A/N

Alright, I think it should be stated that I made up the world of Saggrel, though it is heavily influenced by the ice realm of Eleum Loyce in DS2. I kinda liked the idea of Dark Souls valuing light and warmth in a bleak and grim age cursed to die so the next era could be reborn from the ashes, and there's no better place to appreciate light and warmth than in a frozen tundra landscape.

}!{

Saggrel wasn't always the cold dead world it was now.

Its frozen core once pulsed with the fires of life, and it gifted this life to everything that sprouted from the earth. Unto every creature that walked on its face, swam through its oceans and rivers, soared through its skies. It was from this same warmth that the fire was bestowed to the ever-watchful firekeepers, who lived only to preserve the very soul of every living creature on Saggrel.

Mankind, beast and giant lived as they had on other worlds. They quarreled, multiplied, scattered and took root in every corner of the world. A circle of life, filled with prosperity and violence, as all things were meant to be. As it did with most worlds, mankind divided itself into nations and kingdoms, each gathering strength by devouring the weak as nature intended. Beasts were subjugated, tamed and set to one purpose- war.

Among all these kingdoms, only one towered above them all. Hessaria, the kingdom of eternal ice and blackest obsidian. Under the rulership of the sorcerer king Lorosi, who sat upon the Broken Throne, all of Hessaria mastered the frozen gifts of its cold lands and brought the touch of winter to all they deemed beneath them. His armies of the dead, those whose life had long been robbed of their flesh, and the golems of ice and stone. His masses of frost-wielding knights and dragonriders, they all laid waste to the world.

All that bore any semblance of warmth, they snuffed out.

Bearing a shared hatred against the arrogant monarch that burned hotter than the flames of hell itself, the nations that once were divided banded together, took up arms and fought against the sorcerer king and his armies. They mastered the flames of pyromancy and used magic against magic, assembling teeming hordes of noble and valiant warriors from every corner of the world to do battle against the knights of black. The sorcerer king failed to recall the tenacity of human willpower, and so turned to more desperate means to achieve his one ambition, to bury the world in ice. No sacrifice was too great, no atrocity too horrid, until his desperation transcended all sanity.

When he could not still the beating heart of man, he moved to forever silence the thrum of the heart of Saggrel.

As the armies of man and giant closed in like a noose upon his castle, burning and slaying all that stood between them. The castle, which stood over a deep chasm that could drink of two whole oceans, served one fatal purpose. When the gates were finally broken open and the last of his guardians slain, the mighty and mad sorcerer king defied the gods and plunged himself into the heart of the world. He deemed that if he could not claim Saggrel, then no one else will.

With his last act of defiance, Saggrel breathed its last and grew cold. Whereas other worlds died in darkness, burned in the fires of oblivion or war, this world was given over to the chilling grip of the White Frost- the Ender of All Worlds. Blizzards and freak storms of ice and hail cut down the armies laying siege, snap-freezing man and beast into statues. Within a year, Saggrel was consumed by these storms, utterly decimated and transformed into a frozen wasteland. Even the sacred bonfires, tended by the ancient firekeepers, went out like candles in a cold night, ushering in the reign of the undead.

The mad king got his wish, and doomed the world entire.


That was the Age of Blackest Night.

Vandal was but five years of age when the storms blew over his home and robbed their soil of all fertility, driving most of the kingdom into poverty. Though he was young then, he remembered what it was like to walk under the warmth of a sunny day and feel the gentle patter of rainfall on his skin. But what he missed out of all that the most was the fellowship of his fellow man.

That night at Amendale, after delivering news of his triumph in the woods, Vandal found the closest to fellowship as he could ever get.

He would not dwell on despairing thoughts. As timid as he truly was beneath all that armor, the young knight wished to forget his sorrows and drown them all out in celebration, which led to him publicly announcing his success in slaying the fiend. He felt a pang of regret doing that, but the ball had already started to roll. Following his crowning achievement, he quickly became somewhat of a local celebrity, a hero to the people of Amendale.

The mayor rewarded him with the substantial sum of 100 golden crowns, which made him quite rich overnight, and suddenly everyone's friend. It was hard for him to refuse so many people practically begging for a free drink or two from him, so Vandal generously bought everyone present at the tavern each a round of drinks. In the end, he spent 10 crowns on their part and it took considerable effort for him to bind up his purse tightly to save his coin for his own personal expenses.

