Things Set in Motion
The day had gone quickly and Valor had been glad to rest after his confrontation with the king that morning.
He was no longer worried about the future of his homeland as far as its governance was concerned. His royal cousin was returned to him, and they had gone hawking that afternoon in the King's Forest just north of Cornelia. The man that Valor's father had once told him of had returned with his quiet strength, his insight, his easy laugh. Still, there had been tension in King Highland's eyes, and Valor knew it was his ever-growing worry for his taken daughter.
The Princess Sarah. It had been awhile since Valor had even thought of his cousin. As he recalled, she had been somewhat spoiled and obnoxious as a child, and they had not been great friends. Then again, Valor himself had not had a normal childhood, filled with the endless training that was his mandate. It had been about four years since he had seen her last, and she had called him a disparaging bore.
He hadn't cared much, since he supposed she'd been right.
Am I boring, he thought. He shrugged. It didn't matter. He could not be other than he was. His father had died to bring him his birthright, and the world and everything in it was depending on the depth of his conviction.
This night, however, he tried to forget... at least a little, of the weight he had to bear.
The young man stood straight, the servants nearly finished helping him get into the dress uniform. It consisted of a fine white high-collared coat cut in a military fashion. Golden stripes were embroidered down the length of the sleeves as well as the sides of the fine white breeches that covered his legs. Ornamental pauldrons of wrought gold covered his shoulders as well, though he had removed the plain iron circlet about his forehead. Instead, his brown and silver-streaked hair was pulled back into a tail and secured with a length of black ribbon.
Such a uniform was appropriate since the king had granted Valor the rank of Captain in the military, and he was the only officer of such rank now, since the army was gone. Due to his being Chosen he wasn't meant to serve, of course, but he had authority now over the City Guard that would curtail certain delays like the one that had happened with the Lord-Captain Marcus that very morning.
Valor sighed sadly as he thought of the devastated army. So many of his countrymen were dead now at the hands of the dark monster, Garland.
Highland would have only its garrisons for some time before the army could be rebuilt. Until then, it would be virtually defenseless to any invading force that came in strength.
The Knighthoods that had disagreed to the king's making of a unified army were the only real military might left in the city, though they had lost a great deal of influence when the king had declared them contrary nearly two years before. King Highland had admitted that this had been pure foolishness on his part. On the morrow, he would restore the Knighthoods to their places of honor and he had even asked Valor if he wished to join any particular order and be officially knighted.
Somehow, the boy knew it wouldn't have been right to accept the honor. "I am no knight," he had replied. His cousin had looked at him sadly for a moment before moving on.
After the servants were finished, Valor studied his appearance in the mirror only half-heartedly before stepping into the polished shin-high black boots that completed the uniform. When finished, he thanked the servants, who bowed, and exited the sitting room of his personal apartments. Just outside the door, two gold-armored guards saluted him, before falling in step as he headed toward the Great Hall.
IIIIIIIIII
Sana-Lynn looked with shock at herself in the gilded standing mirror.
All her years in the White Temple had never prepared her for this. She had never worn clothes such as these, and what she saw before her was a transformation that she believed might be some kind of magic.
Her sleeveless dress was of fine lavender silk, a slightly darker bodice snugging her chest, liberally decorated in gorgeous black-work embroidery. All in all, the clothes emphasized her bosom and hips in a way she never thought possible, especially since she had never worn anything but shapeless tunics and robes for so long. She wore elbow-length gloves of white silk, but had declined the wrought-silver bangles about her upper arms. Having worked with a bow and arrow for years had made her arms a little too muscular for them.
The king had allowed some of his daughter's ladies-in-waiting to attend Sana, and they had been so nice to her.
The oldest, Adra, had even brought out a small wooden box that contained various paints and powders, and worked with great skill in applying them to Sana's face. It seemed the cosmetics hadn't done much except in very subtle ways. Sana's eyes seemed a little larger, her lips a little fuller, the natural flush of her cheeks a bit more pronounced. Her long blond hair had also been brushed until it shone like silk then styled in a way that rolled up small buns over her ears in silver nets, and left a single loch to fall down one side of her face.
Sana blinked her hazel eyes a few times at her reflection. "Wow, is this really me?"
Lilia clapped her hands together in delight. "You are so beautiful, Lady Atha."
Adra nodded. "Indeed, my Lady, I doubt anyone will outshine you this night."
The white mage turned from the mirror with a blush. "Thank you."
"Think nothing of it," another girl, Vera, said. "We have really missed doing this since –"
They all quickly lapsed into silence.
