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An Alternate Shining Force fanfic
Distant Realities
By DarkSoar
Chapter 6
Two women sat across from each other. One, an older, mature but still attractive brunette took her younger companion's hands in her own. Seeing the older woman's face sadden, the young woman, barely into her adult years, instinctively tightened her grip.
"What is it?" she asked, with a determination to remain strong, no matter what the news was.
Breathing out a sigh of resignation, the older woman's eyes grew moist as she said, "My dear daughter, I'm afraid that it's time for you to return." A tear broke and ran free along the contours of her cheek.
Closing her eyes briefly, the young woman let her head sag down then she leaned forward and gently embraced her companion in a loving embrace. "I'm glad we had this time to meet and to spend time with each other again."
"Yes, as am I," said the older woman in a strained voice, as she struggled to keep from breaking out into sobs. They held each other for a moment longer then slowly disengaged. Standing up at the same time, they stepped a foot away from each other and let their handclasp slip apart.
Regarding each other with similar looks of sadness and love, the older woman said, "My little pony, I'm going to miss you. I wish we could spend more time together, oh how so much I wish, but I must cherish these last few moments of our reunion. You've already done me proud. But, alas, time is growing short, and I must prepare your departure from here. Remember all that you've been told; it will prove to be a significant advantage in the war that has begun. And now, I shall send you back to your friends, and to your father. They need you now more then ever."
The black-haired woman bowed her head in concentration, then brought the palms of her hands together and out, facing the younger woman. Soon, in a matter of moments, the younger woman started glowing a pale blue, which soon started to increase in intensity.
Realizing that only seconds remained before she disappeared, the glowing woman quickly cried out, "I love you, Momma! I'll make you, don't worry!"
With tears running down her cheeks, the mother smiled at her beloved daughter. "I know, sweetie, I know. Farewell!"
Suddenly in a flash of light, her daughter was gone.
Forever.
Sniffling a bit, the mother hugged her arms to herself and whispered, "Goodbye my darling daughter."
"Goodbye, Mae."
It was an odd cast of individuals that stood on the road, about twenty miles to Manarina. In a half circle, a group of six forest bandits stood before a lone swordsman, blocking his way.
The swordsman, a black-haired, darkly tanned man in his early thirties stood straight and tall, not the least frightened or even intimidated. Above average height, he was well muscled and built, without being too bulky. His intense cobalt eyes flicked around him, marking all of their positions and mentally calculating their threat potential.
"And who are you?" he asked coolly, not even showing a hint of fear.
The recipient of the question, a tall and skinny man, was dressed in the type of clothes you would expect a noble to wear. Which in other words meant flashy, brightly colorful, and one hundred percent silk. In the woods, it looked completely out of place and not the kind of clothing a bandit would usually wear. The nobly dressed man was just that; a bandit. From all appearances, it looked like he was in charge of this motley pack of ruffians.
He had the sort of looks that women considered very handsome and eye catching. A perpetual expression of smugness and self-importance was present on his face; his neatly combed, blonde hair was slicked back with gel. A beautifully crafted and elegant looking rapier hung at his side, his right hand lay casually on the hilt.
Puffing up in self-importance, the bandit fop (as the fighter thought of him) introduced himself, speaking in a lightly accented, aristocratic tone, all words perfectly enunciated.
He was probably the most arrogant, self indulgent, cocky, overconfident bastard Dyne had the displeasure to meet.
"I, my good peasant, am Loy D' Asse, and these are my not-so-reliable men-at-arms. Now, as a formality, bred from my courtly manners, I must ask you the same question. And please keep your hands away from your second hand weapon there at your waist. I would hate to have my men end your life a few decades short of your natural life span."
The swordsman managed to keep from bursting out into sudden laughter. That was, without a doubt, one of the most absurd and stupidest name he had ever heard of. But he did acknowledge D' Asse's warning and crossed his arms over his chest. 'Whoever heard of a nobleman foppish outlaw?' he thought. Thinking about that ridiculous name nearly made him chortle in amusement, but he limited his outward expression to only a faint grin. Taking a deep breath, he relaxed. Maybe there was a way he could have some amusement with these fellows before it ended.
Clearing his throat, the swordsman replied, "The name's Dyne. Hmm, let me guess. You were once a noble of a minor house. You grew bored with the life that the rich and famous lead, so you opted for a different path. One that hopefully led to some excitement and danger. And by the looks of it, you managed to gain some choice followers." Dyne took a good look at Loy's 'choice followers' and assessed their potential as a threat to him.
In startling contrast to their garishly dressed leader, his men wore the types of clothes that lower classes of society wore, basically leather and rough cloth. Although they looked like that they lived a more rugged life than their leader, they certainly didn't smell like it. Idly, Dyne speculated (with no small amount of amusement) that Loy had ordered them to scrub clean their bodies maybe once a day, just so he could tolerate their presence without torturing his nose.
Loy's group was armed with a variety of old, but serviceable swords, daggers, and clubs. Judging by their various stances, it was obvious to the swordsman that they possessed at least some skill in the use of such weapons.
Blinking in surprise, taken aback by the perceptive and impressively accurate summary of his previous life, Loy could only nod dumbly.
Deliberately acting casual, Dyne stretched his arms and cracked his knuckles. Shrugging, the swordsman remarked, "Well, it's nice to meet you, Mr. D' Asse, but unfortunately, I'm really hesitant to part with my hard earned gold. I'll tell you what, why don't you just let me continue on to Alterone and you can collect my coins another day?"
The ex-nobleman's eyes widened slightly in surprise at the cavalier answer. After a second of silence, his men started laughing and snorting derisively. Their garishly dressed leader joined in. Dyne noted with some amusement that he laughed like a high-pitch hyena.
"My, my, I must admit that is an answer that I haven't heard before! For that originality, I shall be gracious, and ask you a second time to kindly drop all your possessions, including your weapon, to the ground. Please act with haste, my good man. I, for one, would sincerely hate violence to erupt as a result of our little encounter."
Dyne appeared calm, but he felt his gut churn in a mixture of excitement, resignation, and anticipation. He raised an eyebrow and looked the foppish leader straight in the eye, mentally preparing himself.