And yet, the want for him did not stop there. Many prospecting mercenaries approached him throughout the night, as well as drunken and quite steamed ruffians apparently threatened by his success.

Not everyone was happy, after all, with someone else's good fortune.

Vandal, on the other hand, was too occupied with the attentions showered upon him by the fine maidens of the establishment to even notice the burning glares of the armored gents sitting close by. Server girls, and a whore or two, flirted without a shred of decency or subtlety. They would pine after the furiously blushing young man, offering honeyed words and batting lashes as they exchanged pleasantries, often begging to hear of the tale of how he slew the great monster in single combat.

"Vandal be your name, stranger?" A pretty blonde girl, with a cute smattering of freckles across her face and bold hazelnut eyes that gleamed with mischief, approached the knight-errant and sat on the stool next to him.

He smiled as he bowed his head to hide the creeping redness on his cheeks, "Er...yes, my lady." Vandal gave her a faltering look, then stared at his empty hands.

"I'm Sandy." She said, flashing him a beautiful smile with those perfect white teeth. He was quite the frightening sight when he barged into the tavern earlier all covered in blood. But after a few minutes of washing up with the horse trough outside, he looked a sight better. Most men that frequented the tavern were rough and rugged men, weathered by the elements and the unsavory work they did outdoors.

But this one was different. He wasn't an overly handsome fellow, but being young and so full of life, he was still quite pleasant on the eyes. Though he clearly found only discomfort in this particular brand of attention, his demeanor did him little favors as it only served to embolden the tavern wench. "Are you a knight, Vandal?"

A knight with no master is no knight at all, but Vandal made no effort to correct her. He nodded, "I am."

"We don't get many knights around here in Amendale, usually they're off to serve in the royal army fighting off the enemies of the land at the behest of the king and queen." Vandal felt her hand drift to his armored leg, the lithe fingers slipped beneath the plates to touch the mailed thigh beneath. "And not a one spared to save us from the monsters."

Another took a seat opposite of Sandy, this time an entrancing raven-haired woman of a more distinguished age. She had confidence whereas Sandy betrayed her lacking of it, and she leaned backwards into the counter as she ran her hand over Vandal's arm. "You were very brave to have faced the creature alone in its own lair. Please, regale us with the story of your conquest."

"My lady?"

She made quite the show as she crossed her legs, offering a glorious sight of her tattooed thigh for his eyes to feast on. "Hello, I'm Serah. Perhaps later, you can show us an entirely different kind of conquest."

"Uhh..." Vandal swallowed nervously as he fumbled about for his voice, "It's not that great of a deal, really. I heard that there was a monster in the land, and so I went after the trail of the last hunters. Poor sods did not fare as easily, but I have them to thank for weakening the monster so I could deliver the final blow."

"Oh, good sir, we need details!" Both wenches feigned annoyance, very much unsatisfied with his answer.

"Come now, no need to be modest." The raven-haired woman smacked him in the shoulder playfully. "I want to hear all the good stuff."

"Speaking of good stuff." The blonde waved at the bartender to deliver three mugs of his best, leaning in to breathe a seductive whisper into his ear. "A good mug to loosen those lips would be nice, wouldn't you say?"

"I-I don't drink." Vandal protested.

"Says the man who sits in a tavern. What else would you come here for?" Serah replied as the tankard and two mugs were set on the counter before them.

Fortunately for him, someone was kind enough to relieve the poor knight-errant of the incessant whine of the wenches and sent them on their way. Enris pushed his way towards Vandal and said to the women, "Bugger off, you harpies! You're bothering the poor man, can't you see he's in need for some peace? Come to him again in the morning, when he's had it. Go on, get!"

Serah scowled and swiped her tankard as she walked away, Sandy thrust her tongue at the tall man and slipped off her seat, planting a small peck on Vandal's cheek as she left him for Enris to have all to himself. Vandal ignored the gesture and heaved a sigh of relief, regretting terribly all the attention he brought on himself and making a note of never again having to announce his achievements like some arrogant boor.

"Thank you." He said to the mercenary. "I felt like a wolf in a trap."

