THREE

tell-a-tale

"REPENT! REPENT, FOR THE END OF THE WORLD IS NIGH!"

Ragged, stained white whipping about in disarray, long hair and robes flying. Withered hands clatter metal against metal, beating makeshift instruments with great passion. Small brown birds fled for the trees, snowing tufts of random, feathery wisps in their wake. "Do you want salvation?" the man continued to bellow. A bony finger impaled the air with each escalating syllable. "Repent! Only then can you be saved!"

"As prophesized in the holy teachings of Tria!" A second voice rose, quickly gaining intensity. "The Sorcery Globe signalled the birth of demons! This is our penance- our punishment for displeasing the gods!"

"Repent!" cried a third man, thickly bearded and wild-eyed. As he spoke, he lunged out suddenly, grabbing at the reins of the dappled mare striding by; her rider cursed mildly in surprise. Windsocks snorted in alarm, tossing her head and stumbling backwards while Claude struggled to regain control.

"Atone for your sins and you will be saved by the Warrior!"

This proclamation was answered by a loud equine grunt. A third form shoved its way into the skirmish, forcing the interloper backwards to avoid being crushed. The gelding rocked his head, huffing in the man's face as the latter danced around to stand in front of the pair of riders and their mounts, pale fingers still clinging stubbornly to the reins. "No man can go forward," the preacher hollered, vigorously shaking his fistful of leather. "No, not until he opens his eyes to the truth!"

Dias sighed, a sharp, low expression of exasperation. As if he didn't already have enough on his mind. He drew his sword, tilting and running the blade against the scabbard's metal-capped mouth to ensure an acute keening as the weapon was released.

Eyes widened as the blade twirled slightly in the air, catching the sunlight impressively with its honed edge. Hovering at a position just so, it sent a message even a madman would have no trouble understanding. A pause: and then it swung in a wide, showy arc, giving the target time to decide how much his limbs were worth.

At the last second, the man released his grip with a shrill yelp and jumped back, losing his balance and landing heavily on his backside.

Satisfied, Dias sheathed his sword.

"Heretics!" the man shrieked, but didn't dare to close the distance again. "Heathens! This is the only road to salvation!"

"Thanks for the words of wisdom," Dias replied. "Have a nice day." The preacher scrambled out of the way as the swordsman nudged the recently-christened Cynic forward, Claude and Windsocks following closely behind.

"What was that?" Claude grumbled, shifting miserably in his saddle.

"Self-styled tramp prophets," Dias answered calmly. "Ignore them."

Claude looked over his shoulder at the men, who had now turned their attention onto other hapless passers-by. The small group was relentless in their harangue. "A little hard when they're being so enthusiastic."

"They have gotten noisier recently," Dias conceded. "There's a lot of motivation for them these days."

"Like what?"

The swordsman paused at the question, and not only because of the odd colloquial speech. I'd expect even the most ignorant, sequestered noble to be aware of it. Tria only knows they made enough noise when news first broke. This charade is getting out of hand.

And yet, the way Claude said it, like what, as though he honestly had no idea what was going on … "You really don't know?"

"Of course I don't!" Claude frowned, his brow furrowing as he searched his memory. "Wait- back at the way station, you said something about things plaguing Expel. Does it have to do with the Sorcery Globe and demons they were raving about?"

"It was …" The mercenary considered. "… about three months ago. The astronomers who first noticed it said it was a falling star."

"A meteorite?"

"A what?"

"That's- just what we call it back home," Claude replied. "Was that the Sorcery Globe?"

Dias confirmed it with a slight nod. "The stone of sorcery. That's what people call it now. Whatever its nature, it was something massive that struck the continent of El with incredible force. It was visible from as far away as Arlia; the blaze was that enormous. Since it arrived, there have been disasters occurring all over the world. Earthquakes, volcano eruptions … wild animals transforming into monsters that attack without provocation."

"A meteorite did all that?" Claude exclaimed incredulously, clearly forgetting whatever qualms he had about using the term.

"Supposedly." An eye roll expressed his own thoughts about the matter. "I really doubt all of the incidents are related to the Sorcery Globe. The monsters, on the other hand, are harder to explain."

"I wonder." Claude rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Sounds kind of like a fallout …" His voice quieted. "Maybe it's not really a meteorite; maybe it's -"

"What?"

"-ah, just thinking," he answered, a little too hastily. "Uh, so, what about this Warrior?"

Dias let it slide, for now. "The Warrior of Light. A stupid fairy tale."