"Well, if that's the way it's gonna be then, I guess I have no choice," he trailed off, heaving a sigh. Taking his traveling pack off, he placed it down in front of him and reached to loosen the clasps. With that done, he stepped back and raised his hands in apparent surrender. But before any of the bandits could come forward to check it out or disarm him, Dyne smiled like a predator cornering his prey and spoke just five words.
"But to kill you all."
In a blur of motion, the swordsman snapped his forearms towards his chest, then flung them out again. He quickly skittered backwards to gain distance.
Taken by surprise, the outlaws could only gape in shock at the unbelievable speed at which the attack had been performed at. Their stupefaction quickly turned into anger when two of them, who had been the closest to D' Asse, collapsed to the ground with moans of the dying. It was immediately obvious as to the cause; each had a small, hiltless throwing knife buried in their stomach.
As the leader, Loy possessed quicker wits then his men. Considering the quality of his accomplices, this wasn't anything to be proud of. As all leaders are wont to do, he promptly ordered them into battle. "Annihilate him, you insipid buffoons," he shouted furiously, wishing for the hundredth time that he had gotten men with a bit more intelligence. Jolted into action, the remaining three robbers charged at the retreating swordsman.
Knowing that he was still outnumbered, Dyne decided to whittle down the numbers. While still running backwards in perfect balance, he reached down as if to touch his thighs and pulled out two more hiltless throwing knives. They had been concealed in their sheathes, which were fastened around his thighs and were hidden under his loose pants, and could be accessed quickly (such as in situation like this) through a barely visible slit cut in his pants at thigh level, just under his hips. Suddenly ceasing his retreat, Dyne instantly flicked his hands upwards and sent the two deadly blades flying at his enemies.
Too enraged by their comrades sudden demise and lusting for revenge, the two bandits in front never saw them coming. They stumbled forward a few steps, uselessly grasping the knives lodged in their chests, and then expired from the world of the living.
Thinking to charge his opponent headlong, the lone remaining bandit ran straight at him and attacked. Having already drawn his long sword, Dyne parried the first attack; a cross cut. Then, a low slash was attempted; Dyne forcefully swung his weapon in a low, tight loop that knocked the bandit's sword up in the air. With the speed of a striking cobra, Dyne lunged into a thrust and impaled several inches of edged steel into the bandit's abdomen.
The swordsman pulled his blade free, letting the body fall to the ground, and turned to face his last foe. Cocking his head to the side, he regarded Loy with a disappointed expression.
"I did say to let me pass unhindered. Now look at what you made me do. It seems that your men won't be freeing anymore valuable from their real owners from now on," he paused, then said with exaggerated sarcasm, "my apologies."
For a man who had just lost all of his men, the foppish D' Asse was remarkably unperturbed. In fact, he looked somewhat relieved.
"Apologies accepted. Although I must thank you for liberating me from the company of such plebian dregs. I was going to end my association with them in a week. They were proving to be more trouble than they were worth."
"No charge." The slightest hint of a grin was present.
"Since I have witnessed firsthand your above average proficiency with a sword, I wish to pit my skill against yours."
Dyne took a moment to consider this. How much trouble could this arrogant popinjay be? With all of his support gone, Dyne was sure that he could easily handle the likes of Loy D' Asse. So it was with this attitude that he unconcernedly accepted the challenge. "Sure, whatever. To the death."
The nobleman-turned-bandit drew out his rapier and held it in front of his face. "A duel to the death it is, then," he cried out dramatically. He assumed a fencing stance; left arm tucked behind his back and with his right holding the rapier, pointing downwards. "Prepare yourself!"
Giving a curt nod, Dyne stood sideways in relation to D' Asse, long sword held loosely across from his thighs. A quick mirthless smile appeared; he asked, "No wonder you left the life of a noble. What's the matter? You couldn't get a suitable wife with a ridiculous name like that? Why-."
"Silence, you filthy commoner!" Loy shouted, blatantly ignoring the fact that he was now an outlaw, and that he was in no position to criticize proper birth in society's upper class, or lack of it. "We begin! Behold! The flashing blade of Loy D'Asse!" His pale face glowing with rage, the outlaw leader quickly advanced. Dyne was not slow at all to counter his charge and soon the sound of steel meeting steel echoed through the air.
Eyes alight with righteous indignation, D' Asse was the first to obtain the offensive. His rapier snapped to and fro, executing a flawless series of rapid thrusts and jabs, all directed at the chest and lower. However, his skilled opponent just as skillfully defeated every jab, swinging his blade side to side.
Dyne was grinning now; fully enjoying the heat and rush of the fight. So far he had been right on the money about Loy's abilities; the foppish bandit was throwing nothing but predictable attacks. Well, it was time to teach Mr. D' Asse the consequences of attacking him!
With a single sidestep by the swordsman, one of Loy's thrusts fell short, and then it was Dyne's turn to snatch the offensive. A low thrust was turned aside, as was the second one, and third. Seeing that approach wasn't working, he switched to slashing and hacking, alternating middle and high almost at random. Loy's face turned positively smug as he efficiently blocked them all.
"Not bad," Dyne was forced to admit. Lines of sweat ran down his face as he continued trying to get through D' Asse's defense.
Wearing a smug grin, Loy replied, "I was the best swordsman in the court for almost five years! And now, I'll show you how I did it!" He began the necessary motions for a low thrust and watched his foe's blade carefully. Milliseconds before their swords came into contact, Loy immediately shifted the balance of his feet and altered the angle of his wrists. Instead of being parried, his rapier slid on a course directly for the stomach. "I have you," he crowed raucously.
Dyne's face grew suddenly alarmed (a scene that Loy absolutely delighted in seeing); with catlike reflexes, he somehow managed to twist his body to the side. It was enough to avoid being impaled, but the swordsman did not escape unharmed. He was forced to choke back the biting pain that resulted from his first injury ever received since the fight began. The rapier's point had missed his stomach, but had slashed a long, but relatively light cut across his left thigh.