Sana knew the reason for their melancholy. "The four of us will certainly rescue Princess Sarah, so please, don't worry about it too much." She paused to smile. "This really is the first time I have ever been to a ball."
"Is it a ball?" Lilia asked. "Or is it just a banquet?"
"I heard there would be music and dancing."
"And many handsome young noble men, like Lord Valor."
Lilia looked over at Sana with curiosity. "What do you think of Lord Valor, Lady Atha?"
"Oh... well... he is quite dashing, though he doesn't smile very much."
Vera nodded. "That's true. Ryton Archibald has such a wonderful smile."
Adra folded her white-gloved arms, considering. "The Count deLufron is also very handsome."
Lilia gave her a playful shove. "Oh, he's too old for us, Adra, and he's married."
"What of his younger brother, the Red Bard?"
Sana suddenly smiled. "You mean True Herring?"
Adra frowned at her. "A charlatan and a wastrel, that one. He's not as solid as his brother. And True Herring, ha! That is his player's name, my Lady. His real name is Chadler deLufron."
Vera sighed wistfully. "He does have a pretty smile though, Adra, you must admit. He is also quite charming."
"He is," Sana agreed with another blush.
Suddenly, Adra put her hands on her hips. "Perhaps, but we are wasting time here. We should all be heading to the Great Hall." She stopped to smile. "I am certain the night's entertainment is about to begin."
IIIIIIIIII
"Are you bloody kidding me?"
Gantz stood in a pair of linen undershorts and nothing else as the servants held up the clothes he was to wear to the event in the Great Hall.
A stiff-looking old fellow frowned down his beak of a nose at the thief. "Please, young Master –"
Gantz threw his hands up. "Whoa, stop it right there, fancy pants. I ain't no bloody master, so just save the breath. My name is Gantz, okay, very simple, very plain. Another thing here, gramps, is that I ain't wearing that stuffy get-up no matter how many servants try to shove me in."
The fellow frowned and raised his nose even higher. Gantz wondered if he was going to fall over backwards. "Please, young... Gantz. You must be presentable to attend a function such as this. Anything less would be a breech of etiquette, not to mention a grave insult to the noble guests."
Suddenly a huge, feral grin plastered itself on the thief's face. "Oh really..." He rubbed his hands together with malevolent glee, before suddenly rushing from the room.
The old servant just sighed.
Gantz cackled like a monkey before he opened the chamber doors and slid out onto the white marble floor before the guards. "Hey tin cans, I haven't had a good chase in a while so why don't you try to catch me before I steal the most valuable thing I can get my grubby mitts on in this bloody palace."
"Wait, Sir Gantz, we are supposed to escort you," one of the men protested.
The thief barked a laugh. "Escort me? What bloody fun is that?" And he sped down the hall in his undershorts, servants in the corridor gasping as he blasted by.
Both the guards looked at each other and shook their heads.
IIIIIIIIII
The night air was especially cool here. It did much to calm her nerves after the incident in her apartments.
She had left the servants cowering in fear after she had burnt the dress they'd meant for her to wear into charred tatters. It had utterly infuriated her – a blasted dress! What kind of weak witless milksop did they think she was? She was no fool city trollop to go prancing about in such a ridiculously senseless garment!
Oh how that had angered her. She clenched her fists repeatedly, fantasizing about how cathartic it would be just blast every one of them to the Abyss and back. It had taken considerable will to restrain such an urge and Robin had nearly relented. Instead, unable to countenance any further stupidity, she had left her apartments, frozen her guards in place, and come out into the city.
It seemed there was a festival of sorts in the market district where the common people cavorted while the slimy nobles had their formal gathering within the castle. Utterly disgusted with them all, Robin had stalked single-mindedly through the revelers, and all had parted for her and her blazing runes with alacrity.
She had wandered for hours until she finally entered a vast graveyard situated on a broad shallow hill. Nearing twilight, she now sat upon a large stone mausoleum, turning her charred rod in her hands and shaking her head.
The evening was very peaceful here, the sounds of merrymaking far-removed and muted. Robin set her rod down and took off her wide-brimmed hat to run a hand through her short orange hair. Afterward, she looked down at the rows of tombstones spread out below her and sighed.
For the very first time she let her sense of duty waver. She truly didn't want to be here among all these fools. She just wanted to be back home amongst her own proud, strong, simple people. Life had been so much easier there, and much more fulfilling as well. There she had been respected among everyone, clan and tribe. Even the elders had listened to her despite her youth. Her tribe's patron spirit had blessed her with his great power since birth and she had used her own strength to master that power and earn her place among them.
