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"Speech"

'Thoughts'

Writing/Singing

"Foreign Language/Flashback"

-Scene Shift-

Chapter 17: The Necropolis

Looking towards the sunset of this World from it's central clock tower had been something which helped put him at ease… at times.

Whether it is from stressful occurrences throughout the day to him falling into a state of depression for a brief period of his life.

He does his best to come here often, particularly at the end of most days, since leaving Sora's Heart in order to live out his own life. Yet he sometimes tries not to, for it opens up a void inside him. A void which is hard to fill without Axel and Xion in his life.

Right now he just needed to be alone and away from Westeros for the time being. And his recent troubles began back at the Twins.

It went through like a typical day for the greater Nobody. He traveled with the royal caravan and was on guard in order to help protect the lot from the Heartless.

On that day in particular, they had to stop at the toll bridge owned by House Frey of the Riverlands. They could not have taken the bridge, but in doing so would result in more days on the road and no one in the caravan wanted that.

They stopped and rested as both Ned and King Robert went to discuss matters with the Late Walder Frey in order for them to cross. And in that time, Roxas chatted with Queen Cersei on some topics with family, war and betrothals in order to pass the time; moreso on the last one.

He honestly should've seen it coming, yet he didn't.

Roxas would've realized it sooner or under better circumstances if it weren't for the Heartless skirmish which occurred upon Ned and Robert's return.

The fight soon led the Keyblader to the toll bridge itself which he soon met quite the familiar face. A face he hadn't seen -through Sora's memories- in months: Cloud Strife of Radiant Garden.

Both fought against the present Heartless and the eventual arrival of the Golden Guard Armor. The fight resulted in parts of the bridge being wrecked, especially the Water Tower sitting right in the middle of it.

The fight eventually ended and all was well in the end… except that Lord Walder Frey was utterly pissed at both him and Cloud. And he wanted the damages on his bridge to be paid for what had happened.

Don't get him wrong, Roxas could've paid for the damages easily. He had the money to do it and then some. Damages are bound to happen, no matter whatever confrontation; especially with the Heartless involved. And the former Organization member could've helped solve the bridge issue… if it weren't for things going overboard.

No one assumed he had a large amount of money on his person to begin with right then and there. Because of that, Lord Frey demanded him to marry one of his daughters or granddaughters in order to wave the recent fine he was given.

And boy did a bombshell get dropped on him when he learned of his betrothal to King Robert's only daughter, Myrcella.

Roxas felt awkward, surprised, embarrassed and oddly betrayed upon hearing this. It was all done behind his back and no one bothered to even talk to him about it beforehand.

Ned did tell him he tried his best in not making this happen at all, which the Nobody appreciated. Yet the damage was done as his relationship with the Baratheon king became strained on his action.

When demanding why Robert did such a thing was simple, he wanted to make amends and honor Ventus for what he did during the Rebellion.

-Flashback-

"Robert, what in the actual Hell?!" Roxas yelled out within Robert's personal tent. "Betrothed?! I don't want to be betrothed. Your daughter's a nice girl and all, but why this so suddenly?!"

"Are you telling me my daughter's not good enough?" Robert inquired with a steely voice.

Yet Roxas only rolled his eyes in response. "Don't give me that right now, Robert. Seriously, what was that about?"

Robert glared at Roxas before relenting with a sigh, leaning back upon the chair he sat with a tired sigh.

The King of Westeros held a far away gaze that was held in a time gone past.

"Your father." Robert said with a melancholy. "Ventus… aside from Ned and old Jon… Ventus was the bravest, most noblest lad I ever had the privilege of calling a friend. Comrade. Brother."

He looked at Roxas with an impassive look. "Last we saw one another, I had a bloody lip with a missing tooth. Punched me right across the face before storming out of the halls."

Robert then leaned both elbows on to his knees, head hung down.

"I wanted to give him everything that I possibly could after the war." Robert said. "Ned had the North, Jon Arryn the Vale and soon to be Hand. Everything I could think of to keep him here with me, with Ned… With Lyanna… I knew how much Ven viewed her as a Sister."

Roxas kept silence throughout the king's reasoning, fully wanting to hear it all.

"All I wanted to do was give something, anything for all Ven had done for us." Robert stated. "But I never got that chance… probably never will."

Robert looked up and gazed into Roxas's eyes. "At the very least, I can have that chance with his son. The boy who has already saved the life of many in a short amount of time. Just like his father. Who's to say that he doesn't deserve a princess for a bride."

Roxas let out a tired sigh. "Robert, I didn't come to Westeros to get married. I have a duty, a responsibility to others."

"It is already decreed and done, Roxas." Robert said with finality. "What kind of King would I be to go back on my word."

"This isn't even about you being King, Robert." Roxas said frustratedly, throwing his arms up in the air.

Robert only opted to remain silent as Roxas gazed at him before scoffing, walking out of the tent. Normally, Robert would be quite forceful in making sure Roxas wouldn't up and walk out. But right now? Thinking of days gone by, he didn't have the energy or motivation in doing so.

Just the regret of many mistakes made in the past he refuses to lay bare and acknowledge.

