To NerdwithaPencil: Thank you! I'm actually planning for King Knight's arc story to be about how he deals with the insurgency problem instead of putting them all in a chunk of text. I do want to keep his backstory to a minimum – I'm already worried about the possible massive changes that would happen for Specter's story since there's a big arrow pointing at him with 'backstory magnet' above him and I'm afraid it might happen to King Knight as well, but I'll see what I can do! :) I've got some backstory for him on this chapter!
Weep for me, for my woes are speedtyping when their campaigns come out.
To Monkey99Boy: Propeller, believing in things that the rest of his own kind do not; Treasure, being a victim of extreme poverty; Tinker, being passionate about something that everyone around him doesn't understand; Specter, living in a world where people are quick to jump to conclusions and assume that the majority statement is true. But as I said to another reader; he is NOT someone to be sorry for. I am elated to see you say this is 'more engaging'! I'm never going to run out of thanks!
About the banana and the rebel… I actually chuckled when I saw this part. Do whatever you want! Ohonhonhon. I should say, though, that I have many things in store for this two. Just wait. ;)
Apologies for the really late update. I have posted all the reasons for the month-long delay on my tumblr.
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O is for octopus.
Treasure Knight pulled out his large purple chair and sat on it.
"What are those small creatures on your helmet?" Polar Knight pointed at the purple things stuck on the hoarder's diving helm. Treasure Knight let out a questioning 'hrr?' before he took his helmet off to investigate.
"Oh." Treasure Knight examined the creatures with wide-eyed curiosity. There were a few round balls with eight squishy arms and two tiny eyes, clinging around the glass piece on the bounty hunter's helmet. They were still a little damp with the kelp and seaweed that they were also clutching on. Their beady black eyes appeared to blink adorably at him. "Octopi. Tiny octopi with damp kelp. I haven't seen this type in my life."
Tinker Knight jumped on his seat and thrust his face close to the octopi. "Octopi! Fascinating! Their arms sting, right?"
"No… you're talking about jellyfish. Those things can fucking kill you if they sting you."
"So they're all safe." Tinker Knight reached out to touch the head of the tiny octopi. The head bobbed up and down as he stroked it. "They're nice."
"Yes, I agree." Polar Knight dryly stated. "Now, let us start our war meeting-"
Tinker Knight resumed stroking the tiny octopus' head. "You are fascinating sea creatures." The eight, stubby arms of the octopus he caressed loosened its hold on the gold helmet, and the engineer took it. He placed it on his palm, liking how the head fit snugly in his palm. "Your arms should be studied. What makes them so stick- AAH!"
"Tinker Knight," Polar Knight sighed in exasperation and put his chicken leg down, "what is wrong?"
"It stuck in my hand!" Tinker Knight fell backwards, and when he sprung back up, he violently shook his arm up and down, attempting to throw it off. Before the entire Order could erupt in complete disorder, Specter Knight grabbed his tiny teammate's arm. His ice-cold claws freaked Tinker Knight out more.
"I request that you stop squirming, inventor." The apparition hissed. He slammed the engineer's arm down on the table and then carefully stroked the purple creature's head with a cautious finger. The suckers on its arms gradually loosened their grip on Tinker Knight's palm, leaving behind tiny red circular marks on his skin. Specter Knight calmly pulled the octopus off and plopped it on his arm. The short arms of the octopus curled themselves around his shriveled palm and wrist. The tiny sucker stared up at the apparition cutely.
"It tickles." The specter chuckled lightly.
"Well, that stays there. I don't want it!"Tinker Knight crossed his arms and fumed on his chair.
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O is for outlive.
Plague Knight plopped himself on the floor, inserting the swirly straw in a small hole in his mask for him to drink, and sipped the glowing red healthy liquid without a care in the world.
Mona laughed. "If you drink enough of my brew, maybe you'd outlive me even if you're the ill one!"
His content and cute smile vanished, and he looked up at her. His bird mask was expressionless and static, but the way his back slouched, his shoulders drooped, and bird face gazing up at her just said 'I feel so bad when you say that'.
Mona grinned widely, magenta on her cheeks, and picked up her adorable lovebird up to crush him in a tight embrace. "You're so cute."
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O is for omelette.
The tiny explosives expert bit his lip, brows knit together under the mask as he carefully cracked the egg in his tiny hand. His hands were shaking uncontrollably, his heart hammering his chest, his breath short and sudden. The egg wasn't even cracked, and his hands were threatening to let go of the chicken egg.
Dammit, the plaguemaster thought, I'm not bad at cooking, so why am I so nervous?
Sweat started to bead on his forehead and temples. His greenish mask hid the constipated look he had on his face, but trembling fingers and frozen body wasn't helping at all. He plucked up all his concentration and willed his thumbs to break the eggshell already, but his quivering digits couldn't even move according to his will.
Oh my gods. I just want to cook eggs benedict for Mona.
His quivering frame caught the attention of several concerned Plague Minions. Watching their boss practically become a statue while cooking, which by the way is something the knight was very good at, was a cause for worry, especially since, well, Plague Knight never shivers except when in the presence of his lovely Mona.
Well, he was thinking of Mona.
"Hey, Boss, are you ok-"
Plague Knight let out a high-pitched birdlike squawk.
The egg was dropped.
The egg's shell broke.
/*a few minutes later*/
She could see the exhausted look in his eyeholes.
"What happened to you?"
Plague Knight set down the platter of food and removed the lid. Mona looked at the dish for a short moment before flicking her gaze up to her partner.
"Omelettes." She said monotonously.
"I wanted eggs benedict, but I had scrambled eggs instead…"
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O is for out of the blue.