Flexing her hands, Robin suddenly worked at the knot of her mask before removing it and setting it down upon her hat. Her elfin face was now totally exposed, something she would never do around city dwellers. They had no truck with her, had earned no trust. Still, it felt good to take off the mask; like she could shed all the weight that fate had thrust upon her for one quiet night.
She would be eighteen within a fortnight, but looked just a shade over twelve. That was one reason why she shrouded herself. These bloody city dwellers would never take her seriously if they saw her like this. She was short, slender and even younger-looking than she was and they were so superficial. They would see nothing but a little girl, fit to ignore. She hated them so much for what they were, yet she was destined to save them. Of course, she was fighting to save her own people, not them, but they would be saved in the bargain.
Robin shook her head warily. Her eyes glowed mutely now, subtle like moonlight instead of the usual blazing intensity.
The girl looked down, however, as something below caught her attention. Slowly she stood, taking up her rod.
Her glowing eyes widened. Down below, mounds of earth stirred as clutching hands suddenly shot out and a pitiful chorus of moans began a doleful dirge throughout the night.
IIIIIIIIII
The Great Hall was massive, a vast rectangular room with high walls of pale stone. Elaborate cornices festooned the corners and stonework murals marched about the walls in detailed relief. They were the scenes of battles, Valor noticed, armored men fighting demons and monsters, robed women casting mighty spells. Frozen in time these figures were, locked in eternal struggle.
Though not the most studied historian, Valor quickly recognized this old battle. It had been in the days of the Great Archfiend, some five thousand years ago. Long before Highland had been founded, the Old Nations had fought with the Archfiend's minions. It was said that the world had been much different then. There really wasn't a lot to know of this old war since many of the records were fragmented when not entirely lost. Still, the oldest of Highland's prophecies had made mention of a great clash at the gates of the temple city Aza-Talzan. There the Overlord Chaos had watched as his fiend-possessed army had attacked the combined forces of the Old Nations. Led by the ancient Chosen of the Crystals, the human alliance had gained victory at great expense, winning only when the Warriors of Light had confronted the dread fiend Chaos and destroyed him.
Gazing at the murals, Valor noticed one elaborately armored man, his cape billowing about him as he raised a shining sword above his head. The old legend had told of Chaos's destruction at the hands of the original Light Warriors, yet also spoke of a rebirth of darkness... and of light. The Prophet Lukhan had translated that old war and its prophecy in its most recent incarnation three centuries ago. Lukhan had called it the Prophecy of the End Times, and many others simply referred to it as the Prophecy of Lukhan. However, another name had been popularized by the time Valor had first heard it...
The Final Fantasy…
The young man stood at the wall near the corner of the room, his empty wine glass forgotten. The vastness of the Great Hall had made it easy to isolate himself from the islands of nobles and their polite conversation. Though a vast space was left open for dancing later upon the mosaic floor, most of the nobles had gathered near the eight long tables arrayed with finery where the multi-course meal would be served later. The buzz of many muted conversations filled the air, punctuated by a small orchestra tuning their instruments near the far wall, readying themselves for the official start to the festivities when the king arrived.
Valor remembered his admonition to himself about trying to forget his duty for at least this one night, but as he stared up at the mural, at the larger-than-life figure before him, he could not relinquish the weight. It felt as if all those centuries lay upon his shoulders, all the time between this day and that distant war. Everything else seemed so petty and small in comparison.
"You look so distant, my Lord? Does something vex you?"
Valor started and looked down, immediately blushing. Erin Arlington stood looking up at him, her large emerald eyes full of concern. She wore another fine black dress, embroidered heavily in thread-of-gold, her long darkly red hair flowing over one shoulder across the bosom of her dress.
Flustered, he did not answer immediately and the concern in her eyes deepened as she gently pressed her bosom against him.
He turned away more abruptly than he meant to before stammering an apology. "I... am not very good company at present, Lady Arlington. I have a great deal on my mind."
She walked about until she faced him again. He looked down, but she gently placed a hand upon his face. "I have heard the tale, as have us all. You are a Warrior of Light. Many rejoice and say we are saved, many have proclaimed you conquering heroes before the prophesied Dark War has even begun." She stopped to lower her hand, looking down. "Yet it must be a mighty burden you bear. It must be heavier than time itself."
Valor looked up, and their gazes met. "Yes... it is something like that, my Lady."