Grasping the advantage, D' Asse retracted his rapier then unexpectedly slashed upwards. Caught by surprise for the second time, and still reeling from the effects of the wound, the swordsman stumbled back a step. That was only thing that saved him from death; he bellowed out in pain as the rapier's wicked edge bit deep and tore a jagged line up his chest. Although not fatal, it was much deeper than the injury on his thigh.
Seeing that his foe was off balance by the pain and shock, Loy decided to bring this fight to an end. Feeling sure of his victory, he stepped forward and leapt forward into one final thrust. "And the game is mine!" he proclaimed arrogantly, and perhaps prematurely.
It was only by pure determination that allowed the swordsman to live beyond the day. Ignoring the pain from his second wound through sheer willpower, Dyne threw himself to the side as D' Asse made his move. As the bandit leader's own leap propelled him past, their eyes met, and the swordsman caught the sudden look of horror, denial, and pure disbelief.
Immediately, without hesitating, Dyne quickly tossed his sword up in the air, turned his wrist so that his thumb faced the ground, and caught his weapon as gravity reaffirmed itself. The swordsman twisted his upper body and rammed his sword hard through his opponent's back.
Loy looked down to see the unmistakable blade of a sword protruding from his chest; 'Impossible' he mouthed, not having any energy left to speak. Then all life fled from him as he slumped to his knees with his head bowed, a look of complete amazement on his face.
Breathing heavily and rapidly, Dyne wiped the sweat off his forehead. "I win," he murmured, a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips. He tugged his weapon free and scowled at the body of D' Asse. Turning a eye to his own wounds, the swordsman shook his head in self reproach. "Note to self; never underestimate your opponent, you fool. It's a good way to get yourself killed."
It was at that time the adrenaline from the intense battle wore off. Dyne's mouth opened in a silent scream as the agonizing pain flared and made itself known. It nearly made him black out, but he managed to stumble over to his pack. He had several healing herbs, bandages, and disinfectant powders that would help until he got to a priest, hopefully, in Alterone.
If he could remain conscious long enough to go to one, that is.
"Gods above, this hurts."
Gritting his teeth, the swordsman then proceeded to treat his wound as best as he could.
"My lord Dark Sol. We have experienced an unexpected difficulty. Commander Pavash of the strike force has failed."
"Failed? Explain, and quickly, Mishaela."
"Yes, my lord. When I detected the outburst of energy in Guardiana, I immediately took steps to try and make contact with Dark Dragon. It was then that I realized that I was only able detect the presence of Dark Dragon, but only partially."
"Partially? By that I assume you mean that some sort of magical interference is hindering Dark Dragon's complete entrance into this dimension?"
"You are most perceptive, Lord Dark Sol. Upon discovering that, I immediately cast several high level scrying and seeking spells to try and find out the exact nature of the interference. I was able to detect the magic of Pavash's lance, but that was when I came to the point where it was connected across something I could not accurately identify."
A loud snort of contempt. "Of course you were not able to. Even a manipulator of magic of your level would be hard pressed to even begin to analyze demon magic."
A gasp of surprise, echoed by a note of faint skepticism. "Demon magic, my lord?"
Another contemptuous snort, followed by a impatient hiss. "Yes, demon magic! You dare doubt that I do not recognize the magic of my own kin? Dare you find out the price for such presumptuous?" The sentence was followed by the ominous sound of magical energy being gathered.
The tiniest thread of fear could be heard in an otherwise steel encased voice. "Of course not, my Lord. I was -merely- surprised at such news. It is not everyday that we encounter such magic that does not originate from you, my Lord."
A mirthless chuckle sounded as the energy was dispelled without a second thought. "Do not trouble yourself further. I shall take deep pleasure in discovering the identity of the new player that has decided to enter the game. In the meantime, I want you, Mishaela, to inform the generals to assemble the army. I believe that in the light of Pavash's failure and the appearance of this new, unexpected variable, I believe that we must add a small revision to our plans. In two days, we shall begin phase one."
A pause, followed by a voice filled with greedy anticipation. "The beginning of Guardiana's annihilation! Mishaela, I have an important mission for you. Attend to me before informing the generals. We shall see how dear old King Amner shall handle things with one of his most precious things he holds most dear suddenly goes missing!"
The sounds of a typical sounding top-bad-guy-laughing his head off echoed throughout the place.
Max was terribly bored, and also in a bad mood. They'd been stuck in the same place for hours now, and it had been steadily getting under his skin. On the bright side, as small as it was, the rain seemed to be letting up a bit. Perhaps soon they'd be able to resume their journey.
Kokichi's grandson sure hoped so. If that blasted EMAM kept telling his stale jokes cursed of his own twisted sense of humor, Max wouldn't be held responsible for ceasing Adam's existence on Rune. If he didn't know any better, he would've sworn that the robot did it on purpose. Naaaah, that couldn't be...could it?
"This old man, he played one, he played knick knack on my son, with a knick knack paddywhack give my dog a bone, this old man came rolling home."
He groaned loudly. "Adam, give it a rest already! You've been singing that forever now!" That was the tenth time he'd said that; in response to the first, Adam had primly informed him that it had been a popular kids song back in Homesphere, and he'd taken a liking to it. Max had no idea how to reply to that and so Adam had kept singing quietly, despite the fact that to his master felt it was getting old.
"This old man, he played two, he played knick knack on my shoe, with a knick knack paddywhack give my dog a bone..."
Max shook his head wearily and gave up. He sat on the moist ground, not caring whether his butt got wet or not because he was already for the most part soaked in any case. Hunching over, Max tried to tune out his companion's irritating song by thinking some things over.
"This old man, he played three, he played knick knack on my tree, with a knick knack paddywhack..."
The aspiring fighter thought back to all the training he had received; military tactics and strategy, sword fighting, martial arts, tracking, hunting, archery, horseback riding. He harbored some doubts; the instructors at Guardiana had a reputation for being tough, strict and extremely demanding officers. Their academy program weeded out those unfit and each group of trainees was rumored to have a seventy five percent failure rate. The training was that tough, so it was said. Max had once been told by Master Delacan that even the least skilled of Guardiana's soldiers were almost the equal of elite troops of any of the other kingdoms. Well, pretty soon, he'd have the opportunity to test that for himself. Max was pretty eager to see where he stood skillwise in comparison to Guardiana's finest.
