What Remains

A hazy ray of warmth wafted over the young man's face and he twitched fitfully.

A split-second later, both his dark eyes shot open and Gantz leapt up, crouching on top of a small plain bed, one of a row of four in a long room with plastered walls and slat-board floors, a line of squat arched windows along the north wall.

The thief's almond eyes darted this way and that, alarm painting his sun-dark face, his head of raven hair swishing, as he glared about the room.

After it was apparent he was alone, the young man looked down at himself. His wolf-lean body was naked but for a pair of linen undershorts and he growled: "How many bloody times am I gonna wake up in some strange inn with barely a stitch to me? And where are my bloody knives?"

No one answered, of course, and after a bit, Gantz leapt off the bed, spotting a plain wardrobe at the far end of the room adjacent to a stairwell leading down.

His jaw tight, the thief wrenched opened both the wardrobe doors and gave a quick sigh, finding all his possessions there. Still, he pulled everything out and laid it across the nearest bed just to make sure. Nothing was missing and Gantz let out another sigh, this one so heavy that he seemed to deflate as he released it. The last thing he remembered was fighting dark elf apparitions in some underworld labyrinth lit by baleful blue lights and darkened by horrific shadows from which his foes had flung themselves at him.

Only now when Gantz was absolutely sure he was awake, did those memories seem like some horrific nightmare. It had been so real at the time, and the Chosen of Wind sagged down on the bed, his knees suddenly weak as he tried to shake away the last vestiges of lingering unease that resided in the corners of his mind.

He had no idea where he was now, but it apparently wasn't the Citadel. He hoped he was still in Truce at least, since had no idea how much time had passed since his terrified flight from the goblin camp, which he remembered only snippets of. The light through the windows seemed to hint at late afternoon or early evening, but that didn't tell him how many days had gone by while he'd been stuck fighting for his life in some bloody nightmare.

Still, determination to find out just what in the hellfire had happened suddenly flooded through the young man. He quickly stood, strapping all the small sheaths that held his hidden throwing daggers about him before dressing in his black tunic and breeches and cinching them with a leather belt around his waist, from which fell the sheaths of his long knives, one hanging over each hip. He then pulled on his fingerless gloves and shrugged himself into his dark leather jerkin.

Afterward, he plopped down on the bed and pulled on his soft-soled boots, before standing to unsheathe his long knives. He lingered there, holding the twin weapons in his hands, the well-worn leather-wrapped hilts molded to his grip. The familiarity helped shore up his troubled mind and Gantz nodded before re-sheathing his blades.

Hesitantly, Gantz called upon his shadowy power, seeing the black smoky energy flow from one upraised hand, cool to the touch. He remembered elation before from having actually been able to become invisible—truly invisible! It had been an incredible sensation at the time, but now Gantz felt differently. Still brand new, this power represented a potential bevy of new skills, ones barely tried. Such potential had been made plain, but the thief was suddenly uneasy about it. He had honed all of his thieving skills to a fine point over the years by plying his trade, but now had at least two more born from the blessing of the Crystal to which he was irrevocably tied.

This caused him to admit that he was still uneasy about his calling as a Warrior of Light. Honestly, he didn't think he would ever get over such reluctance. He didn't know anything but the barest specks of the ancient legends, just the stuff that was common knowledge. Four ancient big shots had faced off against some evil big shot thousands of years ago, yada yada yada… it didn't mean bloody beans to Gantz… and yet… somehow it did… the thief could feel it in his bones, a sensation he decided he loathed.

He shook his head irately just as his stomach suddenly gurgled at him. "Great, now I feel like I haven't eaten in a fortnight. Guess I better get some bloody grub."

Taking his black handkerchief, the thief wrapped it over his head like a cap, tying a knot at the back of his head, before pulling on the small leather backpack that held his thieves' tools and the Orb of Wind. He then headed for the narrow staircase and went down slowly, not bothering to linger at the two other landings that led down hallways lined with doors. Instead, he passed them and went down into the broad common room of the inn, quickly sitting at a small table.

Among the dozen or so tables that were occupied, Gantz noticed a surprising lack of conversation between the inn's plain-clothed patrons. Indeed, the atmosphere seemed rather subdued. Gantz knew he must have missed the battle for Truce, but it seemed from the mood of the inn that the defenders had lost, though that couldn't be the case or else filthy little goblins would be everywhere. There would be chaos, not this somber quietude.

An thin older woman in a plain bodice and skirts wafted over, her graying brown hair tied into a bun. She eyed his garb suspiciously with a slight frown. "For all those that brought you here said you were one of the four Light Warriors, I say you look a bandit you do," she paused to sigh, "But anyway, what can I get for you, dearie?"

