Tuesday morning, Prontera Churchyard
The churchyard outside Prontera church was fairly small and friendly. The healthy green lawn was adorned with a handful of moss-lined headstones in neat and orderly rows. A man in his sixties, with graying hair and a white robe and stole waited and hummed to the sky, tapping an gilded, silver staff with his fingers to the rhythm. Not too far from him, a handful of soldiers stood at attention, all of them bearing the insignia of the Church on their armor. The approaching sound of gently clinking metal plates told him of someone's arrival. It was Grant, wearing a full set of paladin's armor. He knelt on bended knee and lowered his head.
"Ah, the famous Chevalier paladin of the Crusaders," the old man greeted. "It's good to see you again."
"Likewise, your Eminence," Grant said. "It is nice to see you in good health."
"Never felt better, my lad," the Pope responded happily. "On such a lovely day like this, it would be a shame to stay inside."
Grant was sure that the Pope didn't summon him to the churchyard just for idle chit-chat. He remained silent; the Pope was sure to cut to the chase if he didn't say anything to contribute to the meaningless front. A small, irritating tic in his thigh began to rise. The Pope cleared his throat.
"I trust that you have heard of the situation regarding the fugitive Daphne Trenton?" he asked, in a more serious tone.
"I have, your Eminence," Grant replied. He knew where this was going now.
"What is your opinion on the matter?" the Pope continued. He began inspecting his nails as he asked, as though the subject were a comment on the weather, or last night's dinner.
A cold bead of sweat formed on Grant's brow. It suddenly occurred to him that the Pope could have been the one behind the charges. Why hadn't he anticipated this earlier? He would have to be careful on how he responded. If he simply told him what he wanted to hear, then the Pope would think he was lying to him. If he told him how he really felt, then the Pope would somehow use his position to limit Grant's circle of influence. The correct answer would be...
"You mean the alleged charges of treason against the crown that have been pressed on to her, your Eminence?" he asked after the moment's pause. The Pope didn't not respond to this, choosing only to survey him critically.
"Daphne Trenton fled her apartment yesterday morning at the latest," Grant went on. "Of the civilians that were questioned, none of them knew of any plans that she had for traveling. She took only what she needed and left probably at the last minute. She had a very good reason; she is obviously hiding something."
"And what of the rumors that the charges of treason are groundless, and the Church is using them as an excuse to execute Miss Trenton?"
Grant didn't miss a beat. "Rumors are after all, rumors. Baseless gossiping of townspeople with limited facts and overactive imaginations."
The Pope rubbed his chin thoughtfully, but the paladin knew that it was a farce. "So, what would you do in my shoes?"
The moment of truth! thought Grant. And I'm lying through my teeth!
"I would secretly dispatch a squad of riders to bring her to the capital, have her interrogated, then finally, executed." But of course, had Grant the choice, he would never choose such an option. The Daphne Trenton he knew was a simple witch with no political agenda.
"Like how you issued the order to recall my public warrant for her arrest?" the Pope asked, smiling.
Grant's eyes widened in surprise; he couldn't help himself.
"My sincerest apologies, your Eminence!" the paladin said quickly. "If I had known that it was your order that – "
"That's quite alright, lad," the Pope said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "The poor knight that you ordered around last night reported this to his superiors. By the time the news reached me, I thought perhaps your decision was for the better."
The paladin wasn't sure what to say. "What of the knight then?" he began. The pope chuckled.
"He has been neither rewarded nor punished," he said. "I feel he made his decision remarkably well, considering the mix-up last night."
"I see," Grant said. He tried valiantly not to sound relieved.
"Speaking of knights, I hear that we are about to have seven new ones added to the Prontera Chivalry," the Pope said. "I have been very interested in watching the acension ceremony. Would you care to join me?"
Prontera Chivalry
A handful of swordsmen, wearing fresh knight's armor stood side by side in a line outside of the barracks. In front of them, a golden haired lord knight wearing red and black armor paced back and forth, giving them a critical glare. Behind him, stood six knights of various high ranks at attention. Their ceremonial armor shone in the morning sun.
"All of you have worked desperately," he said. "There isn't a single one of you who hasn't fallen down because of this thorny path."
The lord knight stopped pacing, and turned to face one of the swordsmen, a young man in his teens with short, streaked blonde hair.
