A.N: If you got to here, well done, keep reading. This one's better, I promise.
Warning: Violence and bloodshed. And prejudice against half-elves...just in case one is reading this.
Virginia
Fables. Knowledge. Wisdom
'People create fables. Fables pass on knowledge. Knowledge breeds wisdom. Wisdom flows through the world'.
May your wisdom start here.
Sequoia shuffled past the plaque on the wall that bore the academy's motto, smirking when she noticed that '-not in some crappy story' had been scrawled onto the plaque at the bottom.
The Palmacosta-Sybak academy, often known as 'Systa' to its students, was known for its terrible motto. It was just as well that the teaching was first rate.
Leading experts on all subjects, from all walks of life, gathered here to teach, from the most obscure subjects to the most banal.
Currently, it was the Sybak branch of the academy that was holding theoretical teaching subjects, whilst Palmacosta was holding the vocational subjects.
Sequoia was a theoretical girl, hence the choice of Sybak and her course. After all 'Angeology' was mostly conjecture.
Hurrying past a few other freshmen, who were loitering in the hall – completely lost, she found her classroom, the title of the course painted on the door.
'Angeology.
Professor: Lord K Aurion'
Knocking on the door, Sequoia slipped inside, hoping that the professor wouldn't be too angry about her lateness. It was only the first day.
"Miss Treen, I presume."
Sequoia nodded, looking at the floor.
"Yes sir, I apologise for my lateness, sir, but the academy is large and I had difficulty finding my way here."
"Humph…well, it is the first day, I'll let you off this once. Don't do it again though." The deep voice warned.
"Yes sir, thank you sir."
She looked up at her teacher and stumbled slightly, surprised by his appearance.
When she had applied for angeology, she had been expecting her professor to be some crazed, wiry, balding old man, with a long white beard, spectacles and maybe for him to be leaning on a gnarled cane, wearing odd, flowing robes.
Instead, she was greeted with a tall, handsome man in his late-twenties. Spiky dark auburn hair somehow managed to cover his face without making him look suspicious, even though only one ruby eye could be seen clearly. Even more amazingly, he still managed to look respectable despite the well sculpted hairstyle.
His stance was relaxed and confident, one hand resting on the desk, the other at his hip as he regarded her and the clothes he wore….nice.
There were no flowing, brightly coloured robes, but black pants, knee high boots and a snug black turtleneck sweatshirt that clung to the young teacher's body all too noticeably.
And my god, was it a nice body, she noticed, surreptitiously letting her gaze crawl over the broad shoulders, tapered slender waist and well defined muscles. She was sure she could almost see a six-pack, the top was that tight.
Blinking rapidly, Sequoia tried to clear her head of the image of that toned, black-clad body and began to make her way to a seat, when the teacher raised a pale hand.
"Miss Treen?" he asked, the voice deep, strong, smooth. Again, completely unlike what Sequoia had been expecting – a thin, cracked, frail wavering voice. "May I ask what your forename is…so that I can note it on the register?"
She shifted uncomfortably, looking at the already seated, largely human class.
"Sure, it's…Sequoia."
"Sequoia," he repeated with an air of disbelief "Sequoia….Tree..n?"
She nodded, blushing, and the man shook his head.
"Your parents have a cruel sense of humour," he commented, making a note on the register "Take a seat, please."
"It's not cruel really," stated a sneering voice from the class "Quite funny, actually. A stupid name for a stupid creature."
"I beg your pardon?" The young professor asked darkly, his words drawn out slowly, threateningly.
The human at the back of the class didn't seem to pick up on the threat.
"Haven't you realised she's a half-elf? Don't you read the application forms? – You have to state your race on them…although, she probably lied anyway.
"Mr. Bront, I am well aware of Miss Treen's heritage and it is of little concern to me. What's more, I will not tolerate racism, of any kind, in my presence…and if you continue to make such comments," he warned "I'll throw you off the course….understand?"
Waiting for any sign of a retort, he walked over to the blackboard. Silence issued from the back of the class.
"Good. Since this is the first lesson, I shall introduce myself formally and lay down some rules.
I, am Lord Aurion. You may refer to me as 'Professor' or 'Lord Aurion' as you prefer.