"Well, you can always gnaw your leg off if it gets any worse." Enris jested with a chuckle. He pointed to the extra mug that remained untouched next to Vandal's, "Say, you gonna drink those?"

Vandal glanced up at the bartender who was looking at him expectantly. He fished around his purse for some copper change and handed three in turn. "Not really. Go on and drink up, I've no appetite for much revelry this night."

"Then why go announce to the whole world what you've done this night, if you're not looking for cause for celebration?" Enris inquired, "Unless, of course, this is the first time you've been so lucky that in your excitement you couldn't just keep it to yourself. Is that right?"

"That is true." Vandal said with a smirk.

Enris sat down where Sandy used to be and chugged down the mug, savoring the taste of the Vixen's Choice for a moment before speaking. "Don't sweat it, lad. Everyone does that at least once. I gotta tell you, though, I'm surprised you managed to kill that fiend in spite of the odds. Impressive bit of work. How'd you do it? You got silver on you? Maybe a bit of magic?"

Vandal shook his head, "Not at all, I simply got lucky. The monster pushed the both of us down a cliff, and it landed on some sharp rocks that opened up its belly to spill its guts all over the creek. I only had to finish the job, and so here I am. Just glad to be of help."

"You don't say?" Enris beckoned for his friend to come, "Rostchild, come here."

The one-eyed man approached, seeing that the man was ready to offer a spot on their team to the young knight, and so Enris began his pitch. "I'm not gonna beat around the bush here, lad, so here it is. I'm thinking you've got the makings of a fine addition to our team. Usually, we take care of the usual ne'er-do-wells like bandits, thieves and rebels. Sometimes, if we can manage to do so, we hunt monsters too. If you want to be of help, there's no better team to be on that ours- taking care of those scum. We can always use an extra pair of hands, as there's no shortage of jobs around Cintra."

"Um...I don't know..."

"Oh you don't need to worry about answering right away." Enris assured him, "Just sleep on it, and you can give me an answer in the morning. Me and Rostchild hang about in the inn just down the street. Until then, I bid you a pleasant night. Just remember, it's always better to hunt in a pack than going it alone."

When they were away and out of earshot outside the tavern and in the streets of Amendale, Rostchild chortled at the delivery of his friend's proposition. "Well that was just terrible!"

"Oh do shut up, Rostchild." Enris sighed, "Buttering him up's the only way he'd lean over in our direction, and I wasn't lying about the bit of needing another pair of hands on our side. Besides, the lad looks to be of good stock, he'll make a fine addition."

"What he's got is a great lack of experience in this kind of profession. I thought you were the observant one, you could see that just by looking at him. Good stock my ass!" The one-eyed man huffed, "At least this time your impulses won't prove too costly on our part. His luck'll run out soon, and he won't last long in a real job."

"Cut him some slack, the lad killed a fiend all by himself."

"Yeah, a wounded fiend." Rostchild sneered.

"Which makes it twice as dangerous, eh? Forgotten our last tussle with the buggers already? Last I checked you were the one who lost an eye trying to take on a fiend by its flank." Enris pointed out, "You sure it's not just jealousy talking here?"

Rostchild frowned but said nothing.

"Right then." Enris declared, "When the lad comes over to sign up in the morning, you will give him a warm welcome deserving of a future colleague. Maybe you can learn a thing or two about killing fiends from him."


Back in the tavern, Vandal was left vulnerable once more to the prospecting harpies. Sandy and Serah banded together to make one last attempt at seducing the young knight, opting to get a taste of him before the next morning came. Without anyone to bail him out of that trap, Vandal found himself pulled away from his stool and into the house just down the street and around the corner.

Other eyes were on the three, full of malice and ill intent, though glaring particularly at Vandal. Seven men exchanged glances, nodded to one another, then proceeded to follow them out of the tavern.

"Come on, it's not far." Sandy hugged herself close to Vandal's body, finding some semblance of warmth in spite of the cold iron of his chainmail. He was, curiously, emanating a warmth like a glass lamp. "We can prepare a hot bath and some warm furs to chase away that chill in your bones."

"And our company to make it even hotter." Serah offered as she ran her fingers across his breastplate.