"In that sense, you seven are no different from the rest of the candidates that applied for knighthood." He began pacing again. "Then what separated you from them? Is it strength? Focus? Was it perhaps skill, that set you above the bar?"
He stopped pacing once again and turned to face the group. "There isn't a single person who can tell you that. The qualities of a knight aren't something that can be easily described with one word." He drew the huge sword strapped to his back, a gleaming Schweizersabel, and pointed it at the group.
"Listen well! In this world, there is always someone stronger than you! Just as you have learned from your previous falls, the road all of us walk is thick with thorns, cold and unforgiving. All of you will undoubtedly fall again and again. You will probably wonder why you trying so hard. But only the strong ones stand back up. Although I can't tell you what a knight embodies, I can tell you what strength is. It is up to you to determine for yourself, what being a knight truly means." He re-sheathed the Schweizersabel.
"These men and women behind me recognize your efforts. Go forth and discover for yourselves, the meaning of a knight!" He and the six knights behind him saluted the swordsmen in unison; the seven newly turned knights saluted in response. "Dismissed!"
The sound of clapping alerted them to a spectator. The lord knight who had given the speech turned and noticed the Pope applauding, and Grant, not too far away. He briskly marched towards them.
"Sir Graves," he greeted, with a salute. "Your Eminence," he added, kneeling on bended knee.
"Chivalry Captain Herman," Grant said, saluting in return.
"That was a marvelous speech," the Pope said to the lord knight. "But please, do stand up."
"Thank you, your Eminence."
"How do you feel about the new recruits?" Grant asked. He had one particular knight in mind.
Captain Herman paused, then looked over to the seven knights receiving chivalry emblems from their six seniors. He rubbed his neatly trimmed beard.
"There's one that stands out particularly above the rest," Herman said quietly. "Though it's better you don't let him hear that; it might destroy his work ethic."
"The one who completed all fifty levels of training?" Grant asked again. The Pope perked up at the sound of this.
"Aye, you've heard of him, then," Herman stated, rather than asked. "I hear Sir Grey received a letter of recommendation, was it you who sent it?"
"I did indeed," confirmed Grant. Herman gave a low whistle.
"For the famous Chevalier of the paladins to give a letter of recommendation," the Chivalry Captain said. "Now that's something that doesn't happen every day."
"Please don't think so highly of me," Grant replied. "A letter of recommendation from even the king himself wouldn't turn a novice into a lord knight. That knight earned his title; I simply pointed that out."
"So... which one of those young lads..." the Pope asked, peering over to the group. Captain Herman looked over to the knights again.
"That blonde one standing by himself... oh no, he's let the other six receive the emblems. I was supposed to be here giving this one to one of them." He fiddled with a red velvet box holding the Chivalry Emblem. "Would you like to meet him, your Eminence?" he asked the Pope. Grant shot Herman a significant look, which Herman noticed.
"Oh yes, please," the Pope said. He began walking towards the knight, with Grant and Herman flanking him. Grant began sending Herman a wild series of hand gestures, which apparently, Herman understood.
"Reinbach!" Captain Herman called. The young knight promptly turned and saluted. At the sight of the Pope, he knelt down on his knee.
"Quite formal, this one," the Pope whispered to Grant. The paladin nodded. "You may stand," the Pope added.
"No, he's fine like this, your Eminence," Herman said. He drew his Schweizersabel, and lightly tapped Reinbach once on each shoulder, and once on his head. "You may stand," he said, re-sheathing the broadsword. He presented the knight with the red velvet box.
"Thank you Captain Herman," Reinbach said, receiving the chivalry emblem.
"Well then, Reinbach," said the Pope. "I was wondering if you had any plans for today." Both Herman and Grant exchanged glances.
"Actually, your Eminence, Reinbach must begin train – " begun Captain Herman.
"I was hoping that Reinbach would join me in – " Grant quickly said at the same time. They both stopped.
"Yes?" asked the Pope.
"Ah, after you," Grant motioned to Herman.
"Uh, no, no, it's quite alright," Herman said, shaking his head.
"Well, I was hoping that Reinbach would join me in a training session," Grant improvised, thinking quickly.
"Aaah! That's just perfect!" Herman said enthusiastically, slapping his fist into his palm. Newly appointed knights must begin their training at once!" The Pope looked disappointedly at the two men. He looked as though he had been denied a serious treat.