I have been studying all elements of angeology from an early age and am fluent in the angelic language…also, I'm considerably older than I appear to those of you who deem 'from a young age' insufficient for me to teach this course."
He paused for effect, letting the information sink in.
"As I have told most of my student in previous years, do not try and quiz me on my personal life, should you – for some reason- be interested. It is not a subject that is up for discussion."
A couple of girls in the centre row gave quiet groans of disappointment, eliciting a quirked eyebrow from Lord Aurion, and rolled eyes from the male students.
"As for the regulations of this class:
1 – You shall be punctual. No exceptions, unless it is a major emergency…and I will investigate whether it's an emergency, so don't constantly tell me that your grandmother has died.
2 – No talking during class, unless I give you permission.
3 – All essays etc. must be handed in on the deadline.
If you have a problem, see me at the end of the lessons and I will see what can be done." He turned his back to the class, picking up a piece of chalk.
"Oh," he added as an after thought "For those of you who think this is an easy subject where you can 'bunk off', I suggest you leave now. I am serious about this subject and I expect my students to be too."
He directed the words, alongside a glare, to a couple in the corner who appeared to be playing tonsil tennis. When the message didn't seem to get through, Professor Aurion strolled back to his desk, picked up a large stress ball that was sitting atop it, and threw it.
The ball hit the wall just above the heads of the couple, succeeding in breaking them apart.
"Thank you for finding time in your busy hormone fuelled schedule to give me your attention…now, out." He pointed calmly to the door, and the couple quickly scurried out, red-faced.
"I advise anyone else who's just experienced an epiphany to do the same."
No-one moved, either out of fear of incurring his quiet wrath, or a willingness to learn.
"Very well.
Angeology is a subject that has many different branches. Depending on the context, it can enter into theology, history, science, arts and language…and in obscure ways, other subjects.
I will be using this week to…"
"A copy of ' Theory of Angeology III' would be useful to you." The man concluded. "I hope that I'll see all of you here tomorrow and ready to…."
"Kratos!"
The door to the classroom burst open, revealing a slender white-haired young man, breathing heavily and looking anxiously at the professor.
"Kratos! We need your help!"
Kratos turned fully to the young man.
"Genis…what is it? What's happened?"
"It's Exire!" the boy gasped, still dragging in large amounts of air.
"What about it?"
"It's gone."
Kratos' brow furrowed.
"How do you mean 'gone'? It's a city…it won't just vanish."
"It's fallen out of the sky!...Man I never thought I'd say that."
"What?!"
The exclamation came from a slender purple haired girl on the front row.
"But my family live there!"
'Not anymore' Kratos thought, but refrained from saying it. "Calm down," he instructed before turning to the rest of the class and announcing "Class dismissed."
He turned and hurried out the door with Genis, grabbing the sheathed long-sword that was mounted on the wall. The steel blade had been a present from Lloyd, something he had made himself for his father once he had inherited Flamberge. The former mercenary would still need a blade, in case of emergencies…such as this.
"Professor Aurion, wait!" the called after him.
"Miss Treen, go and find your friends. Wait with them. I'll inform you of what's happened when I return and no," he cut off whatever she was about to say. "You can't come."
The auburn haired man turned his back on her and ran, catching up with the other half-elf who had jogged down the hall.
"She's cute," Genis commented.
"It's wonderful that you think of such things when a city has been destroyed. What happened to Exire?"
"That's the problem, we don't know. Raine and I were in her classroom when we saw a trail of smoke in the sky, so we ran up to the observatory and the whole city was just…falling."
"Where is Raine now?"
"She's getting the rheiards ready."
The two men took a sharp right, sprinting to the entrance, the matt cream paint and stone work of the walls blurring, Genis actually managing to keep pace with Kratos.
In the years that had passed, the half-elf had grown from his rather small height of 5'2" to a more respectable 5'7" and was, consequently, even taller than Raine now, and just an inch or so shorter than Lloyd.
Bursting out of the main doors, they took a left into the wide alley where transportation vehicles were stored. Raine was already on her rheiard, the machine humming slightly as it hovered and she looked over her shoulder at Kratos, giving him an uneasy smile in greeting.