She gave him a gentle smile. "Please, call me Erin, Lord Valor."
"Thank you... Erin."
She smiled again. "Would you like another drink, my Lord?"
He blushed, finally noticing his wine glass. "...Yes, please."
She took the glass from him with a slight curtsy before heading off across the room toward the distant tables.
Valor watched her go, but soon his gaze strayed to the mural before him again.
A few minutes passed and there was giggle behind him. "Well there you are, Valor, I was looking for you."
Valor turned and his face went ablaze. "S-S-Sana-Lynn? By the gods, is that you?"
The white mage giggled again, "I completely understand, I was surprised too." She did a small spin for him in her lavender dress, laughing all the while. "What do you think?"
The Chosen of Earth sputtered for a bit. "You are mesmerizing!"
She smiled behind a gloved hand. "Wow, your eyes are about to pop out of your head."
Valor's face felt a furnace, but he quickly cleared his throat. He could not look away from her, however. The words he was going to use to excuse his lack of manners soon disappeared and he just stared.
Sana giggled more.
"Ah, and who is this then?" Erin asked politely.
Valor hadn't noticed her return, and forced his gaze away from Sana-Lynn. Quickly, he felt his lack of control keenly and shame swam over him. He took the proffered glass of red wine from his wife-to-be and gestured at Sana-Lynn. "This is the Chosen of Water, Sana-Lynn, a fellow Light Warrior, Erin."
"I see," Erin said. She looped her free arm through Valor's and smiled at the white mage. "Ah, yes, you are a Priestess of the Order of the White Staff. I have heard something of you."
Sana gave a slight curtsy. "A pleasure to meet you as well. Are you a good friend of Valor's?"
The red-haired girl narrowed her green eyes. "Oh, but you've not been told? I am Valor's fiancé. We were chosen to wed by our parents when we were very young. It is our destiny, you see."
Sana's smile faltered a bit. "Ah, all right." She gave herself a slight shake. "Anyhow, I was wondering if I might be able to dance with Valor one time this evening, perhaps during the Waltz."
Valor felt his fiancé stiffen a bit. "I am sorry, but I do not believe that would be appropriate, nor give the proper impression amongst the nobles here."
"Oh, okay," Sana said, subdued before suddenly smiling again. She looked up at Valor. "Have you seen Gantz around?"
Irritation suddenly knit Valor's brow. "No, and I should hope not. There is no telling what kind of foolishness that ill-mannered rodent would cause at an event such as this."
Sana put a finger to her chin. "Oh really, he seems like he might liven it up. It is rather dull at the moment."
Erin smiled. "Well, the King has yet to arrive. When he does everything will officially start."
"Ah, I see," Sana said.
Erin gave her a measured nod before looking up at Valor. "Anyhow, my Lord, would you mind if we mingled a bit? If it pleases you, I would like you to meet some of my retainers."
Valor nodded his ascent before giving Sana a quick smile. "Please meet with some of the nobles here, Sana-Lynn. I have seen some good people of the middling Houses. A good night to you."
IIIIIIIIII
As Valor and his fiancé turned toward the tables, Erin gave Sana a chilly look over her shoulder before lifting her chin and turning back.
The white mage had gotten strange impressions from her, especially after the red-haired girl had failed to properly introduce herself to Sana. There was something wrong with this Erin girl, something... unusual. Still, it wasn't actual malevolence, so Sana just put it down to the other not liking her.
Odd as that was, Sana shrugged it away. As she headed back toward the tables, she noticed young men watching each other, then glancing at her, as if trying to see who was bold enough to approach her first. She smiled and giggled. This dress-up event was actually kind of fun. Sana knew she was pretty, but she never thought her looks would make men act like this. She remembered Valor's reaction and laughed.
She continued to laugh as a clamor sounded at the far end of the hall through the mighty double doors. A young man in nothing but linen undershorts shot into the Great Hall, much to the scandalized gasps and cries of nobles all about. Sana immediately knew it was Gantz and was laughing so hard her eyes watered.
He blasted through, sliding to a stop in the very center of the Great Hall. In one hand, he held an ornate silver scepter. In the other, he held a blue-striped fish. Sana had no idea what was going on, but she could not stop laughing.
The thief looked all about, an almost evil smile on his face as he laughed with demonic glee. "Hey all you bloody uptight bastards. How's your snooty little gathering here? I'm sure I've had more fun scratching hives. By the by, I ran all over this bloody palace, and you wouldn't believe the things I've seen. Do you have any idea how many pairs of lacy underwear Rina Archibald has?"
