Author note: FUN FACT: The same day I posted Chapter 2, I found out that it's The Last Story's 10th anniversary! I can't believe it's already been so long since the game was first released. I honestly do hope that this game gets remastered for the Switch in the future, because I'd love to pick up the game and play it all over again with renewed graphics and everything. This game meant a lot to me, and the game's creativity in its aesthetics, story, gameplay and characters influenced and still influences a lot of my work up to the present time. In a way, it's quite fitting that I'm continuing this fic during its 10th anniversary – and I'm happy to write fics for this fandom and the game.
Happy 10th Anniversary to The Last Story!
Chapter 3: The Gurak
It was morning, now, and Zael's stomach growled.
Arganan immediately tried sating it with apples, but it barely did anything.
"I'm surprised your stomach is growling so much." The older man mused. "How did your crew survive your appetite?"
"I've been asleep for a hundred years." Zael gently reminded him. "Honestly, I'm not surprised that I'm so hungry."
A chuckle left Arganan at that. "Perhaps so. This might be a good opportunity for you to practice with that crossbow of yours, just in case."
"My crossbow?" Zael frowned. Had he picked up a crossbow, yesterday? He remembered grabbing a sword and armor, but…
Arganan held up a crossbow and a few arrows, before offering it to Zael. "I found this deeper in the cavern while you slept, last night. These arrows won't be enough to shoot down enemies in a rush, but I'm sure you can shoot a wild animal and butcher it for yourself."
Zael gratefully took the crossbow and arrows. The crossbow was heavy in his hands, but the brief memory of shooting a guard with sleeping arrows came to his mind. Why had he done that? He couldn't remember, but it was probably for a good reason.
At least he had a weapon fit for hunting, now. After searching around the outdoors, he spotted a bird. He felt slight guilt as he pointed the crossbow at the bird, but he fired regardless. The bird died.
By the time Zael returned to Arganan with the bird, he noticed that the older man had a fire going, just like the first time when they met (or rather, reunited after one hundred years). Zael figured that roasting the bird was probably the best way to go, turning it on a makeshift spit. As Zael kept close watch on the bird, he figured that he had time for more questions.
"Did you ever fight in battle?"
Arganan frowned, shaking his head. "I was a weak fighter, I admit. I used to be good, when I was younger. But then…" His gaze drifted towards his left metal arm, as well as his lower left metal leg. "Things changed. Illness. I couldn't fight, anymore. As much as I do wish I could fight like you could, it did give me time to learn more about the politics of the Empire, as well as Lazulis, before I became Count."
"Does that also apply to," Zael gently gestured to his own eye, "That?"
"Yes." Arganan's metal hand lifted, tapping the eyepatch with his index finger. "And I'd rather not show off the scars underneath."
"Sorry." At least Arganan could, maybe, back him up with healing magic if he got into combat situations. Then again, he was dead. Could dead people heal the living?
He heard the other sigh. "It's fine."
The bird was roasted enough for Zael to eat. Out of politeness, he offered Arganan a piece, but the former Count of Lazulis refused to eat it, knowing too well that Zael was alive and required food, while Arganan, being dead, did not.
After the makeshift meal was over, Zael decided that it was best to start heading to Lazulis City. After all, he had to save Calista. She was in the castle, which was located in the city, so it made the most sense to head straight over there.
He barely made it a few miles into his journey when he came across the Gurak. They were humanoid, but their skin reminded Zael of something more reptilian, to an extent, with their scalier-looking skin. They wore armor, so he assumed they must be soldiers.
All of them came running at Zael, swords drawn.
Even though Zael slept for a hundred years and just woke up only a day ago, dodging the swords and blocking them wasn't hard. It wasn't the first time he was outnumbered. The memory of a white-haired knight, struggling alone against the Gurak after several knights abandoned him and gave up, flashed in Zael's mind. Was that the one Arganan called Therius, who died in the last stand against the Gurak?
Whoever that man was, Zael was determined to not die right here. Not now. He had a mission to fufill, after all, and he wasn't about to be defeated so easily. With several swings of his sword, as well as a few counterattacks, all of the Gurak soldiers lay on the ground, dead. During the entire fight, Zael noticed his right hand glowing blue.
He heard Arganan sigh, before approaching Zael. "Hold your arm out, will you? I think you're bleeding."
Zael complied, and he did realize that there was, indeed, a cut on his upper left arm. He must've been nicked during the fight, he supposed.
"You need to be more careful." Arganan managed, frowning lightly. White light appeared from his right non-metal hand, covering Zael's upper left arm. It tingled a bit where it touched the wound, but as the light faded, Zael realized that the wound was gone. "The last thing I want for you is to be skewered on a sword. You were a lot better at this, years ago."
"I think me being rusty is to be expected." Zael shrugged. "I mean, I was asleep for a hundred years."
"Fair." Arganan looked towards the Gurak corpses, before looking up at Zael. "Well, what are you waiting for?"
"Hm?"
"You don't have a lot with you." Arganan pointed out. "And I'm sure our little friends here might have something of use. Not like they can use them now, anyway."
Zael's nose wrinkled as he looked towards the soldiers. He couldn't smell the blood seeping from their corpses, and he quietly hoped that wasn't just a mere side effect of Calista's magic used to heal him (though if it was, he was thankful for it right now). "I can't just rob them! That would make me no better than…"
The memory of a woman crying out his name, telling him to flee. Tall men in ragged clothing and sharp weapons, setting fires and laughing as they pillaged the houses around him. Zael himself, running out of the town, trying to hide.
He heard Arganan scoff, and Zael looked him in the eye to see him glaring at him. "Look, I'm sure it's very unknightly to do such a thing. I normally don't encourage pillaging corpses, but you'll need all the supplies you can get."
"They were just doing their job," Zael started, and he saw Arganan shake his head.
"They might have been. But they're also our enemy." He hissed. "And ultimately, you're defeating their leader, anyway, so you might as well get used to using what they have to decimate them all. We don't have a lot as is already."
"What is with you and your obsession with decimating the Gurak!?" The younger man finally snapped, no longer holding back the uneasy feeling about the older man. "Do you have nothing but hatred for them?"
"They destroyed Lazulis!" Arganan snapped right back with them. Zael wasn't sure if he'd seen Arganan so angry before, even a hundred years ago. "Back then, a hundred years ago, wasn't the first time we fought them. My ancestors and the entire rest of the Empire have warred with them. They wanted the resources we had. There was no other way!"
"There has to be another way." Zael gritted his teeth, trying to push the memory of the raiders from his mind. "I will find a way."
"Sometimes there isn't." The older man stated, crossing his arms. "You have to remember that, Zael. Is that clear?"
Zael swallowed. Was it really the only way? He wanted to argue against that, but this would just get nowhere.
"Fine." He finally managed, meeting Arganan's gaze. Arganan nodded once in acknowledgement, falling into silence.
Zael, with some regret in his heart, confiscated anything that would be useful off the dead guards; rations they had on hand, bits of armor pieces, some flint for fires, and one or two daggers and all of the arrows they had. However, he let them keep their swords, and the clothes they wore. They deserved to keep those, at least, even as he hid them in the closest bushes he could find to make sure no one found them too easily and realized someone ran around killing them, in the first place.
