Author's Notes: Here's a nice big fat chapter filled with wonderful details and great plot-forwarding abilities. OFF TO PALMACOSTA TO GET FANG A SWORD! Hoorah! Enjoy. There's not a lot I can add to these notes that even matter except this is the only story I have other than one Tales of Symphonia Sheelos fic I have that require updating so I'll be working on this more. Although, I may have to up the rating on this if Fang keeps his dirty mouth the way it is… however, Zelos is pretty much egging him on.
Fang followed behind Zelos in a close pursuit for quite a while. It was a nice view of the world, but the scenery was only barren land from the battles. The only change of subject from the barren battlefields were the ones filled with rotting corpses. Fang was figuring out very fast he preferred the ones with no people than the ones with dead people. The flight was pretty silent, but occasionally Zelos would slow his pace so he was flying beside Fang and he would point to something and give a brief history lesson.
Zelos was at his side currently and he pointed to what looked like an abandoned village. "That was Mizuho, a village of ninjas," he lectured lightly.
"Ninjas?" Fang cocked his head, looking at the shacks below them.
"Yeah. The village was hidden from view for a long time. Only a select group of people knew how to get in and out. They were destroyed first in the war," Zelos sighed, "It makes sense though. If you want to take over, you need to take out those most likely to catch on and fight back first."
Fang frowned as he looked at Zelos. The red-head sped up again to take the lead and the teenager sighed and followed suit.
It was tiresome and tedious as they flew across the changing, but always emptied of its living populace, cities and landscapes. Finally Zelos began to bring down his elevation and he landed outside a sea-side city. It was quite large and didn't look completely deserted- as of yet. That obviously was always up for change.
Zelos's boots padded onto the ground as he landed and he looked over his shoulder at Fang with those icy blue eyes and a mirthless smile. "We're here."
"What is the name of 'here'?" Fang asked as he tucked his wings up against his back, running a hand through his hair to get it messed up and out of its windblown look.
"Palmacosta," the Tethe'allan answered as he began digging around in his small travel bag that he wore in a loop around his belt. The coat-tails of his long vest always seemed to cover it and Fang hadn't even noticed the bag until they had taken flight and the wind had blown the red-head's clothes back enough to where, when Fang glanced at the dagger Zelos wore at his waist in a thick expensive sheath, he saw the small leather bag.
Zelos pulled a piece of clothing out and Fang's eyebrows scrunched together. "Is right now really the time for a wardrobe change?"
"Remember that talk about me being kind of famous?" Zelos questioned as he pulled his headband down to cover the bottom half of his face. He took the piece of white clothe he had taken from the bag and used it to tie his hair in a way that it was unseen and now Zelos's face was covered except for a slit where Fang could see those bright cerulean eyes and some strands of loose red hair that he hadn't tucked away sufficiently. "Ohh… So we're not attacked," Fang realized.
Zelos's eyes seemed to brighten and the clothe moved where his mouth was as his lips pulled apart into a smile, Fang assumed. "You're catching on." With one swift motion that made the back of his vest flow behind him like a cape, Zelos turned his back to Fang and began to walk into the gate for the city.
The avian-hybrid followed loyally. He looked around the city with a frown, seeing peasants lying in the streets' alleys. "Why are there so many poor people here?" Fang found himself asking Zelos under his breath.
"Because the taxes have gotten unbelievably high and Palmacosta is a shipping town. They're able to pay the high taxes and tariffs due to their flourishing economy," Zelos explained. "As the economy grows, so do the taxes. If the business goes down, though, the taxes plateau. It leads to an uneven distribution of money. The poor are only able to pay their bills… Nothing else. No money for food or shelter. Palmacosta is one of the last cities standing because of their money but… The people don't see any of the cash. It's all going to the King," he glanced over his shoulder at Fang. "In a way, they've just prolonged their misery. Once they've run out of people to trade and provide for they'll be finished just like all the other cities."
Fang opened his mouth to reply but he shut it, knowing that his input wouldn't change anything and he realized that Zelos didn't care to hear his opinion anyway. The Chosen had turned his head back in front of him and he walked over the bridges past the poor civilians towards the marketplace.
"I feel like I'm on my way to a cantina to meet Han Solo," Fang mumbled to himself.
"Who the fuck is Han Solo?" Zelos asked in an impatient tone.
"Uhm, it's nobody. Which store are we going to?" the teenager quickly covered.
"The one to get you dragon-slaying gear, kid," the masked swordsman said and he stopped walking when he reached the front of a small store. Zelos's blue eyes were peering over the counter at a fat older man who was sleeping on the job.
"I guess blacksmiths aren't on call here?" Fang asked, a sarcastic smile on his lips to betray the serious tone he had given his comment.
Zelos shot him a 'shut up' look before he leaned his hands over the counter. "Yo pops, wake up," he nudged the man who snorted in his sleep and rolled away slightly.