"My my, it seems as if newly appointed knights certainly have it tough," he chuckled. "Why not let him rest for today?"
Reinbach's gray eyes were darting back and forth between the three older men, as if some sort of subtle battle of wills were going on. An awkward silence hung over them.
"If it pleases you, your Eminence," the young man said finally. "I am looking forward to beginning my knight training."
"You know the young!" Herman nearly shouted. "So competitive, looking forward to growing! Aah, how I envy youth!"
"That's how it is!" Grant continued, not missing a beat. "How about the training grounds then, young Reinbach?" The young man looked a little rattled, but nodded silently.
"But it's already lunchtime," the Pope protested. "Surely he can't train on an empty stomach!"
"Young men have no time for food!" Herman shouted to the sky. "Aye, always facing forward, they are!"
"This makes me want to do 1000 sword strikes!" bellowed Grant, apparently catching on to Herman's infectious enthusiasm. He clapped his hand down on Reinbach's shoulder and pumped his other hand into the air. The small ruckus the paladin and lord knight were causing caught the attention of the other knights outside of the Chivalry.
"Interesting!" Herman roared. He punched his armored gauntlets together, then clapped one hand on Reinbach's other shoulder. "I shall take that as a challenge, Sir Grant!"
"I have expected as much from you, Chivalry Captain Herman! To the training grounds!" The two of them dashed away from the Pope, while dragging Reinbach with them, armor clanking heavily.
The Pope was left standing by himself. He stared at the disappearing figures of the three men. "Isn't the training grounds the other way?" he shouted after them.
"Izlude training grounds!" roared Herman in response. "Half of the battle is getting there!"
Desert City Morroc
Two cloaked figures stepped out of the weapons shop in Morroc. The taller one, pulled off his hood. He looked slightly disgusted.
"Ugh," Spider sighed. "Not a single weapon in there worth holding." He ran his fingers through his chestnut hair. He turned and faced his companion. "You're telling me those icicle katars are the only weapons you use, Argos?" Argos nodded. At this, the assassin cross looked seriously put down. They began walking back to the town square.
"That's not going to get you anywhere, sport. Having a specialty is great and all, but variety is just as vitally important. Especially when you've got a pair of elemental katars like those. What will you do against a long-ranged ice property monster that you can't reach?"
The younger assassin didn't say anything to this. He just looked back at Spider. His senior partner sighed again, with a what-am-I-going-to-do-with-you look on his face.
"Alright," Spider said. "Granted, there are assassin crosses out there who do perfectly fine with one set of katars, but more than likely, they've experimented around with different weapons and fighting styles before settling for a way of fighting that they prefer. Assassins are by nature, flexible and quickly adapt to many situations. They can use a multitude of tools. Swords, daggers, axes, a mix-and-match of those, katars, throwing knives," the assassin cross continued, as they walked past a fruit stand. An orange had mysterious appeared in his hand. He began peeling it. "There are just some things you can't do with a katar, and some things only a katar can do. Orange slice?" Argos silently walked alongside Spider.
"...Sure," he said, after a moments pause. He took the proffered orange slice from his senior partner and followed him into the residential district.
"I'm not telling you to suddenly start duel-wielding daggers in the heat of battle," Spider continued, as he chewed. "That's possibly the worst thing you could do during a fight. It just helps to have something to fall back on when the situation calls for it." They reached a house. Spider pulled out a set of lock-picks and began fiddling with the door.
"...Are you sure that's alright? What if someone's in there?"
"No one's in there, this is my house," Spider assured him. "I lost the real key some time yesterday, but I don't let small inconveniences like that bother me." The lock gave a satisfying click. "Ah, here we go." He swung the door open. "Come on in," he motioned to Argos, and stepped inside. The young assassin did likewise.
Spider's house was very small, but quite comfortable. It was obviously suited for a person living on his own; there was one bedroom with one bed in it. At the same time, there were a multitude of various objects, weapons, and tools hanging on the walls or on the shelf at the opposite wall, yet well organized. The assassin cross strode over to the far shelf.
"You've completed all fifty levels of thief training haven't you?" he asked Argos while staring at his collection of katars. The assassin hnn'd in response. He joined Spider in examining the weapons on the shelf.