The five graduating students of anthropology, clothes tattered and faces grimy, huddled together in a circle as their guide and professor was sleeping in his tent. The crackle of the bonfire calmed the terrified group a little. They spoke in hushed whispers as not to wake up their teacher.
"The entire thing with us being lost is out of the blue." One of the students whispered. "We know that he was sane when we left for the Lost City, and somehow, in the middle of the trip, he started to lose it."
"And it's getting worse." A second piped up.
"I'm going to try and steer us to the direction of the Lost City." A third held up his compass. "We know we're somewhere near the fork and the dead village. It should be up north."
"Landmarks, landmarks." The second reminded. "What do we have to see to say we're already near?"
"We'll see lava, and we'll know it."
"Let's just survive this, get help for Professor, and then we'll all be fine. Everything is alright. We'll do what we have to do." The last one said. "We're close. We'll be safe."
"But what of the revolutionaries? They might kill us!"
"We'll just have to avoid them. Don't tell anything about the Order of No Quarter. We're neutral from the start. Just… let us survive."
"Hey! Remember about the smoke signals we learned about three months ago?" The first abruptly piped up.
The four others gasped and looked at their companion in awe.
"Alright! Let's do that."
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O is for Order of No Quarter.
The most obsessed man alive, whose envious drive could make him the ruler of the entire earth. Your vanity allows you to seize all you wish.
King Knight.
A sphere of violet power manifested in her discolored hand, flashing white and purple as invisible and intangible energy shot out from the Tower of Fate's lair to the south, to Pridemoor Keep.
The orb then revealed men in gold, one of them with a red and white fluffy cape. King Knight was on his throne, looking seriously and attentively at knights with gold armor. A map of the Valley was on a table, the metal men arguing and debating over tactics and possible future moves of the strong revolt that shook the Order's very foundation.
She let the usurper be.
The least motivated of the Order, the most romantic of all men, and yet the most dangerous to cross. Your radical will can never be toppled and broken.
Propeller Knight.
She was immediately greeted with the sight of the Frenchman, his helmet off. He was letting his light brown hair fly freely in the heavens' winds, a golden ribbon between his fingers. He had a grin from ear to ear, laughing at a halberdier beside him. The static blue and gold visor of Propeller Knight's favorite subordinate somehow expressed his profound disappointment and sadness.
"My family. I miss zhem."
"Ohonhon, you're only homesick, mon ami." The French captain clapped a hand over the armored shoulder of his best friend, startling the halberdier.
"Zhat surprised me." Albrecht snickered a little.
"Je suis ton ami, Albrecht." The Frenchman's teeth sparkled when he flashed a kind-hearted grin.
Albrecht rolled his eyes. "You are also homezick, aren't you?"
Propeller Knight's arms slid down, and then he glided away, looking out at the green fields far away from the Flying Machine's deck. His cheerful smile had turned quite nostalgic and melancholic.
"Oui. I miss France." His hazel eyes gleamed with tears. "But by now France knows of where I am now."
"You haven't done anyzhing bad."
"Ah-ah, that's true! The worst I did is seducing women! But consider. A knight of the Order of No Quarter who has done nothing evil. Do you think France will believe it? No."
Albrecht sighed. "Vell, vhat do you zhink about my situation, zhen? I'm in zhe same boat."
His gloved hand flew over his mouth, barely stifling his laugh. "Haha! Did you just say a pun? Boat? Flying Machine?" His smile quivered, thoughts of their countries coming back to haunt him. His hazel eyes watered again, but Albrecht wasn't looking.
"Hah." The German simply replied, shrugging.
"Hey. If we ever go back to France, or, maybe the German Kingdom, and if we get chased down by peasants and knights with burning torches and pitchforks, we die together, oui?"
Albrecht let out a strangled laugh, and then patted his friend's shoulder. "Alles für dich."
"What does that mean?"
"It means, 'all for you'."
Propeller Knight beamed, and changed the subject. "You know, I've read a German story about a prince and a princess falling in love. I never thought Germans are into some literature featuring hardco-"
Albrecht's eyes widened. "Vhy zhe hell are you bringing my secret books up?"
The Enchantress smugly grinned as she muttered incomprehensible words, streams of thin purple strings appearing from her fingertips and flowing to Albrecht's image in the orb.
In the midst of his protesting and genuine surprise that his boss found his secret stash in the library, the German started coughing. Propeller Knight stopped laughing mischievously and frowned worriedly at his subordinate. He reached out to his underling, patting his back.
"Are you fine?"
The halberdier held his palm up. "I just breathed in some dirt. Don't vorry."
The sorceress sneered at Propeller Knight's increasing concern, and then moved on to the next knight.
The strongest and stalwart knight of the cold, the blizzard of pure skill and wit. Your motives are secretive and shrouded well in mystery.
Polar Knight.
The snow shoveler was sitting in a warm chamber in the Stranded Ship, balls of red and gold yarn by his feet and various hooks and needles scattered under his old and worn chair. His shadowed eyes looked right into hers, the half-finished scarf on his lap left alone. He was just… glaring at her with a heated stare.
Somewhere in the back of the sorceress' mind, a small voice, incredibly strong and hopeful, started to shout.
Help me! Help me! I'm just right he-
The Enchantress willed the orb dissipate into thin air before the suppressed voice could break out of its prison. The imprisoned soul's voice still rang out and echoed within their shared dark mind, and after a few moments, the tenacious spirit's voice died down, and then… defiant silence followed.
Assessing that her possessor spirit was safe, she reactivated the spying orb.