Claude raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like a pretty dangerous fairy tale, if all the fans are like that." He gestured behind them.

"It's in the books of Tria," the mercenary acknowledged. "The so-called 'saviour' of Expel." He accented the word to emphasize his disdain. "The fanatics would believe."

Two little girls, both blue of hair, one long, one cropped shorter.

One in front of him,

one behind.

They look back at her, smiling.

Are you coming to church today?

It's your favourite sermon, Rena ...!

"-granted," he amended reluctantly, "Not just fanatics. And people in general have become more devout. Which," he felt the urge to add, "isn't surprising. Praying is an easy, safe thing to do."

"That's pretty understandable, considering what's been going on," Claude nodded. "People always need hope."

"Getting sentimental now, are we?"

"So let me get this straight so far," the youth continued, ignoring the jibe. "Tria is, um, a prophet - no, God? And there's an ancient legend about a Sorcery Globe that brings destruction to ... Expel, and a Warrior of Light who will save it."

"Right." Dias had to snicker at the hint of poetic phrasing. "Now you're less of a little heathen."

Claude snapped the rein buckles loudly. "Would you stop being so goddamned surly?" he snarled. "I'm just trying to show some sympathy and understanding."

The swordsman smirked. "It's a little hard to take it seriously when you're asking about a children's bedtime story."

"Well, I don't believe in so-called prophecies either," Claude shot back, "But I don't know about it, and I think it's weird that things are supposedly coming to life, and I'd like to hear it. Okay? So humour me."

"Fine."

"And not some sarcastic interpretation," he snapped, just as Dias opened his mouth.

Red eyes glared at blue ones, and in the ensuing silence Cynic shook his mane and snapped at a passing insect. Windsocks nickered worriedly.

Tell me the story! she cries, her child's voice high and clear.

They feign ignorance. What? What are you talking about?

You know! Tiny feet stamp in impatience. The story of the Warrior!

They laugh indulgently. Again? How many times have you already heard it? Are you sure it's not too many?

Please? Please?

Oh, alright …

"What a demanding child," Dias finally muttered. He paused; it had been a long time since he'd heard the original; he'd have to paraphrase it as best as he could remember.

"... When … the land of Expel is in danger," he began haltingly, feeling indescribably self-conscious and silly, "a Warrior from another world will appear, dressed in … alien raiments, and bearing a Sword of L-"

"Alien raiments!"

"Fancy way of saying strange clothes," Dias snapped, annoyed at the interruption. "That's the exact wording." Thinking back now, he'd always thought the pretentious phrase ridiculous, even as a child; that must have been why he remembered the particular term. He heard a stifled snicker, and glanced over. "What?"

"I know, I know," Claude took his hand away from his mouth, waggling it in the air like a schoolchild, then tugging at his coat. "Kinda like me," he said, smiling.

Oh. His mad story. Well, he is dressed oddly, I'll give him that. The swordsman looked Claude up and down with a critical eye, and shrugged. "If that's the case," he finally responded, "then Expel is doomed."

The youth laughed. "Funny, that's exactly what I was thinking. Guess those guys really were prophets!"

The mercenary snorted. And you were talking about sarcasm.

Claude hiccuped suddenly, and Windsocks' pace slowed, lagging behind Dias' mount. The reason for the youth's nervousness was clear: the pair of guards posted at the entrance. Dias shook his head furtively; there was little reason to worry. It didn't really matter, one way or the other; the soldiers were hardly likely to arrest them as they headed into the city, and even if they did, it would work in their favour – an audience with the King would be guaranteed. In any case, most of these exterior guards were pulled from common ranks, and rarely interacted with nobility.

As they neared, one guard gestured to the other, who nodded in agreement. "If it isn't Dias Flac," he called in greeting. The man seemed familiar, in that vague, generic face-in-the-crowd sort of way, and Dias had no idea who he was. Nor did he particularly care. He'd seen too many soldiers around Cross to be bothered to keep track of names.

"So the, ah, great swordsman is also here to join the survey team to El?" The tone was not mocking, merely hesitant and observational.

Survey team? The mercenary frowned slightly, recalling events from months ago. I thought one had already been dispatched ... Did it not return? He shrugged, giving no further hint to his thoughts. "Perhaps."

The guard cleared his throat. "The King will be mighty pleased to see you, if you are."

"We are." Dias tilted his head towards his companion. The latter raised his head, opening his mouth in protest, then just as quickly closing it.