-Flashback end-

So now, Roxas was in a bit of a strange bind that he didn't exactly know how to get out of without making all sides look like a bunch of idiots. He decides not to come back, Robert looks like a fool for chasing off the one person they knew of being an expert in combating Heartless. And Roxas himself will appear to be nothing more than a coward and even sully the good reputation he had built up in the North with the Starks and their Vassal Houses.

Days went by and he can already see things were changing for him, and not for the better in his perspective. Outside of the caravan respecting him as a grand defender against the Heartless, they regarded him as a future prince to the Iron Throne. Something of which he multiple times told many not to call him that.

And there came the small building issues that followed.

The majority of them all didn't change their opinion of him while others have.

Like himself, Arya thought the betrothal was unfair. And even if not voicing it, Roxas could tell Sansa was really hurt; but didn't know for whatever reason why.

Both the king and queen were already thinking Roxas as their good-son, even after that discussion he and Robert had in private after The Twins. Ser Jamie seemed off from either respecting him, to wanting to be stern towards him. Like how a father is towards a man going after his own daughter. And said daughter was utterly thrilled with her being betrothed to him of all people.

Roxas did not like any of this additional attention to him. He wished everything could go back how they went before. The normal attention of everyone regarding him in a friendly manner rather than half of them going about bowing now, mutter 'Yer grace' and all.

It was so frustratingly infuriating. He didn't know how to handle it!

Thank the Westerosi Old Gods that the Northerners haven't changed their tune by much. Sure some did the bow and all but one look from Roxas squared them away proper.

Ned still spoke to him as a friend, as did Arya and thankfully Sansa as well.

Though Ned did point out to him that he would eventually need to spend some time with Mrycella. Something he loathed to do. Not because of her. No it was because now, rather than him just seeing a new friend and getting to know her better, he was fully aware that at least several dozen people gazed in their direction leaving the two absolutely no privacy.

There is no way on his two Keyblades was he gonna live like this.

Roxas didn't know what would've happened if he wasn't there at all with Robert in the Twins. And he didn't want to dwell in it in order to save him the headache.

And then there was the matter of once again, people doing something for him cause of this Ventus person who he apparently is an exact copy of.

Grunting to himself, Roxas forcefully shoved that thought away once again.

It was becoming a bit of a routine habit by this point. Day starts out, shenanigans with Heartless and other matters ensue, something, something, something, you look like Ventus and let's call it a day.

And don't get him started on the crap that happened earlier with that trial by the Crossroads Inn. Sure it went towards their favor and everything went alright in the end, but it was just the whole mess that started it all.

As he was finishing up the last of his Sea-Salt ice cream, Roxas thought about Cloud.

He felt genuinely bad for Cloud. From his perspective from within Sora, his fight with Sephiroth ended up leaving him in Westeros with no means of returning or even communicating back to his friends back in his home World.

The Keybearer wanted to help, but Roxas didn't want to risk his safety in traversing through the Corridor of Darkness all by himself without an Organization coat for protection.

However, he did wonder if there were more coats back at the World That Never Was. Roxas was only given just the one he's currently wearing when he first joined the Organization. Perhaps there could be spares somewhere at the Castle that Never Was. It's no doubt vacant with all of the other members no longer around anymore. So possibly there are some spares lying around, even in Cloud's size.

'Maybe I can at least start by going to Radiant Garden and send Cloud's friends a message.' Roxas thought. 'They can possibly find the means of getting to Westeros one way or another. It can be a start.'

Standing up from the tower's ledge, Roxas formed a Corridor of Darkness in order to head over to Radiant Garden.

When he was stepping through, he didn't notice something was off about his conjured portal. There were bits of bright purple and green colors added into the black, dark purple and blue flamey-wisps.

Coming out from the other side and the Corridor dissipating behind him, Roxas quickly adopted a curious look on his face.

"Did I mess up?" He muttered, viewing the area before him.

To his knowledge, the outskirts of Radiant Garden was filled with crystalline canyons with the castle of Hollow Bastion located on the far distance of the World's central city.

Where he was in now was a forested area with signs of Winter littering the environment. From the cold air to the piles of snow at every other place on the ground with some spots merely melted to some degree.

So either Roxas ended up on a secluded forested area of Radiant Garden, by chance, or ended up back in the North… for some reason.

"I should probably look around as to where I ended up at." Roxas decided, walking through the grove of trees with him hearing the caws of crows from above. "Might give me some idea where in the North I ended up at."

When he exited the tree line, he eventually came across a sight which made him blink.

He hasn't explored the entirety of the North, so he doesn't recognize the kind of structure he looked at before him now. From the high up, fortified walls with hardly little to no means of entry. Yet what made him a bit more curious were the main gates being closed off with many things piled in front of the steel gate.

"What is going on with that?" He questioned out loud. He walked towards the barricaded gate and saw the rush job done there with many small buildings nearby were a bit wrecked.

To him, it looked like someone didn't want people to go in or out of the place.

Roxas decided to investigate the matter to see what's happening.

Seeing as there was no visible point of entry, Roxas quickly performed a few parkour moves off of a nearby destroyed building before landing on the stone wall and running up it's length.

