The City Fortress of Ken lay beyond the horizon, its grand architecture glowing from the setting sun. It had taken the Black Dogs three days to return the Capital of Eostia: The first day after the battle was spent burying their dead; the latter two, for travel. The men in the company were laughing and cheering after a hard-fought victory. The surviving recruits had been a bit shaken, but the Black Dog regulars had quickly comforted their new members; boosting morale through praises of bravery, strength, and courage.
Alistair himself did not participate in the revelry, though Vult and Hicks had more than made up for it.
"C'mon Al, live a little!" Hicks said, slapping the armored man's back. "People will start to think you're a Living Armor at this rate!"
"Is that so?" He replied after a moment. Hicks had taken to giving him the nickname, arguing that 'Alistair' was too long. He still wasn't used to it.
Hick's grin fell into a frown. "The hell's up with that, huh? 'Is that so?' 'I see…' 'Yes.' 'No.' 'Okay.' That's all you ever say besides your name!"
"I see…"
"You're fucking with me!"
"Calm down Hicks. It's in his blood." Kin explained. "The men of Aquila were always said to be of few words."
"Is that so?"
"… Though there must a larger vocabulary than this, surely."
"He lets his actions speak for him. That's all that matters," Vult stated. He raised his voice as they came close to the fortress's gatehouse. "Eyes up men! Once we get into the city, the first round is on me!"
A loud cheer erupted from the rank and file. The gate guards recognized the symbol and banners of the Black Dogs, and quickly allowed them entry. However, they were met with a small contingent of heavily armored guards. Two women stood at the forefront: One, a brunette wearing white plate armor—whose beauty screamed of a noble pedigree— and the other; surely the avatar of a goddess. These were the Princess Knight Claudia Levantine and High Queen Celestine Lucross, respectively.
The leaders of the Black Dogs immediately knelt before them, Hicks and Kin forcing Alistair to do the same.
"Your Highness Lucross, Knight-Commander Levantine: To what do I owe the pleasure?" Vult asked reverently.
"You may rise, Captain Vult." Celestine smiled at him. "It is good to see you in good health. I had heard that you triumphed at the battle of Ostagoth and wished to congratulate you personally."
Vult grinned. "It was nothing, Your Majesty. Our men had merely done their duty, though I regret to say that we had lost most of our newest members." He craned his head back to look at Alistair. "Though I think a wolf has emerged amongst our pups. Alistair, come here."
Alistair nodded and joined Vult at the front. The larger man clapped his recruit's armored back and sang his praises.
"This man was the lone survivor amongst his battalion, sent to intercept a flanking force that would have decimated my troops. Came out with barely a scratch on him!"
Claudia gave the mercenary an appraising look. "Impressive. Not many men survive an encounter with the Queen Discordia's forces, let alone claim victory against them."
As the knight was speaking, Celestine gazed curiously at the man before her. His aura was… familiar. It reminded her of people she had met centuries ago, during the conception of her kingdom.
"What is your name?" She asked suddenly, startling all but the addressed.
"Alistair Aquila."
Her eyes widened. "Aquila? My, I haven't heard that name in a long, long time. Your forefathers served me diligently, in centuries past." Her voice contained a hint of nostalgia and longing, as if reminiscing of an old friend.
"Is that so?"
Her smile grew brighter at his words. "You sound just like him…" She whispered.
To her side, Claudia gasped. This man was an Aquila? She had thought they had all died out several centuries ago. They, like the Levantine and Arcturus families, had served under Celestine since the beginning of her reign. They were a particularly fearsome bloodline, known for their battle prowess. To find one here, after so long…
"Do you have any more family?" Claudia asked. If they could revive such a noble lineage...
Alistair shook his head. "My family perished a decade ago. Only I remain."
Both women frowned, melancholy etched onto their faces. Claudia felt immense regret for asking the question. "I'm sorry for your loss."