He had good reason to have confidence in himself. It wasn't as if he was a clumsy beginner, naïve and inexperienced. His various trainers had seen to it that Max's sensibilities were hardened before even entering Guardiana's walls. Therefore, they had taken him out on several 'community service excursions', which consisted of searching out and destroying any monsters they found lurking near Homesphere. Of course, all of the boy's trainers had went together with their student. Max had protested at first, saying that the monsters weren't causing anyone harm or doing any trouble. That had quickly changed when they came upon the corpses of two unfortunate travelers who had been ambushed by a group of goblins. Of course immediately after that Max had named it his priority to avenging the poor souls, and his instructors had supported him.
He was only fifteen years old when he had his first kill. A sneaky goblin had crept up upon Taka Manako, his horse riding teacher, and would have certainly ended his existence right then if Max hadn't attacked it from behind. He'd shoved his sword all the way through the goblin's body and bore it to the ground. Almost immediately though, he'd stood up and vomited. He was nauseated, not only by the actual killing itself, but also by the fact that the smell of the goblin and it's blood was incredibly putrid and repulsive. His instructors had made light of the matter, teasing him that the best way to dispose of a goblin wasn't to throw it to the ground and leap upon it with one's body.
After that, well, most memorable experience, Max had soon grew, if not used, then toughened enough to stomach the inevitable bloodshed and continued to go on many such excursions where he became more and more adept at handling all kinds of monsters. When his instructors were satisfied that he wouldn't embarrass them by throwing his weapon away and retreating, they moved his training on to other things.
"This old man, he played four..."
Quite unexpectedly, Max's trained senses alerted him to something. At first, he couldn't figure it out, but it soon became clear.
"He played knick knack on my door..."
Besides Adam's singing and the sound of rain falling, the forest behind them was silent.
"With a knick knack..."
James Moorson, experienced hunter and tracker that he was, had reminded Max that whenever the wildlife was silent, it meant that it had sensed a presence. This foreign presence was potentially dangerous most of the time, and anyone sufficiently versed in nature survival would be wise to heed the wildlife's warning.
"Paddywhack, give my dog a..."
"Adam, shhhhh." Max cautioned as he turned around to peer into the forest. He didn't have much success as it was too dark and the bulk of numerous tree trunks blocked his view. However, he suspected that there was something lurking in there.
Adam turned his head to regard his master's actions. He'd followed Max's instructions and had immediately buttoned up. What on Rune was his master doing?
He got his answer when both of them heard a faint yell wafted out from the other side of the forest. An instant later, the unmistakable sounds of steel ringing out on steel followed. A battle was being waged!
Suddenly feeling relieved that something exciting was going on, Max was quick to draw his sword and started heading into the woods. "Gods of Light! C'mon Adam! Let's go see what's going on! Someone might need our help!"
"Master Max! Wait, it might not be safe for you to go there! Master Max!" Adam held out one hand, beseeching his young, rash, AND headstrong master to listen to his words of caution. It was to no avail, however, as the eager youth soon disappeared into the forest.
The EMAM emitted a modulated series of descending tones that was the equivalent of a human sighing. "Humans," he muttered in emulated disgust and started after Max with a shake of his bullet head.
Princess Anri of Guardiana, twenty two years old, was feeling absolutely miserable. Life sucked, she decided.
At the moment, she was heading home after a tiring, but necessary week spent in Alterone, engaged in a series of political meetings. With her was her official escort, which consisted of forty men, broken down into equal amounts of knights and archers, who doubled as swordsmen as well. Along with them as support were two priests, and a wizard. They weren't really expecting trouble, but it was always a smart thing to be prepared, just in case.
They had been off to a good start, having left when the rain had stopped, but were forced to slow down when it resumed with an angry vengeance. The young princess felt sorry for the men who stoically endured the rain that splattered against their armor and ran inside through any cracks to soak their clothes. She felt spoiled and coddled being crammed inside the Royal Coach with Shernan Gledeck, her father's primary adviser, the wizard and two priests. No one seemed inclined to speak, and if she were given a choice, she'd be out there on horseback, feeling the rain soak her to skin and reveling in it, not being cooped up in some stupid boring wagon. About four hours had passed since they'd left Alterone, and they had to take a detour twice to avoid several places where the mud grew deep and was simply unpassable for miles with the coach. At the moment, they were off road and were taking a very long way home. Anri's butt had long since grown numb and her feet were dead asleep.
To take her mind off her physical discomfort, the dark, blue haired and beautiful daughter of Guardiana's current ruler thought about how her life was going and the reasons why it was so miserable.
She understood implicitly that as the future leader of Guardiana, she would have to secure a firm ground from which future generations could build up on. Her father was healthy and in good shape, but he was getting older. Soon, hopefully not too soon, she would have to take up the mantle as Queen Anri. And in order for her reign to be beneficial to her kingdom and her subjects, she would have to master every significant aspect of politics.
One of those significant aspects included strengthening relations between Guardiana and her neighboring kingdoms. It was generally a good idea to have many allies on your side, whom which you could call on for help in case of war. Stable trade routes and merchant wagons went hand in hand, and were also another thing of a hundred others which helped in keeping such relations on a steady, stable life.
Anri snorted in a most unladylike manner, not caring how Shernan, who was sitting beside her, blushed at hearing it. A few days ago, her father had asked her to go on an important trip to meet with King Maschaz, Alterone's monarch, on a series of issues. Anri wasn't a novice at politics and the dynamics of kingdom relationships, as a matter of fact, she was quite experienced at such things. But her father had thought it was a good idea to get her familiar with Maschaz's Royal Council and his family. The whole deal had sounded okay to the young Princess right up to the point until her father had mentioned something about 'marriage' and Maschaz's son 'Morvis' together in one sentence.