Reaching the top, he landed on the platform before seeing the area behind the high stone walls.

At first he thought it was merely a large keep, but in fact it was a city. And on the far corner of it lied a sept. But a small part of him wondered if it was actually a Christianic cathedral.

Continuing his visual survey, he noticed something was placed on top of many buildings and they were all lined up and connected. He grew curious as to what it was, hopping down and gliding above the city.

Landing on the nearest building, Roxas soon recoiled in disgust and fright with what he was seeing up close. From the severed heads impaled on wooden pikes with intestines and entrailes coiled and connected to each one. when he looked away from it, he realized all those little anomalies were all over the city. Not to mention many of the buildings were severely damaged.

"What the hell happened here?"

Wanting to get to the bottom of this, Roxas lept down below and traversed through the many alleyways and streets. He saw many people collecting the dead and doing what they can to clean up whatever mess and damage that had befallen onto this city.

Roxas didn't know what he could do to help these people. The only thing which came to mind was helping them out on a financial standpoint. And the start of this was when he came across a mother and her daughter as they were just entering a makeshift tent.

Pulling out his Munny Pouch, Roxas opened the clasp and pulled out a handful of coins.

"Excuse me."

The mother turned back with an exhausted look on her face. "Yes?" Roxas presented her with the amount of coins in his hand, which surprised her greatly. From what she can immediately see, there were a lot of gold and silver coins. "W-What's this for?"

"Just to help you and your daughter live by with… what happened."

The mother stared at the coins then back at the boy and saw that there was no deception as she took the offered coins. She shakily formed a small smile as bits of tears appeared in her eyes. "God bless you, sir."

"I'm not a knight." Roxas immediately responded.

"What?"

"...Sorry, forget what I just said." Roxas walked off before stopping for a brief moment. "But can you tell me one thing?"

"Yes?"

"Where am I exactly?" Roxas questioned the mother. "I got lost and have no idea where I ended up at."

"You're in Gresit, sir." Was her answer before going into her tent to help take care of her daughter.

Getting this bit of information, Roxas continued on with his walk through the wrecked city of Gresit; which he will soon realize he ended up in a different World entirely.

As he moved on forward, a colony of bats began fluttering in the air. Streams of blood soon followed as a full moon appeared behind it all. They came together as a shroud of darkness blanketed it all before it all formed together to form...

Wallachia

He eventually came across what appeared to be a makeshift marketplace in the city square, with a statue at its center of a kneeling knight in a cloak with a lance in his grasp. The Keybearer figured Gresit's residents wanted to try and live any form of semblance to a normal life… after what befallen upon them.

Eventually coming across a food vendor, Roxas came across a long haired blonde teenage woman trying to sell her spread of fruits.

"What can I do for you?" She asked with a strained tone in her politeness.

Roxas silently forgave her, given the present condition around the fruit stand vendor. "I'd like a bushel of apples, ma'am."

She nodded and went to collect the fruit. When handing the basket to the blond haired stranger, she was given an unexpected amount of coin.

"Th-This is too much, sir."

"Keep it." Roxas said politely. "You need it more than ever."

The fruit stand owner shakily nodded and accepted the large payment.

"Can you tell me a few things though?"

"Quite certainly."

It was there and through many other vendors in the marketplace did Roxas learn a bit more on what occured in Gresit and beyond its borders.

From what Roxas learned, a great vampiric dark lord by the name of Dracula has struck Targoviste -a major city of the country of Wallachia- quite recently and basically wiped out it's population because of what happened last year with a woman named Lisa Tepes was burned at the stake. She was accused of the crimes of witchcraft and her husband -who was surprisingly Dracula- wanted revenge for this act. He gave them all one year to leave Wallachia or they would die.

Apparently no one bothered to do so. And now all of Wallachia is paying for it.

And just last night, Dracula's demon horde had passed through the city and did it's wave of "cleansing" before the sun rose up.

"Do you believe there to be a defensive effort?" Roxas asked the weapon's merchant, who he recently came across on his bit of investigation.

"I don't know if there will be given people's morale and the Bishop's influence."

Roxas nodded on the first part, but was confused on the second. "I don't understand. What do you mean by the Bishop's influence."

"First, let me tell you a brief story of the Sleeping Soldier." Began the weapon's merchant. "They say he was a great hero hundreds of years ago. When his job was done, he decided to sleep in the catacombs lying underneath this very city."

"Any reason why?"

"Some say it's because of not wanting grave robbers desecrating his resting place. But for the rest, it's to wait until he's needed again. Rising out of his tomb to save the people he once saved all those years ago."

"And do you believe that?"

"As a child, I did. Later in life, not so much." The merchant's gaze went towards the statue in the city square. "But now, many will just believe anything. And I believe he'll return, one way or another."

"Really?"

The vendor had a faint smile. "Oh yes, but do keep quiet. Remember what I said of the Bishop's influence?" Roxas nodded as the man continued. "He detests the old ways. So as Dracula's monsters come at night, the Bishop's men come in the middle of the day."

Roxas had a vague idea on what the vendor meant as he left some coins for the information and moved on.