The prodigal genius destined for service to the far future but born in the past. Your imagination immortalizes you.
Tinker Knight.
The sphere swirled with gray and blue colors before revealing Tinker Knight. He was standing outside of his self-sustaining Clockwork Tower, his gloved hands pulling at his short hair. There was a massive pile of rusting metal and machines, stacked carelessly on top of each other near the Tower, hidden by the cover of the hills beside.
She wondered if he would detect her stealthy magic with his advanced technology with a dark laugh.
The immovable terror with no hesitance to kill in exchange for earthly and material power. Your unquenchable drive nets you all the riches of the world and beyond.
Treasure Knight.
The orb only showed the bounty hunter sitting on the seashore, the Iron Whale's top visible from his position. He was sitting on the sand, polishing his golden diving helmet. After wiping his helmet until it was squeaky clean, he picked up a black bag full of coins that had been beside him and then walked away from the shoreline.
I think I am not surprised, the Enchantress thought before she let the image dissipate.
She skipped what the bounty hunter did after – he walked by the small pile of flat stones with a single name crudely carved on one of the stones, and whispered good promises to the bones of a puppy buried under the cairn.
The excavator of crumbling ruins, reading the past to predict the present and future. Your perseverance has earned you much knowledge.
Mole Knight.
She immediately scowled at the picture before her. It was Mole Knight and his team standing before the remains of her previous Order of no Quarter. The knight himself was looking over the shoulder of a linguist studying a clay tablet.
They were useless. All brawn, no brains, all flesh, no real power.
Well. That was why she breathed new, unholy life into Specter Knight.
She shifted her attention to a group of students hiking in the mountains, all five of them bursting with excitement as their guide and professor told them stories of the finds in the Lost City and how anthropologists from all four fields were fascinated by the unearthing of the ruins.
The Enchantress breathed a quick spell to befall the poor old anthropologist. She then quickly went back to the Lost City, following the telltale smell of exploding powder and then focusing her energy to set fire to the black, foul-smelling powder.
There was a loud boom, followed by panicked screams.
The Enchantress laughed, and then left for the Explodatarium's view.
The lithe and nimble scientist of death and pestilence. Your fearlessness knows no bounds.
Plague Knight.
Her brows creased with worry. The little alchemist himself was asleep on his bouncy bed, his mask a bit aside to reveal some burn scars on his right cheek. She looked over at the scattered research papers on his desk and floor, scribbles concerning skulls of brown field mice, ectoplasm essence, non-alchemical gold, and slime being minor ingredients of Serum Supernus.
He was coming very close to power that might rival her own magicks. Her sorcery, amassed over millennia of existence, could possibly be overcome by alchemical power brewed in a bottle overnight.
Alchemy, potentially the most powerful art and science in the entire world. So many possibilities. Transmute living flesh into inanimate metal. Breathe life into wood and stone. Produce gold out of sawdust and mouse skulls.
Brew the potion that could dominate the world.
But cooperation would be lovely. Her magic from ancient times, complemented by scientific research into the supernatural… what a combination.
Especially when supported by someone with the greatest powers of necromancy.
She let the birdfaced alchemist go. Plague Knight moaned quietly and curled up under his multiple quilts, going deeper into wishful dreams, of dreams to become the strongest man and to be one his beloved would love.
The Enchantress tapped into the orb and thought of the last knight.
My most promising knight. Your power grows with every passing second.
The son of shadows, born of pure anger, sorrowful memory, and hopeless wishes.
Specter Knight.
Red and gray turbulently swam around in the sphere. The image formed was of a peaceful village, sun shining so brightly and children playing around. His wide hat shielded his exposed skin from possibly harmful sunlight, and his smile was small and genuine when the baker handed him a basket of his previous life's favorite food. He then quietly sat in a table for one to enjoy his baguette, cut lengthwise in half and toasted lightly with garlic cloves and butter on one side. He looked completely at peace, as if not minding that he might be watched over by someone and the fact that he was the entire Valley's dreaded Specter Knight. Women were whispering with each other in hushed whispers, noting that he was blessed with the face of the perfect angel, wondering what his name was, and giggling at the idea of being with him.
The specter didn't appear to mind. He was too engrossed with the idea of suppressing the burn of the garlic on his unholy body so that he could consume something other than souls in high spirits.
Her violet eyes went wide in horror, and the purple flames illuminating her lair flared up.
NO! No, no, this is not happening!
Specter Knight, disguised in his past life's body and face, was mingling peacefully with the living.
Unacceptable!
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O is for odd.
Something's not right about today, Irma thought to herself as she entered the bakery with enough copper pieces to buy two large loaves of bread. Upon sight of her, all men and women stood and put their pastries down, watching her with small smiles.
One of their saviors.
"Make way. Five is coming!" A man called out from the inside of the shop. The men and women all obliged, directing the revolutionary leader to the inside of the shop and to the bread displays. She threw them a kind and thankful smile as she entered, the copper coins in her hand ready to be placed on the counter for the shopkeeper.
She met gazes with a familiar man, with lovely golden locks tied behind his head with a white band, skin that looked a little too pale for a healthy person, a scarlet coat for a rich nobleman, and… bread crumbs all over his mouth. His lips looked too buttery for a normal person, and judging from the type of bread he was devouring happily, he loved garlic bread a lot. By a lot, she meant, passionately.
She let out a soft 'huh' and stared at him in curiosity, jaw hung a little.
He stared back at her, initially in pure shock, then a split second of thought, and then watchful observation. Her memory clicked – the ghost man sitting on a crate holding a piece of garlic bread, which was one of the least bought foods in the Valley, and then suddenly disappearing when he touched her hand.