Anri had never been so angry, had never glared so harshly at her father in all her life. Furious as she was, her wrath nearly drove her to punch him in the face. To think that he, her beloved and loving father, would even think of submitting her to such a terrible fate! Immediately, she had let him know how she felt about that idea in no uncertain terms and language. The King had looked pained that his daughter would react this way, but she assured him that her feelings on the matter were genuine, and not likely to change in her lifetime.
The reason for her reaction was that she had met Prince Morvis before, and he wasn't exactly desirable husband material.
She couldn't count the number of things that was wrong with the idea of her marrying that, that, jerk Morvis. First of all, she wasn't ready to get married; she'd yet to have a steady boyfriend (discounting the fact that princesses weren't allowed to have a boyfriend). Second, there wasn't anything that was even remotely likable about Morvis. He had bucked front teeth, stringy red hair that stood out everywhere, a face full of unsightly pimples, was tall and extremely skinny. Actually, admittedly his physical appearance wasn't THAT bad. Anri had seen much worse.
Rather, the true cause for her ... disagreement was that his personality was absolutely, positively the most repulsive and obnoxious THING she had the misfortune to encounter. Not only was he still fifteen years old, which meant he was a bit too young for her tastes, Morvis acted like he owned everything and everyone. He was, simply put, a major brat and had a chip the size of a mountain on his shoulder. He thought that anyone who didn't have the privilege of being noble born was beneath his notice and acted accordingly. Anri would've given thanks that he wasn't that way towards her, but it would've been a whole lot better if he was. She was firmly convinced that he was a hormone driven pervert, and his past actions all just confirmed it. Her time at Alterone was made all the more miserable with him around. For example, like what happened five days ago...
Flashback:
Anri sighed as she was walked down the hallway which led to the VIP guest room she had been given. Actually walking was too strong a term; rather, it was more like she was dragging her feet forward. The young princess couldn't wait to take a nice, hot shower and take a good long nap.
Sleep sounded like a blessing at the moment. It felt like every ounce of energy had been leached from her, and only determination kept her on her feet.
Thankfully, she arrived at her room and said hello to her personal guards Tom and Jerry, who were on both sides of the door. "Ma'am," they greeted, nodding respectfully. She managed a faint smile, but they both knew it was a genuine one. As she unlocked the door, she said, "I'm going to take a well deserved nap. Please don't let anyone bother me, okay boys? I'm dead tired."
"You got it," affirmed Tom. Jerry smiled and nodded in response. Anri didn't mind it at all; these two had been serving as her personal guards for almost ten years. She had grown fond of them and had encouraged them to act a bit more informal towards her than they would have done otherwise. That was only in private though.
Anri smiled again in acknowledgement, opened the heavy oak door, and went inside, closing it behind her.
Without turning to look at his partner, Jerry said, "She's looking more and more tired every day, starting from when we first got here." A note of concern could be heard in his voice.
Tom murmured, likewise keeping his eyes straight ahead, "I know that. She knows that as well. But we're really can't do anything about it. The Princess hates this kind of stuff; maybe that's why she's pushing herself to get it over with as quickly and efficiently as possible. Anyways, we'll be headed home in a couple of days. Perhaps then, she can take some time off and relax."
"I hope so. I'm kinda worried about her."
Further conversation was interrupted when the both of them heard someone approaching. They instantly stiffened automatically and regarded the newcomer. He turned out to be a tall, skinny red freckle faced boy of around fifteen years of age, with stringy, brown hair that was tied back in a short ponytail. A silken black long pants, knee length riding boots, and an expensive looking, well decorated green, long sleeved vest trimmed with black was what he wore. He was wearing a cocky, annoying smirk and a snobbish looking expression on his face.
Tom and Jerry recognized him instantly, though they didn't feel happy about seeing this particular person.
It was none other than the youngest Prince of Alterone himself, Morvis.
Both of the guards carefully kept their faces blank, hiding their mutual dislike with him. Ever since they had first met him, or rather ever since Princess Anri had first met him, the young prince had given a rather bad first impression of himself. To be sure, Morvis had followed all the proper rules of protocol and politics, but just barely. He certainly didn't make any effort to restrain his freely roaming eyes as he lustfully stared (and even drooled) at Anri's nicely sized chest and feminine figure. Tom and Jerry were hard pressed to keep from knocking some respect into the perverted twerp, but somehow they did. Even if it was called for, both men had no desire to put strain on the relationship between Guardiana and Alterone.
Now they were suspicious and wary of the reason why he was here. Sharing a quick glance with each other, they suspected that whatever reason the boy prince had, it most likely had something to do about getting close to their future queen. Now that was something they would not happen, regardless of Morvis's station in life.
The thin, freckled young man walked right up to the oak door and casually reached for the handle. Tom sprang into action; he put on the most disapproving face he could, and said in a deep, slightly ominous tone of voice. "Prince Morvis, Princess Anri is currently resting and has explicitly ordered us not to allow anyone to bother her."
Now anyone at this point would have quickly apologized and left. Not so Morvis Maschaz. He was taken aback; shocked that anyone would dare stop him from doing something he wanted. Recovering, he offered Tom with a cold glare and said in a mocking tone, "My good soldier, it's all right. Allow me to pass through, for she surely won't mind my sudden visitation." Confidently, he reached for the door handle again.
Just as confidently, Tom and Jerry grabbed him under the arms from both sides, effortlessly hoisted him up in the air, and dropped him off a few feet away from the door, ignoring his protests and cries of indignation. They resumed their posts and Jerry addressed the obnoxious prince sternly, "With all due respect, Prince Morvis, it is our duty to make sure that absolutely no one, not even the King of Alterone himself, will disturb the Princess while she takes a much needed nap. I'm sure you understand and will respect her privacy at the moment." He stared Morvis down so hard that the boy flinched, then when he was satisfied that Morvis wouldn't push it, he grunted and returned to attention. The boy stomped off in a rage cursing up a storm, and the two men grinned in delight at each other. They weren't too concerned about getting into trouble with the boy's family; after all, it was King Maschaz himself who had readily given Anri free reign in how to deal with any unwanted attentions from his son
With his pride and ego severely bruised, Morvis was very furious at being treated so casually that he couldn't speak a single, comprehensible word. He seethed with rage; how dare that, that, those two gorillas manhandle him with such carelessness! Didn't they have any respect for the son of their host? Just wait until his father heard about this; he'd have the skin whipped off their bones, diplomatic relations or not!