Gantz didn't feel like quipping and merely nodded. "Anything is fine, your daily special."

The woman gave a slight bow of her head and left, heading through a swing door into the kitchen on the west wall. Gantz sat silently waiting, his own current mood uncharacteristic he knew, and stemming from the strange uncertainty of what had happened in Truce while he had been battling for his sanity in some twisted dreamscape. He didn't want to ask anyone here what the result of the battle had been though. For now, he felt silence was best.

A big stone fireplace filled a good portion of the north wall of the common room, yet despite the sizable fire crackling in its hearth, Gantz felt little warmth. Of course, fire didn't seem to burn quite so hot as it once did, unless it was Robin's bloody magic fire, but that was a different story. Gantz suddenly wondered what the black mage was up to when a plump serving girl in a plain dress and apron came up and set a tankard down on his table. She then poured ale from a wooden pitcher into the pint-sized vessel. She didn't say anything and Gantz didn't either, simply turning to leave when she was finished. Gantz gripped the tankard and slid it to him, looking down into the light brown liquid. Hungry as he was, the thief took only one long swig from the tankard before setting it back down. The ale tasted barely watered down, which surprised Gantz, and he gulped it down, his stomach grateful for a serving of grain, no matter its form.

Some time later, a trio of serving girls came up and placed a wooden platter and rough iron utensils before him. "Your supper, Lord Warrior," one of the girls said as she used wooden tongs to place a whole roasted pheasant on his plate, while another scooped two large portions of steaming mashed potatoes next to it. The last girl forked down a helping of long red and green beans covered in some kind of light sauce.

At just the smell of the food, Gantz mouth was watering so much that he didn't even bother to tell the girls that he was neither a bloody lord nor a bloody warrior—though they probably meant Light Warrior, which he figured was more of a title, like something a bloody noble might have—but anyway…

Gantz tore into the food, his ravenous hunger taking over completely. The serving girls eyed him with incredulity and perhaps disgust, for which the thief cared not a whit as he tore into the roast pheasant while also shoving a spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth. He took a quick swig of ale before finishing his ravenous tirade until minutes later he found himself licking the wooden platter with famished glee.

He looked up. "Another round of supper, ladies, and I'll be needing more ale! Quickly now, I've got bloody Light Warrior work to do and I can't do it on an empty stomach!"

His energy returning, Gantz finished another full meal before making a thick coin appear in one hand as if by magic and granting the golden gil to the innkeeper before darting out of the inn without another word.

Energized, the thief came out onto a narrow cobblestone street. This was a different inn from the one he had awoken in when he had first come to Truce, but it was still situated rather southerly in the town. The one thing Gantz noticed over the din of livestock and dozens of subdued conversations was the fact that the mighty silver Citadel of Truce was completely gone from where it had stood at the northern most part of the town.

Gantz couldn't help but gape. The thing had been insanely huge and had jutted a thousand feet into the sky like no other structure the thief had ever seen. Sure, Castle Cornelia had had a much larger footprint and had plenty of high towers and long walls with impressive battlements, but not even its grand keep had reached nearly as high as Truce's silvery wonder had.

"What in the realm of bleeding wonders happened to that huge tower?" Gantz spluttered. He wasted no time waiting for an answer from any of the surrounding townsfolk before readying himself for a prodigious leap.

With a gasp from onlookers, Gantz shot off in a long soaring jump, coming down to alight on a wood-tiled roof several streets up. He barely paused before leaping to another roof, continuing to skip across the tops of buildings, avoiding all earthbound traffic completely and coming to the northern edge of town where the massive Citadel had once stood in less than five minutes. He spotted the freestanding stone guardhouse that had stood just before the mighty silver gates of the Citadel, though its guards were currently missing.

Smooth ground between high stone walls was all that now filled the gap where the once mighty Citadel had stood and Gantz wasted no time rushing across it north into the bailey where he skidded to a halt with another incredulous expression.

The defenders were here among the ruins of walls, the mighty stonework crushed and scattered into piles of rubble as if smashed apart by some massive fist. Craters had been gouged into the earth all about the bailey and even up into the half-mile wide line of the pass as far north as Gantz could see.

But it was the bodies wrapped in linen and lined before groups of mourners that caught Gantz's immediate attention. The thief remembered that there had been roughly five hundred defenders to stand against the thousands of invaders, but seeing how many wrapped bodies there were meant that Truce's defenders had paid a high price in doing their duty to defend Truce.

Stunned, the thief was reminded of the death he had witnessed in the royal corridors of Castle Cornelia. The dark elf invaders had slain many guards and servants among the gilded halls, yet not nearly as many as the goblin horde had slain here. The thief surmised that maybe two thirds of Truce's defenders were now wrapped in their final shrouds.

