Disclaimer: Fairy Tail and every one of its contents are not and will never (likely) be mine. That's all there is to it. Now, let's get to writing. Historical references, elements and some characters that I use in my story are borrowed and do not match with facts we know today.
Indomitable Heart
Chapter 14: That Which History Remembers Part I
One week has passed since the imperial army of Alvarez laid siege on the coastal city Cyrene. Throughout that time, the soldiers did all they could to fortify their new base of operations as well as the first successful conquest of the Bellatorian campaign.
''Oye, what is this shit?!''
And that is the only bright side of the entire effort. The city was under constant lock-down, the Imperial Interceptor ships prevented anyone from entering the port while the guarding outposts stopped any sort of entrance from the ground. Things were far from ideal, one being the lack of proper food to feed all the starving mouths, both Bellatorian and Alvarezian.
Even if the soldiers tried to keep it bottled up for days, it seems that now finally all the pressure came bursting tenfold.
''It's all I could scrap together, Garcia. Once you guys decide to lift the damn iron curtain, then maybe I can get some decent ingredients.'' The cook was not much perturbed by an angry sneer Corporal Garcia wore. It comes with the lines of work, even during voyage he's been getting a lot of stink-eyes because of his frugality, but never a verbal sneer. It was all the matter of time he guessed sadly.
Garcia, however, had no patience left in him anymore. He wasn't the only one, his squad-mates and the rest of the footsoldiers were practically starving! It had to end here! ''Cortar la mierda, Torres! (Cut the bullshit, Torres!) I know you hide food somewhere out there. You either bring us something that doesn't look like it came from horse's ass, or there'll be trouble.''
Unbelievable, the gall of this man. ''You know what? How about you try to make a dish for the whole regiment with nothing but water and some herbs?'' He thrusted the wooden ladle in the annoyed soldier's face. ''Here, genius, take the cucharón and see if you can even stir right.''
That was the last drop, an insult for his intelligence was a very personal thing that nobody dared step on. Especially not a lousy cook who doesn't even fight on the front! With the wooden bowl held low in his right hand, Garcia had a master idea on how to give this old dirt the taste of his own medicine.
''Grgh...!''
That was before his arm threw nothing but empty air.
''Huh?'' Dumbfounded, he stared at his outstretched hand. ''Qué carajo?! (What the fuck?!)'' His surprise lasted for about a second before he started fuming. The surrounding chuckles didn't help his mood one bit. ''Alright, who's being a smartass here?!'' With face red like a steaming tomato, he turned sharply to those present in the improvised mess hall.
No one seemed to even consider to give him an answer, but his eyes finally settled on the one very likely culprit. Her back was turned as if mocking him, and the second bowl right next to her nearly finished meal was a dead giveaway.
Torres snorted while Garcia made his was to the table two rows left. He had to thank that the girl sometime. Despite how weird she may seem at first glance, he thought she had some serious cojones messing around with others like that. At least the action took away some tension but how will she deal now that all she achieved was shift targets?
''Yesta.''
''Mhm?''
The response was so casually done it grated on Garcia's already thin nerves. ''I think you got something mine there.'' He loomed over the blonde soldier trying to put much emphasis on the difference in stature.
Dimaria didn't appear that concerned at all as she swallowed the porridge with snail's pace and regarded the man once and then the other bowl. ''You sure about that? Last I remember some guy was pissy and tried to throw it away. Can you believe that? What a waste of lunch.''
Garcia sputtered while the next closest companion snorted a laugh. ''She got you there, Fito. It's your fault.''
Garcia had enough right there, banging his palm on the table, it made the rest of the dishes clutter but most important part stayed inside. ''Es un idiota?! (Are you an idiot?!) Where I come from that's called 'theft'! You know how they punish those who steal, Murillo?''
The other corporal rolled his eyes lightly while trying to pick up what's left from his ration, not liked to be reminded of that one particular conversation where Garcia oh so graphically depicted the act. ''Yea, yea. Tajadia or whatever, cutting fingers and stuff.''
''Exactly, so you stay out of this.'' He warned and turned again to the blonde who now moved to eat from his fucking bowl... ''Que coño haces?! (What the fuck are you doing?!)''
Pausing with the spoon midway, Dimaria casted another annoying glance at the nuisance. This again, really... ''Eating... At least trying to. So, can I finish this in peace or what?''
Murillo sighed from his spot across, they were basically running in circles, and Yesta seemed to think that trying Garcia's patience was the best way to get results. Or maybe she was trying intentionally to see him get roused? He couldn't exactly figure the blonde mage-soldier out, but even so she was in the army, and they were all comrades in arms here. ''Look you two, I think we should just...''
But his warning fell on deaf ears.
''I don't know who you think you are, chica, but this is not some playground where you waltz around like some tough shit.'' He pointed at his chest with his thumb. '' 'Corporal', get it? You don't even have a rank, do you? Just putting on armor and playing soldier doesn't make you one of us.''
By this point, Dimaria's head was lowered as she listened to the voices ranting. One hardly significant and one she could not pretend to ignore.
''Silence wretch.''
''W-What the-?'' One moment he was arguing with her, and in the next he felt like lifetime of years passed over him. The glowing eyes stared deep into his soul, a being that was Dimaria Yesta and yet it wasn't. The sheer pressure that came upon him could only spell one thing; his doom.
''Yesta! Garcia!''
The world returned to normal, wind was mildly blowing again, and Corporal Rodolfo Garcia was sweating like a pig that spend considerable amount of time locked in the furnace.
The rescuer, or the disruptor came at them with increasing pace, Sergeant Fontes trailing behind but keeping a respectful distance. Casillas has, regrettably, seen many things in his not so long life of thirty-one. Both natural and supernatural and thus became accustomed to them. Killing a criminal was nothing new, seeing a man slice up the group of fully dozen armed bandits all by himself used to be a daily occurrence. That was then, and this is now.
''Corporal,'' he regarded the shaken corporal and his eye caught that even Murillo was feeling the consequences judging by his slightly pale face, ''take your food and finish it quick. Yesta, you're coming with me.''
Dimaria let a long sigh pass through her nostrils, picked her sabre that was resting next to the edge of the bench and reluctantly stood at attention. She knew that Garcia was now downright scared of her, which was her intention in the first place. Because, honestly, what good is your rank if you got nothing to back it up with?
Casillas motioned for her to follow, not before taking a view of the lunch area. He nodded to the gathered soldiers and many returned the gesture. He just couldn't get a minute rest with this girl. As Dimaria moved away from the scene and he started to follow, his ears picked a not so subtle curse behind.
''Puta callejera...''
Mutt, a street vagrant or worse. One of the most degrading insults in Esturic that could be spouted. Casillas clenched his fist absently, hoping that they'll leave without further ruckus.
''Tch.''
''Great...'' Sadly, it was not to be.
Dimaria tsked irritably, and veered at the general direction she heard the offending comment fly by. ''Me cago en tu puta mad-... O-oye!'' And almost lost her balance when a strong grip pulled her back, out of sheer surprise she nearly activated Age Seal again.