He was that man. And there was a basket of garlic bread sitting on his table. It's him. It's the garlic bread spook. She raised a brow at him, and the ghost man just tilted his head to his right with the innocent question of 'what?' in his crimson eyes. She shrugged, and dropped her coins into the waiting palm of the shop owner. Someone behind her elbowed her with a huge grin. She glared darkly at the gray-eyed man behind her.
"Handsome, isn't he?" Siegfried murmured lowly with a dopey grin on his face, gesturing at the garlic bread ghost a few steps away from them. "Every woman outside is talking about him. Why don't you try to win him over?"
Odd thing number two. Big brother is being eccentric, but that's quite normal anyway. No, he's being a shipper again. "Please be normal today. As if I haven't been seeing peculiar things in this hour."
"Oh? What peculiar things?"
Five glanced back at the ghost, who looked more concerned than carefree. She changed the subject immediately. "You glare at suitors, and it only helps that you're One. I have grown associated with this behavior. Please maintain this personality?"
"You'll get married. I know it. I just have to make sure your husband is not what he seems to be!" He glanced back at the beautiful man in scarlet eating his garlic bread in peace. "Besides, this man looks sophisticated and rich. I'm sure he could be a good partner for you."
The disguised apparition resisted the urge to smack his forehead on the hardwood surface of the table. Specter Knight stared at them with brows furrowed in awkwardness, meeting the equally awkward gaze of the lower-ranked rebel leader. If his buddies were with him, they would most likely go as far as to set up an elaborate but predictable scheme. But seeing that their souls were not there, he was both safe… and sad.
"I'd like to stay free of marriage." She snapped, biting into her bread loaf while scowling at her older brother.
The older brother gasped dramatically, as if hearing scandalous news. "Irma!"
"What?"
"I want nephews and nieces!"
She gasped sharply. "We aren't talking about this in uniform, brother."
"I am One and I am the supreme ruler of the Revolution! I order you to talk about this here."
"Ffffiiinnne."
Meanwhile, Specter Knight chuckled, the memory of his friends dragging him out of a certain tavern playing in his mind.
"Tall, blond, and handsome! He's the best-looking bachelor in the army! Also the smartest in the Royal Special Guard! Threw bananas when his staff broke! Everyone! Fall for him! Make us happy!"
"Unhand me, you muffins, as I can kill you with your own moustaches and a grape!"
Like it only happened yesterday, he sighed inwardly.
He watched his enemies banter at each other, one reasoning out that having children was enjoyable and the process of making children is so much fun and has a lot of possibilities while the other cited practicing celibacy until the evil has been purged from the Valley. It was fun to observe his opponents show their true colors and start bickering at each other. The topic shifted instantly to their sister who seemed to be only fourteen years of age, and then to reasoning out that nieces and nephews could come from this sister.
Kill them now.
His crimson eyes widened. That wasn't his own voice. It was a woman, low and borderline seductive. It's her.
Kill them as if you've always wanted them dead...
Specter Knight clenched his teeth, hissing harshly at the foreign voice in his mind. "I am trying to have my peace, damn it. Leave me alone."
Don't you want murder today? You're different now… you always loved the taste and the scent of blood. You have spilled rivers of blood and you want to halt now, of all times? End them now.
He cast one last glance at the siblings before grabbing his basket of bread and striding outside. He snatched his wide-brimmed scarlet hat off the hat rack by the shop's doors. He met Irma's imploring gaze again, and then nodded to her with a blank expression. He hurried out of the shop, the doors swinging shortly after he left.
"Huh. He always looked so familiar, too." Siegfried muttered. He stood up and grabbed his sister's wrist and followed the man.
Specter Knight strode down the cobble street, turning into a dark alley and reverting back to his normal phantom form, his fair skin turning gray and then black, his flesh withering away, and his angelic features turning into black shadowy mass before metal materialized over his face to cover his monstrous form. His coat quickly grew longer and turned thin and tattered, and his white-gold armor replacing his shirt and pants. He cradled his basket of his favorite bread in the world, the memoir of his life of good.
You dare to turn a deaf ear to your true nature, Specter Knight. You can never deny that you are a monster.
"I am an evil creature, born of darkness," he whispered defiantly, "but you and I know about angels."
There was a pregnant pause.
See me immediately.
He growled in fury at her, his claws beginning to glow. Being tethered to a powerful magic was so much like being restrained by a leash and chains. Like a powerless slave having to obey a master in order to live. He was his own master, no one else, but to remain in the realm of the living was his ultimate goal, and nothing else would hinder him from getting his own good ending.
Loud footsteps broke his trance. He glanced back, two warm bodies bursting and surrounded by life approaching his position. Summoning some powerful dark magic, he then swiftly became a swirling mass of red to teleport back to the Lich Yard.
Siegfried and Irma found him, quickly disappearing into a tiny point. Two small pieces of the mass separated from the point, and Irma raced to grab one. She caught the tiny piece of cloth, which stopped shrinking as soon as she touched it. Siegfried attempted to catch the other, but it disappeared just before his large calloused hand could grab it.
"That is odd." Siegfried noted. Irma examined the thin cloth, squirming on its own against her grasp like a trapped worm.
Odd thing number three… this is fascinating. This wiggly cloth tickles a bit. I wonder if it's his.
"Oh well. Five, let's go. We still have a war meeting."
"That's the normal Siegfried."
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O is for order.
"This insurgency has gone out of control, King Knight." The Enchantress coldly said, staring down at the usurper below her. There was a soft whoosh, and swirls of red and black materialized in the hall, reforming into the feared reaper of the Valley. Specter Knight moved behind King Knight and knelt before the sorceress. She waved a wrist, and then the apparition floated back to the shadows in the room.
