No Longer Alone
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
"No fair!" Trish wailed. "I wanna be General Glen!"
"Grow up." Bragg snorted in his direction. "I called General Glen first, and Amelia's always General Duessel and that's that!"
"But then the only one left is stinky ol' Valter, and my mom says he's a meanie!"
Amelia lifted her mighty lance (actually a branch torn off a sapling tree), and said authoritatively. "Hey! Why don't you be the new one… Um… Serene…or something like that…"
"Ew, gross! A girl? And she uses magic! Magic is for wussies!"
The game had been played many times before, among all the village folk. Who didn't fantasize about being a hero, fighting to protect the safety of the common folk like them? Well, apparently most girls didn't, but Amelia had always been more energetic and active than the others, and had even won the grudging respect of some of the older boys by beating a couple of them in playground scuffles.
Ever the mediator, Amelia scratched her head. "Well, how about General Glen's brother? Cormag's a wyvern knight, too!"
"I know!" Bragg laughed. "You can be a bandit, and we'll be the brave knights who come and crush you!" Neither of the other two noticed the sudden paleness on Amelia's face.
"Hey!"
"Look at me! I'm Trish, and I like to act big and swing axes! Rar!"
"Cut that out!" Trish tackled Bragg, sending the both of them crashing to the ground.
Amelia watched the scene for a few more moments, before turning and walking away quickly, before either of them could notice the silent tears. Hugging herself, she headed back towards the house in which she stayed.
It was no longer a home. It would never be a home again.
Cold.
That was the first sensation she felt upon awakening. In fact, she largely suspected it was because of the cold that she had been jolted awake.
She didn't know what the innkeeper had used to make the blankets, but she had the distinct impression that he had gone with the lowest bidder.
Shivering, she curled up as much as possible, trying to conserve her body heat.
It was no use. The biting cold stilled sliced into her skin, leaving her with little to no hope of getting to sleep. Not in her current condition, anyway.
Sitting up and yanking open her pack, she dug around for a couple of minutes before drawing out a well-worn cloak. Throwing it around her shoulders, she paused to consider if she felt any better.
Yes. Marginally. Sighing, she considered walking around the town perimeter until she got tired enough that she'd fall asleep the instant her head hit the pillow, but given the fact that she could see the first faint glimmerings of dawn in the horizon, the sun would be attempting to fry her into submission long before she got anywhere near the exhaustion point.
Another gust of icy wind blew into her room, causing her to gather her cloak tighter around her. Ye gods, someone had to figure out a way to ventilate a room properly that didn't leave said room's inhabitants at the mercies (or lack thereof) of nature.
She wondered how the people back in Silva were doing. Unfortunately, she hadn't yet learnt to read or write – that would probably occur as part of her training as a knight, and thus she had no way of communication with those at home. Not to mention the expenses of hiring a runner would probably be more than she could afford anyway.
It was still cold.
One truly had to wonder.
It wasn't everyday that you were betrayed by people you had long held as allies (although it still happened far more often than it should). But it had happened anyway.
It was usually rather rare (and foolish) to charge into enemy territory with less than a score of allied soldiers watching your back. But that was what they were doing anyway.
It made little to no sense to have a ragtag band of fighters chase down a single bracelet stolen by a thief halfway across Renais throughout the night, and end up with the thief and his childhood friend as an ally. But that had happened anyway.
And it was beyond all realms of logic and possibility that the exact same band should be busying themselves with fighting off a horde of monstrous creatures thought to be found only in fairy-tale books.
But it had happened anyway.
Franz stabbed downwards with his lance, the metal point shredding through rotted flesh and cracked bones. The creature jerked and staggered back, dark blood oozing through multiples wounds in its festering body.
These creatures could obviously take a lot of punishment, Franz noted unhappily, and they had a decided penchant for dishing it out too.
The zombie screeched at him, then reared back, it's fingers curled into claws. Most of the strikes so far had glanced of his armour, but a couple of slashes had landed on the seams of his armour tearing into the vulnerable flesh underneath. The claws may have been putrid, but they didn't appear poisoned, which was a good thing.
Stabbing again with his lance, he finally succeeded in putting down his current foe for good.
But that was only one in a growing tide of darkness that washed upon the tiny group of warriors. Darting in and out of the thick undergrowth, floating eyes hurled blasts of dark energy from all angles at the group.
"Franz!" He heard the General's call. "Fall back! Your flank is exposed!"
Franz nodded, and was about to steer Neige around when a sharp pain exploded in his shin. Casting a hurried glance downwards, he noted with alarm that the creature he'd thought dead had reached up, digging its claws into his heel.
What on Magvel does it take to put them down for good? Franz thought frantically as he shifted his lance to stab at the zombie's head once more.
The monster finally shuddered, twitched, and collapsed, but a quick glance around informed Franz that he was currently isolated from the main party. The abominations seemed to have enough intelligence to try to isolate him before charging him from all sides.