Vandal was still unsure, but he came to appreciate this brand of hospitality. This world offered much that helped him overcome his otherwise hopeless disposition, "Yes, I think that would be nice." They entered an alley, a shortcut in between two warehouses, and started to round the corner when a pair of shadowed figures emerged from both ends of the alley. All mirth left the faces of the three, and Vandal immediately pulled the women to stand behind him.

"We want yer crowns, stranger."

Vandal tapped at his hip and found nothing, remembering then that he had lost his sword in the fight against the fiend. The shards were in the sack he had on his back, and were useless in a fight. All he had now were his daggers, so he drew them out. "Of course you do."

"V-Vandal?" Sandy whimpered as she cowered behind him. "What's happening?"

"I do believe we're being robbed, my lady."

Serah, however, showed courage in the face of danger and requested that the knight lend her one of his daggers, "Let's have that." Vandal began to protest, but stopped short when more arrived to back the robbers up. The raven-haired woman took the silver dagger and faced the ones opposite of Vandal, "Come on, you bastards."

The men chuckled and drew their swords. Both sides closed in to crush the three into the middle of the alley, but Vandal made for one side as quick as he could. He recalled a past experience back on Saggrel, where he and his fellow knights found themselves cornered in a narrow corridor. Anres taught him then that the best way to beat two groups of enemies in a corridor was to hit the nearest group first to shatter their resolve, or soften them up if that was not possible.

Above all, he was never to be caught in the middle.

With how narrow the corridor was, only two men could walk side by side, making it that much easier for Vandal to break through. He had a shield, and his dagger was more than qualified for such a tight space. "Listen now, we're going to have to work together to get out of this mess. Serah, watch my back. I'll make the push and draw them to me. Come ladies, we go forward."

The first man raised his sword and charged, awkwardly twisting about as his shoulders scraped the walls painfully with every step. Vandal found it hard not to chuckle at the sight, he braced for the impending impact and rammed the robber right on the chest with his shield. The sudden stop to his momentum knocked the air out of the man's lungs and he fell backwards into the muddy ground.

Vandal stepped over him and planted a foot on his sword arm, allowing Serah to relentlessly stab at the fallen man. "That's one down!"

The knight-errant grunted as he struggled against the second, calling out for the raven-haired wench to better arm herself. "Take his sword, watch the flank!"

Serah relished the excitement and grabbed the dead man's sword. She saw the others charging up behind them and started to falter, "They're coming!"

"Pick up the pace!" Vandal shoved the men back with his shield, "Once we're clear from the alley, you must run!"

The blades struck him over and over again where the gaps in his defense were exploited, but Vandal cared little for his own welfare at that moment. He was a knight, perhaps not on the same level as the heroes of old, but a knight nonetheless. He made a vow before the gods and his liege, and one part of the vow he was sworn to keep was to defend the helpless and hold all women sacred. His duty transcended his meek nature, as it had been hammered into his being since he was a squire.

He knew then that he was making his lord proud.

The three burst out of the alley as Vandal knocked the robbers back into the street. As soon as an opening presented itself, the two women bolted, leaving Vandal to fend for himself. Sandy held so tightly onto Serah's hand that her fingers started to dig deep into her skin. She pulled her to safety as the raven-haired hesitated.

"Serah! Come on! We have to go call the watchmen!"

Serah ignored her as she watched Vandal struggle alone against his assailants, losing his dagger as he buried it into the heart of one and bludgeoning another with the blunt part of the kite shield. "I have to help him." She broke away from Sandy and tossed the sword she pilfered from one of the dead men, "Vandal! Here!"

The knight-errant looked up and saw the blade sail through the air, falling to the cobblestone street and sliding to a stop a few feet away from him. He quickly snatched up the sword and turned to face what remained of his enemies, suddenly failing to block a deadly thrust that buried a sword deep into his belly. Cast-iron armor would've saved him, if it extended to every part of his body. Alas, he only had chainmail to rely on to protect the rest of his body.

Vandal cried out as a hot searing pain erupted from his midsection.

The blade remained lodged beneath his lowest rib, and it was still cutting him as the thug tried to pry the weapon free. Vandal was in agony, and he was enraged. Owing to a very primal instinct, with a wound thought to be deadly, he had no desire to die without taking a few of them down with him. Vandal struck the man in the throat, his fist connecting with a sickening snap as the blow crushed the man's windpipe.