Kratos nodded in return, strapping the long-sword at his waist and pulling out ethereal blue wings that cast a pallet of blues, purples and gold to dance along the brick walls on either side of him. Noticing that Genis was settled on his rheiard, the seraph kicked off from the ground, surging into the air, wind whipping his hair back from his face as he headed for the clouds.
The seraph levelled off his ascent, high above the university town of Sybak, gazing out over the new landscape of the world since the two lands were reunited.
The geography of certain regions had changed drastically since the worlds had been reintegrated. Mizuho and the Gaorrachia forest had latched onto the Iselia forest, making it one massive labyrinth of trees. Flanoir was at the bottom of the world, tucked neatly out of sight, the Triet desert at the opposite end of the world, at the far north. Everything else had just sort of…forced their way into a place on the map and that was that. Needless to say, the inhabitants hadn't taken kindly to the geographical changes, or their new neighbours. The first few years following the reunification of the worlds, fraught with wars, uprisings and a lot of political battles between neighbouring territories.
Now, in the fourth year, things seemed to be cooling down, although it was unlikely that all aspects would be resolved until a few decades had passed. On the other hand, some regions seemed to be getting on famously with their new neighbours. The Iselians and people of Mizuho had formed an allegiance with each other, Sybak, Palmacosta and at least the Imperial research lab of Meltokio had been exchanging information since they had made contact a month or so after the worlds had collided.
Kratos considered his decision to return to earth, surmising that he had made the right choice….not that he really had a choice. When Derris-Kharlan had circled back around to earth and got stuck in the gravitational field again, it had started to disintegrate, its mana raining down onto the earth, helping the sapling of the great tree grow. Of course, he probably could have found a way to free it and set off again but really…what was he going to do up there? Stuck on a deserted comet, floating in outer space for an eternity. Pure hell, really.
No, Kratos was sure he had done the right thing. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the rheiards rising through the clouds to meet him, and Raine caught his full attention.
The professor had cut her hair into a short, styled bob that highlighted the shape of her face. Her eyes were bright blue, brought out by the crisp cerulean shirt she was wearing, her skin as pale and as smooth as ever.
Yes, he had made the right choice, in staying on earth. Now all he had to do was make the decision to get to know the professor a little better. Despite having known her for 5 years now, the seraph hadn't got to know her personally…he supposed that they could be called friends...distantly, but little more than that…
Shaking his head, Kratos beat his wings, flying over to the two half-elves who were waiting for him.
The trio flew north-west, skimming over mountains, the Ossa Trail blurring past below them, following an ever darkening trail of smoke.
"What do you think has happened?" Genis called.
"Whoever has been kidnapping half-elves over the past couple of years has decided to hit the main base." Kratos answered, and received a curse against humans in response.
The former Grand Tethe'alla Bridge, now just the Grand Bridge, materialised into view, and the three lowered their altitude, tracking the black smoke as it arced over the structures tall pillars.
As the bridge came closer into view however, Kratos noticed that it was not entirely in one piece, and he increased his wing beat rate to get a closer look.
The tops of the towers along the middle of the bridge were bent and dented, the metal ripped open in a gaping gash on one, as though something extremely large and heavy had smashed into it.
"I think it came this way!" Genis shouted sarcastically over the wind.
Spurred on, the angel ignored the half-elf's comments, lowering his height further still, speeding over an expanse of dark blue sea water, the column of black smoke billowing just over a mountain, thick and black.
Rising over the mountain, Kratos strained his wings against the buffeting the rheiards on either side of him were causing, and then all at once, the grounded city came into view.
The outline was hazed by the smoke surrounding it, but there was no mistaking the condition of the settlement.
The rotating rings that kept the city aloft were broken, shattered beyond repair in most cases, one still feebly turning. The docking isle of the city was submerged in the sea, the haven resting awkwardly on land, like a beached whale.
Flames engulfed one of the isles completely, sending up that acrid black smoke and a wave of heat-haze.
Settling down on a platform that wasn't completely engulfed by flame, Raine and Genis hopped off their rheiards, drawing weapons whilst Kratos retracted his wings and drew his sword, holding it loosely in his right hand.
It was deathly silent. No signs of life lingered anywhere about the half-elf haven, and the three cautiously edged along the bent walkway, alert for anything, but it seemed that the uninhabitance wasn't about to change.