One of the noblewomen in the crowd suddenly fainted.
Suddenly, a clutch of gold-armored guards burst into the Great Hall, panting heavily. "Stop, thief!"
Gantz saw them and instantly whirled the fish over his head. He then threw it at them with amazing force. It smacked one guard in the face and knocked him down. The thief then turned toward the crowd, giving a mock bow. "Well, that's my cue. See you all later you bloody bunch of buffoons." And he took off in a blur before the guards started after him.
When Sana could breathe again, she wiped a tear from her eye. "I bet that really angered Valor."
"I bet it did at that, my Lady."
Sana turned and suddenly blushed. "True?"
"I have arrived, my vision." The Red Bard executed a formal bow, doffing his red hat and putting it to his chest. He took her hand gently and kissed it before rising again. "I must say your beauty is a pale splendor reminiscent of the Goddess of Love upon her pearlescent throne. Woe to all men that look upon you, for they will surely have their reason drowned in the vast sea of your amber eyes."
"Wow..." Sana breathed, blushing fiercely as the Red Bard took her hand and kissed it again.
He stood and replaced his red hat. She looked up at him, her mind reeling for something to say. "Um... you certainly do like red don't you."
She immediately felt foolish but True simply smiled. "It has a special significance for me, my Lady." He offered her his arm and she quickly slid hers through it, her face still suffused.
"Can you tell me about it?"
"On one condition, my Lady. You must dance with me tonight during the Waltz. If you promise me that then I shall grant you anything you ask of me."
"Of course, True, I would love to dance with you. However, I am not much practiced at it."
He smiled again. "Oh, not to worry, my vision. I will teach you. As to your question: I have undergone a great deal of trials in my life to arrive at this point in time. I suppose you could say that the scarlet color of my robes symbolizes these trials. I may not seem like the type, but I have made sacrifices. It is only fitting then, that the blood I have shed should always be apart of me, figuratively if not literally."
Sana nodded in awe. "Really, that is quite close to what the red triangles of a white mage's robe symbolize."
"Yes," he said. "I know something of the Order of the White Staff."
She looked up, curious. "Do you mean you were an apprentice once?"
"Something like that," True grinned mysteriously. "I have walked many paths."
"Ah, then what do the alternating white and black triangles on the hem of your cape mean?"
He looked off with a wistful smile. "A dichotomy, if you will."
She nodded. "You mean like good and evil, or darkness and light?"
He patted her hand. "Yes, but not exactly. I have learned that light is not always good, and darkness is not always evil. The triangles are there to remind me of that."
Sana stopped dead when she sensed something incredibly familiar about him. "Are you a white mage?"
He laughed and leaned close, whispering into her ear. "No, my dear. I am a red one."
Suddenly, True glanced over at a group of nobles near one of the tables. He gently let go of Sana with another formal flourish of his cape. "If you would excuse me, my Lady, I have business to attend to. I will come for my dance, however, so do not stray far."
She looked at him, intrigued. "I will be here."
"Then I will be happy. Until the Waltz, my vision." And he turned away.
Sana could not help but grin at his back as he left. Still, she had no idea what he'd meant.
What in the realm was a red mage?
IIIIIIIIII
Gantz sat on the thin pallet and let out a long contented sigh. "Well, that was fun."
He looked through the narrow bars of the cell he was in. There was a torch bracketed to the wall outside. Its flame flickered fitfully as footsteps announced the presence of guards, several of which stopped in a line before the cell. The Lord-Captain Marcus looked decidedly displeased as he spoke. "The king has seen fit to grant you a pardon for your crimes, considering your status as a Light Warrior. Let me remind you that this is the only pardon you will receive from him. Any further lewd misconduct on your part will make you susceptible to the full writ of the law. Is this understood?"
Gantz stood up. "Yes, Captain Windbag, it's understood. Oh, by the way, I get to fight to keep the whole bloody world from going to the dogs, so your king isn't going to do a damn thing to me no matter what, so save the empty threats, okay. Besides, I've had my fun, and I gave everything back so just bloody relax."
The captain growled, but made a sharp gesture to the jailer. A rotund fellow in a greasy leather frock shuffled forward and brandished a set of keys before unlocking the cell door.
Gantz swaggered out. "Ah, sweet freedom." Flanked by guards, he moved down the cramped ill-lit corridor, passing other cells when he suddenly stopped dead. "Someone is down here."
"What are you blathering about, boy?"
Pure seriousness sharpened the thief's words. "Dark elves, I can feel them."