"I am consulting with military advisors on the capture of the village in the fork, your Greatness." King Knight reasoned calmly. "It is a strategic move. We will slice their power in half, and then coordinate with the other knights for subsequent attacks on the northern side of the revolt."
She growled in irritation. "None of you knights seem to be in good relations with each other. How would you do that?"
"I can convince the others. If this revolt becomes too powerful, our dominion may be removed from the Valley." King Knight mused. "It worked with Specter Knight."
Her rage started simmering hotter, and glared at the apparition. "Specter Knight."
"He has agreed to assist me in eliminating this threat, albeit on… personal interests."
"Care to explain, my loyal knight?"
The phantom scoffed. "There is truly no threat on the sovereignty of the Lich Yard."
"Do you expect that all other knights in the Order of No Quarter have no threats to their own power?"
"I work for my own. And I have mentioned to King Knight that I will periodically assist when the time is right. You ordered me to keep away from this problem."
She hissed in fury, placing a fist under her chin. "I understand that I did order you to let King Knight with this, but with the insurgency gaining power and territory by the day, it has become too big of a problem. I order you to focus your power to mitigating this problem. King Knight, you may leave. Specter Knight, I request you to stay."
King Knight straightened his posture, cleared his throat, and bowed a little. "Thank you." He turned around on his heel and stole a split-second glance at the reaper. He sent a concerned frown his way, and then quickly sauntered to get out of the forlorn sanctum. He pushed open the door and disappeared swiftly when he closed it.
As soon as the door clocked shut, the room became brightly lit with violet flames.
"Your specialty is mentally destroying your opponents before you execute, Specter Knight. The cruelty of your actions only serves to terrify your enemies and make them fall apart before you finally deliver the last blow. Am I correct?"
Specter Knight hung his head slightly, sighing deeply. "Correct."
"And you desired all of this. To become darkness incarnate."
"Yes."
"I granted that wish of yours, and it escapes me to think of a reason why you still cling to your past life."
"I cannot help but remember it."
The Enchantress sighed. "If I take away your memories, your skill will be gone. If I let it stay, you will continue to hinder your path to true power."
He did not utter anything. He recalled the image of his smiling friends, his childhood 'sweetheart', his mother, and everyone who had wronged him. Conflicting emotions revolted, clashing against each other in his mind and heart and soul.
"Your skill is what I need, Specter Knight. But I will see to it that these memories will be controlled."
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O is for overly sentimental.
"Controlled?" Specter Knight half-gasped. He struggled to keep his mind off the implications. "Suppressed?"
"Exactly. I need you to prevent these memories from hindering your power."
His thoughts went back to the shiny gold and sapphire blue locket in his new 'home', kept within a locked and secure chest in a secret room. "It will be a hard task to follow."
"Nothing is hard for you. I am willing to give you time to improve on this crippling condition." She let her back rest on the post, and then grinned maliciously at the confused knight by the ground. "To assist you, as I shall guide you to be able to handle true domination, I shall give you one simple order."
He wasn't sure of what to think. She held up her hands, a large sphere of lavender and purple materializing over her palms. The moving picture of two knights in armor and navy blue capes appeared, one of them tall, with steel-gray eyes and a doting smile on his face, and the other a little shorter with brown hair and an annoyed expression. They were in some sort of a brick house. Behind them were a polished stone wall splattered with glowing liquid and a somehow unharmed potted plant.
Siegfried halted, and appeared to call out to someone. He was then tackled in a hug by a smaller version of Irma with the same dirty blond color of the older brother's. He picked the little girl up and returned her embrace. The unemotional expression on Irma softened a bit as she pat the girl's head.
"Torment them." The Enchantress firmly stated. "You have interacted with the rebellion's leaders. Do you not agree that they are the most vulnerable to your power? Siblings fighting together in war."
"War cannot be won by protecting your loved ones."
She smiled. "I suppose you know what to do, my most potent and formidable knight." She let the orb dissolve into nothing, and descended down to him. She placed her hand over his face, her evil power streaming to his spirit, without him detecting the surge of influence into his soul. "After all… this is what you are now."
"I am a demon." He murmured to himself dejectedly.
"You are." She sneered. "Now, go… and execute."
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O is for ominous.
Albrecht sifted through the mountainous piles of letters, sighing at the hopeless amount of girls' mail to his boss. The letters towered over even him, and there were practically ten more hills of paper to sort through.
The fan letters were half-curses and half-blessings for the Hoverhaft. Mostly, the bane was all about his self-appointed job of arranging the envelopes into neat stacks. That mountain will be the fan letters. The other mountain will be the amnesty and treaty letters from the Seven Knights of the Pridemoor Revolt (although the Flying Machine never felt their presence at all) and from the kingdom itself. So many papers to sign, so many to acknowledge, so many restrictions. The others were just reconciliation letters from the other Order Knights, especially from Plague Knight, who seemed to be quite insecure about his messages and sent dozens of letters all saying the same thing but with different words. He appeared to ask about reserving the deck of the Flying Machine for a romantic dinner. Other than that, there were questions, thousands of them, asking about what to do in a dinner, what gifts he should give, et cetera. The alchemist wasn't even sure with trivial subjects like how big the rosebuds should be, or what dance is the most romantic aside from the waltz. Even the friendly Propeller Knight would have a migraine with all of the questions.
One of the blessings were that he could do something more for his generous superior. He recalled a time when he was scared out of his wits in his first day with the French crew, now his loyal and close friends. Propeller Knight was the kindest man in his life, and offered to guide him through the face of the unknown. What quality is more likable for men than unconditional support?