''Dammit, you really like making my day miserable, huh?'' The recovering lieutenant mumbled gruffly while still pulling the reluctant female along. If his stitches happen to snap from this overexertion it'll be a blast.
One they reached far enough from the scene, Casillas abruptly stopped and let go of the girl. Moving himself to a partly shaded wall, he leaned onto it and crossed his arms, starring at Dimaria expectedly. He could clearly see she wasn't all that willing for a talk, but they had to reach some conclusion or next time it might get really bloody.
''Pues... (So...)'' He began slowly, because most of what he might say will come as a heavy improvised pep talk.
The girl copied his gesture from before and looked away. ''Where'd Fontes go?''
Her first response was to deflect. Not a good start, but he'll be damned if he let's someone more than a decade younger pull him into a loop. ''He stayed back to clear the mess,'' when she opened her mouth to make an excuse of a likely accusation coming her way, he quickly added, ''A mess I can't quite understand why it started in a first place. So, care to fill me in on the finer details.'' It wasn't a question, but a subtle order.
The inappropriate conduct is mostly dealt with by whatever punishment a superior officer decides to give. It varied from person to person; some would give the guilty party to do extra work and menial tasks, and in more severe cases it went from physical punishment to outright being kicked out of the ranks.
Casillas didn't want to do either of those. Frankly, it would be absolutely the worst case scenario to neglect the asset that was the blonde mage-warrior. Unfortunately, everything has a downside, being Dimaria's inability to form a healthy bond or at least amicable relation with other soldiers when he's not around. Ever since he found her as a stowaway on a ship, which is really putting it loosely, the girl refused to wander too far away from him. That's not to say they were joined at the hip, he had his duties and from the middle of the sea voyage, so did she.
And in his honest opinion, she was a fine soldier as they come. Knew to listen to instructions when needed, showing good amount of working ethics. Hell, she was probably even more competent than the half of the others in the unit. The thing that was most concerning was her social interaction. Because, having a person whose behaviour could potentially throw the wrench in the army's routine was one big 'no'. No matter if said person has a disturbingly dangerous form of magic.
But here he was, giving her a chance of redemption of sorts. He is the one who allowed her in the ranks after all, and if that so happens to backfire, there will be hell to pay. Literally.
Dimaria took a few moments before answering. ''All I did was stop the things from escalating into some shitshow. I mean, Garcia was being a total dick to Torres there. He wanted to throw food at him an-...''
''... And you deemed fit to intervene and play the guardian angel, is that it?''
She paused and looked a little annoyed at being interrupted, but continued immediately after. ''Well, basically. But, come on, I wasn't just gonna sit and watch him waste food, not when I knew I could help. We're all hungry as it is, doesn't mean we should up and act like we'll have pork tomorrow.''
The lieutenant nodded slightly. ''Then there shouldn't be any reason why you almost scared the crap out of good corporal.'' Again, she went to defend but this time he stopped her by raising his hand sharply. ''I could feel it from where I was standing. With everything going on, I don't need my men fearing for their lives every time they step ten paces from you. Do you understand what this means, Yesta?'' Moral was getting lower by day, they didn't need to add wariness from their own on the list.
She diverted her eyes to the side, and he could feel her introversion grow. He couldn't allow her to slip, not now when they're in the middle of freaking war. He knew what would come from his mouth next would be cruel tactics, but it needed to be done. ''Why are you here, Yesta?''
She blinked and looked back at him, his face betrayed nothing, he wasn't trying to be friendly anymore. Instead of Kiko asking, this was Lieutenant Casillas and he meant business. ''To serve the Empire.'' So she responded in kind.
And it failed spectacularly if judging by his unamused expression. ''No shit. And here I thought we came all this way for warm, sandy beaches and cocktails.'' And damn, what he wouldn't give to try that one heavenly drink they served in the nice little bar in Caparzona. Whoever had the bright idea to mix rum with fruit and coconuts had probably one too many shots before that. ''Try again. Harder.''
What the actual fuck? Was this all some sort of trick to make her look stupid? She never liked when other kids made fun of her because of how different her hair colour is. And if she ever found the asshole who thought of that insulting innuendo concerning blondes, she'd wrung his neck!
But that can wait for another day! Right now, she had a face to save and standing quiet like a statue will get her jack shit. ''I want to... to...'' Briefly, she hesitated, but ultimately gritted her teeth and let the words out. ''I want to prove myself!'' There, it was out, she finally said it.
One of Casillas's brows almost disappeared behind his helm's ridge. That came out as a little unexpected, not to mention the attention it brought from the passing Bellatorian group who were giving them weird glances. Well, most were aimed at the younger girl in front of him, but he wasn't going to let that affect the course of conversation. He may have just made a breakthrough.
''And how exactly did you have in mind of doing that?'' He asked, adding a touch of taunt behind his tone, probing her to tell more.
The young girl took the bait wholeheartedly. ''By winning, of course! Every victory on the battlefield shows the might of our Empire!'' She said proudly. ''And I want to be a part of it! With me out there the triumph is almost guaranteed!'' Her passionate words reflected the assertive gleam in her eyes while she ranted of glory and future combat. She wasn't that big of a fool to think that she can conquer the entire country by herself, well maybe not quite yet. But her last bout proved that she is a force to be reckoned with, with and without the aid of her powers.
No lack of self-assurance, Casillas noted dryly, except there was one huge issue. ''That sounds all good and well,'' The praise almost made her beam in happiness, ''But here's the problem; pissing off every guy that's supposed to be on your side is a really weird way of proving yourself.'' In one fell swoop he shot down her increasing mood.
It started with Fontes, but he gave it the benefit of a doubt because of her somewhat inexperienced status. A soldier dying from her hands just because he decided to give her a freebie? Not on his watch, he didn't need that on his consciousness.
''But what he did was wrong!'' She blurted out hastily. ''I can't stand by on the sidelines and watch it happen knowing I got the power to do something!''
''And you made that call by yourself?!'' He bit back harshly, massaging the bridge of his nose. ''Look, whatever would've happened there would likely be dealt with by any of the higher ranking men present. If Garcia threw that lunch away, then he'd starve for the rest of the day, and probably end beating himself up. That's the way a harsh lesson is learned.''
It suddenly dawned on Dimaria. Stupid, stupid, stupid! She rushed into it, eager to stop the seemingly violent act just because she could. Her and nobody else. She didn't think it through,... no, she didn't 'think' period. By wanting to be the some kind of do-gooder, she made the situation a whole lot worse. There was also a small part of her that wondered what the others now thought of her with the whole timely intervention.
''Shit, what a way to earn zero approvals...'' The gloomy thought made her feel like garbage and that one vulgar comment now hung over her head. And suddenly moving up in the ranks now seemed like heaven and earth.
Casillas sighed at her dazed look. If anybody wanted, they could take advantage of her weakened state. ''I know you probably meant well. One thing you need to realize, even with best intentions at heart sometimes... sometimes we tend to make things worse than it is.'' It came hard to say the last part, because it brought back bad, bad memories he'd rather keep behind in this life.
''Talking from experience?'' Damn, did she know hot to hit a sore spot, if albeit unintentionally.
