Setting: Many years have passed, the Sorcerer King rules the most of the continent, from the shores of Re-Estize, to the eastern kingdoms beyond the defeated Beastmen Empires.
A new age of exploration and discovery has dawned, and for the last generation, those who sought danger and adventure, took ship over the western shore. Small colonies now exist in the continent of Nishtaru... but all as not well with the new neighbors, which wouldn't be a problem, if not for some unexpected help which may rock the foundations of Nazarick itself.
"Come and get it." Marcus stood straight, but not rigid, his knees slightly bent so that right foot was back from his left. His left hand went up and his fingers curled toward himself, a smirk made his face cocky, but his sky blue eyes became as ice.
A shudder swept through the trio of opponents in the arena. The biggest, an orc who towered over Marcus by enough to look down on him, found courage in his own size and came in with two training axes.
The human and wood elf that had partnered with the orc began to spread out, spurred on by their orc companion's initiative.
"Death Grip...Grim Hand...Endurance of Unlife…Speed of Death." Marcus whispered, activating his martial arts and flung the sword in his right hand, up into the air. He went straight for the bow of his grandmother, drew and loosed four arrows.
"The hell?!" Bokul shouted as he came toward Marcus, putting up his axes to knock aside the arrows, only to see that instead the young man targeted the two support members. He heard the 'oomph' intakes of breath and the sound 'thunk' as they were struck in both their sternums and their foreheads losing both wind and consciousness in one moment. A snarl formed on his thick orc lips. 'You'll pay for underestimating an Orc Lord.' He thought as he closed the last few feet, only to find as his axes came down, that pain was shooting through his wrists.
Marcus's smile had turned predatory, savage, baring hungry teeth with a clenched jaw and Bokul looked down into the face of the half human opponent. Marcus started to growl, and the ice blue eyes locked on Bokul's own. The growl became a low, savage laugh, that of a predator which had caught prey in its trap.
It was too late, when Bokul recognized the truth of it by the painful compression of his hands tightly trapped and inescapable, in Marcus's grip. The Orc Lord began to put more and more pressure on the young half breed, but the braced knees of the young man bent not a hair more. They were locked that way, the axes overhead, the pressure mounting on Bokul's wrists, and in squeezing them, Marcus pulled out a cry of pain from Bokul's throat.
"G'rah!" Marcus shouted with fury as he twisted at the hips and flung Bokul bodily away, the Orc Lord bounced several times over his side, losing one of his axes, and it was then that the sword came back down from its trip to the sky, to be caught in Marcus's left hand.
He rushed forward toward the downed Orc Lord, and took to the air in a leap that carried him over the body of his opponent. The smirk was entirely gone, and as Bokul looked into the cold blue eyes, and at the horns that curled out from his head to curve around the upper right and left of Marcus's skull, framing his black hair, the Orc Lord's heart skipped a beat.
'This is how I die…' Bokul thought, forgetting it was not to the death, and his entire body refused to move, except to tremble as the small hairs stood up over his green skin. He flinched suddenly as Marcus's feet planted on either side of his waist and the tip of the practice sword came down and stopped just below Bokul's nose.
"I win?" Marcus asked, cocking his head slightly and a toothy grin formed on his face.
Bokul relaxed with a heavy breath and he looked straight up. "Yes. By god, you weren't lying, were you?"
"Nope." Marcus shook his head, "Told you, I'm the son of Gottfried and Naiji, grandson of General Neia Baraja. Kind of surprised you didn't believe me when I go around wearing these things every day." Marcus pointed his fore and middle finger from his right hand towards the eyes he inherited from his famous ancestor, then extended his hand down to his Orc Lord opponent and stepped to one side to help him up.
The behemoth of an Orc Lord grasped Marcus's forearm and grunted as he was helped to his feet as easily as a grown man might help a small child.
He popped up onto his feet and looked down at the young man who just grinned back. "If you're waiting on an answer, the answer is hell yes you're good enough to practice here." Bokul rubbed the back of his head apologetically and looked away, sorry for doubting you."
"S'all fine." Marcus said dismissively, "Hope I didn't hurt your other students there." He inclined his head toward the two on the ground who were still unconscious. "To much I mean."
"Those weren't students, those were instructors." Bokul said bluntly as he went and retrieved his lost axe. After storing them both in his belts, and when Marcus sheathed his weapon, and went over to the two unconscious men.
He nudged the wood elf with his boot. "Oh. Well I'm glad we were alone then, even facing the grandson of a legend ah… losing a three to one fight never helps your reputation." Marcus said offhandedly over his shoulder before looking down at the unconscious instructor. "Hey, you OK? You dead or what?"
The wood elf didn't move, and Marcus knelt down at the side of the unconscious man and tapped him lightly on the face.
The instructor snapped into reaction immediately, his wooden practice knife came point first and he tried to roll toward Marcus to give himself extra force.
"Oh come on, really? Really?" Marcus asked with loud incredulity as he caught the surprise attack at the wrist and twisted it away. He pulled the arm in the direction of the curve of the attack and then bent it back so that it was a few feet up, then he twisted just a little bit more. "That was dirty."