Approaching the central isle cautiously, a body came into view, face down on the grass, and Genis and Raine ran forward to aid the person. Kratos followed slowly, assessing the area, aware that it was probably already too late for the person.
After a moment, Raine sat back on her haunches, looking back to Kratos and shaking her head.
He walked over to the siblings, taking note of the injuries on the body.
The supposed half-elf lay face down, bloody tears adorning the back of the fitted green dress that the figure worse.
Raine and Genis hadn't bothered to turn the body over. Nobody could survive those wounds, not to mention the fact that a large pool of congealed blood lay under the person's head, produced by a heavy blow to the back of the skull. The white hair around the wound was stained red.
White hair.
Kratos glanced to Genis, sitting to his right, feeling his stomach turn uneasily at the similarity of the colour.
Raine had noticed it too, perhaps knowing who the fallen figure was already, and for that reason, hadn't turned the body.
Kneeling down, Kratos grabbed the cold, stiff shoulders and, with an apologetic look to Raine, turned the slender corpse over.
It was a woman who looked to be in her early forties…probably 500 or so, in elven ages.
She was tall and slender, long silver-white hair, bound by a copper circlet, hung limply around her tapered face. Elegance exuded from the figure, despite her state, the glazed ice-blue eyes and snow white skin a key feature of her race.
Kratos heard Raine take a breath.
One of the woman's arms was wrapped around a doll that was pressed into her chest, the other resting over her flat abdomen as if to protect an unborn child.
There was no doubt about it. The pure-blooded elven woman, was Virginia.
Raine swallowed thickly, a lump in her throat at the sight of her mother's dead body. Part of her wondered if she should be more upset over her mother's death…whether she should be sobbing hysterically or begging life to return to the already frozen corpse. But she wasn't.
There was remorse, sadness and grief, but little more than what she would give a dying stranger. This was her own mother. The woman who had given birth to her, raised her for eleven years, even if it was only to abandon her and Genis in the end.
Excusing herself from her brother and Kratos' presence, she walked to the nearest, crumbling house, leaning on it, staring out at the lake as she tried to collect her thoughts.
She could hear Kratos and Genis in quiet conversation behind her, the younger man asking for confirmation that this was the mother he had never known. The older man gave a hushed affirmation, closing the eyes of the body, covering it with a ragged blanket that lay nearby.
They waited in differing degrees of patience for Raine to pull herself together.
Kratos glanced around the immediate area, his hand tightening on his sword, becoming increasingly suspicious of the silence. He understood that she needed time to process the information, to organize her thoughts but…it was unlikely that they were going to be alone for much longer.
Genis looked up at the mercenary, shaking his head, and tried not to look at the body behind him. It seemed to be a morbid fascination of his, however, for he couldn't stop his eyes from drifting back to the covered body. He wanted to run, get away from the body of his mother, whom he felt nothing but a distant, impersonal grief for. She may have created him, but he didn't know her, had no connection to her…nevertheless, he wanted to get away.
A few minutes passed in silence, the air becoming thick with tension as much as smoke and heat from the growing fires, and Raine heard quiet footfalls coming in her direction.
Ever so slowly, Kratos' hand came to rest tentatively on her shoulder, as if she would turn and bite his head off for touching her. She didn't, but nor did she welcome to the hand, whatever the reason.
Sighing, Raine closed her eyes, accepting the apprehensive comfort offered. For all her bravado, strong will and independence, once in a while, she needed the comfort offered by another person. It was odd that it should be Kratos who was offering her it…and especially so with Genis around, but it was even more odd, Raine thought, that she was accepting from the mercenary-turned-professor.
"I apologize if what I say next seems presumptuous but…you were very young when you truly lost her." The angel murmured, his voice soft in an attempt to comfort the agitated woman (not something he was particularly good at, he had to admit).
"I am," she paused and corrected herself "was…her daughter… for eleven years…does that count for nothing? Does it become cancelled out because she abandoned me and brother, even though she was only trying to save us? Even though she thought it was right?"
"Even if there was nothing else she thought she could do, even if there truly was nothing else she could have done…her choice was not necessarily right…or wrong."
"I'm…"
"In shock." He stated, ending the discussion "Let's examine what happened here, then return. We'll take her body with us and find somewhere to lay her to rest."