Gradually calming down, the boy prince started snickering loudly as he walked down the hall that lead to the throne room. He had just thought up of another idea to achieve his goals. And while this new idea was potentially risky to his well being, he'd do anything to get to Anri!
Next stop, the equipment room!
Anri looked at the ceiling, considering for the moment the room she had been given. It was quite spacious, with an extremely comfortable king sized bed, two sets of drawers, two closets, a long mirror that would enable a person to see his entire self, the shower room, and a large window that was right by the bed. The view from there was spectacular, besides allowing one to see the sunset, she could see the whole of the courtyard, as well as the draw bridged gates, and the surrounding village all the way to the west.
Anri lost track of how long she lay there, letting the comfort of the heated water help wash away the aches and pains she had gained that day. Along the way, she slipped into a light doze, dreaming about nothing in particular, when a sudden loud 'clink' of a heavy metal object banging against stone abruptly woke her up.
'What in all of Rune was that?' she wondered, her ears searching the sudden silence for any more noises. There was none, but Anri's concern had been roused. She immediately pulled herself up from the bathtub and reached for her robe, all the while thinking of the many possible reasons for the intrusion. Maybe a bird flew in the window and knocked over a candlestick...maybe Tom or Jerry really have some important news and entered, somehow knocking over a candlestick...Arrgghh! Is it a little too much to ask for some time of peace and relaxation for myself! Whoever is responsible for bothering me is really gonna get it!
Then she heard a series of quiet noises, all of which were comparable to the first big noise, but not as loud. That did it. Instead of being frightened and calling for the guards, Anri was now royally pissed off (pardon the pun). With her face darkening in color, she grabbed a convenient sturdy wooden bucket that was near the tub and got a firm grasp on it with her right hand. Making sure that her robe was firmly tied in the back (so she wouldn't unintentionally give her mystery uninvited guest a free show), she readied herself.
"Ready or not, here I come."
Huffing a few times in righteous indignation, she scowled angrily, suddenly flung open the bathroom door, and leapt to the attack.
"AAAAAYYYYYYIIIIIIEEEEEEE! WHAT IN THE NAME OF RUNE ARE YOU DOING IN MY ROOM, YOU PERVERT! DIEE!"
An old shoemaker looked up, saw a rope and a hook dangling from a window on the fourth floor of the guest hall. He groaned in disgust. So did most of the people near him, including the knights and soldiers. They had a very good idea of what had just happened.
"Looks like Prince Morvis is at it again," the shoemaker commented wryly. He and everyone else shrugged their shoulders and returned to what they were doing. Nothing new to see here.
The sounds of instant violence erupted and echoed throughout the courtyard, emanating from that window.
A certain boy prince had not thought of the obvious drawbacks with said 'good idea'.
And now, a certain boy prince was paying the piper. Big time.
A mighty whack with a wooden bucket caught him by surprise and sent him spinning backwards against the king sized bed and seeing stars.
A ferocious downward swing smacked him on the top of his head, causing him to bend over.
A fierce kick to his stomach forced him back upright and staggering.
All the while the lovely creature responsible for these actions was screaming her lungs out in rage, her eyes gleaming wrathfully, angered beyond reason at this invasion to her privacy.
"DIIIEE, YOU PERVERTED PIG! HOW DARE YOU INTERRUPT A WOMAN'S PERSONAL SPACE! TAKE THIS!"
Discarding her bucket, Anri opted for the personal touch. While Morvis (yes it was him) was still dizzy from her previous attacks, she bitch slapped him once, twice on both cheeks, causing him to cry out like a girl, figuratively speaking. Well, Anri wasn't satisfied, and neither was her anger, so she followed up on the assault.
"AND THIS!"
She hoofed him in the most valuable spot that all guys treasure with all of her might. The boy prince's eyes bulged and his mouth dropped open, but he lacked the strength to yell or in any other way give voice to the unimaginable pain he must've been feeling. Only the Gods of Light knew what was keeping him up on his legs.
That wouldn't last too long though.
"AND MORE OF THE SAME!"
A second kick in the same spot caused the perverted boy to lose what little strength he had and collapse on the spot to lay motionless. Well, even with this new state of things, Anri still wanted to continue her punishment for him. She eagerly looked around and saw, to her great delight, a tall, oak wooden stool that stood in a corner. She was seriously considering using it when a someone coughed to get her attention.
Startled, she whirled around and saw Tom and Jerry standing behind her. They looked pleased and were even smiling a little. Then Tom spoke, "Princess, you can stop now. He's, umm, learned his lesson by now, I'm sure." Anri could see that it was taking all he had to not fall down on the floor, roaring with laughter. Jerry's own face was bright red and he held a mailed hand to his mouth, trying hard to suppress his giggles.
As Anri's anger slowly drained away, she too, began smiling and now as she looked back on what she did, she felt glad and justified. Then a short chuckle escaped from her throat.
As if it was signal, everyone in the room, who were still standing that is, began laughing themselves silly.
End Flashback...
Just remembering back towards what had happened made her feel a bit better. A small grin decorated her face; she had really pounded the living crap out of him, and he'd deserved every square inch of it. Anri allowed herself to feel vindicated. Actually, that had provided her with the perfect opportunity to get rid of some of the stress and tension that had built up. Her grin turned into a smirk; at least that pervert had at least turned out to be good for something.
And yes, her father had better accept the fact that she was most definitely not interested in marrying that immature brat of a pervert. At the thought of having to wake up every morning in bed next to HIM, a cold feeling ran down her spine and Anri shivered. Just the thought was tempting her lunch to come back up, but with an effort, she kept it down. To be married to that, that, that perverted pig was truly a fate worse than death. Although her father considered it an excellent and extremely beneficial idea for uniting the kingdoms, Anri was determined to make him rethink that particular plan. Right now, she was furiously thinking of an alternate solution and several backup plans. The young woman knew of her father's (well hidden) stubborness; once he'd latched upon an idea, almost nothing would make him change mind about it.