"No need. I've come to terms with it long ago." His voice betrayed no emotion, no hint of sadness or longing.
There was a pause as neither party knew how to continue. It was Alistair that finally broke it.
"Is that everything?" He asked.
"… No, no it is not." Celestine's eyes met Alistair's, her emerald irises peering into the darkness of his helm. "I would have you join me in the throne room. There is something I wish to… to discuss with you."
Her words came at a surprise to all, even Claudia. "Your Majesty?"
"I will explain later," She added, both to clarify to Alistair and answer Claudia's questioning gaze. "That is, if Captain Vult does not have any objections?"
Alistair turned to Vult, seeking permission from his leader. The man's brow furrowed as if he was fighting an instinctual urge. For a moment, he seemed like he might have refused. But a single look into Celestine's eyes revealed that her question was merely a formality. Vult turned and grasped Alistair's shoulder.
"Go ahead, Alistair. Meet us at the tavern when you're done." He smiled. "Don't wanna miss the booze, after all! Take too long and we might drink it all!"
Alistair nodded and moved to accompany Celestine's entourage. The High Elf's was as bright as the sun's rays as they left. Vult frowned slightly.
Hicks voiced his concerns. "What do you think she wants with him?"
"Probably wants to give him a title." Kin offered his thoughts. "He's from an ancient noble line, after all."
Vult stared a little longer at the retreating forms of the Queen's entourage before turning about-face. "Doesn't matter. Come on, I've been sober for too long."
-]|[-
When they arrived at the throne room Celestine had Alistair wait at the base of the stairs leading up to her throne. Her guards spread out, each taking a position to the side of the room as if overseeing a procession. Celestine stood at the top of the stairs, in front of her throne with Claudia at her side. She gazed down at the armored man, her smile never leaving her face.
"Alistair Aquila, last son of House Aquila, come forth."
Alistair did as instructed, climbing the staircase until he was within arm's length of the High Elf. A silence ensued, as they all waited for something to happen. After a moment, Claudia cleared her throat.
"Alistair, if you could remove your helmet-"
"No." His response was swift, barely even letting the woman finish her sentence. She glared at the man, obviously upset.
"What do you mean, "No.'"?
"There could be an ambush."
"You can't be serious!?"
"I am."
"This is utterly unacceptable behavior! You are being done a service by Her Grace, Celestine Lucross! How can you be so disrespectful!?
"Claudia." The High Elf called, a nostalgic smile on her face. "It is fine. If he so wishes, he may keep his helmet on."
The Princess Knight made to object, but the words caught in her throat. In the end, she acquiesced to her queen. "As you wish, Your Highness.
Celestine turned to the knight at her side. "Claudia, your sword please."
Claudia nodded, drawing her blade and carefully presented it to her queen. The High Elf took the sword in her hands and faced Alistair.
"Please, kneel."
He did as she asked. She took a step towards him, sword brandished upwards.
"Alistair Aquila, your forefathers have served me diligently in the past. When your ancestor, Altair Aquila, fell in battle three hundred years ago, I had feared your line wiped out. But fate has smiled on us, for it has brought you into this world. Your actions during the Battle of Ostagoth have proven you worthy of continuing House Aquila's legacy."
She brought the flat of the blade down on his right pauldron. "For diligence in duty," She tapped his left. "For bravery in battle, I, Celestine Lucross, knight thee Sir Alistair. May you bring honor to your house and family, as your ancestors have.
"Please, rise."
Alistair did so, rising to his full height. It was only now that he noticed how tall he was compared to Her Highness. The tip of her head only barely reached the bottom of his chin. Yet despite this, her sheer majesty made it seem as if he was looking up to her. This graceful beauty of supreme political and magical power had shown him an unnatural amount of favor despite having only met him recently. That begged the question…
"Why?" He asked the elf. A look of surprise showed on her visage. "Why knight someone who you've only just met? Does my surname really mean that much to you?"