No point in pretending or playing dodgery, what's done was done, and he made peace with the fact that it will remain so to his grave. ''Something like that. Now, I think that we sorted things out, sí?'' The final offer was all to obvious; Do that shit again and your out, on your own.
The girl only nodded in confirmation.
''Alright, now with that out of the way,'' Not moving anything but his eyes, he directed a swift glance at the far left corner and whistled once, ''Next time you should keep that armor less polished, sergeant, it's an eyesore.'' As if on cue, the aforementioned Sergeant Fontes stepped out in plain sight, and true to Casillas's wore his armor did look extra bright for the occasion.
''Ay!'' Wincing at the reprimand, Fontes slowly approached the duo. ''You know, jefe, with all the free time between shifts and no actual combat, there's little to do.'' He indicated to his shiny breastplate, recently brought to its former glory.
''Then you wouldn't mind helping with dishwashing later, right?'' The comment shocked Fontes so much he froze on spot.
He recovered a second later, full of excuses. ''Uhh, no... I mean... I...'' He caught them both looking at him as if he were a drunken idiot who couldn't form two sentences. Yesta's mocking smirk and narrowed eyes made him try extra hard to find a way out of the embarrassing duty. ''Honestly, I have a good opinion on that matter.'' When lieutenant waved for him to continue, he took the gesture all to eagerly. ''I think that would be a huge misallocation of valuable military resources.''
Casillas pushed himself off the wall and leaned closer to Dimaria. ''Listen carefully now, this is the way to gripe. Go on, Fontes.''
''What I wanted to say is; that by doing so you'd waste a potential chance of having a good soldier on stand-by, and we can't have that. You never know when you'll be needing a good shooter on the field. One bolt can maybe even end this in a blink of an eye. Bam! War's over, next we plan for fiesta!'' He finished with a confident grin, sure that his statement was good enough. Seriously, one shot is all it takes sometimes.
Judging by their reaction, Fontes couldn't be further from truth.
''Oh, that was brilliant! We ought to name you as a head negotiator first chance there is one!'' Even under the man's glare, Dimaria didn't really feel like there was any malicious intent behind it. She turned to Casillas next. ''What about you, lieutenant? You never gripe at all?''
Casillas snorted in amusement, but he already had a way out. ''En serio? (Seriously?) I'm a lieutenant. I don't ever gripe to 'you'. Same with a chain of command, gripes go up, not down. You gripe to me, I gripe to my superior officers, so on, so on, and so on.''
At that moment all past tension seemed to be erased. No magic, no tricks, just the mere act of a seasoned man in who opened the gates to the first victory of war. A few good chosen words here and there worked miracles in the right moment.
The pleasant sensation, unfortunately, couldn't last much longer, for Casillas had very serious plans for today. Plans that included a long awaited visit. ''Speaking of superiors, did capitán arrive?'' Spending time in recovery was a real bitch, it kept him from performing his regular duties which were delegated amongst others. One was a meeting with Captain Valdez. So the first chance he knew he could walk without handicap, he took it right away.
The man only came to the forth once, and it was only for a brief tour before returning to the leading galley.
Fontes mulled the question and gave a curt answer. ''I cannot say for certain, but I heard through the grapevine that he and the Bellatorian command are holding a meeting every day.'' Glancing at the sky and confirming it matched the timeframe he brought the attention back at his superior. ''Should be somewhere about now.''
''Where exactly is that?''
A helpless shrug and a sheepish expression befell the Sergeants face. ''Realmente no lo sé, jefe. (I really don't know, boss.)'' Not to leave Casillas completely empty-handed, he immediately remembered the important fact. ''But what I do know is that Lieutenant Ferrero orders a special hand-out for them.''
And that meant Torres might be the one privy to such information. As the one in charge of preparing meals and making sure that supplies stay in check, him and the rest of the cooks are likely to be their only source available right now.
Casillas quickly connected the correct dots and gave Dimaria a meaningful stare. Perhaps, the incident at the mess won't be a total waste. Fontes followed his gaze and adopted the same expression.
This definitely will not end good for her. ''Riiiight... So you both have some plan that may or may not involve me specifically?'' Guess she wasn't done with paying for her mistakes. If her previous talk with Casillas was only a preamble, then the elaboration and execution are to come next. ''Oh, vale, vale! (Oh, okay, okay!) Enough with the suspension, what do I need to do?''
''It's quite simple.'' Casillas assured her and gave a strong pat on shoulder for further encouragement. ''All you got to do is go back to the lunch area, talk some to Torres and try to get the info out of him.''
Oh that's all? She just had to go back to a place where good half of guys would rather want to hung her by the neck and the other half would be content to watch. ''You do know that by now a good number of them hates my guts?'' No one was dumb to ignore what she did to Garcia in plain sight.
''I think you left a pretty strong impression, means there'll be less guys to stand on your way!'' Fontes quipped helpfully.
''Yay for me.'' Dimaria retorted humorlessly.
''I'm not asking you go and start apologizing to every single person. Just walk in, find Torres or anybody who works with him.'' As an additional ensurance, he decided to play the pride card. ''Think of it as a form of a 'battle'. Mission; find the target, convince them to cooperate and return with job well done.''
That was so, so not fair. From whatever observation he made on her, Casillas probably knew that most of all she hated losing. And admittedly, it was very much point accurate. Dimaria considered herself as an aspiring warrior maiden of sorts. If she is to rise to the very peaks of the Empire, she must first climb the traitorous slopes, navigating through dirty possess until reaching the summit.
As Casillas has expected, the girl relented.
''I better get some credit after this, you know.'' The blonde grumbled to herself while they three made the beeline toward the improvised roofs and benches.
The lieutenant's response was immediate. ''Sure thing. I'll make you an official rank after it's done.''
It caught her off guard that she had to look at Fontes for insurance. ''Can he really do that?''
The sergeant smirked somewhat devilishly. ''Si, claro! He's an officer after all. You better not screw this chance, there're no repeats.''
Even if he was exaggerating for the sake of teasing, for the girl, this was very serious. She'd finally do something useful and get herself a recognition. How hard could it be to obtain a few pointers from a cook?
The closer they were to the designated area, the more Dimaria felt something was off. A quick left and right told her that she was walking alone and upon further inspection, Fontes and Casillas remained separate, almost pretending they weren't just having a talk minutes ago. Sighing internally, she straightened her pose and went on her way. It's now or never.
Ever since taking the fortress third of the Alvarezian troops were stationed in it, another third patrolled the outskirts and the last third was stationed in the port or actively keeping up the blockade. It wasn't that common to see Bellatorian and Alvarezian soldiers having a meal in the same place though, while they had a standing alliance of sorts, the conquering soldiers were rarely mingling with their counterparts.
The opened space and overhead flaps greeted Dimaria once more. Now empty by half, the place was slowly getting deserted. She didn't see Garcia nor Murillo among the modest crowd, but the Bellatorian batch was definitely a new addition. It would've been fine if she could walk in drawing less attention.
''Look at that...''
Who was she kidding? The whispering, even if hushed, was certainly the first thing she could live without right now. Because being in center of attention, feeling the ogling eyes on her back made her jumpy and the seeds of self-doubt started to take root again. Two of soldiers were barely trying to hide that they were practically sizing her up and down like some piece of meat.