His knees began to feel heavy, and Vandal struggled to keep his balance as he knew there were still quite a few thugs left to deal with.

With a shaky hand, Vandal touched the handle of the sword still stuck to his body. Another lancing pain paralyzed him for a moment, but he fought to bite it down. His eyes watered as his blood pounded in his head, and he waited for the agony to dull itself out before suddenly ripping the weapon free. He uttered a short burst of incoherent grunts and clutched his wound.

A sudden flare of heat in his chest made his body feel numb, and Vandal wondered at that moment why the robbers decided to stand idle. There were only four left to deal with, and they were afraid.

"This was a bad idea." One of them muttered.

"The crowns on him say otherwise!" The ringleader insisted, "Well? Go on! He's already down!"

"Look! Look at his blood!" Another cried out, pointing to Vandal's wound.

Vandal grimaced in confusion, then looked down. Instead of dark crimson, his blood glowed bright orange like molten lava spewed from the mouth of an active volcano. As it pooled into his hand, Vandal felt a peculiar heat emanating from the ichor, though it did not burn him as he thought it would. His wound did not feel as agonizing, as though it healed itself so quickly after being ripped open.

Vandal fished around the spot with his fingers to confirm for himself, and found it so. The heat in his chest evaporated, and Vandal found the strength to stand upright.

"Stop! In the name of the law!"

Men bearing torches and mounted on horses rode down the street, blocking every path save for the alley. These were the town watchmen, called to aid Vandal by the two women he saved earlier. The robbers faltered and moved to flee back from where they came. Three snaps, three whistles, and three bolts sped across the street. The sound of metal bolts hitting flesh reached Vandal's ears, and two men out of the four were shot down by the watchmen's crossbows.

"I said stop!" The captain roared as he pulled his horse to a halt. He and his men surrounded the scene, moving to apprehend the assailants and see to Vandal's injuries.

"Sir Vandal, someone called us saying you were attacked?" The captain addressed the knight-errant as he dismounted. "By these men?"

"That is correct." Vandal replied, still rubbing at the spot where his wound used to be. The satisfying click of manacles being closed over their hands was music to Vandal's ears, and he rejoiced at the thought that the ordeal was over, though he was left with questions concerning his...peculiar condition.

"Are you injured?" The captain asked, "We can have the town healer take a look at your wounds."

"No." Vandal said, not too certain himself. "No I don't think so."

He looked at the men who tried to rob him as they glared back at him. The captain placed his hands on his hips and declared, "We will make sure these would-be murderers of yours are tried to the fullest extent of the law. Don't you worry. By day's end tomorrow, you'll see them swinging from the gallows."

"No!" One of the thugs screamed as he began to struggle in the firm hands of the watchmen. "That man isn't what you think he is! He's a mutant! A demon!"

"Shut up, you!" One of the watchmen bludgeoned him upside the head with his club.

Vandal accepted the fate of his assailants, feeling eager to get away from it all. He had only to walk a few steps away from the scene before he was met with the grateful pair he saved earlier. He braced himself for the weight of them both as they threw themselves at him, feeling grateful as well for the timely intervention of the watchmen thanks to their help.

Without them, his night would've ended on a worse note.

"Vandal, are you alright?" Serah asked in genuine concern.

"I am, thanks to both of you." He replied.

"Damned villains, how dare they?" Sandy scowled as she watched the thugs being led away in chains.

"No need to worry about them, they'll get exactly what they deserve." Vandal turned to collect the valuables off of some of the corpses.

"Here now, stop that." The captain forbade the knight from looting the dead, "Anything belonging to the dead as a result of a crime is treated as evidence, and is thus considered property of the town watchmen. Granted, it may be a fairly short investigation, but the rules are rules."

Vandal shrugged, considering that he had enough coin to last him quite a while.

"And as for you, I will need you to come by the barracks tomorrow." The captain added, "I will need your testament to the events of tonight, that goes for you two ladies as well."

Vandal nodded slowly, deferring to the lawman's authority as he knew little about the inner workings of the law in this world, as on his world the law was handled in a much more direct and simple manner. He turned to the ladies at his side, "Come on, I think after tonight, I'll appreciate spending the hours indoors."

}!{