It took a moment for the words to sink in before she answered, a guilty smile on her face. "It is strange, isn't it? Forgive me, but… You remind me so much of Alberich."
"Another one of my ancestors?"
She nodded. "The first of your line, in fact. He was a very dear friend of mine: We were practically brother and sister. But he was a human, and I, a High Elf. By the time my body had reached adolescence, Alberich was an old man. He had sworn his family to me, in memory of our friendship. It became tradition, then, that every firstborn son of House Aquila would serve as my companion and guard.
"For my first four hundred years of life, an Aquila would always be there at my side. They were my confidants, my friends. I treasured each and every one of them greatly. It was as if Alberich had never left my side. Then…" There was a haunted look in her eyes as an ancient pain resurfaced. "Then Altair had died, without bearing a son. It was such an awful experience, losing such a comforting presence. I had mourned for years afterwards, lamenting the loss of my closest friend.
"But now you are here!" Celestine exclaimed, her sour mood disappearing in a flash. "You can continue the tradition!"
"Will my duties entail slaying demons?"
Her smile faltered a bit. "I-I suppose."
"Then I accept."
Celestine clasped her hands together in glee. "Wonderful! Then, I have a mission for you, Sir Alistair."
"Yes?"
"Tomorrow, I will send the Black Dogs to assault the Black Citadel."
"The stronghold of the demonic forces?" He asked.
She nodded, closing her eyes. "You will accompany them and may assist in the seizing of the fortress. However, your main objective is Dark Queen Olga Discordia."
Her eyes opened, staring deep into his soul. "Capture Olga Discordia and bring her back to Ken, unharmed."
The High Elf's words created a lull in the conversation, the sheer difficulty of her request taking a moment for all to comprehend.
Claudia herself gawped at her queen's request. Queen Discordia was a powerful sorceress, on par with the likes of Celestine herself. In addition, the Dark Elf was well known for her immense hostility towards humankind. To capture her was a difficult feat in of itself, but to do so without violence was approaching the realm of impossibility.
"It will be done."
The conviction in his voice brokered no argument, as if he had already completed the task. Claudia could only stare at the newly anointed knight inquisitively. If Celestine had tasked her the same mission, she doubted even she could accomplish such a massive undertaking. What made him so sure of his success?
Celestine, however, could only stare upon him fondly. "I have given you an impossible task, but you accept it so readily. Why is that?"
His gaze met hers, the eyes hidden beneath his helm burning with determination.
"Queen Discordia controls the demons. If I capture her, a majority of them will be stopped." He replied simply.
He glanced above the throne, to the stained-glass window that allowed light into the room. It glared a fiery orange, signaling the sunset.
"If you have no further need me, then I will return to Vult and the Black Dogs."
"There is no need." She stated firmly. "You will stay the night and join your company in the morning."
"They will be concerned if I am absent for much longer."
"Then I will send a messenger to inform them of your stay." Her voice bore the full authority of her station. Alistair thought he saw a small flicker of panic in her eyes. "Please Alistair, I insist."
"… Very well." He relented.
Celestine smiled in satisfaction.
-]|[-
They had shown him to his room, though Alistair at first thought it was surely Celestine's. It was spacious, almost overly so. The décor screamed of nobility, with regally designed furniture and ornaments filling the room. Then, there were the portraits: Portraits of several different men lined the room, to the point where no matter where one turned, there would always be one staring at you. Perhaps the thing that disturbed him the most was the striking resemblance they all bore to one another. Very little changed between the paintings: armor, skin tone, eye color, hair color, and style were the only notable differences.
He noticed a mirror to the corner of the room. Walking over to it, he slowly removed his helmet. He peered into the mirror, looking at his reflection.
"Hmm..."
As expected, the face that stared back was his own.
The very same face on every portrait in this room.
If Alistair had any doubts about his lineage, they were dispelled immediately from this observation. He looked at the plaques that labeled each portrait.