Now the thief understood the mood back in town.

His fists tightening, Gantz glanced grimly about. He first spotted Sana-Lynn seeming to be giving last rites over the many bodies. The white mage seemed penitent from this distance, and Gantz knew she would take so many dead as a personal failure. It had been what she had done after the dark elf invasion in Cornelia.

The thief himself tried to quash his own rising pangs of failure, reasoning that he had done all he could to stave off the green tide before that squid-headed fiend had driven him into some kind of blind terror. The mere memory of the unholy monster made him growl.

"I wasn't here for this part of it either," came a sudden familiar voice and Gantz turned.

Robin Magus strode up next to him, still cloaked in her tattered black robes, which seemed even more threadbare than they had before. Indeed, her signature vestments seemed positively ragged, the wide brim of her tall peaked hat being heavily frayed and her robes scuffed and torn as if pierced by a thousand needles.

Her eyes still glowed brightly yellow through the holes in the strip of the black mask that concealed her upper face, though. "The despicable vermin managed to overrun all but one of the defensive positions upon the walls and that one barely held. The defenders paid heavily before the crux that turned the tide, which I wasn't able to witness. Know, however, that it was I that had already annihilated the fiend that had led the vile green mass before then."

She didn't sound like she was bragging, which Gantz would have expected from her not long ago. "Well, it looks like we fell short again of being the bloody heroes come out of legend."

Shorter, the black mage glanced up at him, her glowing gaze even. "Do not be a fool, thief. Considering what we were up against this was likely the best case scenario."

Gantz gripped the hilts of his knives hard. "Yeah, well, I still don't have to bloody like it."

She gave an aggravated sigh. "Nor I, but liking it is not what we are here for, so we might as well move on." She then plopped down on the ground, laying her charred black rod across her knees. Soon it seemed she was meditating, something Gantz had witnessed her do a number of times now.

Scanning the devastated bailey some more, Gantz noticed rows of tents set up in areas where the ground remained smooth, likely places where wounded defenders were being tended. He remembered that Truce had very few white mages in it, and looking about he had spotted none but Sana-Lynn in the white robes, that is until he ducked into a particularly large canvas pavilion that was filled with rows of cots where wounded defenders laid.

Only a handful of mundane physicians were present to tend to the thirty or so wounded, though Gantz spotted a young lad, maybe eleven or twelve in the white robes, holding an ashen staff and providing the magical healing that marked him a white mage despite the plainness of his attire.

Looking about dismally, Gantz spied Valor sitting next to a particular cot close to the center of the tent. The beefy warrior looked utterly haggard in his plain armor, sitting on a small stool before the cot where a severe looking woman lay—Brunhilda Rainhart, Gantz recalled, the Commander of Truce's forces.

Gantz walked up, stopping next to the warrior and folding his arms. "Well, it seems the goblins are nowhere to be seen, so I guess we won… fat lot of bloody good it did."

Startled, Valor looked up at Gantz, his bluff face drawn. He only nodded dully.

The wounded middle-aged woman on the cot coughed a couple times. She looked in bad shape, her black-enameled full-plate having been removed. She was now draped in only plain brown robes. Wraps of linen surrounded her torso and left arm, most seeped in dried blood. Her voice still managed to be stern despite her obvious weakness. "You did all the good you could do, Chosen of Wind. None of us should have survived this. If it hadn't been for the Holy One, none of us would have."

Gantz shook his head, feeling hollow. "Holy One, huh, did some mighty deity come down and save us all at the very last second?"

Valor nodded. "One very well did at that, actually," he paused, cupping his armored fists before his mouth, his blue gaze distant. "Sana-Lynn called it Alexander. It was the Citadel, or was inside the Citadel all along. She was the catalyst that caused it to awaken, and its sheer power…" He shook his head in awe. "…I was there, right in the middle of it, protected by a shimmering field, watching everything around me being obliterated by the likes of power I could never have imagined. Thousands of goblins were wiped from existence in mere seconds."

Gantz whistled incredulously. "Too bad it couldn't have happened a bit sooner." Valor simply replied with a limp shrug.

Brunhilda turned her head to look at them both, her scarred face decidedly wan. "We did what we had to do to see the citizens of Truce safe. The Chosen of Water explained that she had had to pass a trail to awaken the power of Alexander, and had to witness certain things shown to her by the Eidolon of the Seas. She couldn't have gone any faster than she had."

Valor nodded solemnly. "Yes, and it is tearing her apart."

The thief shifted his stance, resting his hands on the hilts of his knives. "I saw her outside, giving last rites by the look of it. She had her hood up again."

