Swaine felt someone shove his back as he lied on sands of the desert. His head was buried in his arms as he tried to find the will to move. "Get up! We need to start moving! Are you lazy or what," Scrofie insulted as she continued to shake him. She heard him growl then mumble irritably back at her. "What? I couldn't quite hear you! Maybe I'm getting old!" Funny, it was that very reason he couldn't get up.
Everything ached. Every last joint in his body, it seemed. He turned his head up so his mouth was free. "I said. GETTING OLD HURTS!" He glared up at the teen. He gritted his teeth and looked down at the sand. It was starting to heat up. He needed to get up soon. "And now I'm facing a slight predicament. The sand will get to almost unbearable temperatures but my joints seem to have it out for me." He sighed and rolled his eyes. It seemed it would be one of those days. "Out you come, boy," he called defeatedly, his chest glowing green for a moment, summoning a giant white furry ape-like creature. "You know the drill." He nodded at his familiar.
Scrofie watched as it gently scooped him up and carefully put the man on its back. The man in question managed to finally sit up and peer over its head. "Thanks, Squish'." He looked up at the girl's puzzled expression.
"But- You shouldn't be able to- how," she tried to argue. She recalled the thief being absent of magic according to the stories. "You shouldn't be able to use familiars! Not without magic, at least!"
He blinked as he stared over the papa sasquash's head, tilting his own. "I don't," he answered. He reached under his shirt and pulled out a necklace with a green pendant on it. "I keep my familiars in here. It's kind of like a locket, but for familiars." He twirled it. "Pretty neat, huh," he showed off, smirking.
The beast walked up to her and nuzzled her gently. "Woah," she exclaimed. "Tell it to stop doing that you nutter," she demanded. It growled sympathetically when it looked at her arm.
"Nah. He likes you, that's all." He petted the back of the yeti. "Squishy here has a mind of his own, sometimes. I appreciate that in my familiars," He divulged as he leaned over and grinned. "I feel like I can connect better with them if they can have a bit of freedom." He smiled fondly at old battle memories. "Familiars are all about personality and taste- though I've been pleasantly surprised by a few that I didn't think would fit."
"Hmm," she moaned sourly. "He'll stick out like a sore thumb, don't you think?" She watched as the beast picked up the pack and handed it to her. She took it and slung it over her shoulder and began to walk, the pair following after.
"Hey, you think you could hand me a vial of sage's secret? It'll really help with my joints," he requested from the teen… only to be hit in the face with the bottle. "Ack," he yelped as the bottle fell on the back of the yeti. He picked it up and looked irritably at her. "What was that for?!"
A wand was thrust towards his face and he leaned back reflexively. "Just so you know, I'm still not entirely on board with this deal. I'm not going to be taking care of a decrepit old man, got it?"
His face relaxed and he threw a cocky smirk. "Hit me. Go ahead and throw your most powerful spell at me! Believe me, I've faced worse!" He grabbed the wand and angled it just over his heart and glared down at her. "I'll even take a fireball to the heart to prove it." When her face softened and withdrew her wand, and looked down he nodded. "I thought so. Just remember who you're calling decrepit." He stopped for a moment and a hint of realization crossed his features. "That's a good place to start."
She hummed in response. "What? What's a good place to start?"
"If you're going to be a good thief, do some digging. Make sure you have your facts straight before going off half-cocked. Either that or look like a fool," he lectured, waving a hand as they continued their trek. "If you have all the details it makes for some savvy negotiation tactics. You can really get in their head if you try."
"Isn't there a chance they could fight back," she wondered, adjusting the pack.
"Well, yes," he recalled. "They could call you out on blackmail if you mince your words incorrectly." He looked off into the distance, the heat waves rising off of the sands. "It takes skill and practice."
She thought for a moment and looked over at the beast. "Hey, aren't you being kind of cruel to Squishy riding him out here in the heat," she wondered as she looked at the never melting ice on its head and the panting creature.
He looked down guiltily at the papa sasquash and lightly scratched the back of its head. "I am… but sadly he's the only familiar I have that can carry me." He looked down at his pupil with a sad smile. "I hate doing this to him but I don't think I'd be able to make this journey without him." He petted the creature again which resulted in it shaking with a pleased look on its otherwise constantly irritable face.