Fang found himself snickering at this blatant disregard for Zelos and the mage scowled. "The things I sacrifice when I don't use my celebrity," he mumbled to himself as he hopped over the counter and leaned down, nudging the man more.
The man did not wake.
Zelos turned his body 180 degrees without moving from his kneeling position. He looked around the fairly empty marketplace before looking up at Fang with eyes that were especially striking without any other features negating their brightness. "If anybody starts getting suspicious? Take them out and be quiet about it."
"Suspicious? What's there to be suspicious about?" Fang questioned with a cock of his head.
That's when Zelos drew his dagger and held it up to the old man's neck. The blacksmith wasn't a complete bum because he knew enough about his profession to recognize the sound of unsheathing metal.
His eyes widened quickly like a small child who was just surprised by what they suspected to be a monster under their bed when it's just the family dog. Zelos's gloved hand was over the man's mouth, so, when the man screamed, it was muffled.
"Shhhhh," Zelos lifted a finger to his covered mouth and the man began to relax from the initial shock.
The fright was being replaced by hostility. Zelos slowly removed his hand, "I need a sword, old man," he told him simply.
The blacksmith scowled, "My name is Whidmore," he informed Zelos.
"That's fantastic, Whidmore. Do you make swords, Whidmore?" the ex-noble cocked his head in mock innocence, "Because, Whidmore, if you do, Whidmore, I'd really like to have one, Whidmore."
"Can you pay?" Whidmore snarled.
"Does it fucking matter? Nobody can pay in this town. Somebody will just steal your money in two hours anyway. It's no good anymore, Whidmore," Zelos said the name like an insult. It almost made Fang glad he'd been dubbed 'Kid'.
"Do you have something other than gald to offer me, stranger?" Whidmore sat up and tugged at his ragged clothes and rubbed at his eyes.
"Freedom."
Whidmore's eyes widened and he looked at Zelos for a long moment. "Freedom?" he questioned.
"Freedom," Zelos repeated, slowly standing to his feet and he sheathed his sword now as he let the idea brew in Whidmore's brain.
Then Whidmore saw the gem on Zelos's chest that was half-covered by the white burqa he had appropriated for himself.
"You… You're one of the heroes of regeneration," he stared at pink-clad figure in front of him in shock.
Fang looked from Whidmore to Zelos to see those blue eyes narrow in irritation. "What of it?"
"Which one are you? I thought they were all dead. That means there's hope," Whidmore was growing excited. "Are there more of you?"
"Can you make me a sword or not, Gramps? Because if you can't? I'll go elsewhere," Zelos spat.
"Hey, man, don't snap at him. We need his swor-" Fang was cut off though when Zelos whipped around and glared at him.
"Keep guard," he ordered.
Fang crossed his arms childishly but made sure to look around so no enemies approached. So far, they were fine.
Zelos turned his attention back to Whidmore. "Lloyd Irving is King now. How do I know this isn't some trick?" Whidmore had gone from blissful and excited to hostile and suspicious.
The 'hero' scoffed, "Oh yeah. King Irving has nothing better to do than to trick some over-weight has-been blacksmith with masked heroes who speak of treason."
"So… You're going to fight him?" Whidmore asked, excited again.
"I need another sword to do that," Zelos's tone was tight and sarcastic.
"Oh, right right!" he got to his feet and began to dig around a chest in the back of his small shack of a market-place store. Zelos crossed his arms and watched him coldly.
"So, which one are you?" Whidmore asked Zelos as he dug around.
"The last one you would expect, I guarantee that," the redhead scoffed without mirth.
Whidmore glanced at him, seeing if he could figure it out, but he resumed his digging as he thought now.
"Are you Bryant or Wilder?" he asked.
Fang could see the immediate displeasure at being compared to whoever he had been mistaken for. "Are you kidding me? Regal Bryant is ten-times my size. The guy is a fucking monster. And he doesn't fight with a sword. Great Martel above, does anybody look at the pictures in the new history books or is it all speculation and childish fantasies?"
Whidmore quieted at this haughty response and continued looking for the sword.
"This isn't for me, by the way," Zelos said. "It's for him," he pointed at Fang. "So make the size appropriate."
Whidmore nodded quickly and did as he was told, pulling out longer swords now that fit more of Fang's body-type than Zelos's.
Finally he turned to look at the two, "These are all I have."
Zelos looked at Fang, "Come here; if they haven't come yet they aren't going to. Obviously they don't expect rebels in the marketplace," he motioned to the swords, "What do you think?"
Fang walked over to the swords, picking one up with wide eyes at the sharp blade. He looked it over; the hilt was black leather that fit the contours of his hand perfectly. The blade was significantly longer than Zelos's dagger. Which could be good or bad, depending on who his enemy was and how easily Fang would be able to take to swordplay. Fang considered the beautiful sword he held in his hands; dangerous and lethal. He ran a finger along the shining metal as Whidmore scowled.
"That's the warrior you plan to take to battle? He's just a child!" he exclaimed.