Anyone else other than Morvis, her mind reminded her. Perhaps maybe one of Alterone's higher classed nobles, or a close cousin of King Maschaz. Not for the first time, Anri thought about the type of man she'd like to get married to, although she was quite relatively inexperienced in the ways of a boyfriend/girlfriend relationship. He'd have to be at least her height or a bit taller, patient, humble but not afraid to make his voice known, intelligent and with a sense of humor, strong willed but gentle, loyal and decent. There were lots of high class men in Guardiana and indeed a good number had possessed some of the traits that she desired but somehow, on way or the other, Anri had found fault with them. It was too weird and very frustrating to boot, and after a good six years of looking, Anri had all stopped looking. One of her reasons why she agreed to come to Alterone was that maybe, just maybe she could find a man she would come to trust and love and, as the old children bedtime stories went, live happily ever after.
Her train of thought was rudely interrupted when someone cried in alarm from outside of the Royal Coach.
"We're under attack!"
The observer was a strikingly good looking female Shadow Elf. She was tall, and her pointed, sharp ears and slanted eyes granted her an inhuman, exotic beauty. Her smooth, unblemished lavender skin, coupled with her long, shiny purple colored hair simply increased that attractiveness. Her clear, perceptive green eyes took in everything that she saw. She was wearing a crimson magician's robe that partially hid her enticing figure. Around her waist, from a belt, hung several pouches of various herbs and magical powders. In her left hand was a black wizard's rod.
Mishaela grinned in satisfaction as she watched her squad gain ground as they savagely attacked the Guardiana escort almost immediately after teleporting. Another big advantage in her favor was that her squad was already in attack formation when they appeared while their targets were struggling to form a defensive line in front of the halted red coach. Already, several of the Guardianans were down, and to her the outcome looked pretty favorable. Her force, which consisted of human mercs and lizardmen, all on horseback, were equally matched in numbers against the Guardianans. The elven archers couldn't utilize their bows as they risked hitting their comrades and so were forced to switch to their swords and rush forward to join the knights. But their delay in doing so caused more pressure to be soon placed on the centaur knights in the frontline.
The sounds of battle arose, ringing into the air and echoing into the forest behind her. The moaning of the wounded and dying, ringing of steel on steel, the whinnying of the horses.
A Centaur Knight beat his opponent's sword aside with his lance and quickly thrust it through his body a split second later. However, he was blindsided from the left as another lizardman claimed his life with swinging axe stroke. A brown haired human mercenary joined forces with the lizardman and both of them ganged up on a hapless elven warrior.
The Guardiana commanding officer quickly directed his men to block all open paths that led towards the Princess. Before joining the hastily erected wall of defense, he ordered the driver of the coach to turn it around and go back towards Alterone for help.
Seeing this, Mishaela shook her head. "Uh uh, we can't have that happen, now can we?" With a mischievous smile, she lazily raised her hand and pointed her finger at it. One quick incantation later, a thin beam of crimson energy turned both of the rear wheels into piles of ashes. Of course, the immediate result was that the coach was dumped on its end. The driver got tossed backwards out of his seat by the sudden change in height and flew over the unbalanced coach, landing on the ground at a bad angle, instantly breaking his neck. The horses, already made nervous by the sound of combat, were thrown into an abrupt panic at hearing the coach making hard contact with the ground. They whinnied and were about to bolt, but in the next moment, all four of them fell dead to the hard, unforgiving ground. They were the victims of more crimson beams, courtesy of Mishaela, who looked extremely satisfied with herself. So far, the raid was going as planned.
It was at that moment she heard a male voice shouting from behind her, "On your guard, witch!"
The sight of him lying on the ground with his neck at an extremely wrong angle made her blanch for a moment in shock. Then the sounds of battle behind her position snapped her out of it. Her eyes widened as she saw a mixed group of lizardmen and humans, all dressed in different styles of armor and clothing, doing their best to push through her guards, who did their best to push them back.
Turning back towards the coach, she began helping the other passengers out. Luckily, everyone was okay except for Shernan, who had cracked his head on the ceiling and was unconscious. The young princess decided to leave him in the coach and quickly analyzed the situation. The coach and horses were destroyed beyond any possible use, and if they tried to run, it would be only a matter of time before their escort was overwhelmed and the mysterious attackers would simply catch up to them.
The only viable option was to stay and fight.
All of this took only a second, and then Anri was shouting orders with in a firm, authoritative voice. "Both of you, what in Rune are you waiting for! Go to those men and start healing their wounds! They're not going to last forever like that!" Without wasting time to even nod to her, they dashed off, heading for the right flank of the Guardiana soldiers. "Master Mage," she addressed the wizard, "go to the other side and see what support you can give to our escort."
The wizard, an older man in his forties with some silver hair showing, said, "As you command, your Highness," and quickly ran towards the left.
Her face flushed with some fear and mostly excitement, Anri went back inside the coach and opened the storage compartment carved within the floor of the disabled vehicle. She was aware that there was a very good possibility that she wouldn't live to see the end of the day. But at the same time, she couldn't help but feel energized by the adrenaline that can only come by facing a dangerous situation.
This was much more preferable than being in one of those boring, political meetings!
While the young princess was currently occupied, two lizardmen and a human merc suddenly broke through the defensive screen. Upon seeing the unarmed wizard, they snorted in blood lust and immediately charged towards them. The wizard, a brown haired, bearded middle aged man, did not panic. He began the gestures and incantations for a Freeze spell.