Angrily, he spurred Neige into a gallop. A trio of skeletal creatures stood in his path, two of them wielding lances. As he approached, they raised it forward. If Neige didn't stop, she'd likely impale herself on them.
At the last instant, Franz whirled his mount to the side, striking down with his own weapon. The iron tip smashed through the eye socket of the first creature, efficiently destroying half of the monster's skull. The skeleton crumbled into a formless pile of bones.
The other two retreated slightly, giving Franz a slight bit of breathing room. He could see the Princess weaving nimbly through the trees, using the ancient woods as shields from the grasping claws of the zombie-like creatures. The young mage –Arthur, was that his name? – was busy fending off a trio of those eyeballs, blasts of light issuing nonstop from his hands to counter the dark spells they hurled at him.
A roar sounded from behind him, and Franz whirled around to see the zombie he had originally left for dead – twice – stagger to it's feet and head towards him again. Dark green-brown blood that looked far too much like vomit oozed from half a dozen wounds in its body, and yet it marched resolutely towards him.
"Do you just not die?" Franz exclaimed in a mixture of anger and desperation. As one of the earlier skeletons tried to sneak up on him, he beheaded it with a quick backslash and turned back to the zombie-that-refused-to-die.
The creature reared back, raised a clawed hand, and promptly exploded in a ball of fire.
Franz's eyes widened. He wasn't about to call himself an expert on these creatures in any sense of the word, but he had a distinct feeling monsters weren't supposed to do that.
However, the source of the display of pyrotechnics became clear very rapidly as several more fireballs were flung from a gap in the trees, in a manner that seemed almost… casual.
With relative accuracy, they burned into several of the zombies, setting them aflame and causing them to stumble away, screeching in agony or pain or both.
Through the woods emerged the shape of a young girl with purple hair. A second later, Vanessa swooped in beside her.
"That was amazingly efficient, Lute." The green-haired sky rider noted with some sense of admiration.
"Well, yes, not all of it can be attributed to my genius." The young girl shrugged. "Rotting flesh is notoriously weak to arcane fires."
In response to Franz's questioning look, Vanessa smiled slightly. "Found her in the village past the river. She insisted on helping."
"Right. Vanessa, could you go tell the General to try to clear a path for us?" The Pegasus knight nodded and took to the skies again, soaring past the treetops, and leaving Franz with the young girl.
"Er… Lute, was it?" She nodded in response.
"Right. There's a bunch of those zombies-"
"Revenants."
"Say what?"
"They're revenants. I know why you consider them zombies – they've entered common terminology as simply meaning 'reanimated corpses' and all that – but the technical definition of a zombie is a creature that is being controlled by an outside force not it's own – a living puppet, of sorts. So, while it is technically accurate to refer to them as zombies, it would serve to be less confusing that they be called revenants. Of course, some of them are far more durable than their lesser counterparts. The Tome of Etruscan Terminology, page 112, refers to these more powerful revenants as 'Entombed.'"
Franz blinked, unsure that he had gotten all that. "Right…" He managed. "Revenants. Anyway, there's a bunch of them cutting off our route from here to our allies, so if you'd be so kind?"
"Of course." She stepped forward, chanted several mystical words, and orbs of fire exploded from her hands, zipping towards the shambling creatures. Several flashes of crimson light, and three of them collapsed.
"Three down, five to go." Franz mumbled. He was about to charge them when he spotted a dark shape floating through the woods towards them. Another of the eyeball monsters (Lute would probably know the accurate term for those things) had spotted them.
Franz wasn't much for magic, but he knew enough that dark energy usually beat out Anima magic, which Lute utilized. The young mage was still focused on gathering her energies for another spell, and had yet to notice the ambush.
Then it happened. The eyeball darted out, somehow managing to shriek despite the utter lack of a mouth, and darkness began to gather in its eye.
Franz swung his blade in a wide arc, gashing into the creature's tentacles that trailed behind it. This apparently caused the creature to be knocked off balance, and the shadow-spell flew harmlessly past Lute's shoulder to envelope one of the revenants attempting to charge her.
As the wounded creature flailed on the ground, Franz quickly disposed of it with a quick stab to the eye. Lute, meanwhile, finished her next spell, felling two more of the remaining four zombies with a fiery blast.
Just then, an axe tore through the torso of one of the remaining revenants, and the creature flopped to the ground. Light exploded from the trees, searing into the last revenant, and staggering him. Swooping down, Vanessa stabbed up with her lance, rending through the monster's chest. It staggered, twitched, then fell.
"Franz!" Garcia emerged from the trees. "You are unharmed?"
"Couple of scratches, I think one might have the potential to be serious. Nothing major, though, Sir."
"That's good." The muscular man glanced around. "I think this is just about the last of the bunch. Sir Gilliam and the General are finishing off a last batch northeast of here. Come on; let's get you to the village. And who's the lass?"