The other blessing was the alone time to hide his coughing.
Among the ridiculous amount of unsorted mail, a white envelope with red and blue decorative designs of lilies and roses stood out among the plain whites and yellows. The golden seal on its flap caught his eye. Albrecht pulled the envelope out and read the writing on the back.
His gray-blue eyes widened when he saw his master's full name written. His knight title was gone.
"Was?" He sputtered out, springing back up to his feet, ran out, and screamed his superior's name. "Propeller Knight! Sire! Wir haben ein Problem! Wo sind Sie?!"
The Frenchman heard the urgent calls of his favorite underling, and walked calmly to the jittery Hoverhaft. He put on a considerate smile to try and calm him down. "It must be a big problem for you to slip back in German-"
"See this!" Albrecht practically thrust the letter to the captain's chest.
Propeller Knight fumbled for the letter. His brows creased when he read the name of the sender.
"Monsieur Bonnefoy… second most-powerful in France." Propeller Knight muttered as his previous sunny disposition vanished instantly.
"I saw your whole name, and zhey didn't write your title."
"I can see that." He carefully ripped off the seal and pulled out the letter, or letters, inside. The first one was in the careful writing of his maman, the strokes still as lovely and caring as ever. He wondered if the dark out-of-place spots were teardrops that had stained the paper.
My son,
Weeks have passed, and I still have not heard from you. I dream of you in my sleep every night. You weep, you cry, and it aches me to watch you. Before I can hold you and keep you safe from whatever that is hurting your poor heart, you vanish like smoke, and I wake promptly. At times I can touch your face in dreams, and that is when you are lying on the cold floor and you are not moving.
I sincerely worry for your life, my dear.
The king of France is considering banishing you and removing your title. He says that he can send a force to assassinate you and remove you from the world. It hurts me to hear news of you getting killed in such a dishonorable way. I do not want you dead. I do not want to live my life knowing your body is rotting somewhere in a foreign land, never to be seen again by my weary eyes.
So, I consulted with Monsieur Bonnefoy.
He was not the manipulative general they say almost obliterated the Bavarian Order of Knights, at least, when I saw him. He is a generous man. He reminds me so much of you in both manners and gait – he walks as if he dances and he speaks so much of love like you do.
I told him about you, how he reminds me of you. I almost wept and lost composure, but he caught me, a frail old woman, and calmly talked. I said that you will never join the Order of No Quarter because of two reasons. You are too much of a good son and noble, with so much good influence. You will never become an Order of No Quarter knight, even with your spite against us, your parents. You also have the German warrior. Also, your German subordinate is the only thing preventing the king from sending the hitman to you.
Speaking of him, maybe it is time to meet this man properly in person. Our first and only meeting went as bad as you know it was.
The lovely general vowed to conduct an investigation and protect you from anything. Innocent until proven guilty, he says, but if the findings consider you guilty, you will be executed and the German transferred. This is the only saving grace you have now.
I know you are innocent.
Please return home. I love you.
Maman.
"Albrecht, thank you very much for saving my life." Propeller Knight closed his eyes and smiled. He breathed deeply, and then rubbed his eyes.
"Vhat did I do now?"
"The king wants me dead. You are the only one that makes him hesitate to kill me."
The German raised a brow. "I suppose my power is too much. Are zhey afraid of my country?"
"My mother wants me home. Reading her letters… I want to go home."
"You still have anozher letter."
"Ah, yes." Propeller Knight shifted to the lavender paper and read the short message.
I order you to return to France.
Bonnefoy.
"And it seems that I literally cannot go anywhere but France." He snickered. "I'm going to die."
Albrecht gasped. "Should I call for a resupply of armaments and cannonballs?"
Propeller Knight laughed, and waved his wrist. "You want to declare war with France again?"
Albrecht shrugged. "Not exactly. I shall be off, zhen. I might order an entire decade's vorzh of explosives from Plague Knight, considering zhat he has been sending reservation letters."
"What reservation letters?"
"He wants zhe deck for a 'date'."
"Ah. The Mona girl?"
"How zhe hell should I know?"
"I think we can leave after that 'date'." Propeller Knight mused happily. "Wine and turkey. Wait. Plague Knight is a bird. Is he a real bird?"
"Potatoes are a better idea." Albrecht nodded. "Potato wedges. I miss home."
"Well, buy some potatoes for yourself, too. Ask the Gastronomer from the Village if you need anything. I want to be alone for the day."
"If zhere is anyzhing that bozhers you, call for me." The Hoverhaft turned around and walked away.
"You are a good friend."
Albrecht paused, and sighed with a little smile. He continued, and when he got out of earshot, he coughed.
The Frenchman went to the direction of the open deck, the lovely smile of a mask dropping. He stepped to the edge of the deck, the tips of his shoes toeing the line between floor and empty space, and stared down at the distant earth below the airship. He held the guard railing weakly with one hand and cupped his somber face with the other.
The mountains, with their summits capped with snow, and the meadows, lush with greens and flowers, all looked dull and lifeless in his eyes.
.
O is for ornate.
"I learned that if a person is quite obsessed with something in his or her adult years, it might have stemmed from a lack of that something in the developing years…" Mole Knight stole a side glance at King Knight. "I wonder."
"You know, the king told us not to treat you badly." The well-dressed gentleman, or to the young, thin lad, harsh-man, coldly muttered to the servant boy. "But I can tell you off, you bastard. Not even the king can say otherwise. All agree with me. "
The shy servant looked down, his matted platinum blond hair shaggy and uncut. His bright yet dead eyes looked down to the stone floor, and to the polished shoes of the grown-up before him, and to his cold and unprotected feet.