"Lloyd was just 17 when he fought Yggdrasil and the rest of Cruxis and united the worlds," Zelos was quick to jump to Fang's defense. Whidmore's head reared back in surprise. "He will do just fine. I'll make sure of it," he hissed at the blacksmith.
The masked redhead looked back at Fang. He approached and examined the sword before looking Fang's body type over. "Can you lug this around, y'think?" he asked the avian-hybrid.
He nodded, "I think so. I'm sure the training will get me used to the weight. Especially if I'm going to carry it around constantly like you do."
"It's never safe. Of course you'll always have to have it with you," Zelos got an inch away from Fang's face in a confrontational manner. The teenager would never get used to the fact that Zelos had no personal-space bubble. "You're going to have to get used to the idea that the sword is an extension of yourself. A pointy, killing, extension of yourself.
"But…" Zelos pulled back an inch, his feet graceful and silent on the dirty cobbled ground below them as his eyes began looking at Fang's wings with that insightful look he'd get sometimes. Then he looked back at Fang's face and, the teenager just had a gut feeling, that the reason the burqa began to tighten over Zelos's cheeks was because he was engaged in a shit-eating grin. "You're used to having unnatural extensions of yourself. Aren't you, Fang?"
Fang was right when he had thought before he was lucky for being dubbed just as 'Kid'. When the red-head said his name, it was like venom. As though his name was something to be ashamed of.
"You're an asshole," Fang found himself saying for the thousandth time since he'd gotten to the messed up world.
Zelos smirked and he looked at Whidmore, "We'll be taking this. Stay alive, old man. Because, soon enough, the world's gonna be free again and this city will be able to flourish once more."
"Palmacosta has been through a lot, I'm sure we'll survive this too," Whidmore smiled at Zelos. "Thank you, Chosen One."
The ex-chosen sneered, "My name is Zelos."
"Now you know how those nicknames feel, hmm?" Whidmore smiled.
"I take it back. Go fuck off and die. I'm not saving you; I'm saving me," Zelos turned quickly and headed out of the shop and Fang stood in shock of the harsh words. Whidmore had a compassionate look in his eyes as he watched Zelos's disappearing figure.
"He didn't mean it," Fang found himself promising to Whidmore.
Whidmore smiled at him, "I know he didn't. Just get going before he leaves you."
Fang picked the sword's sheath up and covered the blade as he clumsily put it in one of his belt loops and scampered after the escaping Tethe'allan.
After leaving the city and walking for a good half-mile in silence, Fang turned to Zelos. "What the hell was that about? Why did you say what you said to him!"
Zelos took off his mask before looking at Fang's sword like it was the most interesting thing in the world. "That's not how you wear a sword," he sighed, lifting his head and looking at Fang like he was lecturing a five-year old child.
"I don't care! That guy helped us! So, he was a little sarcastic," Fang lifted his arms up in the air in a 'so what?' fashion. "Like that gives you an excuse to snap at him! You're the biggest smart-ass I think I've ever met! The entire time you're insulting me and Whidmore and he decides to call you Chosen or whatever the hell it was that he did and you freak? That's psychotic! Why am I even traveling with your crazy ass? Why did I ever agree to do this! Ah-! Hey!" Fang's breath caught in his chest when Zelos grabbed his sword from his hilt with a scowl, shaking his head to himself.
Fang got flustered at how Zelos had just felt the need to invade his personal space constantly. "What the hell? That's my sword!"
"You've had it for all of four seconds and you're already attached? I guess that's a good sign, warrior," Zelos said, pulling out a small belt-like piece of fabric from his leather bag.
He held it up in front of Fang's face before attaching it to the sword, "You see this?"
Fang crossed his arms stubbornly, "Yuhuh."
"Fucking teenagers. Nobody is articulate anymore," Zelos shook his head.
"YES SIR. I SEE THAT WONDERFUL PIECE OF FABRIC YOU JUST SHOVED IN MY FACE. Is that any better, your highness?" Fang snarled.
Zelos smirked, "And you call me a smartass?"
"I'm not like this around normal people," the teenager insisted.
"Well," Zelos reached over and fastened the belt around Fang's waist, "This piece of fabric, smartass, is going to keep your sheath nice and secure around you while you run around. Or fly around, in our case."
Fang scowled, "Stop dressing me like I'm five. I've got this," he slapped Zelos's hand away and the redhead laughed.
"Stop acting like your five then and do as your told."
Fang mumbled curse words under his breath as he finished fastening the belt. "Okay, there. DONE."
Zelos smiled, "Alright, now we go and find a nice secluded place in the woods and train you in swordplay until the only part of your body that isn't bruised are your eyebrows."
"Uhm, what was that?" Fang stared at him like he had to be kidding.
The ex-chosen just began laughing a hearty guffaw that made Fang stare down at his sword with a scowl.
"I hate my life," Fang hissed to his new weapon.