It took all her willpower not to snap at them. Where the hell was that door leading to the kitchen?
''They let their women fight battles?''
''Fuck the gods, have you ever seen such hair?''
''Hair? I want to know what hides beneath that armour?''
Breathe in and out. Ignore their perverted voices.
Unfortunately, they just shamelessly went on and on...
''Hey!''
Until she almost bumped into a person. Not just any person, this one was dressed in a more elaborate gear, his shoulder pads had feathers of black and on his breastplate an eagle's image stared at her. Overall, he wasn't wearing a standard equipment she saw other Bellatorian warriors had on them.
''What business do you have here? Your people should have finished with feeding.'' The man's thick lashes were narrowed as he scowled at her.
This is just the kind of bump she doesn't need. Squaring her shoulders, she was nearly equal in height with the stranger. ''I'm looking for someone.''
His expression changed from dirty glare to dirty curious. ''Is it now? Most here would rather look at you. I am Philaris, misthios by trade.''
Dimaria blinked at the unknown term. Misthios? She was at least three levels better literate thanks to her stay in the temple. Education was necessary for all, for her it went double after she passed the selection. However, Bellatoria was a wild place filled with mysteries she has never heard of. But history and culture can wait, she had other things to do. ''Good for you. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to find-...''
While trying to walk past him, Philaris placed a heavy hand on her bicep. And gave a squeeze.
''What the hell?!'' She managed to contain her rage to a hiss, just faintly. Smacking his arm, she veered on him with furious glare, her right hand on its course to her sheathed weapon. ''Are you out of your mind?!'' He just groped her, maybe to the least embarrassing place, but still it was an advance without permission.
His reaction on the other hand. ''Hahah! You have a strong body!'' He smirked, completely disregarding her stance as threatening. ''Without a doubt you could easily best anyone of this pathetic bunch!'' He pointed at the seated Bellatorias and got the expected result in turn.
Loud protests and insults were thrown both ways and Dimaria resented it as she found herself wanting to be anywhere but here.
''That's enough!'' An ear-splitting roar ceased the incoming conflict as the man with similar grab like Lieutenant Casillas came from the same room Philaris exited. Upon seeing him with the crossbow drawn, the hollering bunch lost their voice immediately. After witnessing the might of the weapon, no one wanted to feel it on their skin.
The newly arrived face humphed. Without as much as acknowledging Dimaria, he strolled down the lines of tables only slowing down slightly next to Philaris. ''We have what we came for.'' With nothing else to say, he simply nudged forward with his chin and continued further, his every step rigid.
Philaris shrugged and casted a last farewell smile to the blonde soldier who briefly piqued his interest, and one extra mocking sneer at the still angry Bellatorians on his way out.
''And I thought a 'stick up the ass' is trite.''
She knew the owner of that remark. ''Torres!''
The cook was less than pleased by how everything went with those two. But he didn't expect to see that familiar face so soon. ''Welcome back, chica. Sorry, there's no more left.''
Dimaria shook her head wildly, causing already growing tresses to flaunt all over her forehead. ''Actually, I came to ask a favor.''
Putting a thin wooden stick in his mouth, Torres gave her the full attention. ''A favor, eh? Don't really know what I can do, but whatever. Ask away.''
Still wary of the present company, the tall blonde lowered her voice to which Torres frowned but motioned for her to follow. Once behind the closed doors, Dimaria allowed herself a moment to relax from the build up tension she went through today, and the day is still young. ''Okay, this might seem weird coming from me, but just bear with it for a minute, alright?''
Torres chewed on his toothpick, leisurely relocating it from one corner of the mouth to another. ''Huh, I'm not really the best company for heart to heart stuff,'' At seeing how serious she looked at him, he decided with a slow exhale, ''Let's hear it then.''
Before going to the reason she came, the blonde had a few things on her own to confirm. It wouldn't stray her from the goal she had in mind whatsoever. ''Back there, when I kinda stopped Garcia from throwing that plate.''
His sudden chortle made her pause. ''Pft, serves him right, that mocoso malcriado.'' The look on Garcia's face was priceless. You got to remember small things in life, and Torres will definitely have this one stored in his brain forever.
The light scold for ungrateful brats in Esturic even made her chuckle for a bit. ''Right, sooo, you're not really scared of what I can do?''
''What? You bet I'm scared!'' He elaborated further. ''But I'm less scared since we got you on our side. Hell, can't imagine they didn't make you an officer or somethin'.''
The comparison made her blush a little, truly, that was what she was aiming for, but admittedly it was quite far-fetched for a teen like her to be accepted, hence the whole purpose of going to war. ''Thanks, really.'' The way he said it might seem crude, but it did put her at ease somewhat. With that cleared, the real question came next. ''About my visit... You don't happen to know where Captain Valdez holds his meetings with Bellatorians?''
''Not a clue.'' His response was speedy and on point.
Too speedy and on point.
''How can you not know if you're sending them food?'' It didn't add up, he should in general, at least be aware of where it ended.
Torres couldn't believe he was about to justify himself in front of a girl like this, but chances are that she wouldn't leave him alone without some answers. ''Look, since I know you probably don't know how it works, I'll let you in on a little secret; I just do my job. That's all there is to it. I could care less if the captain eats the stuff from a floor long as he gets the order.'' Then he gave her a mildly suspicious glare. ''And how or why you even need to know this?''
Like in a sword duel she was getting cornered. Again! It ratted on her nerves, and more importantly, her pride. So just like the last time she fought and won, she'll do it once more. Verbally this time. ''Fine, I'll level with you here. I'm doing this on behalf of my superior's orders, thus for your sake and mine especially, I best get some straight reply to work with.'' Nothing works better than a direct approach.
Torres carefully plucked the toothpick from its resting place and pointed at her, like an accuser about to make a statement. ''That superior of yours wouldn't happen to be the dashing, brave soldado who won us this whole place?''
The way he said it was off-putting at best, but she refused to back down. ''It doesn't make much difference now, does it? Can I have what I came here for, or will you make me regret for saving your hide?''
She didn't outright deny his claim. Interesting. The seemed pretty close, those two. Not that he could tell this early. ''That depends.''
She totally wasn't going to enjoy what came next. ''On what exactly?'' Dimaria grounded through her teeth. His sly look was a dead giveaway enough, not that it needed any more gross implications.
Torres's burly form shook slightly from the chuckle he produced. Coupled with a pig-eyes he was making at her brought the young blonde to one simple conclusion.
''I knew it!''
''Wha-... Wait, you mean...?''
''Viejo pervertido! (Pervy old man!)'' It made perfect sense. The armada was filled with men who probably didn't get some in a while, so they tried to make do with frauds like this, a favour for favour in the most twisted way. ''You think I'm desperate enough to – to do it like that?! I ought to-Ouch!'' A flying toothpick hit her directly above the left eye.
To say that his next words shocked her would be a huge understatement. ''What're you rambling on about, tonta?!'' Torres shouted, offended she'd even consider that he would try to take advantage of her that way. ''Get that little head of yours out of the gutter. I wanted to make a deal with you, is all. You scratch my back and I scratch yours stuff. Lo entiendes? (You get it?)''
