Cley's bravery was false. He was afraid. Fury heated his swings in the village, but now, as the dust settled, all turned crystal clear. The blood rested on his hands. Tainted, wicked blood, for sure, but blood none the less. It was the accursed fates who brought this upon him. He was tired. He had killed, in fury and hate. He saved the lives of many, and took the lives of few. But why him? Why should he choose who should live and who should die?

It was obvious to Roy what Cley now pondered. He once had pondered such things himself. But he must move on. And he would. "Don't look back on those who died, but on the faces of those you've saved. Those who you call family. Those who you call friends. Those are who you should think of. Those men had killed many, and would kill many more. You used your sword to stand against them. That is not a crime. It is praiseworthy. You were strong."

Cley knew there was still a ways until the castle, and he would be even more useless to Roy in his current state then if he turned and fled. "Who am I to judge who is to live and who is to die?"

Roy didn't look over at Cley, but Cley still felt the lord's eyes upon him somehow. "You haven't. The powers above, they did. Whatever you worship, whatever you believe, is what guided your hand. If it was not to be, it would not have been. Submit yourself to fate. Only it can govern power over life."

Cley was still uncertain, but the words Roy said rang true. His heart was heavy, but now seemed firm. It was his duty, to his people and land, to save his lord. That was certain, no matter how many stood in his path. A new righteousness surrounded his sword. Cley realized that, being so easily persuaded, he must have believed this himself, deep down. It was good to know.

The castle was in sight. And there did seem to be a battle, with many more bandits then expected. As the pair neared, the battle became clearer. And it appeared that they were too late. Strewn across the ground were bodies. Many bodies. And all had one thing in common. They were bandits. Still, Roy was tense. Cley was too. They rode through the war zone left behind, and Cley counted bodies. Much too many for his theory. A man like Damas would never inspire the loyalty of this many men. Something else was afoot. And Damas still was nowhere to be found.

The castle grew larger upon approach, and Roy noticed none of his own. Maybe they were inside. Roy only hoped. The gate seemed claustrophobic, and both could smell the death around them as the dead bodies continued through into the castle courtyard. How far had the bandits reached inside before they were beaten? Were they beaten? Roy's mind was clouded with doubt. He still saw no Pherae bodies, but why? No castle guards or knights, and yet the bandits got so far. Something here was fouler than he believed.

The two men dismounted their steeds and entered the halls of Pherae. No dead rested here, though the tension was thick. Cley could see men standing close, backs to him. One was clad all in red, another clad in yellow, and still a third clad in green. The men in red and yellow held tight to their lances, while the man in green, kept a tight grip on a sword. Cley could see beyond them a horrible sight. It had truly come down to this. There were at least four men on the other side of the hall, but Cley wasn't sure what lurked in shadows. He clearly saw Damas, his axe held tight to the Marquess's throat. Another man, dressed all in black, hood over his head, held a young girl that Cley had never seen, but knew to be Lilina, the Marquess of Ostia's daughter. The other two men were clad similar to the Lilina's captor. They were completely still, and Cley could see none of their faces.

Roy didn't know how to get out of this situation. He made his way past Alan, Lance, and Bors, and stopped short halfway through the hall. Only in fleeting thought did Roy ever wonder where Wolt was. Roy could feel the eyes of his men on him. He counted six men, counting the two in the shadows. Their daggers glittered against the smallest fragment of light, and Roy took stock out of the corner of his eye. Let them believe they had the advantage. It was the greatest advantage he could have.

The man who could only be Damas stared intently upon the young lord. "Just the man I've been waiting for."

The man who held Lilina scanned his eyes across the crowd. The blackness of his face was exemplified only by the red of his eyes, shining through the one his gaze finally rested on. Cley could feel the man's stare pierce him, his soul. It brought a shiver through him, though he dared not show it. His sword grew to be a burden in his hand. He felt his strength drain from him. His mind rolled. The world was getting black. Cley averted his eyes not a second to soon. His strength seemed to come back to him. The sword became comfortable to him again. He took deep breaths, as if he had been holding his breath. What was that man?

Roy watched as the Dark Man shifted. He knew the man was smiling. Finally, he spoke, his voice hiding the undertones of what Roy detected as a hiss. "It seems my guest of honor has arrived, as well."

Roy followed the Dark Man's gaze to Cley, who was labored for air. The ride here hadn't done it. Had it been the man? Roy's eyes turned back to his father, who stood quietly. It was disturbing. Neither Lilina nor his father had spoken a word since he had arrived, but both stared at him intently. The room was again silent. Roy was the next to raise his voice. "Are you Damas?"

The bandit spoke no words, but his glare was all the answer Roy needed. "Let my father and Lilina go."

Damas smiled, but it was the Dark Man who spoke. The hiss was there again. Cley had caught it too. He dared not look at the man. "Don't be hasty, little boy. I recommend you listen."

Roy was silent. He didn't let a shred of his anger betray him. He was still. He seemed in control. In his mind he could see the men's blood. But only in his mind. Patience. It was his friend. His only friend. "What do you want?"

Now Damas, his axe glinting under the sun's gaze shining through the eastern window, opened his diseased mouth. "You, lordling. Just you."

Roy took the rapier resting in his hands, and turned his gaze to it. Damas seemed to tighten up. The other men stayed still. The young lord could feel the smile still shining from the Dark Man's hidden face. It was terrifying. Whoever this man was, he was dangerous. Roy's rapier fell into its sheath, and he unhooked it from his armor. The sheathed blade fell to Roy's feet. Damas was smiling, his muscles again relaxed. Roy could have counted the man's decayed teeth if he felt like counting over twenty. The man disgusted him. "There. I'll come to you. Just let them go."