Life… was so unfair.
"Return it at once." The healthy and fat hand of the man was held out in front of the poor boy's face. Dread filled the child's mind, the lines of the man's hand memorized, the shade of fair complexion known too well.
At least it wasn't too close to his face to cause his cheek to be swollen and red.
"Return it!" The man snapped. The boy, with a trembling hand, fished out a gold ring with a ruby fixed on it and placed it on the man's open palm. The gentleman's fingers enclosed around the ring, and before the boy knew it, the fist had already collided with his chin.
"I'm sorry!" The boy quivered, his pale and cold hand covering his chin and mouth. He felt wetness roll down his cheeks, and on his lip as well. "It just looked so pretty…"
"Accept that these," the ring was held out in full view before it was tucked away in his coat pocket, "will never grace the fingers of bastard sons like you are. You cannot change your fate. You were born to be a miscreant child. Fate decided the course of your life since the day you were conceived."
"It's unfair." The child sobbed.
"It is completely fair, child. Do not weep for your destiny."
.
O is for old.
I am getting old and weary, he thought to himself. So much experience in this world, so much that it could already mean that he was to die soon, but there was still a problem he can never leave behind without him seeing its conclusion.
His poor daughter, held captive by a preternatural evil power. He couldn't leave her behind.
He loved her very much.
The Stalwart watched silently and warily at the three children playing cheerfully on the snowy fields. Even before he let the children play, he had already scanned the underside of the blanket of snow if there were branches that could break ankles or sharp pebbles that could injure them horribly. He already designated a tight perimeter of their play area, and shoveled most of the snow away for safety.
Three children, the two boys wielding toy shovels and the sole girl holding an old wooden toy shield, then started a snow fight. They were all laughing – the brown-eyed boy with wild dark hair catapulting tiny poffs of snow at his friends. The girl held her shield up and protected her face from the barrage of snowballs, but the other one with the toy shovel withstood the onslaught of snowballs. He screamed and laughed, quickly building himself a small mound of snow when the other stopped to reload his ice-based ammunition.
Polar Knight dug up a huge amount of snow and launched it over to the blue-eyed tiny child. "Incoming!"
The knight chuckled when the kid he just provided reinforcement to apparently didn't know about the giant snowball already in motion in midair. He moved forward despite the loud warning of his friends, and promptly got buried in the cold snow. Only his head wasn't covered by the white snow, and his friends laughed merrily at his ridiculous appearance.
"You're the snowman!" The girl giggled.
"Snowman! Snowman! Snowman!" The wild haired boy cackled, and mischievously launched another set of snowballs on top of the laughing 'snowman'.
Time passes by so fast for old men. For the elderly knight, it definitely was the case. He had done so many things, like take care of his children, children-in-law, and his children's friends, set up a new Order of Knights with a new code of Shovelry, recruit many more disciples in the same Order, fight off evil that threatened his area of supervision, and many more things. He took up knitting and crocheting when doing nothing, and his daughter would tease him so much about it.
It seemed like an hour from when those three cute children were playing outside in the winter to when those same children grew up to become powerful legends.
"Black Knight!" Shield Knight called out in a sing-song voice, waving happily at the short warrior in black and red armor. Black Knight had only turned his head a little when he felt the weight of an entire human crash on his shoulders. The passersby chuckled at the display of Shield Knight fondly glomping the feared Black Knight.
"You are an expert in diminishing my good reputation." Black Knight muttered in a low voice. He glanced at the cerulean knight behind her, who only shrugged at him.
"You are an expert in refusing hugs." She answered back. "You know, we've been together since, well, since I was born! You were literally in the house when Mother gave birth to me!"
"That doesn't really give you an excuse."
"It does. But anyway, I'm here to invite you to an adventure in the Tower of… uhh…" She gestured to the ugly black tower surrounded by dark green clouds in the distance to the north, "whatever. That bad-looking tower there. Not the silver one, but the taller one with the clouds."
"Tower of Fate." Black Knight said in a matter-of-fact tone. "But I can't go with you. I'm going home."
"Who gave that name?"
"I don't know. How should I know?"
"What fate befalls me there?"
"Money. Fame. More praise."
"I'm here to offer my services, and it just so happens that I get paid by the king. You make it sound so bad." She crossed her arms and mockingly pouted. "There's nothing wrong with keeping bad elements at bay."
"Shovel Knight, why aren't you talking?" Black Knight glared his Stare of Doom at the blue burrower.
"Pardon me, Black Knight. Whenever Shield Knight talks, I find it very hard to speak my mind because she tends to speak faster than I can form a polite thought."
Black Knight resisted the obvious friendly nitpicking on his friend's chronic chivalry illness. He waved it off and turned back to Shield Knight, who was already fishing for something in her small pouch.
"What are you doing?"
"You're going home, right? Can you send this to Father?" Shield Knight softly said as she pulled out a neatly folded paper and handed it to Black Knight. "I'm planning on getting a break this year's winter, and I'm going home when I get that vacation."
"Yes. I'll give this to Polar Knight."
"Dear gods, Black Knight, the formalities! You're calling him 'Polar Knight'?" Shield Knight poked the side of his spiky helmet. "A bit of edge has grown in on you! He's a little edgy, don't you think, Shovel Knight?"
He just groaned in defeat.
"What is edgy?" Shovel Knight tilted his head in confusion.
Her jovial grin instantly turned into an expression that could only say 'how long have you been lagging behind modern language?'.