''Eh?'' Dimaria did a double-take. ''Ehhhhh!''
Scratching his stub in exasperation, Torres extended his right hand, not for handshake but to show her.
And it was only then she noticed that he was missing a pointer finger. ''Wait, how did that even...,'' it soon dawned on her, ''You were a criminal?''
The cook shook his head gently. ''If stealing to feed your four brothers and sisters is a crime, then yes I am. It's true that Garcia and I come from the same region of Llegearria, but don't let his self-righteous bullshit talk fool you. The whole system is pretty fucked-up, if pickpockets get to lose limbs then rapists and murders should lose even more, right?'' At her dumb nod, he yelled back. ''Wrong! Bastards get a nice cozy cell and a free meal a day!''
''I... I didn't know that.''
Torres would have none of that, he didn't need pity then, he won't need it now. ''Forget it, chica. You weren't there, they must've never talked about it in your place. You're alright in my book, but don't always read into it too much. You may regret it later.''
Dimaria gave a rueful smile, that was the second time already she was getting lectured by the elderly. It was just so, so much crushing, like she was sinking deeper and deeper not knowing whether she is swimming to surface or further down. Is this who she was? A poor judge of character, a lousy temper, a whippersnapper. Did she really made the right call by this self-imposed adventure out of the temple's safely walls?
''If the offer still stands...'' He tried to get her to snap back, and all he got was a sloppy nod. ''All I want is your word. The first chance we get to leave this shit-hole, I want in.''
''Why do you think I can do anything about that?'' She asked bewildered after sorting through her not so happy thoughts. ''Right now, I barely got any influence in the troops whatsoever.''
''You've got something else up that sleeve of yours, and don't bother denying it.'' All she ever needs is a little attitude makeover, and who knows, it could benefit her image tremendously. ''And you're a mage plus soldier no less, all in one. Use that, niña. Who knows you better than yourself, sí?''
Dimaria covered her face, embarrassment and annoyance fluxing through her at the same wavelength. ''Heh, I swear... Fine, I'll see what I can do. Maybe put in a few good words for you.'' Instead of an immediate reply, she had to watch Torres spit in his hand and present it to her.
Dimaria stared at the offending limb with an uneasy smile. ''Pretty grossed out.''
''Oye, it's for good luck. Besides, this custom came out of yours truly.'' He trailed off slightly at the end upon seeing her confused frown. ''Uhh, La Llanuras? (Uhh, the prairie?) You know, the western grasslands and hilly, that's where you're from right?''
She wasn't that well-versed in the customs of her birthplace and would rather forget about it, but it would be rude to pass this kind of thing so, focusing sorely on the ritual she pulled her right glove of, visible callouses already developing on her fingers. Creating her own, smaller saliva coating she gave Torres's hand a good grip, an action that pleased the older cook.
He wasted not a moment to fulfill his end of the bargain. ''Like I told you, I don't know where they go for their get-togethers. Your best chances are to find either of those two pricks you met earlier.''
''I understand.'' Before departing, she threw a smarty salute. ''Good work Corporal Torres, worthy of the finest effort.''
''Bah, get out of here already, I have other stuff to do. Unless you want to volunteer for help?''
''Yeah, you wish, old man.'' She quickly closed the door to avoid another chewing stick coming her way.
''Damn brat! I'm not that old, I'm only forty-seven!'' Forty-seven and still corporal entrusted with cooking. Well, not like he can handle the crossbow with his index finger missing. It sure beats the front lines if nothing else. No, keeping the army's stomach full enough so they can even walk straight is his duty, and he was quite happy with it.
Turning back to the table where the canvas bag with with his main ingredients stood. Picking up the one particular plant, he studied the dried specimen. Yet another unknown horticultural wonder of the world. He just had to figure out the best way to prepare it and find which dish would benefit from this spice. Truly, the next great invention of Alvarezian cuisine. ''Esturic on a side of course, fucking Hessians can't match two flavours together.''
On the outside, far from the imaginary world of a chef, Dimaria went to report mission success. Partially, but with great deal of positive news. Instead of finding Lieutenant Casillas, all that waited her was a a man rank lower with visibly distressed expression.
When faced with unhappy stare from the mage that controls time, Fontes cringed at the memory of when enemy arrow almost found its permanent place lodged in his skull. ''I take it went well.''
''Yeah,'' When she drawled the word by its every syllable, Fontes returned to that guilty face again, ''So what's a lady have to do to get promotion around here?''
Trying to ignore her dry wit, Fontes rolled his eyes at her. ''Sorry, but that'll have to wait.'' There was no proper way to say this, her slowly appearing glare notwithstanding, but he rolled with it. ''We have a problem.''
''How big are we talking here?'' If it couldn't wait for her to be officially introduced as a soldier, then it better be something good, like sudden outbreak or another battle even!
''Hmm, I'm sure it falls among the 'we're about to be attacked' kind of big.'' He remarked whilst using air quotations.
Alarm bells started ringing. ''Hoh? Oh! That's fantastic!'' The tall blonde said with false cheer. ''Then I'm guessing the reason why nobody's running left and right and you apparently lost your gear means the big wigs are all well aware and are preparing countermeasures as we speak? Am I right, or am I right?''
''Absolutely, your observation powers are amazing, Yesta. Here, help yourself a rank.'' He bit back and grabbed his hair in frustration. ''Shit! You realize what this means? If what lieutenant told me was truth, then we are seriously under-prepared to hold of any kind of assault should it happen now!'' Sure, they can withstand it or even force the attacker away, but the consequences would be downright disastrous for all. Lives lost, tiredness catching up to them, the limited supplies!
*SLAP*
''Pugh!''
Dimaria decided on a logical course of action, slapping some sense into a nervous wreck Fontes was turning in. That dark, sadistic crevice of her mind will always remember this as one amazing experience. Revenge never tasted better. ''Okay, first; get your shit together. Second; did Ki – Lieutenant Casillas left any instructions on what to do next. And finally; what's the usual plan in these kind of situations?''
Fontes, his face adorned with a reddening handprint, turned to scream bloody murder before her every last word struck him. One thing was to give someone a rude wake up call, and to resort to physical violence is another. She really did learn fast. ''Can't believe I'm gonna say this, thanks Yesta.'' She only gave him a 'what can you do' kind of shrug. ''Alright, he wasn't that specific, he only said to find him as quick as you can. I'll head to the nearest barracks, round up my squad and call the rest of the guys in...'' He looked at himself briefly and rearranged the schedule a bit. ''When I get my hands on some spare gear. Think you can find lieutenant fast enough?''
Could she, really? There wasn't any timeframe per se, hell they might be attacked any minute now, at any time, and she had to track that blasted Kiko down! ''Wait, that might actually work.'' Feeling her confidence rising, she smirked widely to the sergeant. ''You do what you have to. I have a plan.''
''Does it happen to include me in a firing range?''