Moments of silence passed as he looked out past the hollowed-out sandstone towers formed by many a green buncher's punches as well as the wind he began to notice a shadow looming over him. Before either he or his familiar could react he was picked up by two giant mechanical arms and held in bridal style as another set supported his back. "The hell," he shouted in shock as he looked up into the blue light of the solitary robotic eye.
Squishy stopped dead in its tracks and looked up at the robot with a fierce growl. It cautiously approached the machine as it sniffed. The yeti shook its head and looked back up at it in confusion when it found a familiar scent. It looked at Scrofie and began to whine, confused at what to do.
"Ssh," the teen said as she approached the yeti. "Hey, you can get out the heat some, now." It backed away and turned its head back to Swaine for instruction.
He nodded back. "Come on. It's alright," he agreed. "This thing seems to be under her control, so I'll be fine, boy." It whined again before leaping into the air and returning into the pendant as a ball of light. After, he focused on Scrofie again with an intense scowl. "Don't you ever do that again without asking me, you hear?"
"From what I recall, you're too stubborn to quit," she threw back at him. "So, I just took the chance and saved your pet from heat stroke."
"Or you could have just told me you had a giant robot familiar!" He bobbed his head from side to side. "See? This is what I was talking about, Scrofie. Negotiations need to be thought out. Actions need to be thought out! You probably could have used rejuvenate on your arm!" Avery and his master stopped dead in their tracks. "You didn't even think of that, did you?! This is what separates you from the professionals! You. Don't. Think."
There was a menacing silence that hung overhead. She didn't even turn to say anything. The machine dropped the man and returned to her under her command. She dropped the supply sack turned and marched over to him angrily. "And if I did? It would probably screw my arm up worse! I suck at healing anything and anyone! I've never been good at it- at any support magic!" When he looked up at her from his place on the ground he noticed her disappointed and hurt expression. She stomped and kicked up the sand as she suddenly turned away. "That's what got thrown in the works! I'm such an inept fool I can't even heal myself without making it worse!"
She sighed. "You want to know why I ran away? My parents saw my magic. They thought I could be as great a magician as the great sage of Hamelin." She glanced back at the legendary thief who listened as he slowly lifted himself with his arms. "When I could never master my spells completely, I knew I had failed them." She took out her gun. "But at least I had my love for machines and the stories my uncle gave me…" She turned back with a hint of a smile on her face. "Of you and your adventures."
He managed to get up and brush himself off. He frowned and stared at her. "You weren't listening to those tales correctly, then," he accused. "When I left, I set out to be my own person for the wrong reason. I thought I wasn't good enough for my family- for my country. I let the ideals of others make me believe there wasn't anything I could possibly do." He pursed his lips as he looked at the tiny waves of sand. "I said that I was going to get stronger, but really… I just became a shadow of my former self," Swaine reflected bitterly, closing his eyes for a moment as he shook his head.
He walked up to her somberly. "But then, something changed. The duty fell on Oliver, the pure-hearted one, to save the world and to I to do the same for Hamelin. I didn't let my lack of skills hold me back. Instead, I embraced the skills I knew I had." He put a hand on her shoulder and looked into her eyes. "You haven't failed anyone, Scrofie! Look at what you've done!" He motioned to her left arm. "Look at that! An arm made of mostly wood, powered by magic! There aren't a lot of people who specialize in that- hell you'd be hard pressed to find them in even Hamelin!" He took her other shoulder and smiled at her. "Embrace your talents, feed them and they'll become your greatest strengths."
She could only stare up at him. At that moment, she recognized him. Her head reared back as the realization sunk in. "Uncle Gascon," she whispered.
"Wha…?" His eyes widened. The fear in his gut, the reality he hoped wasn't true, rose up as he looked at her. He forcibly feigned ignorance. "Who," he questioned her. Please no, the plea rang in his head. Please don't let this be- What have I done to her…? It couldn't be true. He didn't want it to be true. This maimed undernourished girl couldn't be the same niece he swore to look out for like his own child. Through his tales of grandeur, he realized, he had inadvertently caused this abhorrent reality.