When coming across more and more of Gresit's residents, the greater Nobody helped them out little by little with more donated coins with some more information.

There was a bit of a relief effort going on in the city with a passing nomadic tribe of Speakers; who all wore a purplish-blue cloak which reminded Roxas of a measter's uniform. On the rough info he got, they were healers and many thanked for their help.

Yet many others seem to quickly blame the Speakers for whatever's going on. Some saying it's them their "Sleeping Soldier" hasn't come out of the catacombs in order to help defend the city. And said people merely want them out so everything will go back to normal with the Bishop's men will help protect them all.

"This Bishop must have convinced the majority of the populous to support him and go against the Speakers." Roxas rationalized. "With their morale so low, they sway to just about anyone; for better or worse."

The greater Nobody didn't know if he wanted to side with either the Speakers or the Church at the present time. Yet he was leaning more towards the Speakers, given what he heard of the resident Bishop so far.

What he wanted to do now was at least meet one of them and figure things out from there. And his search took him throughout the entire city and saw no signs of them as the sun was reaching far towards the horizon.

"Where could they be?" Roxas asked himself. "I should at least have found one or two of them." He jumped across another rooftop in continuing his search. "Could they have left the city already?"

He soon heard a bit of commotion nearby and decided to investigate. From his vantage point from up above, Roxas saw a trio of priests guiding… well more like shoving an old man in purple robes to where they wanted him to go.

"Now that's rather rude." Muttered the Nobody, seeing the old man being mistreated. He then did a double take and took more notice of the old man's attire. "Is he-?"

"Get movin', Speaker." Said the bearded priest, with a nimble bald one and one that could pass as a gruff member of House Karstark following behind.

"Bingo."

Moving along the rooftop, Roxas saw the priests escorting the elderly Speaker past a man in a large furred cloak before ending up in a secluded alleyway.

If he remembered correctly, Roxas somewhat saw the same man in the marketplace earlier today.

"I warned you." The bearded priest spoke again while taking out a cross-shaped staff from some part of his clothes. "You can't say I didn't warn you."

The elderly Speaker turned at the priest and calmly spoke. "You did not listen to me, sir."

The bearded priest looked rather cross. He pointed the staff at the Speaker in a threatening manner. "Are you talking back to me?"

The Speaker gently moved the staff aside. "No, I'm merely talking to you. Anyone can see that we are not responsible for what befalls Gresit."

For some reason if Axel was here with him or possibly Robb or Theon, they would probably laugh at the savage remark the elderly Speaker began with.

The bearded priest felt like he had just been insulted. "So now I'm stupid?" Came the growled remark. "I work within the light of God Himself, but you can see things I can't with your magic?"

"There's no magic, sir. We are here to help, that's all."

The bearded priest got into the old man's face with an angry look. "Speakers don't help. Speakers are tainted. You attract evil and you and yours were told to be out of Gresit by sunset." He roughly grasped the old man's head and brought it up to face the sky, pointing to it with his cross staff. "And you see the sun is starting to make way towards setting, old man."

Roxas narrowed his eyes when seeing this happen. It's as if the priests are really trying to force the Speakers to leave before the designated time of their "departure".

But overall, the Nobody was starting to believe the Speakers were innocent and had the best of intentions; despite not knowing enough information about them quite yet.

"Will killing an old man make you less scared of the dark?"

"I don't know." The bearded priest smirked, holding his staff over his head in order to strike down the elderly Speaker. "Maybe it will just make me feel better."

Deciding enough was enough, Roxas was about to leap down when he saw something stretch across the alleyway. With a crack against the priest's hand, the stave went high into the air until it landed. And moments later, the bearded priest cried out in pain as he held onto his bloodied hand.

"Woah!" Roxas muttered out of surprise, wondering what just happened.

It wasn't just him but the three priests and the Speaker looked at the direction of where the strike originated from. It was there at the alley's entrance did Roxas see the same man he spotted earlier holding what appeared to be a leather whip… which had quite the interesting length to it.

The whip wielder actually looked apologetic at this point. "Oh, Hell. I'm sorry. I was trying to snatch the stave out of your hand." He pointed over to the cross staff over yonder with what appeared to be a severed finger lying not far from it. "How's your finger?"

"WHAT FUCKING FINGER!?"

The new arrival smirked as he gave a smartass response. "That's no way for a man of the cloth to talk. Why don't you go and get that looked at?"

The injured priest looked at his fellow priests and gave a command. "Kill the bastard!"

"Look, I don't like priests at the best of times." Began the whip wielder as he slowly came towards the group. "I mean, I really, really don't like priests. If you leave now, we'll say no more about it."

By the look of things, Roxas thought that conflict was unavoidable at this point. And he had a feeling the arrival had a presence would merely invite it.

"Kill him now!" Yelled out the injured priest.

"Last warning." Smirked the whip wielder. "This will get nasty."

Both the bald priest and the gruff looking one glanced between the injured man and the offender, trying to decide on what to properly do. Yet they chose to follow their fellow priest and went to retaliate.

With a whip of his arm, a knife slid out of the bald priest's sleeve and was quickly grasped in the same hand. With the gruff looking priest, he pulled out a small mace from within his coat.