Raine nodded. "Yes, you're right. Here and now is our priority."
"Alright, let's start over there." He pointed to the other isle, pulling out his sword again and retreating from the tension that Raine was radiating, looking for Genis.
The younger half-elf had already started clambering over the bent walkway that led to the next platform of the city, apparently having noticed something the two adults hadn't, and they hurried to catch up to him.
The new area was in much the same state as the last, save for a fire that was rapidly consuming a house and the trio stopped at the end of the bridge, surveying the area before entering, when a soft voice was carried to them on the wind.
Weak, frail and scared, the words were barely audible over the roar of the nearby fire, and it was only due to Kratos' sharp hearing that the words were caught at all.
"Gone. All gone."
An old man stumbled from beneath a fallen shack and hobbled towards the newcomers, clearly not in his right mind. His voice sounded more like a lament for the dead than anything.
"All gone. All gone." He repeated.
"Who's gone?" Genis asked, hesitantly. He was eager to see if this man knew what had happened here, and to help the other half-elf…but it was risky.
The man's gaze locked onto him and he began to hobble over to Genis. Behind the youngest half-elf, Kratos drew himself to full height, uncomfortable and suspicious of the man.
"Half-elves. The exiled, who live here, dragged in chains and driven by whips of the faithless men."
"Faithless men?" Raine asked
"Humans…those who have no faith in the heavens." He noticed Kratos suddenly, his challenging stance behind Genis, and shrank away from him.
"Run, dear boy, my brethren, run before they…"
The words stopped abruptly as a burst of red blossomed onto the front of his tunic, a bloodstained sliver blade following through.
Gasping and gurgling, the man fell, but the sword in his chest, lodged in bone, stopped him from crumpling to the floor. A second later, the sword was yanked free and the heavy body fell.
"They never keep their mouths shut, do they?"
Genis backed up, stumbling into Raine as he stared at the old man's killer.
He was human, short and stocky, greying hair plastered to his forehead beneath an open fronted helmet. His clothes were a rich shade of copper, the material woven with metallic thread to give it it's colour, but the dark red bloodstains marred the cloth, and his bare, heavily tattooed arms were just as badly spattered with bodily fluids
A golden strip of material, which once would've been a sash, hung from his waist, fluttering in the heat haze. Kratos could just about make out the word printed on it, the motion of the cloth making it difficult to read.
'Saloth'sar? But that's the angelic language...how do they know that?'
A small logo accompanied the name, a depiction of a fallen angel, its white wings twisted and torn.
The same image was tattooed onto the man's arms, broken sets of wings, twirled around his arm in a grotesque sacrilegious chain.
A sense of alarm formed in Kratos' mind.
Raine tightened her grip on her staff as beside her, Genis started muttering a spell.
"So you're the one who's been kidnapping half-elves," she commented, watching as more men, dressed in various coloured uniforms appeared from the smoke and debris.
"Silence, she-elf," the man hissed, "You will be places under arrest and taken to the containment unit, along with your companions…if you struggle...we'll kill him." He pointed straight at Kratos.
"He's human." Raine stated, confident that the information would get the mercenary off the hook.
The man shrugged "Any human that works alongside and tolerates half-elves deserves death."
"Is that so?" she asked, raising her staff "Try this then."
Before the man had time to reply, a bolt of lightening coursed down from a black cloud overhead. He fell to the floor, his dead body twitching from the current running through it.
Genis lowered his kendama.
Stunned silence had settled over the remaining soldiers, a few of them jittering at the electricity in the air around them, as they stared at their dead commander.
Unsure as to what action to take against such a threatening opponent, they jostled backwards, before a harsh voice from the rear of the troops screamed a blood-curse.
Instantly, the human soldiers recovered, and rushed towards their opponents, screaming racial slurs and promises of pain.
Raine pirouetted, intending to find a spot where she could cast spells, and found her path blocked on all sides.
To her left and back, a wall of flame and soldiers. To her right, Kratos was already engaged in a fight.
Kratos ducked the soldier's blade as it swung down towards him, diving to the side, able to feel the knife edge skim past his leg as he made the movement.
He rolled upright, turned, plunged his own blade through the man's chest as he turned to face him. Yanking the blade free, he flipped it, slamming it through the stomach of the soldier he could sense behind him.