"Don't try to play dumb," she snapped, pulling away and glaring at him. "You've known exactly who I was from the start, haven't you?" She pointed at him. "I had my suspicions!" She gasped and turned away as a thought occurred to her. "Of course. It makes sense." She turned back to him. "You were sent by father to fetch me, weren't you?"
"I-," he began, reaching out towards her. "Lynnea," he pleaded. "Try to understand-,"
"I can't believe you! Of course! You'd tell me anything to convince me to go home! I mean you?! Swaine?!" She raised her hands above her head and lowered them, slapping her hands against her legs. She turned and stomped away from him only to turn back and face him. "I can't believe I actually fell for it! That I didn't recognize you sooner!"
"Lynnea, I am Swaine," he confirmed as his hand fell. "It's the identity I took after leaving Hamelin, after leaving your father behind!" When she turned away he lowered his head and sighed defeatedly. "I understand… it's a little bit difficult to believe." He looked up with a determined frown. "Look. I was sent to search for you- but not for the reasons you think." She yelped when a pair of arms wrapped around her. "Marcassin misses you… Terribly. He'd hate it if something bad happened to you- we both would," he revealed as he held her tighter. "Please. Just go home- before you lose more than your arm?"
"Why would you care," she snarled back. "You were gone for five years, uncle! Where the flip were you when things started going to hell," she argued as she tried to break away from his hold. "Everyone started to tell me that I should focus more on magic- that I had to start thinking of eventually taking the throne. They had the gall to get angry when I couldn't focus my healing spells and blame it on ineptitude and laziness!" She struggled against his grip but found he only strengthened his resolve to maintain it. "They kept saying that I should only focus on the future destined for me- the future of an empress… a Great Sage!" Finally, she gave up and looked down. "I just want to be me… I believe I can do that if I can become like the legends, even for a moment, I might just be able to make some sort of difference my own way," she said softly as she looked over his arms.
He breathed heavily through his nose and closed his eyes. "You're just copying me, then. You're no good a thief," he breathed. "What is your way? What's unique to you," he asked her, raising a hand and softly petting her head. "I don't give a damn whether you can heal people with magic." He opened his eyes slightly and tilted his head, glancing off to the side. "Do I think it was wrong of your parents to try and force it on you like that? Hell yes." He smirked down at her and loosened his grip. "But you shouldn't try to be Swaine- there will only ever be the one."
"Then what should I be," she wondered, looking up.
"Lynnea. You should be Lynnea: whoever that is, whether she's a princess or a simple engineer. Or both." He finally let go of his niece.
She looked lost but then smirked. "How am I supposed to take that kind of advice from a man with two identities?" She stared down at her shoes and idly shifted her feet in thought. She looked up and showed a proud, wide smile. "For now, until I figure that out, I'll be Scrofie, the legendary master thief's apprentice!" She even gave him a thumbs-up.
As he braced his sides and reared back his head he roared with laughter. "Sure, kiddo," He encouraged afterward, leaning toward her. "But after we get to Al Mamoon and meet Rashaad to send us back to Hamelin, that's the end of it!"
She tilted her head, her energetic expression replaced by bewilderment. "You're escorting me all the way home?"
He crossed his arms and smirked cruelly down at her, though the cruelty was not directed at her, she could tell. "Yeah," he said curtly. "I need to have a little chat with Marcassin to get his side of things. Maybe perhaps see what the hell he's thinking." He sighed and shook his head as his arms fell. "But, honestly, Lynnea, this is my fault. All of it. Every bit."
She blinked as she continued to listen. "What do you mean?"
"I filled your head with so many of my exploits that now you're repeating them." He placed a hand on her right shoulder and looked sincerely into her eyes. "And for that, my darling niece, I am sorry."
"What's there to be sorry for," she shot back. She shrugged and looked out at a distant sand dune. "Things wouldn't be the same. I wouldn't be the same." When he raised an eyebrow at her she rolled her eyes. "You were just trying to be a good uncle," she breathed out as she walked over and picked up the pack. She began to walk off.
"Well, your uncle says you're going the wrong way," he corrected her, jerking his head in the correct direction. She stopped and turned around with a blush and a nervous smile.
"I- I knew that," she lied. "I was just- I was just testing you!" She quickly walked back to him.
He chuckled and raised his right hand halfway with his palm to the sky. "Sure you were," he muttered with an amused shake of the head. Training began: now.