"I can maybe understand a little on the mace, my good fellow. But I find it really funny to see what your fellow priest is carrying." The whip wielder said with an amused tone. "That's a thief's knife."

The bald priest dashed forward with knife in hand.

"Look, I may be out of practice but I'm Stone-Cold sober." the fur cloaked man said with a whimsical smile.

The bald-headed priest swung his knife at the whip wielder yet he side-stepped him with casual ease.

The mace holding priest was ready to swing back and strike yet as he held his mace over his head, he found he could not budge it forward.

Pulling several times, the grizzled priest abruptly had his mace yanked out from his hand and heard the clanging of metal upon stone. The priest turned about to find a young teenager with sandy blond hair, crystal blue eyes wearing a trench coat as pitch black as the night sky. The young teen was glaring fiercely at the priest.

"Ganging up on an old man?" Roxas asked with a heated tone. "What kind of a man are you supposed to be?"

The priest balked at the sudden appearance of this teenager before sneering fiercely in rage.

"Who are you to infringe upon the work of God?!" The grizzled priest roared, rearing his fist back to strike.

Only for the priest to feel quite the force of a backhand to the cheek, making him sail back down to where his bald-priest companion currently was with the man on his knees clutching his empty, bloody eye socket.

It was at this point, the other competent combatant took notice of Roxas with a curious face.

"Well you're certainly an interesting one." The whip wielding warrior remarked with a raised brow. "And who are you supposed to be?"

"Right now? Someone who's just passing through and lending a hand."

Whip guy regarded him for a moment, shrugging in acceptance a moment later.

The whip wielder walked towards the old Speaker, but stopped in order to speak with the priests with the bloodied hand, face and severely bruised cheek respectively.

"Ah, still conscious I see? Good. Then you could go and pick up your friends there and scurry back to your church." He commanded. "Don't bother this old man or his people again."

The priest gritted his teeth before going over and helping his colleagues get back to friendly grounds.

With all things settled down, Roxas looked over and gazed upon the whip wielder.

If he were being honest, the Keyblader could describe the man's appearance to be a mesh between Jon Snow and Leon. From the vaguely shaggy brown hair and thin beard, the big scar placed over his eye, the furred cloak and what he can see underneath, his garb had varying laces strung about.

Roxas then took notice of the old Speaker approaching them. "The violence wasn't necessary, but," the man let loose a small chuckle, "it is appreciated."

"Someone had to step in and stop it, you know." Roxas commented.

The whip wielder nodded in agreement.

The old man smiled before introducing himself. "I am the elder of the Codrii Speakers. Thank you both for your kindness and, I think, your restraint."

Not wanting to be rude, the greater Nobody introduced himself as well. "Name's Roxas and you are welcome."

"Trevor… and you're welcome as well, Elder." Spoke the whip wielder. "Can I accompany you to your train?"

"We have settled here in Gresit. No caravans." The Elder moved aside and ushered Trevor along. "But I would be glad of your company on the way to our lodging."

"Can I come too?" Roxas asked.

The Elder didn't mind the extra company as they made their way out of the alleyway.

"How many are you?" Trevor inquired.

"Eleven," answered the Elder, "though I insist we be counted as twelve."

"Is something the matter?" Roxas questioned.

"Yes. You see, one of us is missing."

It actually didn't take long for the trio to reach the Elder's destination. In an open area of the city, there resided a lone house in quite the ruined condition. Neither Trevor or Roxas knew if it was from the night horde or due to years of neglect.

"This is where we live." The Elder Speaker moved closer to the house's entrance. "Please, come inside. Meet my people."

Both younger men looked at each other for a brief moment before deciding to follow along.

Entering the ruined house, they were greeted with the rest of the Codrii Speakers with dozens of lit candles littering the place in order to light up the space. And by the corner, one of them was pulling out some rations from a wooden crate.

Roxas figured the Speakers couldn't have much, only having a limited amount of stuff on hand in order to properly move about. They were a nomadic people, after all.

One of the Speakers, having tanned skin with brown hair and eyes, got up and spoke towards the elderly man with relief in his voice. "Elder, we were worried about you. I told you it was too soon to go outdoors."

"And I told you it was necessary to offer aid to the people." Countered the Elder. "However, I was met by some of the Christan priests."

Some of the other priests quickly grew concerned with the tanned one voicing their worriness. "Are you alright?"

"Thanks to these two fine fellows." The Elder gestures both Trevor and Roxas to come forward. "Although I fear there may be trouble ahead because of it."

The young Speaker narrowed his gaze at the two men before him. "What did you do?"

"Hey! I didn't do much." Roxas then jabbed his thumb to Trevor. "He on the other hand…"

The whip wielder looked a little sheepish. "I'm a little out of practice."

"You sliced off a man's finger and ripped out an eye of another." Retorted the Keybearer.

"They're both still alive. You, though, bitch slapped the last one quite well."

The young Speaker grew nervous about this. "You used violence on them?"

The Elder soon came to the young Speaker's defense. "The younger people believe that words can speak louder than actions."

"I wish that was the case most of the time." Roxas muttered out.

