasion force coming in from the foreign lands of Terna. We have a battalion of archers covering our walls, but we only have so many front line warriors. We need reinforcements if we are to be prepared for what could very well be the beginning battle of a war.
We have a small squadron of Assassins and Ninjas that can kill silently, but we would also need a battalion of mages to heal our frontlines and suppress the enemy with long range shots. We need help as soon as you can offer it. Please hurry.
Muscadet Tactical Advisory
Agent Darcey Crowe
"Great, and here it looked like today was going to be good," Marche said.
"Well, we better head out," Pallanza said.
"Right, get you gear and meet me at the Tower. We'll gather our forces and head out from there." Marche said
Something tells me that this isn't going to be a quick skirmish, Marche thought. I better prepare for the long haul.