The man eyed Claude, twisting his mouth slightly and squinting his eyes as he considered the youth's outlandish garments. He looked as though he wanted to comment, then decided against it. "Wonderful," the guard finally said, somewhat less than approvingly, but showing no sign that he considered anything amiss. "The more the merrier ... ah, so to speak. Not that the reason for the gathering is, er, a merry one." He stopped, frazzled, then waved them on with one gloved hand. "Good day!"

Claude exhaled when they had passed. "How did you know he wouldn't do anything?"

"Most commoners don't have a clue what the prince looks like," Dias answered. "Some of these guards might have seen him, once or twice, from a distance. The royal wedding would have been one of his few public appearances."

"Oh." Claude mulled over the discourse, then looked up, remembering something. "He called you a great swordsman and recognized you by name and face. You must be quite well-known on Expel."

Dias shrugged.

"I guess I was really lucky you were the one I ran into. Thanks."

The mercenary said nothing. Claude didn't press on.

Dias rubbed his head, grateful for the respite from bizarre questions and incomprehensible comments. It had been a while since he had travelled for such a lengthy period of time with another person. And particularly never with someone so … odd. Suffice to say he had found it a difficult thing to get used to. In the past few days he had found himself wondering, numerous times, why he had bothered.

But in this case, the answer always came easily enough: he hated leaving things undone. He hated mysteries.

And this one will end at Cross Castle.

Or so he hoped.

Actually, as much as he would rather not admit it, it hadn't been a completely intolerable experience. It certainly wasn't boring, and there had been many entertaining moments. In fact-

"Wh-whoa!"

Dias frowned at the outburst, turning in his saddle to glance behind him.

Claude was still secure on Windsocks' back, and the mare was still following obediently, albeit in a much more leisurely fashion. They had just gone through the inner wall, passing directly beneath the main guard towers, and the youth was straining and craning his neck towards the sky. He was staring so intently that the swordsman thought he was going to slow-twist his head off.

"Wow ..." The voice was hushed with quiet awe. "This is amazing ...!"

Dias followed the younger man's line of sight to Cross Castle.

Banners fluttered high in the turrets, rippling and billowing through the air, bold and breathing ribbons dancing against a vivid sky. The white stone in the distance caught much of the sun's light, giving the structure a hard, bright quality – a brilliant contrast to the intense colours and sounds of the city around them.

And, as the guard had mentioned, there were indeed many swords-for-hire loitering about. Their levels of skill would vary greatly, Dias knew; he suspected the new survey team would hardly be able to succeed if the previous one had failed.

He slowed Cynic's pace, waiting for Claude to finish his gushing. He'd been to Cross many times in his life, and elsewhere as well, and few things were anything remarkable anymore. The capital of Lacour was larger in almost every respect, and the suffocating swarms of adventurers during the Tournament of Arms season far outstripped the numbers present here today. And even as a child, he had heard stories that Eluria on El eclipsed both cities. When he'd finally made the trip years ago, it hadn't disappointed.

Though who could say what Eluria looks like now that the Sorcery Globe has fallen.

Still, Cross was the most modern city on this continent, as befitting its status as the capital of the kingdom. He had long grown familiar with the view, but he could see how it might take one's breath away. It was fairly impressive, Dias had to admit.

If your experience is limited.

Then he noticed Claude wasn't only staring at the castle ramparts and the mercenaries. He was watching the crowds of city folk bustling through the streets, following the clouds of pigeons flying in and out from the old clock tower in the square. He was eyeing the roofs of simple houses, gazing down at the cobbled streets themselves, even examining the alleyways as the horses clip clopped by.

Just full of surprises, isn't he? From dialect, appearance, responses, and other hints of bearing, Dias had pegged the young man as a fairly worldly personality – at least, possessing of a certain degree of sophistication in lifestyle – or training - beyond that of an average person. But here the boy was, gawking away, gawking at everything, even the garbage, like a visitor from some extremely backwater village.

"Look at that!" Claude pointed with glee, as though he'd never seen such things in his life. "The details are incredible," he enthused. "It's better than any medieval holograph!"

Dias weighed his options against the gibberish again, and decided that his "what" interjections in the past had been too jarring. "Really," he said, keeping his tone flatly conversational.

"Yeah," the young man agreed happily. "I feel like I'm in one of those fantasy RPGs, you know," he continued, turning to converse with his companion, "like, uhhhhhhhhhhh ..." His expression dimmed as he saw Dias' face, and he trailed off into stammers and incoherent mumbling.

"Like?"

Claude hemmed and hawed. "Uh, nothing in particular. Don't let it bother you."