It's quite fortunate that everyone has the potential in resolving problems by just sitting down and discussing things through. What is unfortunate is the majority of people ignore this, cause trouble and are willing to use violence to solve issues.

"Well, you're Speakers. Words are what you do." Trevor stated.

"You know of us?" Asked the young Speaker.

Roxas rose a brow and was curious. By the tone Trevor recently used, it might as well be.

Trevor moved towards a nearby window and glanced outside. "My family's always been on good terms with Speakers, although my father got into a fight with one."

"True Speakers do not fight." The young Speaker firmly said.

"What was the fight about, exactly?" Roxas questioned.

"My father tried convincing a Speaker to have their oral history transcribed on paper."

The elder let out a small smile. "Ah, yes, we are quite protective of our ways. History is a living thing. Paper is dead."

"I would know some people who would think otherwise." Roxas jotted in. "I mean, if you don't at least have certain things written down, then who will know what you did exactly? Without written documentation, like books or scrolls, it might as well have never existed in the first place."

Trevor smirked at the younger kid, seeing the bit of the argument going his way… in one shape or form; much to the young Speaker's ire.

"Even if it's written down, it can be destroyed by fire, people or being unpreserved." Argued the young Speaker.

The Elder stepped in between them in order to settle the manner peacefully. "Roxas, you must understand that we are not willing to part from our traditions that easily."

Roxas released a sigh and let the matter go… for now. He can understand the Elder's closing argument. It's just that he just grew used to part of his job dealing with written works and they were quite informative.

"Now, would you two like something to eat?"

"No thanks, Elder."

"I'd prefer something to drink."

Roxas nodded and motioned for that as well.

The Elder turned to the young Speaker. "Arn, bring our friends some water."

"Oh, the-" Trevor cut himself off. "Nevermind then."

Arn, the young Speaker, soon poured Roxas a cup of water and gave it to him. Once giving thanks to him, Roxas looked over to Trevor.

"I'm guessing you prefer something else. Ale, I take it?"

"Something like that, yes."

"Did you even think these people would be carrying ale with them?"

"...No." Trevor coughed into his hand as Roxas drank the water. "Maybe you can tell me why you're here."

"Speakers live anywhere they deem right. You must know that." Arn responded.

"I know that Speakers are nomadic tribes. Yet you seem to be here for a while."

"And how do you know that?"

"Because the locals are blaming you for the attacks." Trevor bluntly stated.

"That's the church's doing." Arn argued. "They need something to blame."

"At the cost of your reputation?" Roxas asked. "At the cost of all the good deeds you've done for these people so far?"

"They merely want to divert the people from the truth," said the Elder," that the church itself brought Dracula's hordes down on the land."

"Really?" Inquired the whip wielder.

Roxas added in what he heard earlier today. "I remember some people saying there was a witch burning last year."

"There have been plenty of witch burnings, kid."

"One of them which so happened to be Dracula's wife."

"Well… shit."

The Elder couldn't deny Trevor's response. "That is indeed one way of putting it. And the Speakers who happened to be in Targoviste at that time thought and felt the same thing."

Composing himself, Trevor readdressed his concern. "You still didn't answer my question."

The Elder walked over to a box not far away and sat down in order to rest for the time being. He released a tired sigh soon after.

"There is no structure left in Gresit. No doctors, no aid." He gazed at Trevor as he continued. "If you know Speakers, then you know we can't turn away from those in need. That is why we are here."

Roxas quickly grew to respect these Speakers a whole lot more now. The Codrii tribe wanted to help this forsaken city as best as they can; a noble task for such a small group as any.

Arn then came up and spoke. "May as well tell him the rest."

Once again, the Elder released a sigh. "In Speaker history, there is an old story, a legend, probably."

"I like stories." Trevor responded.

Roxas didn't know if Trevor was being sarcastic or not on that.

"The story says that a savior sleeps under Gresit, a great hero who sleeps until he is needed, until there is darkness upon the land."

"Oh I know that one, the Sleeping Soldier." Trevor interrupted. "It's a local legend."

"Don't know much about it, but a lot of people here in Gresit really believe the man exists." Roxas added in.

"Sounds weirdly convenient to me, if you know what I mean."

"And exactly how much do you know about this, sir?" Inquired the Elder.

Trevor moved his furred cloak a little to expose part of his tunic. "Because I'm a Belmont."

Roxas looked over and saw on the man's right breast was a family sigil. It was yellow in color with what appeared to be a pair of dragoons facing back to back with a cross set in between them. And the rest of the family crest was stylized in some ordinated manner.

The Keyblader didn't know how important Trevor's family was. Yet by seeing the surrounding Speakers' expressions, it seemed the Belmonts were quite important.

Trevor covered back up his family crest as he spoke back up. "So I know you're a nomadic people who gather knowledge, memorize it, and carry complete spoken histories with you. I also know you gather hidden knowledge and have practitioners of magic knowledge in your tribes."

Arn somewhat shook out of his surprise. "A Belmont? I thought your family had vanished."

The Belmont snorted. "If vanished is the polite way of saying exiled, hated and burned out of the ancestral home, then…"

'Okay, that's just horrible.' Roxas winced in thought.