"Not that you need all fifty, but that gives me a good enough idea of where you're at physically." Spider gestured to the katars. "My collection," he said. "Some of them I've requested to be made, others, found from treasures. The rest were taken from enemies that I killed." Argos didn't seem to be particularly bothered by the last sentence.
"Where did you get that?" he asked, pointing to a vicious looking pair of spiky, black katars.
"Those infiltrators? Aha, good eye you have there. Sorry, but I can't let you borrow that. It's worth too much," Spider said, ignoring the question. He lifted of a pair of katars with an unusual spiraling blade. "This one's a little tricky to use, but you should be able to wield them. Hey, let me show you something," said the older man. He readied the strange katars into a battle stance. "Raise your stance!"
No sooner had Argos raised his guard, Spider slowly thrust the weapons forward, to exhibit his movements. The ridges of the drill-like katar caught the blades of Argos's icicle katars. "If you swing like so," Spider explained. "And twist your arm like such," With a sudden brutal force, the icicle katars were wrenched out of Argos's hands. They clattered to the ground. "You can catch your opponent off guard by disarming him. Nasty little trick." He spun the unusual katars by their center of balance in his palms so that the handles were facing Argos. "Here, I'll let you play with these drill katars. You should try practicing switching weapons in the middle of battle. I'm thinking you can combine that with the icicle katars for a nice effect there." Argos gripped the handles of the drill katars.
"Utilize the icicle katars' innate freezing ability to numb the opponents fingers," the young man mused out loud. "And then switch to the drill katars to force their weapon out of their hands."
"Exactly!" Spider smiled, winking. "If you can get the timing down pat for the switch, it should be a great strategy for those long, drawn out battles. Perfect against armored tanks like crusaders or knights. Just don't try smashing them through shields, or they might break."
Argos stepped back from Spider into the center of the room and began practicing some basic maneuvers. The assassin cross picked up the icicle katars on the ground.
"Hey, think fast!" Spider shouted, tossing the weapons handles first towards Argos. The younger assassin immediately clipped the drill katars onto his belt and reached out to snatch the icicle katars from the air. They bounced harmlessly against his shoulders and fell to the ground. Argos gave an irritated grunt.
"Heh," Spider chuckled. "Looks like you need a bit of work."
Satellite City Izlude
Sweat poured down the muscled torsos of the three men in the training grounds.
"Four-hundred ninety-seven!" shouted Herman, Grant and Reinbach together, swinging wooden training sticks as they counted. "Four-hundred ninety-eight! Four-hundred ninety-nine!"
"Five-hundred!" Grant finished. They stopped, panting for breath.
"A break, for now," the lord knight said between breaths. Reinbach looked especially winded. He sauntered over to the shade of the trees and collapsed on the grass next to their equipment. Herman took this opportunity to talk to Grant.
"So what was that all about back there?" he muttered. Grant briefly glanced around to check for any other people; Reinbach was the only one.
"Pope Hibram chose me for a mission," the paladin informed. "He tasked me with the retrieval of the starling for charges of treason against the crown." Herman's eyes widened in shock.
"You don't think that the Pope..." he whispered.
"At this point, I don't want to take any chances," said Grant. "I found out that it was he who also issued the public warrant for her arrest."
"This is getting stickier by the day," Herman's face darkened. "I see. So you didn't want the Pope to meet privately with Reinbach because of any influence he might spread to him?"
"The Pope already suspects that I'm on to him. It was important that we talk to him about this matter first rather than the Pope. If we do this correctly, we might find a valuable use to Reinbach as one of the Pope's guard."
"A mole, huh?"
"Exactly. But the problem is whether Pope Hibram will trust this young knight and put enough faith in his abilities for such a role, and whether Reinbach will trust us over the Pope."
"For the time being, let's go see how young Reinbach is doing right now," Herman suggested. Grant nodded. They walked over to where the knight was resting.
"How are you holding up?" Grant asked. Reinbach stood up and nodded.
"I can do more," he said. Herman chuckled.
"That's fine and dandy," the lord knight replied. "But resting is also an important part of training."
Reinbach nodded, but he looked a little impatient. "I was told that you were the one who sent Sir Grey the letter of recommendation," he said to Grant. "Thank you Sir Graves."