/*later that year*/
"So that's what she told you?" Polar Knight teased, opening the folded letter.
"She said I'm 'edgy'! What is 'edgy', even?"
"To tell you the truth, I don't know. Perhaps in the future, I will meet an 'edgy' person, and I can compare justly."
"Do you want to go to Pridemoor? By now, I think she is done adventuring in the Tower of Fate. Let's ask her what 'edgy' is."
"You didn't ask her?!"
"She won't answer!"
And so they began the long journey to the kingdom of Pridemoor, where Shovel Knight and Shield Knight went adventuring together. Polar Knight stopped at the snowy area of the Stranded Ship, and let Black Knight go first.
They, however, did not expect the grave news that Shield Knight was apparently killed in the Tower, and Shovel Knight had retreated to the southern farms in grief. Black Knight had been too furious that Shovel Knight failed to protect Shield Knight, and had done quite the frightening actions of terror in the country. During the time Black Knight let out all of his contempt and rage at Shovel Knight to innocent people, Polar Knight experienced something else.
"Join me in my new Order of No Quarter, Polar Knight, and I will give you all you desire."
Polar Knight stared at the sorceress hovering before him, her entire form radiating with dreaded power. The scythed monster behind her, while obviously new to everything around and about himself, held his sinister weapon, ready to strike. Polar Knight felt the chill of fear down his spine - he could only help but stare uneasily at the face of the witch, her eyes were of the same shape of Shield Knight's, even the beauty mark below her left eye, the lips were uncannily hers, and the shape of the face…
This wretched demoness was Shield Knight.
His warrior's instincts took over the worry. If he refused, he'd get killed in one way or another, by the sorceress herself or the apparition with her. Dying was not an option.
"What's your verdict, legendary knight?" She asked again.
His time was running up. The apprehension started to take over his thoughts again.
A half-baked plan hatched in his mind. He could join this Order of No Quarter, observe Shield Knight closely, have Black Knight calm the hell down and try to figure out the reversal magic of whatever thing happened to take over Shield Knight, get her free, and bring back Shovel Knight too.
"I accept." Polar Knight answered willfully… and hopefully.
"Good choice." The Enchantress nodded, and disappeared in a flash of violet light. Only he and the phantom remained. The latter appeared to drop his shoulders for a second before he also dematerialized in spirals of red cloth.
Afterwards, everything seemed like a blur. Black Knight and Polar Knight had gone on together to talk about what they learned or observed. Then, the Enchantress found them talking, started offering black Knight membership in the Order, and then the genius shovel wielder just started talking to Shield Knight… as if she could emerge from the dark magicks that imprisoned her within. The Enchantress just repeated her question until she just went away. The entire process would repeat. Enchantress comes to Black Knight, Black Knight tries speaking to Shield Knight, Enchantress teleports away. Trying to coax out Shield Knight's soul didn't appear to work, and both Polar Knight and Black Knight were dismayed.
Calling for help to Shovel Knight didn't even seem to be the best idea. The people surrounding the blue burrower were already wary of both of them, and they couldn't bring themselves to brave through the weak farmers with only pitchforks to tell Shovel Knight that his beloved was trapped by whatever evil being inhabited her body.
Death seemed like a more merciful option for the grieving Shovel Knight to believe in. Polar Knight thought that telling him their discovery would lead to the Enchantress killing him should he rush headfirst to saving Shield Knight.
Polar Knight stood up from the ground when he heard the pained screams of the ice wizzems a few rooms away. Someone was invading his ship.
He recalled the news that Shovel Knight was back in action. The mayhem must be caused by him. His heart raced in excitement. How long had he been estranged from his son-in-law?
He heard that Shovel Knight had done so much things in the past few weeks, things the Stalwart could applaud him for. King Knight was defeated and dragged away from the throne by the revolutionaries. Specter Knight somehow suffered defeat from his former student, and Polar Knight could not help but express doubt at the defeated specter… almost as if he let himself be subdued. Plague Knight was overcome by the determination of the burrower, Mole Knight was overpowered, and Treasure Knight lost many of his riches to him. Tinker Knight was defeated not long ago.
He was next.
But he can stop the onslaught before Shovel Knight could step in the Flying Machine. The airship was quite hard to penetrate, and the gracious Propeller Knight honestly didn't deserve to be beaten.
He can stop him, and tell him of Shield Knight's true state in the Tower of Fate. All three of them can storm the Tower, and with their combined power they could save her from the Enchantress.
He can finally save his daughter…
The strong gut feeling of a pair of eyes scrutinizing his every twitch suddenly overcame him. He could feel where exactly she was looking through. Those were his daughter's eyes, not hers, and they should only be used by Shield Knight… and Shield Knight only. He sighed deeply in misery as Shovel Knight walked in front of him.
"Hmph."
"So, my old friends… the day has finally come." Shovel Knight's voice was still the same tenacious voice that he grew accustomed to for the years they had fought together.
"This will be our final duel."
"Should we not lay down our shovels and part as equals?"
I would happily do so if it weren't for the Enchantress watching me. "Hmph. The Order has no equals. Surely you can recognize power. Join us." Join us and save Shield Knight.
"You've forgotten our oath! What happened to the proud warrior I knew?"
Entertain her. You're doing good. "Hmph! No more words. The bitter cold will claim you."
Polar Knight wondered if she knew his last statement was directed at her.
Up next: P is for pun.
Translations:
Je suis ton ami – I am your friend
Wir haben ein Problem! Wo sind Sie?! – We have a problem! Where are you?
Yes, I know I put in Francis Bonnefoy's last name, and I just can't help it.