"All fights are dirty." The wood elf grunted and gritted his teeth.
"Fair enough, but this one is over, agreed, or do I keep twisting? Don't worry, I won't say anything about your loss today, all I wanted was a place to practice while I'm here." Marcus said amiably, and the wood elf grunted again at another slight twist, his blonde hair hung limp as the fight went out of him, mimicking the sudden limpness of his body.
"Fine." The elf said, and sighed as Marcus released the wrist lock.
Marcus stood up and stepped back from the fallen opponent.
"Hey…" Bokul said, looking down a little shame faced and uncomfortable, "Sorry about him… he's got a ruthless streak about these things."
Marcus shrugged, "It's fine, he's not wrong, anything goes in a fight, and all fights are dirty ones. Better to live dirty than die clean, right?"
Bokul's eyes went wide as they came up to meet the shimmering blue of the one who defeated him, "Kind of surprised to hear a man from a religious house like yours… say something like that."
Marcus went over to a nearby bucket full of water, took up the ladle, and poured it into a cup. Not far away, the wood elf began to head toward the building entrance, helping his still groggy comrade as he grumbled under his breath.
Marcus ignored them and chose to answer Bokul, "Not at all, my grandmother fought a dirty war, she understood that war is a messy affair. So she used any and all tools to win it, it wasn't a matter of honor, it was a matter of saving the lives of her people. Maybe she could have fought it cleaner, but a lot more of her own would have died, and that, to me, makes it dirtier than dirty." He snapped the wooden cup up to his lips and drank the cool, refreshing water down with a satisfying smack of his lips and then drew more.
Marcus then waved his cup toward the thoughtful Bokul and added while extending his forefinger out beyond his grip on the cup. "But not duels though! Never cheat at a duel, then you're just scum." He said it emphatically and with vigor, before downing that cup as if it were a shot of hard liquor.
Marcus wiped his face and set the cup aside, putting it into a tray labeled 'dirty', just behind the bucket and to the left of one labeled 'clean', while Bokul rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
"Alright, I can accept that, still, I'll talk with Tristik later, that was a cheap trick for a practice bout." Bokul said with annoyance emphasized by the shaking of his head, "But what brings you all the way out to the colonies? I mean shouldn't you be back somewhere in the Empire doing… I don't know… family business stuff, royalty stuff, pope related stuff?" Bokul asked bluntly as he took water for himself. He reached out, took the bucket, and tilting his head back with his mouth open, he dumped the bucket over himself, swallowing some, soaking himself with the rest, and splashing Marcus a fair amount along his dark brown boots.
"No, not likely, I doubt I'll be selected as the next Pope. My cousin Attius, is better suited than I am. Not only does he have godkin blood, but he's also fully human." Marcus snagged up a towel and dried off the water without complaint at the splash.
"Well the Empire accepts all races, and all mixes, don't they? I mean I know demon-elves are a new addition in the last few decades but…" Bokul furrowed his brow and trailed off.
Marcus's smirk was quick to return as he set the towel aside, "Sure, but a lot of humans in the east are now part of it all too, and humans… can be a little skittish about new rulers that aren't also humans. A human pope would do a 'lot' to ease those concerns. A half demon-elf, half human?" He shook his head, "Not so much."
"But… that green armor, that bow, that sword, all that's your grandmother's… isn't it? Why let you have it and come all this way if you're not meant to take power as the Pope? It's tradition, isn't it? For Barajas to carry that stuff?" Bokul put his hand on the center of Marcus's back and began to guide him back to the main building.
Marcus followed the lead of the big orc, looking up at him with a winning smile of youthful enthusiasm as he spoke passionately of his intentions. "Great Grandmother Albedo said my grandmother would have thought it stupid to send me out into the world with less than excellent equipment. Hard to argue that she's wrong. So… as to why I'm here, I want adventure of course, not much left to have in the east, but out here in the colonies? There's still places no man or woman of the Empire has ever seen, and I want to see it. I figured I'd base myself out of this city, look for work taking me west, and see what happens."
"Well you'll find adventures aplenty out there." Bokul looked westward briefly, "But be careful, grandson of the Pope, son of General Gottfried, that may get you some free drinks in the taverns here, but out there… that don't mean a damn thing. The Ongeku Kingdom… well, more like a confederation, they've been getting hostile lately. Not all bad, you go out there anonymously, you might be treated alright. But you go out there proclaiming yourself tied to the Sorcerer King or the faith?" Bokul sucked in his teeth and looking down at the young man, he shook his head. "Well, just don't do that. You're good, but you're not a god."
Marcus grunted noncommittally, "Yeah, I know."
Nalineth sat opposite her father at the small, intimate table where they often took their meals, away from the prying eyes of servants, sighed heavily. Her father reached across the small square surface and touched the olive skin of his daughter's hand, covering it with his own. "Please, don't go." He said urgently, his eyes sought hers, but could not find them. She was looking away, light streamed through the window to shine down on the surface of the table. The orange light of the slowly setting sun gave everything an almost mystical glow, and she closed her eyes to savor the gentle touch of her parent.