Brunhilda looked to them both. "You must stop seeing this as a failure, Chosen, there is a broader view to be taken here. Truce is just one scene in it."

Valor face tightened and his whole body shook. "I do not give a damn about the broader view! The defenders of Truce, the servants in Cornelia, they were not just stepping-stones to a greater destiny, they were innocent people slaughtered! We are the four Light Warriors; we are supposed to be stopping this devastation, not ignoring it because of some 'greater cause'. I will never accept such blather, now or ever!"

"And yet…" came a gentle voice from the tent's entrance. "We must find a way to move on, or there will be no light left in our souls to relight the Crystals once we reach them."

Gantz turned to see Sana-Lynn in her white and red robes, gripping her pale staff in both hands horizontally down before her. The girl's white hood was up, her upper face covered over by honey-blond bangs.

Valor stood immediately. "Sana, you must be beyond exhausted, healing so many."

The girl nodded, sagging a bit with obvious fatigue. "A penance… for my failure."

All the physicians and the younger white mage in the tent suddenly stopped their ministrations, granting Sana a reverent bow, many intoning 'priestess', which she acknowledged, before they returned to their duties.

Something suddenly occurred to Gantz. "You… Sana, you cured me of the nightmare didn't you. It must have been some kind of spell put on me by that bloody squid demon."

The girl nodded. "I was given knowledge during my trial, having remembered everything I ever studied about the Litanies of Esuna back in the White Temple. I can now heal mental maladies just as I can physical ones." As if to demonstrate, she walked into the center of the tent and lifted her staff while chanting softly under her breath.

The crook of her staff began to glow and everyone looked up at it. Motes of holy light suddenly wafted up about Sana as her staff shone ever brighter until it gave off a magical pulse that gently washed the entire tent in a wave of light greenish energy.

Gantz smelled a pleasant hint of mint as he was buoyed by the healing power. Not even injured, he felt galvanized by it before the light faded. Looking around he saw the wounded defenders sitting up on their cots in bewilderment, all their injuries apparently healed.

Then, without another word, Sana-Lynn turned and left the tent.

The boy white mage shook his head in awe. "She must be the most powerful white mage that has ever lived… at least since the White Wizard's time."

Almost immediately, Brunhilda managed to sit up, working her bandaged arm in amazement. "I have never witnessed such power, and I am no stranger to white mages' healing."

Valor looked as if he had been about to go after Sana-Lynn but stopped himself, instead sitting back down on the stool next to the commander. "What will you do now, Lady Rainhart?"

The woman looked decidedly stronger, her severe face still heavily scarred up the left side, the signs of older wounds not having vanished with the healing. "Whatever I can with… whatever is left. Hopefully, no more monster armies arrive at our doorstep. With our defenses so thoroughly battered, we would not survive another assault."

Valor shook his head. "I doubt you will have to worry about that so soon. Goblins and trolls do not just spring from thin air. This horde must have been building up for some time and it takes a powerful leader to force so many into any semblance of cohesion. From what Robin said, the dwarves managed to kill the ogres, and she herself took down the squid fiend, so the leaders of this force are finished at least. I would certainly keep a look out for roving bands though."

The woman managed to stand. "Yes, we will do so as we shore up our broken defenses with at least simple earthworks and palisades. I was hoping the dwarfs might have stayed to help with such things, but they have already gathered up their dead and left. I am not surprised. They are not part of our kingdom but live beneath it, rarely venturing out. Regardless, rebuilding the wall will take more resources and artisans than we have at the moment, but there is hope for Truce yet, even without the dwarfs or the Citadel. Still, I think the greater question, Lord Valor, is what will the four Light Warriors do now?"

Gantz barked a laugh. "Oh, we get to head north through the pass into northern Highland and find some monster knight named Garland to have a nice heartfelt chat."

Valor nodded sharply. "Yes, it is beyond time that we brought Garland to justice! He keeps Princess Sarah imprisoned in the Temple of Fiends to the north. We will see him destroyed for his betrayal of the King's Army and my royal cousin shall be released from his grasp."

Commander Rainhart folded her arms. "Yes, I remember that you mentioned Garland of the Dark Sword. In that case, you have about a week left to travel then. I only wish we could send you off with some sort of fanfare. Despite what you might think, you have earned it."

The Chosen of Earth looked down, his gaze hardening: "No, the defenders of Truce earned it with their great sacrifice, save it for them when you can manage such."

Gantz sighed. "Yeah, I slept through the whole thing anyway, so I can't take any credit for it. What remains now is to find this blasted freak Garland and put him down. I can't exactly say I'm looking forward to it, but after all this, I'm thinking some bloody payback is due."

Valor looked over at Gantz, his brow knit with determination. "Indeed."