'Altair. Alain. Alamar. Alexander. Alphinaud. Alarius. Alto. Albion. Alaric…' He came upon the grandest painting in the room, the one which lay above the headrest of the bed.
"…Alberich." He whispered. The man who started it all. Of all his ancestors, it was this one who was his spitting image. Sharp, angular features; and a strong jawline. High cheekbones beneath crimson red eyes. Sleek, silver hair framed his face, falling no longer than his earlobes.
Someone knocked on his door. "Alistair? It's Celestine. I've brought you a change of clothes."
Quickly donning his helm, he crossed the room and opened the door. In her arms was a neatly folded pile of sleepwear. She greeted him with a big smile on her face.
He thanked her as he took the clothing from her. "I'm surprised you didn't send a servant to perform such a menial task."
"Well… I was hoping to personally confirm your comfort. Is everything to your liking?"
"The portraits are a bit unsettling." He said frankly. She peered into the room, her lips parting in a small 'o' as she saw the many portraits hung on the walls.
"O-Oh. Right. I suppose I've forgotten to have them taken down." She paused, taking a deep breath as she began to reminisce. "This was the Aquila family's bedroom suite. When we thought your bloodline extinct, we hung up the portraits of each Aquila who served at my side in memory of their duty."
"I see…"
"… Dinner is almost ready." She said, abruptly changing the topic of conversation. "Would you care to join me? It will be a private affair, as the only other person would be Claudia."
Alistair's stomach spoke for him, a small grumbling resonating from the man.
"Splendid!" She twirled around, motioning for him to follow. Alistair silently fell into step behind the High Elf, using the opportunity to examine her more closely. Her silky blonde tresses cascaded down her back, ending nearly at her ankles. He was surprised she kept it so long: Such a mass of hair must have weighed heavily, and its length begged the question of how she didn't trip herself with it. Her wide hips peeked out from the sides, as did her breasts. The gods have truly blessed her with such an alluring form.
It was a short walk to Celestine's quarters, though that was to be expected. His forefathers were her personal guards, so it made sense that their rooms were so close. She gently opened the door and ushered him in. He quickly took in his surroundings.
It was not too dissimilar from his own room, just taken up several notches. The space was nearly twice as large as his own quarters, with far more ornaments and royal décor. There was only one portrait, however, which he was somewhat glad for. It was hung above the bed's headrest and…
'Ah. It's him again.' He thought, staring at the face of Alberich once more. The man in this portrait seemed a bit laxer than he had in the last, dressed far more casually in typical noble garb. There were two anomalies that caught his eye, however: Two young girls stood by his side, one to each leg and neither coming higher than his waist.
They were obviously not the man's daughters; their long, pointed ears indicative of a pureblooded elven heritage. The one at Alberich's right was a pale blonde with emerald green eyes.'Celestine.' He determined quickly. The other girl was much darker than her counterpart: Honey-brown skin, black hair, and amber eyes. All three of the figures were smiling happily.
"Alistair," a voice called, breaking Alistair from his thoughts. Celestine was sat at a small table with Claudia, who looked at him curiously. The High Elf gestured to an open seat. "Please, take a seat."
He did so, eyes roaming over the small spread of food that awaited him: wine, a cheese platter, and bread, with a few slices of meat. Noticing that both women had already begun to eat, he helped himself to a small portion. He noticed both women staring at him intently.
"Is something the matter?" He asked. Claudia gave him an incredulous look.
"Yes, there is! Don't tell me you plan to eat with your helm on!?"
"I do."
"You're ridiculous!" The Princess Knight exclaimed; her exasperation evident. A flash of irritation also graced Celestine's features, but the High Elf said nothing in protest. Alistair lifted his faceplate and began to eat. The two women chatted for a bit, allowing the sole man in their company to appease his appetite.
Celestine turned to him after a moment. "I'm curious Alistair…" There was a mischievous glint in her eye. "Potes intelligere me?"