''Not one bit. Go now, I got magic related stuff to do.'' Tapping her breastplate where the heart is she did the same with Fontes's. He looked stunned for a second before returning her gesture and a smirk of his own. When he was out of the earshot, she took a deep breath and relaxed. Time magic had many perks, when being a vessel of deity that governs the same aspect was an immeasurable boost.
''Rivers of time once passed, permit your servant to gaze upon what was, the highest authority keeper of endless cycles!'' Traveling back in time was nigh impossible, reverting it was the one of the greatest taboos punishable. What Dimaria was doing is essentially watching an event that transpired not long ago.
Tempus Detra.
Her left eye glowed, the majestic golden overtaking the entire iris and a pattern resembling a clock mantissa appeared. The further in the past you try to look, the more it eats at your reserves, but since it transpired not too long ago it wasn't much of a hassle. Semi-transparent images of Casillas and Fontes manifested, at first they looked like they were having a casual talk to pass some boredome, so she decided to try even harder to understand some of it.
Unlike images, words are harder to come by. It came to a point where Casillas said something that greatly disturbed the lower ranking soldier, after a quick exchange of words, Fontes reluctantly relinquished his equipment (most of his weapons) to the superior.
Dimaria started following the path with faster stride, trying to keep up with the apparition of the past. He was mumbling something under his breath, something that strangely sounded like 'find me'. Did he know she could do this with her abilities?
Putting that aside for now, she maneuvered over the entering alley, careful no to bump into someone, because she was still seeing what transpired with one eye while the other remained with the task to navigate at present. It was a hefty work that brought her much unwanted dizziness, walking and keeping track of past event and being ware of current was no small feat. Damn, when will he stop?!
Finally, it brought her to a two-story house, not that this place had any taller structures, but this one looked good enough to be a rally point. After seeing Casillas's image walk inside she deactivated the magic.
''Woooh.'' The woozy hit her right off the bat. The girl rubbed her spinning head to find some balance. ''Okay, note to self; never doing this on a full stomach again.'' She wheezed lightly, even her stomach after a modest meal took its turn to protest.
''Stop right there, soldier!'' Not even meters away from the door, the two sentries commanded.
Not sure she was the one being called, Dimaria looked around only to see that most of people switched to walking on the other side, far from the building.
''Yes, you! Name and rank!''
''Dimaria Yesta... rank, private!'' She answered using her best soldier behaviour. About her rank, well, she was soon to be one, so it's only a harmless white lie.
The left guard looked bored as hell almost falling asleep, which prompted his partner on the right to nudge him awake. ''Uuug, will you let it go already? Not everyone that goes by this way is a possible suspect.''
''Shit, Pizzi, I wouldn't be surprised if a cow walks in and you'd hardly blink.''
''Whatever, I can just let you inspect the cow hands-on.'' Pizzi, the leftie, drawled.
''The hell does that mean?''
''It means you get to search it up and down, inside-out for any suspicious objects it might be carrying, genius. Hands-on approach.'' One can get so much paranoia it's becoming unhealthy.
''Oye, fuck you, ese! Juanjo Cañas is a proper gentleman! El caballero!'' His colleague defended his manliness.
''Uh-huh, sorry you missed one then, Señor Coquetón.''
''Wha – Where'd she go?! She was just standing there a second ago?!'' The self-proclaimed ladykiller exclaimed in outrage.
''Don't know, and frankly don't care. Less trouble for us.'' Adjusting his head-wear, Pizzi leaned back to for a short nap. With Cañas as eyes and ears, who needs a two-man team for this anyway, but it beats the hell out of listening to bureaucratic crap. Now if only he had some replacement for parasol...
''Hmph, you keep that attitude and we're all getting in early graves.'' Pizzi probably flipped him but he ignored the gesture, mind drifting to the peculiar girl, likely made a run to in the middle of their subject about security... and cows, damn that Pizzi. ''Shame, but it's for her own good not to get in.''
''Chronos forgive me, for I have stopped time in vain.'' It's not like she was forbidden from using it to escape from tough spots, but it eased her mind that she was allowed to avoid unnecessary prodding from outside. Technically, she did it out of practical reasons, not to cheat or whatever. ''Oh, wow...'' Her mind went blank for a moment upon seeing the interior, or rather what it contained.
Vice. In it's truest form imaginable. Drinking, gambling, disarray of men and further down the hall was a line of doors covered in nothing but rags for privacy. If those were not moans coming from the rooms then somebody's doing a good job in mimicking a donkey.
''Agh, focus girl, focus! How do I find Kiko in this clutter? I could look back and follow his trail again...'' And then most likely get the pleasure of seeing something she'd rather not. She would have to adjust the right period and while doing that... Well she does not want those kind of pictures dancing in her head right now. The old fashioned way sounded like the best option. Terrific.
''Looking for someone again, little lamb?'' Lo and behold, that guy Philaris was at the center table along with three more drinking buddies. And one extra cup just waiting. ''Come, join us and you may find that what has your eye!'' He said, finishing with one audible gulp.
The obvious implication was not lost on her. However, one should never look a gift horse in its mouth. This opportunity might serve her well. ''Hah, and you of all would know what I'm looking for. What are you, a prophet?'' Dimaria said as nonchalantly as she could while guardedly approached their table.
Instead of being offended, Philaris bursted with laughter, others joining him. ''Hah! I like your humor, young one!'' He patted the empty seater, coincidentally closest to him. ''You don't have to be prophet to learn things. If you whisper in the right ear, hehe, you may find the right answers.''
The one across from Philaris, a man with darker skin with shaved temporal sides grinned at Diamria, his yellowish teeth reflecting their poor condition. ''So what is it that interests you, warrior woman? Coin, men... or is it perhaps, women?'' Now that got everyone's attention, all eyes aimed at her.
''Oh I'm more interested in watching you fall on your ass and dent that cranium.'' Is what she would've said, but her eye caught that the empty cup wasn't empty at all. Dices, three wooden dices were inside. ''That,'' she pointed at the object, ''How about we play a game?''
''Now I like her more!'' Philaris chortled cheerfully, the competitive dark eyes clashing against Dimaria's amber. ''A fine choice, we were looking for another to fill in, the last one was... Ah, he lost considerable weight.''
''Did he now? Quite unfortunate.'' She smiled falsely, and pulled the little chair, Philaris obviously not happy she sat that out of reach. ''What are the rules?''
''The highest number wins, of course. The die has to make full circle, the ones with lower numbers are out and those with equal result throw again.''
It sounded simple, had it not been her against the rest. Odds were already low for her. If not fore one fact, but they didn't need to know, because she wasn't playing for money or anything. ''Let's play then.''
''Hold,'' the Bad Teeth stopped her, ''First you have to pledge your bet. It can be anything of value. Anything.''
It didn't have to be a genius to figure out what exactly he was suggesting. But she didn't charge into this 'contest' with the intent to fail. Smiling more sweetly, she slowly unsheathed her blade and placed it as her stake. ''How's this?''
He was visibly disappointed, but swords or other valuable bended metals were often the replacement for coin. ''The pledge is fair.''
''At ease, Kandaules. The game has yet to start before its true allure envelopes us.''