"Not at all," Dias replied, allowing the mental pendulum to swing back to yes, definitely a nutcase.

Inside the courtyard, the swordsman dismounted. He wondered idly if he could get the horses to the common stables without running into an attendant, particularly an overly excitable or emotional one. People were annoying to deal with.

"Say …" Claude frowned suddenly. "How long will it take to see the King? I mean, he wouldn't be seeing people out of nowhere every day, would he …?"

Dias absently dusted a pigeon feather off of Cynic's mane. "There's a reception for people requesting an audience. Generally, those with introductions will be given the first openings." The older man shrugged. "But considering the circumstances, I wouldn't wager long. The real challenge will be seeing him before anyone sends rumours flying out of control."

"Eh …" The other man made a face. "I forgot about that. Damn it." He leaned over to dismount, then halted in mid-motion. He looked warily down at Dias, who was waiting patiently beside the blue-gray gelding. "Um … "

"What now?"

"Is there a, uh, reward for the prince?"

Dias resisted the urge to laugh out loud, keeping a neutral expression. "What, having second thoughts about being escorted to the castle?"

Claude maintained his gaze, but said nothing.

The swordsman relented. "No, there isn't. That would be admitting that the prince is missing."

"Oh, that's right," Claude said, relief evident in his face and inflection. "They're keeping it quiet and everything." He began to dismount again.

Dias turned his face away. "Though if I were to tell them I'd found the prince, I'm sure there would be a reward ..."

The other man jerked upright. "Wait, what?"

"Heh, calm down." He turned back to reveal a smirk. "Haven't you ever heard of cause and effect?"

The youth's face flushed as he realized the prank. "Yeah?" Claude glowered. "Well- I bet you've never heard of Newton's Third Law of Motion!"

The warrior blinked at the retort, unable to make connections between the alien term and anything he had ever known. "… Huh?" he finally said, baffled.

"Forget it." Claude shifted, leaning to dismount from the side opposite Dias. "Hold your horses; this might take a while."

Another point for the nutcase argument. The mercenary sighed inwardly. All this time and he still hadn't gotten really anywhere. He couldn't seem to trip up the young man in anything inconsistent with his peculiar story; he always ended up feeling like a headless chicken running around in circles. Logically, the options were limited.

Either he's Clother, or he's crazy, or he's Clother and he's crazy. Or he was somehow telling the truth, but Dias was growing rather tired of having to think about the entire thing.

He turned his focus back on the present situation. Claude was, indeed, taking his time. "Are you sure you don't want any help?" the mercenary inquired, his voice cloying with politeness.

"I'm working on it."

"Alright then."

"Master Flac!" Dias glanced up to see a servant waving in recognition, hurrying over to them. "What business brings you to Cross Cast-" The man broke off, eyes widening as he noticed the swordsman's companion. He bowed instinctively, nearly tumbling over in his haste. "Your Highness!" he exclaimed, his voice a very loud whisper. "It is truly a miracle!"

"Not-" Dias started.

"Praise be to Tria! His Majesty will be overjoyed! I'll deliver the message right away!" The attendant dashed off.

"-quite," the mercenary finished, irritated.

"Hurray," said Claude without a trace of enthusiasm, as he finally heaved himself off of Windsocks and staggered away.

Author's Notes: Newton's Third Law – "For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction."

The term meteorite is actually used by the Expellians in-game, but I dislike it because it strikes me as too modern a term. I know it was first used in the 1800s, but I'm treating Expel as similar in development to SO3's Elicoor II, which was described as being equivalent to 17th century Earth. It's a minor thing, but what can I say, I'm obsessive :P

Sorry about all the talking in this chapter; hope it wasn't too boring. My attempt at building some sort of plot and foreshadowing and blahblahblah. Argh, this stupid thing took so long for several reasons: 1) Tons of school/volunteer work, 2) more inspiration for scenes that take place in the far future than for this chapter, and 3) the embarrassment of rereading my own work (to help me remember what I was doing - when I think about and look at what I'm trying to do, it seems really pathetic XD). But writing the street evangelists was rather fun – I see these sorts of people all the time downtown. Many thanks to my sis Shioru/Kotoshin and my friend Luna for their feedback and input as well as Elysian Stars and Orangewishes for helping me get motivated to dig this chapter out again.

I was really surprised that people are enjoying this and seem to like my ideas, and I appreciate beyond imagining all of you who took the time to comment. Thank you so much, it means a lot to me! I know things are moving really slowly, but with time and luck my pacing should (hopefully) improve ...