When the raiders were less than eighteen feet away, the wizard completed the spell. With a twirling and looping whirls of ice crystals and mist, one of the lizardmen literally froze in midstep. His two companions halted and looked at each other uncertainly. The wizard briefly thought of running, but the image of his young Queen being killed, or even worse, enslaved by these ruffians made him stand his ground. The pause in the two raiders charge gave him time to start chanting one of his shortest, but not as damaging spells, in hopes of defeating another one. However, time and luck both ran out for the brave wizard as the remaining lizardman got close enough and promptly stabbed him through the heart. The bearded man's eyes widened, feeling unimaginable pain for a moment, and he struggled to finish the last phrase. In his last seconds of life, he threw himself onto the surprised lizardman, disregarding the unbelievably sharp, tearing pain as the sword blade burst through the middle of his shoulders. While the lizardman was thus temporarily encumbered, a small hail of fireballs rained down from midair, consuming them both in a fiery blaze.
The human mercenary, a tall, lean hardened man who desperately needed a shave, shrugged at the elimination of both of the lizardmen and the wizard. Looking around for easier prey, he caught sight of a woman's lower body sticking out of the coach's open doors. With a howl of wild glee, he ran in that direction, knowing that she was the objective of this raid.
It was quite fortunate for Anri that she heard that loud yell so near her position. Letting out a most unladylike curse that would've caused her father to turn red with embarrassment, she pulled herself out of the Royal Coach and, with great determination and a little bit of fear, turned to face her soon to be assailant. Curiously enough, she kept her right hand resting in the Royal Coach, hidden from the mercenary's view, while watching him come closer.
The human raider slowed to a walk, having caught sight of Anri's beautiful features and howled again, this time in pure, unadulterated lust. "Give me no trouble at all an' I'll be gentle-like wit' ya, darlin'." He licked his lips suggestively, patted his crotch and advanced forward.
In another life, having trained with the great wizards and sorcerers in Manarina who helped bring out the command of powerful magic lying within her, Anri could have toasted him to cinders with a Level 2 Blaze.
However, in this reality, a single, subtle twist in the history of her life changed the way she was raised. This Anri, unfortunately, was scanned by the Manarina wizards as not having that much potential for being a manipulator of magic. Therefore, she had chosen a path different than the one her counterpart had taken.
When Anri judged that the raider arrived within four feet, she took a step back and suddenly whipped her right hand out of the Royal Coach. A flash of metal, an arc through the air, and a fierce slash wound appeared across the man's chest a split second later. Taken completely by surprise, the raider grunted in pain and staggered back a step. He took a moment to study the unexpected wound and found to his relief that it wasn't that deep. Ignoring the bleeding, his relief quickly turned to rage. "You sneaky little twit! I'll kill ya fer that, bloody princess or not!"
He attacked, translating his wrathful anger into a quick chest thrust, thinking that first hit had only been lucky. After all, she was a princess, and they were nothing but spoiled, helpless brats!
It might be noted that this particular raider was not the brightest of the bunch.
He had been right on most of his assumptions. Yes, it was true that sneak attack had been a lucky affair. Yes, it was undisputedly true that she was a princess. Yes, it could be called a roughly decent supposition that her father sometimes spoiled her. But a helpless brat Anri was most definitely not.
With practiced ease and without showing signs of panicking, she parried the thrust, beating it aside handily. The mercenary's surprise showed in his face, then he snarled, drawing back and slashing again, this time at waist. And once again, Anri skillfully deflected it. Getting frustrated, he sent his blade into a series of slashes and thrusts, all of which were successfully parried.
Then Anri went on the offensive. After her last parry, she turned it into a quick reverse stroke which was the raider barely parried. With a speed and strength of wrist which was masked by those state robes she wore, Anri took him by total surprise by stabbing out unexpectedly. Her opponent had vastly underestimated her, though, and didn't get his sword up in time to block. Her blade slid past his, and scored a direct hit on his right shoulder. Coincidentally, it was the shoulder which his sword arm was attached to. The mercenary let out a cry of agony and his arm dropped, but he didn't let go of his weapon. It didn't matter, for in a blink of an eye, Anri's rapier was a hairs width away from his chest.
It seemed that all those years of training under Guardiana's SwordsMaster had paid off.
Steeling her willpower, she forced herself to be dispassionate and jerked her rapier free. Somehow ignoring the blood, as well as the body as it crumpled to the ground, she ignored the urge to vomit and took in the situation.
It looked better than the first time she had seen it. The priests had been kept very busy, continuously healing and restoring energy to those who needed it. Their contribution was enabling the Guardiana knights and the elven fighters to live and fight longer. Anri shook her headed in dismay and confusion; how in the world did these brigands get so close to them without being seen? She knew that they were lucky; if the mysterious raiders had brought along archers and wizards and healers of their own, then the men and women from Guardiana would've had no hope of surviving, much less winning. As it was, thanks to the combination of healing spells and those bitter tasting herbs, the line held and even now as she watched, the Guardianans were now starting to push the enemy back. She let out a sigh of relief, but still kept alert. A sudden pang of guilt and worry spoke to her; where was Tom and Jerry? She couldn't see them as the two forces were mixed up. Anri could only hope that those two soldiers had managed to survive the ambush.
Anri and crew were unaware that near the trees a certain young fighter was keeping the leader of this brigand pack busy. If he hadn't, then the battle would have certainly had a different outcome.
End Chapter 6
Began: Sometime early February Finished: February 24, 2005 Editing completed: Febrary 24, 2005
Author's Notes:
I present the full version of Chapter six, roughly on schedule, give or take a few days. YAY! All right, I'm back on track with Distant Realities, and it's good to be back:D Tell me what you guys think. Is it up to the standards of the earlier chapters? I hope so, it's been a while since I wrote fantasy/RPG stuff.
You guys, the readers, probably have noticed that my chapters have been growing longer and longer with each new one. Well, that's done on purpose. I'm trying to teach myself how to write fanfiction in chapters of at least 60 kb or more.
Yes, Tom and Jerry was 'borrowed' from the famous cartoon. I just decided to throw them in on a whim. For Dyne, well, he's an original character I made up for a specific purpose, which will be shown in the next few chapters. And no, he's not the hero of the tale, Max will be and it'll remain that way! As for the 'single, subtle twist' in the history of Anri's life, well, that'll come gradually.
Thanks for reading, and sorry for the long wait!
Next chapter: Max VS Mishaela! And the winner won't be that easy to predict. Till next time, I'm outta here!
Darksoar or