Grant shrugged. "Don't mention it. More importantly, I was wondering if you had any goals or objectives."
The young knight fell silent.
"Not really," he said with a thoughtful look on his face.
"None? No rivals perhaps? No one that you're chasing after?"
"He was the top in all his classes," Herman said. "If anything, everyone was chasing after him."
"Huh. It's tough being at the top, eh? Model student?"
"I did what I was told," Reinbach said slowly. "It seemed as if no one really cared for me. In a society that leaned heavily on order and absolute loyalty to the king, I felt that following orders quickly and obediently was the normal and proper thing to do." The paladin took note of this.
"Tell me. What did you think of the Pope today?" Grant questioned further.
"I didn't really know what to make of him," the knight said honestly. "But he seemed friendly."
"It's good that you place value in authority and fealty," Grant said. "That's very admirable. But following orders blindly could be your downfall, or lead to things that you regret. Thinking for yourself is also important."
"Sir?" Reinbach asked, looking confused. Grant bowed down and picked up a long, narrow, cloth wrapped object about as tall as his chest.
"It's a present from me," Grant said. "Go ahead and unwrap it." The knight did as he was told.
"A Zephyrus," Reinbach said, admiring the jagged, lightning bolt shaped spear head. Grant nodded. He stepped back and tried a few practice lunges. "It's light, and very fast."
"It's a wind element, so it should be very effective against water and ice types," Herman noted. "I remember back in my knighthood days how I always wanted one. Never did manage to get a Zephyrus, but I got over it; a Zephyrus isn't too special. Wasn't designed to target highly evasive opponents like the Gungnir series."
"No, it isn't," Grant agreed. "It'll take a lot of work, but you can start hitting assassins and rogues and the like with enough dexterity and focus training. You'd be able to hit assassins with ease, once you become more familiar with your weapon, and your weapon becomes more familiar with you."
The lustrous sheen of the green spear was reflected in Reinbach's gray eyes as he gazed at the zig-zag spear point.
"The weapon... will grow more familiar with me?" he asked. Herman laughed.
"It's not as simple as that," the captain said. "It'll take a lot of time to explain the subtle nuances that a weapon makes to conform to the wielder."
"Which reminds me," added Grant. "I've received a mission to Morroc. It'll take a day to travel there by peco. Would you like to come along?"
"Yes!" Reinbach said with a small smile. "I'm sure it can offer me an excellent opportunity to test this spear while we travel."
"Then it's settled! We leave tonight."
"But honestly," Herman rubbed his beard. "You should lighten up more. A strong weapon isn't what makes a strong warrior; it's the hard work that he does. You can start worrying about a stronger weapon if you ever meet someone who also completed all fifty levels of his apprenticeship."
Morroc Residence
"Starting to get the hang of it?" Spider asked.
"A little," Argos responded. "I'm still not very comfortable with the switch."
"That's how everyone feels when they first start learning how to do it. Knights, assassins, rogues, hunters, even wizards have different wands and rods to alternate between. Relax. You're a fast learner, and you've got good reflexes for dodging attacks."
Argos fell silent.
"Is there any situation where weapon switching might be impractical?" Argos asked after a while. Spider thought about this for a moment.
"I suppose there is," he said. "If both of your weapons, the one you're switching from and the one you're switching to, are disadvantaged against your opponent's weapon, there really won't be much of a point, while the split second delay might be fatal for you."
"I'm using two sets of katars..." Argos said. Spider nodded.
"If you fight a knight, for example, with a spear, and who makes use of that superior range, it's exceptionally fatal. Typically, you want to put some distance between you and your opponent before you start the switch. That's not a smart strategy against a knight who has longer reach."
"...Makes sense," the younger assassin noted.
"At any rate," the older man said. "I suppose it's about time we open that envelope eh? There's only so much time we can spend to train you before we start to lose preparation time for pulling off our hit."
The younger assassin clipped both sets of his katars to his belt, then pulled out the black envelope given to him by the guild leader. He slit it open with his finger, then pulled out a card the size of his hand.
"So," Spider asked. "Who are we supposed to kill?"
Argos scanned the card briefly, his red ember eyes flitting side to side.
"Daphne Trenton," he said. "Occupation: witch."
"Ah," Spider said. "I thought so." His face darkened. So the pieces begin to fall into place, eh?