"Then you know something of magic, and so you know that just because we found a story in our past, it doesn't mean it originated there." The Elder went on. "The wisest and cleverest of our magicians know that dying is not absolute, that it is possible to hear stories from the future."

"Do you perhaps have fortune tellers in your tribes?" Roxas inquired, earning some looks from the other Speakers. "What? It's an honest, valid question."

Trevor shook his head as the kid had the same idea he had.

"So, you think there's someone that can save the city asleep under it, and you're here to wait for him?" Trevor asked, still questioning the validity of the folk tale.

"One of us went to look for him." The Elder informed the two guests.

"Would that be your missing Speaker, Elder?" Roxas asked.

"Yes. That one went into the catacombs under the mausoleum west of the church… has not returned."

Roxas could tell there was some form of regret in the Elder's voice. Yet there seemed to be something off on what he said. Saying "that one" for some particular reason.

Putting that aside, the Keyblader voiced a thought passing through his mind. "Isn't there a leader here in gresit you could go to on this issue? And I'm not talking about the Bishop, given he doesn't like you guys at all."

The Elder shook his head 'no'. "Both the mayor and judge of this city died in the first horde attack."

"...Well there goes that option."

"Our searches have been unsuccessful." The Elder gazed at the Belmont. "So, what are your plans?"

"Find some more food, find some drink, get drunk, eat some food, move on." The Belmont casually said.

The way Trevor merely waved off any expectation of himself helping the Codrii Speakers pissed off Roxas quite well.

"Is that it?"

Trevor responded back to Arn's question. "Maybe I'll find a tall tree, sit in it, watch the show before I move on, all the good little people dying horrible, all that."

Roxas went from pissed to becoming very speechless on what he just heard. The Belmont seemed concerned with the Speakers, at first, but then decided to not care for the wellbeing of just about anyone.

"Are you kidding me?" Roxas soon said with gritted teeth. "You would rather forsake these people instead of doing something good for them? Do you even feel anything at all?"

"This is what the church wanted, kid." Trevor looked at not just Roxas, but also at some of the Speakers. "My family were the only people who could've fought Dracula and his army, but they didn't want us. They covered up what good deeds we've done for the populous with lies with their make believe angels and saints." He spat out. "They wanted to fight the darkness on their own terms. Well, good luck to them."

"But the ordinary people of Wallachia," spoke the Elder, "they didn't get the choice."

"For evil bastards to win power, all ordinary people have to do is stand aside and keep quiet. There's always a choice." Trevor stated. "And in recent times, they'd either be excommunicated or, at worst, killed by the church for just getting in their way."

Roxas tightened his fists, with the leather gloves straining little by little.

This was very much what he remembered reading about some parts of the Andal religion, mostly the Order of the Faith Militant; the military force of the Faith of the Seven.

They were formed during the Andal Invasion of Westeros when many of their missionaries were spreading the gospel. Yet many who followed the faith of the Old Gods didn't take too kindly of their presence as they were shoving the Andal faith down their throats.

After some instances, the Faith Militant was formed with the High Septon being their leader.

They began enforcing their strict religious values on the nobility and smallfolk alike. They harassed inhabitants across the continent who engaged in acts they deemed as sinful, such as street vendors selling idols from other religions or nobles visiting local brothels.

In the end, they pushed back the faith of the Old Gods up towards the Neck.

When Aegon the Conqueror was crowned as the ruler of the Westerosi continent, he promised to uphold much of the Andal practices. Yet he was already married to his two sisters for their Valyrian practices. Both the High Septon and the Faith Militant conceded to their union, despite their small distaste on the issue, thinking this incestuous practice of keeping their bloodline "pure" will fade away in the next generation.

Unfortunately for them, Aenys Targaryen -Aegon the Conqueror's successor- didn't get the memo as he had both his son and daughter -Aegon and Rhaena- betrothed. Because of this, they became outright pissed with the Faith Militant rebelling and denounced the Targaryen rulers. They soon attacked all Targaryen supporters with a heavy, extreme force as a form of "cleansing" of making way for the proper views upon the continent once more.

Aenys was unable to properly deal with them before his death. It was only through his successor, King Maegar the Cruel did he enforce a law prohibiting armed holy men and took brutal steps to put down the rebellious order and any Houses supporting them.

Probably the only good thing he did during his reign, even if it was too extreme on what was done.

Yet it was through King Jaehaerys Targaryen, Maegor's successor, who was able to successfully disband the Faith Militant. The price: offering amnesty to them if they properly laid down their arms.

Since then, Maegor's Law still stands to this day.

But back to the current matter at hand. In the World Roxas was presently in, he was probably living through a scenario where the mentioned "law" was never made and enforced. Where members of this Christianic church were suppressing others under their very own whim and harming everyone who didn't share the same "vision".

'Seems the only way for the Wallacians to have a better choice is if they had the courage to stand up against their oppressors.' Roxas thought with a frown. 'Yet it's gotta be hard for them, given their plight with these Night Hordes.'

At his spot in the room, the Elder Speaker didn't exactly like Trevor's choice, but he at least respected it.