Thereby, a gambling between mortal men and one of the great Gods' vessel has begun. Of course, Dimaria wasn't stupid enough to set herself the highest score over and over. That would just make them more wary of her, and if they were smart to conclude something fishy was going on, it could get nasty. It also meant that she needed a good poker face, she couldn't just pause the time, shift the dices and return in a different pose than when they saw her while casting Age Seal.
Was she misusing her magic? That may be so if not for the fact she wasn't doing it to gain wealth or alike. No, her sole goal is to reap one single benefit of being the winner. The privilege she wanted would've never have crossed their narrow minds.
''Ah, maláka!'' Kandaules moaned in despair as his possessions went to Philaris and Dimaria's side.
''Tyche has claimed another victim!'' Philaris poked fun at the losing misthios, greedily counting his boon. ''You wish to offer more coin?''
''Fuck yourself. I barely have enough left to manage.'' Standing up sloppily, he stroded toward the pleasure zone. ''Now to drown my sorrows...''
Chuckling softly, the black armoured misthios took another, more measured sip. ''He does it every time, and then comes back again. Hopeless, that man.''
''By 'drowning sorrows' he meant...'' She bit her tongue there, the game even if rigged was affecting her mood. And right now it was so boring she felt her eyes getting heavier.
''Woman's touch.'' The only one of the losing that remained so far, Lydos, supplied. ''What a dumb fuck, he will end in more debt again.'' He groaned, and then when reality hits him, Kandaules will curs the gods, again, then loan coin and run from the collectors. Lydos was smart to know when retreat is much better option than pursuing a fool's errand, it saved his purse numerous times. Even his neck once...
Philaris shrugged, because no one was here to babysit the fool, if he gets neck deep in shit for his poor judgement, then that's on him. ''You may yet walk away from this.'' He glanced at Dimaria after he finished counting, he couldn't put his finger on quite yet but when playing dice one either gets caught by rage or joy. Depending on the outcome. She seemed kind of unvaried by her lucky streak.
''I hate turning back from a challenge, makes me look bad.'' She pushed the waiting cup towards him. ''Will you do the honors?''
He did so with pleasure. It got him two sixes and a three. A very high combination for success. ''Your turn.''
The two men stared anxiously at the upside-down cup. Dimaria revealed it with two fives and a six, thus making her the victor.
Lydos sighed in defeat, casting one last look at his share that now belonged to the foreigner woman. Fair is fair, he guessed, they all went for it knowing the risks. ''The strangers from the sea win yet once more. Spoils are yours, warrior woman.''
Dimarias's hand stretched to the gathered reward, and the misthios duo could only look in wonder as she only took her sword back. ''Thanks, but no thanks. All I ever wanted is your word.'' She said, looking directly at Philaris.
''My word? Whatever for?''
''The Bellatorian commander has a meeting with our captain, I need to be there. You know where it is?''
Philaris propped his chin on a fist, confused with her request, but nevertheless didn't see why telling someone like her should be restricted. ''Take those stairs, they lead up the only room that has a door, marked by a white bird.''
''You have my gratitude. Have a good one.'' She hurriedly ran the said stairs and out of sight.
''That man before her asked the same.'' Lydos mused. Coincidence maybe?
Philaris snorted, eyes turning to a dummy target that still had knives embedded on it. ''After he beat you in a knife throwing. With one eye closed.'' True to his words, the soldier had one of the most impeccable aims he has ever seen. Even Lydos, who handled smaller weapons with most precision, couldn't help but concede his defeat in that contest.
The other table occupant looked away and said nothing. It has been a while since he was outmatched like that. These people sure had some unique talents among their ranks.
Dimaria approached the previously described door with heavy steps, continuous use of her magic taking its toll. Wiping the gathered sweat from her forehead she knocked once and entered right away after hearing the voice of permission.
''What is the meaning of this?''
Is the first thing that welcomed her. Captain Hernan Valdez, in all his bearded glory, stood the tallest among the gathered. The Bellatorian commander she immediately recognized, another man was seated at the head scribbling with ink. Finally, the one she was here for stood and hastily saluted at the captain's impatient question.
''With your permission, capitán. This is the one I've told you about.'' He inched to Dimaria, hiding the discomfort that was the result of his itching wounds. ''May I present, Private Yesta, the deciding factor in our conquest,'' He waved at the General Felix who wore the expression of a man trying to solve a puzzle, ''And the sole reason for your survival, General.''
It all happened so suddenly, that Dimaria, coupled with the unplanned exhaustion catching up to her couldn't wrap her head around it. She simply saluted, but her eyes were trained at the lieutenant, a thousand questions running through her head, but not reaching her tongue.
''Good job, you earned it.'' He whispered subtly.
''What's going on?'' She returned in equal measure.
''History in the making, just play along.''
He ushered her in and closed the door behind. What really happened behind them was known only to a group of five.
XxX
Humans, such fickle creatures.
A young boy, barely at the age of thirteen surrounded by the cheering crowd in an enclosed space meant to be the contest of strength.
They talk of honour, bravery and love.
He was standing over a body of a dark-skinned man, his attention completely absorbed not giving any care for the fat, mutilated corpse that wielded hammer nor the slowly moving shit that tried to crawl away. His hair, once the brightest of pink now stained with blood, washed so rarely that the pigment of crimson took root.
''Why?''
They pretend to value friendship and kinship above all else.
''Why, Theron?!'' Despite the anger in his tone, the tears were already shed. ''We promised to leave together! We promised to always win together! Why?!''
A hand weakly touched his face. The downed man was missing an eye, but his other one filled with remorse on how fates ended their long-lasting dream. He was truly a good boy, that Igneous. ''Do not *cough* shed tears... we were always prepared...'' Theron broke into more violent coughs, his blood, the one that was his life was now unabling him to even speak properly.
''Don't speak, don't! I will win this and... and bring you a healer...'' Igneous tried to reason, he wouldn't let his only friend here die!
He was always kind to to those he considered close.
Theron's hand almost slipped at the proclamation, but he was well beyond saving, even if he could be saved by some miracle, their common master wouldn't bother spending on his recovery. ''You must... live. You must fight for that freedom... Ou-our wish, grasp it and never let go, my friend...'' If anyone could, it was him.
But every life, no matter how strong or smart a man is, remains a fleeting memory.
''RAGH!''
The sounds of a beast unleashing his rage once more. The lest last man standing, was Igneous, as promised upon to his friend on his dying breath.
*DRIP*DRIP*
Their adversary's head fell, eyes falling from its sockets, bowels ripped from his per-existing wound used as a strangling rope's stead. On that day, Igneous swore, he will fight as long as he has to. His effort will either be rewarded with freedom, or until his body fails him, a blissful sleep and a chance to meet those who passed before him. Powerless, ill, dying.
Yet the human race prevails. For one reason or another, the Creation seems to favour them.
''Inconceivable.''
''Does it amuse you?''
''?''
From the trees of people a man emerged. He was unconcerned by their shouts for more blood. He stood next to the motionless boy almost half his size. From his hair, eyes one could never peg them as the same person. ''Is my past, of a mortal, of such great concern to you that it must be put on the ranks of a play?'' He spoke to everything, but no one present gave him any heed. He was like a ghost to them as much as they were to him after all.