The knight visibly tensed at her words. "Tu scis latine?" He asked quietly.
She smiled. "Paulo."
Claudia looked between the two, confused. "Your Grace?"
"Alistair can speak the ancient tongue." The queen answered, not turning to face her. "I'm glad to see it was not lost with Altair."
"My father taught me as his father taught him." He explained. "We never knew why we did it, just that it had to be done."
"Was your father also a mercenary?" Claudia asked.
He shook his head. "He was a farmer. His weapons were the sickle and hoe; his enemy, the harvest. He never once took up a tool of war."
He paused, eyes closing as a memory flashed to the fore.
-]|[-
His father stood before him, clothes stained crimson from both his blood and the demons. Ichor dripped from the sickle in his hand. Behind him, a demon was pinned to the wall with a pitchfork.
"Son? Are you all right?"
-]|[-
His eyes opened once more. "He could handle himself in a fight, however."
"What kind of people were your parents?" Celestine continued, bombarding him with questions. "What were their names? Did you have any siblings?"
Alistair took a breath to compose himself. "My father, Alaire, was a quiet man. He often let his actions speak for him. He was kind, diligent, and patient: A paragon that all men should strive to be. My mother, Laura, was strong and firm. She was always hard on you but gave you praise when you deserved it. She was honest and spoke her mind regardless of other's opinions. A loving wife and mother.
"No siblings: There were complications after my birth that had rendered my mother barren. They never blamed me though, and made sure to love me enough for the children that never were. I… I miss them greatly."
The women shared a look between them. Claudia drew his attention.
"Sir Alistair," Claudia said in a quiet tone. "You're crying."
The knight stiffened. His raised faceplate allowed them to see the lower half of his face, and tears that trailed down his cheeks. He reached into his helm to wipe at his tears and examined his wettened hand. Alistair's mouth parted slightly, as astonished by the sight as his companions.
"Ah… I suppose I am." He agreed. "It has been years since I've last thought of my parents."
"Are you going to be okay, Alistair?" Celestine questioned, already moving to rise out of her seat. Alistair raised a hand to stop her.
"I will be fine. The memories…" His lips stretched into a beautiful smile. "They are good ones."
Both women held smiles of their own as they found just how well the look suited Alistair. They continued to ask more about his parents, and he happily indulged them. He recounted tales of his childhood, of the story of how his parents met. He laid bare his history, Alistair speaking more in that single night than he had in years.
And he found that he quite enjoyed it.
-]|[-
He dreamt of darkness.
Water dripped from the cave ceiling at a steady pace, almost like a metronome. He laid on the ground, beaten and bruised. Welts littered his body, painting his pale skin an angry red. He tried to rise, his body shaking in protest. A voice echoed throughout the cavern.
"Demons are strong, terrifying beasts. They're merciless, cruel. Do you really think you'll be able to kill one?" It asked teasingly.
"I will." He replied, his conviction coating the words in full.
The voice broke out into laughter. "A little snot-nosed brat like you? HA!"
A stone was flung from the shadows, catching him in the forehead. A gasp of pain left his lips as he fell backwards.
"A coward like you, who could only hide as your father sacrificed himself for his child. You, who abandoned his parents to their fate! What a pathetic son!" The voice taunted him as he pushed himself up. Blood dripped to the ground in tandem with the water.
"I w-will avenge them." Another stone impacted his body, hitting his throat. He gagged and retched, spittle flying. Water hit the ground again.
"HOW?!" The voice shrieked. "You are weak. Untested. You bray and bark for vengeance and blood but when the time comes, you'll tuck your tail between your legs and run! Do you think anything will change with just a bit of power?! A coward with strength is just a strong coward!"
A fist pressed itself against his chest. He stared up into yellow eyes, a lucid madness swirling within them.
"Only you can make a choice. Whatever it is, if you make it and act on it…" A drop of water landed on his head.