"Well, Belmont, I hope you can find a good tall tree. You can watch us die, too."

Trevor narrowed his eyes at this. "Don't be crazy. Leave now. Head south and hook up with another train."

The Belmont may not be willing to help, but he didn't want to watch these people die either.

Roxas eyed the whip wielder. Despite his comments earlier, it seemed the man has enough compassion to hopefully advise the Speakers to leave; even if he's not going to help them.

At least he wasn't completely cold.

Not wanting to take anymore of this, Arn spoke up. "It's his grandchild."

Roxas and Trevor snapped their gaze over to the young Speaker and spoke in synch. "What?"

"Arn!"

"I don't care!" Arn firmly told the Elder and turned his attention towards the Belmont. "The Elder's grandchild is down in the catacombs. It's not our way to just leave our dead unattended to!"

'Sometimes you won't be able to do that.' Roxas thought, thinking of many people he came across in the North who were taken by the Heartless. Who were not able to properly bury their friends and loved ones as there was nothing left of them.

"We stay for the people of Gresit." Restated the Elder.

"Yes, we do." Arn began. "But we also stay because we hope…"

Trevor had his arms crossed, summarizing the situation with the Speakers. "So, you're staying to die with the good people of Gresit, not just because it's a good thing to do, but because you don't have your grandchild's body?"

The Elder stared at Trevor for a moment or two. "If you want to put it that way."

Trevor walked towards the fireplace and looked into the flames. He thought things over with memories flowing through his mind.

"If I go and recover your grandkid's body, will you please leave?" Trevor pleaded, not once looking back to the Elder. "Wait outside of this godforsaken city. Give your aid to the survivors when the night horde finally just rips through this place."

Roxas looked upon the Belmont and softened his features, just a little bit. He figured Trevor has some sort of soft spot for family or at the very least, having the opportunity to do some good for a group of people in this city; no matter how small.

Yet there was something he wanted to ask.

"Why would you do that, Trevor?"

Trevor gazed upon Roxas for a moment before gazing at the Speakers. "The good people of Gresit are going to come for them soon." He moved his arms dramatically soon after. "It's gonna be a pogrom."

Roxas sighed. "Yeah, figured as much. I heard a number of people speaking about that earlier today."

The Speakers looked on in concern with Arn narrowed his glance slightly. "I don't think you answered my question, Belmont."

Trevor walked up to the young Speaker, face to face. "I know what it's like to be persecuted by your own country for the accident of your birth." He then turned to the Elder. "If I find your grandchild, will you leave this city before nightfall?"

Roxas looked over with a hopeful look in his eyes for the Elder to accept Trevor's deal. And it seemed he did as the old Speaker spoke.

"If that is the condition of your recovery, then yes."

Trevor smirked, feeling victorious on this. Cracking his knuckles, he was ready to work.

As he walked towards the door, he casually took an apple from a nearby Speaker, who was just about to eat it.

"Hey!" Roxas spoke out. "That was rude!"

"I'm leaving now." Trevor took a bite from the apple, ignoring Roxas' yell. He turned and faced the Speakers with a stern look. "Don't go walking about looking for people to give support to. Stay right here."

"Belmont." Called out the Elder. "It is not dying that frightens us. It's living without ever having done our best."

Opening the door, Trevor spoke one last thing before closing the door. "I don't care."

Roxas sat at his spot for a few more moments before standing up and walking towards the entrance.

"Where are you going?" Arn questioned.

"Helping Trevor find your wayward Speaker." Was the Keyblade wielder's answer.

"But he told us to not leave this place."

"Yet he didn't say anything about me."

Before making it to the door, the Elder called out to him. "Roxas." The greater Nobody looked over. "Be careful out there."

Roxas merely chuckled. "Like Trevor, I have experience defending myself against the darkness. So I'll be able to handle myself, Elder."

This merely confused the other Speakers as Roxas left the building and went after Trevor, who was already heading towards the mausoleum; where the entrance of Gresit's catacombs await.

-End Chapter-

AN:

Man this Coronavirus is getting annoying. Quarantine deadline has been pushed back even further and it's so frustrating. I want to go out to places and actually enjoy being there instead of either being on a time limit or having to leave right away.

Anyways, asides from this problem… Final Fantasy VII Remake has finally come people… AND IT IS GLORIOUS!

God waiting for so many years has been worth it of seeing the game in such good quality. Sure what's given to us now is essentially the first "disk" like what was done in the original game release back in 1997. So hopefully there might be two more installments and we might be done… or possibly another given so much detail being used. And they better have Yuffie and Vincent playable!

Now with the chapter, you guys can already tell the first world Roxas visits for "series events" is Netflix's Castlevania, which is Castlevania 3: Dracula's Curse. In this current arc, it'll go through the events of seasons 1 and 2 of the Netflix show. And before you guys ask, yes this series World will be revisited… later.

Hopefully this show arc won't be too long before Roxas gets out of Wallachia and heads over to Radiant Garden and back to Westeros to resume GoT events.

Anyways, be sure to review this story guys! Would like the criticisms. Please and thank you!

R&R