"My name is Lute, a magician of superior wisdom, rare ability, and incredible combat prowess."
Garcia raised an eyebrow at this answer, then shrugged it off, and waved the two of them to follow, which they did.
The rays of the evening sun cast and orange-red hue on the entire town of Serafew as Amelia allowed herself a tiny stroll around the town square. She planned to spend a couple more days resting here and replenishing both strength and supplies before she made the final stretch to the capital.
Taking in a deep breath of the fresh country air, she glanced over in the direction of Renais. She'd heard that it was a beautiful country, full of clear rivers and vast plains, craggy mountains and lush forests. Maybe she'd get to visit there one day-
"You! Halt!"
The respond was a yelled command, and Amelia instinctively glanced around to see who might have been the origin, and the recipient.
The origin was readily apparent – an armoured soldier with a scraggly moustache was pointing and walking towards… her.
Suddenly self-conscious, Amelia quickly ran through a list of any possible transgressions that might have occurred during her stay in Serafew. Her recollection turned up blank; she hadn't even littered.
"You've got some cheek staying out past the curfew, Renaitian! Come on, it's off to the Captain with you!" The soldier snapped as soon as he came within conversational distance.
"But… but I'm…" Amelia sputtered, head whirling. Curfew? She hadn't heard anything about a curfew… "What are you talking about?" She finally managed.
"Are you thick or something?" The soldier snapped. "It's past the third watch – all Renaitians are to be indoors! Don't try to wiggle your way out of this one, Renais scum, you're going to-"
"But… but…" Amelia floundered, and finally latched desperately onto a seemingly insignificant fact he had gotten wrong. "But I'm not Renais. I- I'm a Gradian citizen."
"Eh? What's that? Don't try to mess with me, girl. You and I both know that all 'Grads' here have to have registered with Captain Saar."
"No, no." Amelia protested. "I mean – I come from Silva. I'm a visitor, staying at the inn."
That gave the soldier pause. Looking her up and down, he finally said. "Well, then, that's another matter. But look sharp, hear? If I find out you're lying, you'll catch it." Having finished, the soldier turned to depart.
"But… but what about the curfew?" Amelia blurted out. "What time-"
"You're a 'Grad', ain't cha? Don't bother your head about those things." The soldier departed, leaving behind a very confused and increasingly worried Amelia.
Dusk had settled upon the sleepy village and it's weary inhabitants. The locals had thanked them profusely for driving off the majority of the monsters, and had been glad to offer the ragtag band lodging for the night.
Artur and Lute had decided to accompany the band, partly out of thankfulness, and partly (on Lute's part, anyway) due to boredom. Right now, most of them were curled up in their rooms, slumbering peacefully.
Franz gazed out the window at the dark fog of clouds that roiled over the treetops. The flickering flame of the solitary candle by his side filled the room – or at least the corner he was occupying – with an ethereal glow. The wingback chair he was occupying was of good – if slightly crude – make, allowing his some measure of comfort.
So preoccupied with the scenery was he that he failed to hear the door creak open.
"Franz."
Franz turned, catching sight of the dim outline of General Seth on the edges of the candle's illumination.
Standing, he saluted. "General."
The Silver Knight acknowledged this with a nod, then moved closer and settled onto the chair close to Franz's own. Gesturing for Franz to sit as well, he began to speak. "How have you been holding up so far, Franz?"
"Fine, sir. I may be young, but I'm a sworn knight of Renais. I'll fulfill any duty given to me, to the best of my ability."
"Such spirit…" There was a gentle smile on the General's face. "I don't doubt you've improved significantly from the time that we set out. Your swordplay prowess has increased tremendously."
Franz blinked quickly. "Honestly, Sir?" Truth be told, he always seemed to barely survive his skirmishes through pure luck, and usually receiving several painful wounds in the process. On that note, he shifted his leg where the zombie – revenant – had dug into them, and found the pain almost gone. Father Moulder knew his work.
"Indeed." Seth nodded. "I knew I wouldn't regret my decision to take you on as my apprentice."
Franz flushed slightly, although it would have been hardly noticeable in the dim light. "Ah, I've always… considered that to be the greatest honour you could have bestowed on me."
"…You're still young, Franz. If your progress remains constant, you'll have surpassed even me by the time you reach the age I am now, for sure."
"Huh? Oh, no, sir, I could never-"
"What have I told you about saying that?"
"Oh, sorry, sir. But…"
Seth shook his head. "It's alright even if you don't think it possible. Just continue to train yourself up, Franz. Time has a way of revealing things."
"Yes, sir."
"By the way, Franz. Princess Eirika has informed me she plans to head for Serafew by tomorrow morning, so get yourself some rest. We've had three battles without any real break in between them."
"Understood, sir."
Seth stood, and headed out of the room, closing the door behind him with a soft 'click'.
Franz continued to watch the stormy night sky for a few more moments, before retiring to bed himself.
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