Roy watched as Lilina's eyes grew to a horrible size. Fear rested in the eyes of his father. Yet Roy saw no other choice. The Dark Man hissed again. "It seems you misunderstood my companion. We don't want you alive."

Roy saw both men that were hiding in the shadows move for the first time. He didn't have much time. Roy banked left as a dagger flew past him, narrowly missing his ear. A second ago, it would have hit him right between the eyes. The lord eyed the other man, who had the throwing knife ready. Suddenly, Roy watched the man crumple to the ground. Descending from the rafters behind was Wolt, already reaching for another arrow. The four remaining foes didn't move. "I suggest you put down that bow, little knight, or your Marquess gets it. And I can make it very slow."

Damas flicked his wrist, and a trickle of red fell down Eliwood's neck. Roy looked back over at Wolt. Wolt hesitated, but finally relaxed his bow. The Dark Man looked around. The hissing seemed to be constant. Was the man laughing? "Not bad. But I didn't really think that would work."

Roy eyed the man. How foolish did the man believe Roy was? The attack was set up strictly to finish this quick. No one would waste two men on a mission that they knew wouldn't succeed. The Dark Man was bluffing. Either that, or much more dangerous than Roy had thought. He hoped for the former. "You can't expect to escape. Just let them go."

The Dark Man looked over at the man to his left, and seemed to twirl Lilina out of his hands to the man, who grasped her before she could react. The Dark Man, now free to move, began to walk towards Roy, who was now defenseless. Roy could hear the rustle of armor and weapons behind him. He put up a hand. His men stopped. Roy dared to take a step towards the man. It was the hardest step he had ever taken, but he wouldn't appear weak. "And why do you want me dead? Do I offend you? Or maybe you just can't stand looking at someone with an honorable life."

Roy knew the only chance he had against this man was to make him mad. He doubted it would be easy. The hissing laugh came from beneath the man's hood. Roy barely managed to contain his shiver. "An honorable life? Like you had a choice, you little lord. But alas, all of your genius guesses turn out false. I'm killing you, dare I say, for my freedom."

Roy had never seen the man before, but his voice struck a familiar chord. It wasn't the man he knew, but it was the tone. It was evil. Actual evil, or so he thought. The man laughed again. This time Roy could not contain himself. He shook. And Roy could feel the Dark Man's smile grow. "How brave you are, my little lordling. But it doesn't matter. Fate will tell that you will leave this room alive. Fate is wrong."

Roy jumped back as the man ripped a dagger so fast it seemed to cut the air in two. Roy looked down. A gash was struck through his armor. He could feel warmth seep down his chest. He was bleeding. And the man had missed. The Dark Man smiled, and his eyes shifted to a new target.

Cley felt time slow as the gaze of the Dark Man drew onto him. It was burning. Cley felt the heat from those red eyes, and clutched at his chest in pain. What was the man doing to him? Cley knew he only had one choice. His grip on his sword grew tighter. And then he ran. The Dark Man, under his hood, only smiled. He had been waiting.

Cley felt the heat in his body grow hotter as he charged the man. There was no choice. He had to kill the man. It was the only way to stop the burn. The man would die. The man would bleed. And the burn would be gone. The burn had to leave. Cley felt himself grow hotter. He imagined the smell of his burning flesh. The smell of smoke filled his nostrils. He couldn't take it. The man was causing the pain. The pain would leave when he killed the man. Soon, the man would be no more. And yet he heard the dark man laugh harder, his hiss like a beacon, aiming Cley's blow. Cley ran faster.

The downward swing was blocked easily. Cley never saw the Dark Man move. Cley heard the clash. And then the sound of metal falling to the floor. His eyes turned to see his sword shattered to pieces by the man's dagger. What was he! "Nice try, Cley."

Cley's mind reeled. Who was the man? How did he know who Cley was? How did he know Cley's name? And how could he do all this? Cley jumped back, clutching tight onto the remains of his blade. There wasn't much left. That was when Cley felt the burn again. It seemed to go right to his heart, and the man just kept staring. Why? Why was this happening? Cley never bothered to think about it. He only swung. This time, he was sure he hit the man. The man's robe was torn. It ripped. The remains of Cley's sword cut right through where the Dark Man's right shoulder should be.

And yet, nothing happened. The Dark Man looked to the wound, if you could call it that. All that left the tear was black smoke, seeming to rap around the man's body as it escaped. That was when Cley realized the man wasn't human. The Dark Man laughed. "You attacked sooner than I thought you were going to. My mistake."

Cley looked to the remains of his sword, and saw black residue on it. He watched in horror as smoke rose from his sword as the metal was being eaten away. Cley dropped the sword in fear, and looked forward at the creature before him, whatever it was. He didn't know what to do. And the burn was gone.

Roy watched as the Dark Man, whatever he was, readied another blow. Roy could feel the monster's smile. Roy knew he didn't have much time. He knew where his sword was, over five feet behind him. He didn't have time. His body moved before his mind could rationalize his movements. He ran forward. Roy only stopped moving when he was standing between Cley and the beast. Roy only stopped breathing when the knife plunged through his stomach, and Roy saw black smoke travel from the man's sleeve into Roy's fresh wound.