''Ah, the champion graces us with his presence at long last.'' The ethereal encompassing voice greeted him in its usual way. ''Unfortunately for you, I am in this... foul predicament. Finding good entertainment in this wretched pit you call 'heart' is rather troublesome. Although, you do have quite the good number of tragedies piled together. Many enjoy tragedies... as long that they don't befall themselves, that is.''
Igneous looked around to the place that was once his bread and butter, minding not to stare at the particular body of a dead friend too long. ''And why this one? In the last days, I have been flooded with images of this event. Time and time again.''
''Is it not obvious? Humans consider 'birth' to be one of those moments that are followed by joy and merriment. It becomes boring witnessing the same sight for the thousandth time... No, this one is special. The one you abandoned your old ways of thinking, your past wishes and dreams! You emerge a completely different person! What was once Natsu Dragneel, now became that what stands before me, the one and only Igne-!''
Furious flames manifested and swallowed the room in all their frenziness. ''You dare assume! I have not forgotten who I am!'' The redheaded man raged, breathing heavily. '' 'Igneous' is molded after my failures to keep my friends alive, but I have never nor shall I ever lose sight of who I once was!''
The grizzly scenery was gone only to be replaced by what can only be called a barren wasteland. Dark land and scorched earth stretched miles away. And Igneous found himself in front of one of the few mountains. At the foothill in front of him was something akin to an entrance, it was triangular shape, tall as a five stored building, obsidian bars almost completely blocking anything from peering inside.
Almost.
''You arrogant fool.'' The tone changed from nearly maniacal to composed. From cracks that marred the stone gates, light shone trying to escape along with miasma that was seeping away and vanishing into a dark sky above. ''Always must you insist on ruining my fun. But, deny to your heart's desire, the past will never be erased.''
Igneous snorted, did Hector or Leonidas ever encountered the same problem as him now? ''I wouldn't try to erase it even if I could,'' Clenching his hands until his knuckles turned white, he declared, ''The deaths of those brothers would have been meaningless. We can grieve for them, but our solace is that they are now happy where they are, free of shackles that once bound them.'' Briefly, he was reminded of one of Theron's short lessons; death is truly the ultimate form of release. No matter how grim it sounded back then, he believed it was true to those that moved to the afterlife.
''Heavens help me, you humans are one walking contradiction. You find death to be the absolute release and yet you struggle with everything to survive, going as far to murder each other, steal another's belongings or betray the closest of kin.''
''It is our courage and will that makes us strong.'' The young man stood in his kind's defense.
One of the lower cracks glowed brighter and started releasing more foggy steam than the rest. ''Courage? Your will? Buahahaha~!''
For a supposed higher spirit, this one was one piece of work. Igneous could never figure him out, and likely never will.
''Aahaha~ You speak with such confidence, but you know the truth already! It is right in front of you, you have seen it! 'Courage'?! Your species are all but rats crawling through dirt!''
''And what are you? If these so called 'crawling rats' had you sealed and made you bend to their purpose, how are you any better than us?'' The flame wielder smirked at the silence as a response. He admitted it felt good to have one over him in a while.
However, the silence was soon replaced by a cataclysmic reaction.
''YOU HAIRLESS APE! JUST FOR THAT SLIGHT ON MY NAME, YOU DESERVE TO BURN TEN THOUSAND TIMES OVER!''
Igneous stumbled as the grounds shook violently and he could hear earth cracking in various places all in his vicinity. The geysers of lave poured onto the surface, coating it in its orange glow.
But Igneous would have none of that dampen his increasing mood. ''Now who is running from the truth? It must be unimaginable torment, being locked, never to see the light of day. Never to fell the touch of wind on one's face. It frightens you, does it not? Helios.''
''HUNDRED THOUSAND TIMES OVER! That sharp tongue of yours will be the first to perish, becoming nothing but ashes scattered upon Aeolus's breath!''
The rush from the threats had the worst opposite effect. Igneous's smile widened even more and he punched the front of his 'tenant's' gate. ''I look forward to that! Remember what I can do with flames!''
Threats and taunts were thrown both ways, neither managing to claim supremacy over who is in the wrong and who was in the right. Eventually, they each ran out of things to say, or were equally tired of bickering back and forth.
''You truly are the worst person that I could have ended up with.'' Tenacious and persistent. Most would burn out from the sheer power that came in package with his attribute, like the last failed attempt. But he finally met his match with this one, not that he would admit it to Igneous. He handled the portion of his power well enough, but that was only that. A portion.
''A thing I am most proud of.'' Helios made a confused noise of sorts, or maybe not, yet he felt the need to talk some more. How many chances do people have to talk to a God, or at least house them? ''Perhaps we are same in that regard, we both hate losing. Being subjugated... That time at the Arena, when I fought the Beast, it was by your help that I regained sense.'' He begrudgingly accepted it. ''For that, and for having you collapse that sign that bound all of us, I am grateful.''
He really is impossible. ''Humph. I only 'helped' you to avoid further inconvenience. Do not take it as a sign of friendship, human. I still much despise your race for what they did to me.''
The redhead nodded slightly, he could partly understand where he was coming from. Both of them were captured to serve for the purpose they never intended to in the first place. ''I can relate to that, at least. We are both still 'slaves' in a certain way.''
''Precisely why I have told you to abandon those other vagrants and that childish notion of 'freedom'. But now is too late, you brought us neck-deep in shit.''
''Long as we can breathe, there is hope.'' The attempt at jest failed as Helios gagged loudly at the idea, the very word repulsive. ''I chose my path, and I will follow it to the very end.'' He said determinedly.
''Do as you wish. But be wary, many a men took the same path as you did, only to find their spirit crushed by the same reality they fought against. You think you can overcome it?''
Igneous furrowed his brows at to what exactly did the Sun's aspect meant. One glimpse at his right arm revealed the dark, veiny pattern now adorned nearly its entire length. He was good in hiding it from others, but what significance did it held, he has yet to find out. ''Until I try, I will never know.''
His figure faded from the internal space, leaving Helios alone to his thoughts once more.
Well, not completely. ''He proves more interesting by day, that Igneous.''
A deep rumble, one produced by once mighty race now slumbering sounded off.
''You are fighting a losing battle, creature. Why do you think it will be by your design?''
Another, more prominent growl turned to a roar that made the stones move followed suit.
''So be it. I will relish upon the look of your despair should that ever happen.''
Not long after, quiet took place again. While the giants went to their respective rest. One, full of credence about things to come. The other apprehensive of the day when his son's actions will lead to his demise.
Hear ye, hear ye; Life of an aspiring soldier is a tough one! And who doesn't like eldritch endings?! Shame those who don't, I say!
I really couldn't fit everything in this chapter all at once, since the other part is equally if not longer than this piece. Be forewarned, what's to come is red-lettered as a graphically detailed description of fighting. Those who can't take it, skip it. Those brave enough to try, you read at your own discretion.
Now, as usual, I am willing to answer any of your questions should you PM them or outright post a review (with the actual link to your profile of course). Without further ado, axel wishes all of you good folk goodbye.
~Until chapter 15 that is~.
;)