The angel spun on the spot, searching for Raine and Genis, his first instinct to get them away from the fight, but they were already lost among the other soldiers.
A man ran at him, sword raised, cursing him, and Kratos coolly side-stepped the crude attack, slashing his sword through the man's neck as he passed. The soldier's head lolled back, all but severed, blood pouring from slashed blood vessels, wine coloured liquid staining the ground as it poured.
A cry of surprise over the other side of the isle made Kratos wrench his attention away from the victim and focus on the source. Through a swarm of soldiers, he saw Raine fighting off her own attackers, the staff in her hands being wielded expertly, the heavy gem at the end slamming into the heads of the soldiers. A thin red line travelled across her pale cheek where a blade had caught her.
Genis was nowhere in sight. Without anyone to keep away attackers, the kendama was useless upfront.
Growling, Kratos twirled his sword, settling it into a more comfortable position in his palm, scanning his oncoming opponents.
Three in front, two flanking him on each side, two behind. Nine in total. No time for magic, too many to fight off with the blade…but it was the only option, other than dying.
The men were closing in, their weapons drawn, forming a tight circle so that he couldn't escape.
The mercenary stood to his full height among them, heart pounding, blood awash with adrenaline, his only thought of survival of the next few minutes. The long-sword hung limply by his side as the men continued to approach, mere feet away now.
With a flurry of movement, the seraph flashed the blade to his right, decapitating one of the two flanking his right side. A roundhouse kick followed, knocking the other to the floor, and Kratos carried the momentum into his next move, lowering the blade to slash through the knee cap of one of the men behind him.
Stopping the movement, he stood, instantly sending his sword to his left hand to whistle through the neck of the other, the force of the backslash fully decapitating the man.
Throwing the steel into his dominant hand, he rotated in bringing it down and left, then sweeping it in an upward arc, removing the sword arm of another.
A scream of anguish and agony split the air, a high, female cry from behind and Kratos faltered, the cry stealing his attention from his fight for a second.
It was long enough.
Kratos gave his own roar of pain, a sword protruding from his left hip and it was dragged diagonally upwards, against the curve of his waist in a motion that seemed to last forever.
The blade was wrenched free, and a hard blow to the back of his head followed. The seraph folded, crashing down onto the blood soaked earth, his head spinning.
He had only been there a second it seemed before he was wrenched up onto his knees, his body feeling entirely detached from his mind.
Knelt on the floor, injured and unarmed, Kratos felt a hand in his hair snapping his head backwards, exposing his throat. Staring down the length of his nose, the seraph could see Genis in much the same position, his hands bound behind him, arms covered in bruises.
Distantly, he felt his own hands being roughly tied, a sliver of cold metal being placed against his throat. His eyes slid across to Raine.
The half-elf was still standing, struggling against her captors, trying to wrench free of the vice-like grips on her arms.
She was saying something, but in his state, Kratos couldn't make out the words, but the tone was cutting and cold, not the hysterical screaming one would expect.
Blood dripped from her shoulder, soaking into her clothing.
"Quiet, woman!" the volume of the voice was loud enough for the mercenary to make out the words, along with the slap that followed unceremoniously. He pulled against his captors, lucid enough to understand that the three of them were in grave danger, a feeling of complete inadequacy engulfing him at his helplessness.
People he cared about, captured by soldiers, and once again, he was unable to save them.
A discussion seemed to be taking place amongst the captors before the highest ranking stepped forwards, announcing;
"Take them to the ICC."
"But sir, this one," the soldier restraining Kratos shoved his captive roughly "is human."
"Leave him."
"But he's alive."
The commander walked over and studied the auburn haired man "He'll die of blood loss. Leave him."
Hands threw the angel to the floor before raining down blows on him. Kicks and punches slammed into the body, shattering bones, leaving the subject barely conscious.
His vision blurred and nerves screaming pain from every area of his body. Kratos lay immobile on the floor, watching through blurred eyes as his half-elf companions were led away, garbled instructions and yells of indignation, helplessness, fear for him rang in his ears.
A pair of heavily booted feet appeared in front of him.
"Goodnight."
The black shape blurred as it crashed into his face.
Ohhhh drama!
Please review, kind, friendly, love-able people!