"Think of your mother, she wouldn't want you to do this." He said urgently as he leaned forward.
Nalineth opened her eyes at the sound of a bird chirping on the window ledge, she smiled as she saw a small bird hop out of its nest, leap, and take flight. She felt a tear come to her eye as she watched it go, its mother chirping after it before taking wing itself, their red feathers blurred in the light, they were soon far out of sight.
Nalineth shook her head, her dark hair bouncing behind her, "How can I do that, father?" She covered the hand that covered her own and turned to meet his eyes with hers. "I barely remember her, what am I to think? Even if I think of her as you say I should, that she wouldn't want me to do this, isn't this my own life? Am I only to make the choices other people would want me to make? When will any choice be mine?"
Naleth chewed unhappily on his lower lip, and it was all Nalineth could do to keep back tears. She glanced nervously to the door to the small, private room.
"They won't disturb us, they never do, not here." Naleth reassured her softly. "I… no, you've grown up, I know that. I don't want you to just live your mothers life, but they're dangerous out there!" He hissed out through clenched teeth. "I've seen them fight, the followers of the Bone God, if they try to harm you…" he shuddered, and went on a different track, "They are not our people, they don't follow our customs, and always there are more of them. Isn't that enough? Must we lose our own people to following them also?"
Nalineth shook her head gently, "Father, we can't just sit here at home and pretend they don't exist, doing as we've always done, ignorant of our new neighbors and their ways. Didn't you tell me that not knowing was as dangerous as believing a lie?"
Naleth gave a small frown and glanced down at the bowl of stew that sat rapidly cooling under his hazel eyes. "To be unprepared for danger is to be destroyed by it." He said in the dull monotone that came with the frequent repetition of a phrase, and his hand tightened slightly on the one he covered.
"But you're not going because you want to protect us, to prepare us, you want to go because you find them fascinating. Because you're more attracted to their ways than the ones I reared you with!"
Nalineth snatched her hand free and put it into her lap, she glared at him with a sudden anger and leaned forward, "I am Nalineth of house Pendar, I am proud of our people, pride of mother, father, and the Ongeku Kingdom, flows through my veins just like yours!" She snapped at him. "But there is a great wide world out there I want to see! I do not want to simply marry, produce an heir, and settle into a common life! You raised me to be more than that!"
Naleth slowly drew his hand back and leaned back in his chair, "I raised you as I would have a boy, I shouldn't be surprised if you got a boy's defiance of his father." He flashed a toothy smile and gave a low, ironic chuckle.
"I bear the fire of Ongeku pride! Of Pendar pride!" She said passionately, "Did you raise me to fear the world beyond our borders? You had your adventures father! You told them to me many times in childhood, now I am grown, and I want one of my own! Please…" She reached out over the table, holding her hand out at the height of his chest, her eyes watered, "Please grant me your blessing, so that I do not go out cursed by our ancestors. I don't know what my mother would have wished, but… if you had wishes in your youth, wishes you fulfilled by your father's blessing, let me have mine… I beg you. I don't want to go, anxious of your resentment."
Naleth stared across the space between for a long time, at the trembling hands of his daughter, and as if he was looking across the years of his own life, he saw himself in her, pleading with his own father. 'Father! Let me go! Let me go!' He remembered the urgent words, and hers so like his own.
His eyes turned to glass, and a trickle fell down, "You have grown up… how did I not see this… when did this happen…?" he whispered and darted his massive arms up to take her hands in his. He held them tight, but she didn't wince.
He spoke with passion the likes of which she'd seldom heard from him, such that her lips parted with surprise. "I bless you! I bless you my child! Go, have your adventure, but don't forget who you are! And don't forget to come home one day! With stories to tell that you will tell your own children…!"
"Father…" She began, but he continued.
"But one more thing… one thing I ask of you, that my father asked of me, a promise I failed to keep, but I hope you will." He said with an affectionate voice and a smile on his gentle lips that trembled as he bade her farewell with his blessing.
"Name it…" She said in a quiet voice that he could only hear because their table was small enough that there was barely an arm's length between them.
"One day, many years from now, when your child begs you to go on an adventure… don't forget this, don't make their heart ache as I've done to you, fearing they won't get the blessing to leave and be a man or… to be a woman like you."
Nalineth shot to her feet, the low chair flew backwards, clattering over the stone floor until it skidded to a stop against the wall, she went over and lowered herself into his tight embrace. "I'll try. You're a tough act to follow, father, and if you couldn't do it, what chance do I have? But I'll try!"
"That'll do." he said as his arms folded around her back and he kissed her forehead. "That'll do. Forget dinner, get going, get your things, I know you're in no mood for food now."
She didn't need to be told twice, leaving behind a shouted, "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" Echoing at her back as she closed the heavy wooden door when she moved beyond the room and left her father alone.