"You win."
-]|[-
He awoke to light.
The sun had risen over the horizon, peering through his window to warm his skin. Alistair sat up, the sheets rustling beneath him as he moved. He got off the bed and changed into his armor with practiced ease. Folding his borrowed sleepwear in a neat pile on his bed, the knight grabbed his gear and left his room. He passed a few servants who scurried to perform their morning duties. One stepped into his path, looking quite nervous as she did so.
"P-Pardon me Sir Alistair, but Her Highness Lucross wishes to see you off personally. She awaits your presence in the throne room."
"I see…" He nodded his thanks and set off. Just as the maid said, Celestine sat patiently on her throne. She visibly brightened at his appearance.
"Good morning, Alistair. I hope you slept well."
"I did." He said with a nod. "The bed was very comfortable."
She smiled. "I'm glad to hear that. Are you going to meet up with Captain Vult then?"
"That's right."
"Then, before you leave," She rose from her throne and approached him. She held something her hand. "Please take this."
It was a shard of crystal, large enough to fill his palm. He gently took it from her hands. "What does it do?"
"It's a tele-stone," She explained. "This stone will allow us to communicate no matter the distance between us. I wish for you to keep me abreast of your situation as you travel."
"Hmph." He grunted, pocketing the stone in a pouch on his belt. "I'll be sure to give you a daily report. Will that be all?"
"One more thing." She closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around his torso. The embrace gave him pause, but he slowly returned it, albeit awkwardly. She pressed her face tightly against his breastplate, snuggling into his arms and basking in his warmth.
"Please come back safe." She whispered.
"I will try my best."
They held each other for a moment before Celestine reluctantly released her knight. A sad smile greeted him. "Then, I wish you luck."
"Thank you, Your Grace. Farewell."
-]|[-
Alistair met up with Vult at the tavern, the Captain looking somewhat disgruntled.
"I heard you've been knighted," Vult said. Seeing Alistair nod, he sighed. "Well good for you. It's an honor not many people experience."
"You don't sound particularly happy about it." Alistair pointed out.
Vult shook his head. "I just don't like it when nobles try to order my men around. You're a Black Dog, not a lap dog. I don't want them to take advantage of you."
"Is that so?" The newly anointed knight asked.
"It is." He confirmed with a nod. "Anyhow, we've got a new assignment."
"I've already been told: We'll be assaulting the Black Citadel."
Vult hummed in affirmation. "That's right. I've already got Hicks and Kin organizing the company for the march. It'll take about a week with good weather."
Alistair patted the satchel swung over his shoulder. "I'm ready to go."
The Captain smiled. "Good to hear. Come on, I bet Kin would want to get back to his books."
Alistair fell in step behind the man, mentally preparing himself for the conflict to come.
The Black Dogs were on the hunt.
-]|[-
Codex Entry: Alaire Aquila
Notable Relations: Son of Albern Aquila, Husband of Laura Bodewig, Father of Alistair Aquila.
Alaire lived a content life as a farmer, inheriting the farmstead from his father. He performed many odd jobs around the village whenever they popped up, free of charge. His neighbors always praised the man's diligence and kindness, always going out of his way for everyone's benefit.
Alaire had met his wife when she stumbled onto his property, heavily injured and near death. He nursed her back to health, and they fell in love. They married a year later and were known to be the happiest couple in the village. Their son Alistair was born the year after.
Alaire and his wife died in a demon attack, protecting their son from the carnage.
-]|[-
A/N: Hey there guys. Thank you for your support so far. Knowing that I was able to garner any sort of interest really helps to keep me going.
So, from now on, I'm gonna add a small codex entry for each of Alistair's ancestors. Just some extra lore for fun! (And padding word count ;P) Tell me what you think of them, aight?
Translations:
"Potes intelligere me?" – "Can you understand me?"
"Tu scis latine?" – "You speak Latin?"
"Paulo." – "A little bit."