Disclaimer: Characters and settings are © Square-Enix.
-- In the Hands of Misfits --
Story by Bozeia, 2008. (1348 Words)
As the history books would say, "Little did she know that the fate of the world was about to be placed in her hands." It's what all history books say of any so destined hero or heroine of Mana who dares to simply step into the outside world for a greater—likely unrelated—purpose. As a descendant of the nation of magic I've been privy to this sort of lore since I was just a tot, being constantly hoisted upon tutor after tutor as I had been.
Unfortunately, Jose had just been the latest in a long line of reputable teachers who had given me up for inept long ago. See, by that time I had resorted to feigning a lack of interest in the family trade to cover up my severe embarrassment. I skipped class on the old man frequently, since he could tell me nothing I hadn't thought I heard a thousand times before. I sort of wish I'd have paid more attention as of recently because now my memories of all the mythologies and legends are just a bit foggy.
Because, well, there's a Faerie floating around in my head, some brat from Wendel who claims to legitimately be a holy cleric, and an oh-my-mother-goddess-freakin' werewolf, all of which are tagging along on this crazy scramble to save the world. So, you see, it would've probably helped to remember those sorts of things from my lessons. But then, when am I ever so lucky? What was useless to me then is useless to me now, all because I stopped paying attention. I really hate irony like that.
…I really doubt asking either Carlie or Kevin about a silly legend will do us much good right now though. As irony would work, the two of them are figures who you would think would have access to such knowledge, not unlike myself. Carlie was the granddaughter of the Priest of Light, head honcho over at the holy city. Kevin himself was royalty; albeit Beastman royalty but, nonetheless, an honest-to-goddess prince.
Neither of them, however, seems especially learned. Carlie looks and acts the part of a six-year-old, while what I could gather from Kevin's garbled background would indicate that he basically spent as much time away from the castle as beastly possible. Not to mention the speech impediments all around, which would make any information impossible to interpret.
Aside from the facts, neither of them seem to be faring all too well on an emotional level as it is. Hell, I'm not faring too well either, to be blunt.
We bumped into some loose-lipped sailor in the streets of Maia, who related to our humble group the condition of Carlie's grandfather post-Beastman invasion. He didn't exactly make it sound optimistic, and lo and behold I had a sobbing little imp latched onto my waist. The nearest inn sufficed in a pinch and she fell dead asleep as soon as she hit the mattress, simply spent.
Myself? I'd been forcing myself to hold it together, to save face in front of Carlie. Still, you don't easily forget something as traumatic as your own mother denouncing you the black sheep to be sent to the slaughter. I was just as drained as anyone else would be, but unlike our short and sprightly charge I was more of an insomniac when under stress. Seriously, it did hideous things to my complexion. Not to mention the bags under the eyes.
That was when Kevin decided to make his thoughts known to me.
"Anjie…what 'bout you?"
He's sitting there on the bed, on his hunches, ears laid back, eyes shining with worry and unshed sadness. A textbook example of the Puppy-eyed Pout in its natural incarnation.
…He's looking at me, and I swear it's more he's looking up to me, as if I have answers to the questions of life that he's struggling with. It's uncomfortable because for all his roughness in a fight, he's got that naïve adolescent mentality already marred by another's cruelty. He's all innocence, and hurt, and anger, a little uncertainty, and just a pinch of despair. It's hard to look him in the eye just for that. "Anjie…Anjera…never quite explain her story to me."
I snort, and it's very unladylike. Fortunately the company I now keep (with the exception of the Faerie, who in the view of my mind's eye is shaking her head at me) wouldn't know the difference anyway. "Crown princess of Altena. My country is renowned for its stock in talented magic users. My mother, Queen Valda, is considered to be top of the line in Altena's arts. I, her daughter, couldn't do diddly squat. The short of it is that she instead planned to sacrifice my life for a higher purpose, which I didn't entirely agree to."
He tilted is head at me, eyes squinting with something almost like disgust. "Sounds like bastard Beast King."
I'd argue, but in a way he is correct. The two of us, heirs to our respective thrones forcibly expelled from their kingdoms via the actions of the regent. He's probably a lot more perceptive than I originally gave him credit for. So, I shrug. "It must be a single parent thing."
His paws clench and the claws dig into the bedding. The sheets would easily be torn and I can only hope our little ragtag team will be many miles away by the time the innkeeper notices it in the wash. "You give them respect…love…and they laugh at you for it. I hate them."
He screws his eyelids shut tight, and I can tell he's trying hard not to let it all spill over. "Kevin…"
"Beast King…not father…but once was father…" and with that he opens his eyes and he stares me through, "Like your mother…not a mother towards you…do you understand?"
I could get angry, but it'd be pointless. Nevertheless, my mother was a touchy subject. "Stop it. Thinking about them isn't going to do us any good right now."
He wilts. "That true."
And it's this, exactly this, which has us all anxious.
Carlie and myself can deal with whacking a rabite around, but not much else. Kevin is, for lack of a better term, quickly becoming our backbone. He has the physical strength to hold us together and hold off whatever miscellaneous evils we'll face until my magical aptitude begins to improve. Carlie herself is a decent healer, which serves to alleviate my worries just a bit more.
…but we know nothing about destinies and all that bull. We're alone, we're vulnerable, and we're scared. Carlie has been forced from her home and the ones she loves either near death or missing-in-action. Myself and Kevin have been shunned, banished, and our kin ordered to either imprison or slaughter us on sight. Now, we have nothing but a Faerie and the elemental spirit of Light guiding our way. All this is not an unreasonable cause for concern, and believe me I certainly am concerned here.
I can tell Kevin is thinking along the same lines as I am. The candlelight flickers, casting shadows across his muzzle, and he seems to shrink before me. He knows he's our first and last line of defense and there's nothing he can do but rely upon that side of himself which he loathes, under the cover of night.
My resolve crumbles, as I cross the crevice between our beds to hug him tight. He stiffens at first, probably surprised, but it isn't long before a barely decipherable whimper reaches my pointy ears, and something moist is felt against my bare shoulder.
"We'll pull through…" I whispered, "Us misfits have 'gotta stick together, y'know."
-- TEMP FINIS --
A/N: I heart Seiken Densetsu 3. I heart it with all my soul. Which is why I recently started a new file, 'cause maybe this time I'll actually FINISH the damn game.
That said, I've never actually tried to write fan fiction for it before. The group I chose for my game this time around however—Anjera as the heroine, with Charlotte (Carlie) and Kevin as backup—inspired me. Out of the six, this would undeniably be the "Misfit" group. Anjera's initially a failure magician from a family of great fame for their magic, Carlie a half-elf teenaged waife stuck with a child's mind and body, and Kevin might as well be the resident hippie in the game. Also, let's not forget those stunning parallels between Anjera's and Kevin's backstories.
Thus, I believe this group could make for some excellant character interaction. As I play through the game, I may or may not upload related snippits, but only if the snippits are accomplishable within a night. That was what I challenged myself with this time around, and the result was pretty good I think.
And yes, Anjera is Angela's japanese name apparantly (according to Wikipedia). I used it instead of Angela because I thought it was prettier, more suited to a fantasy setting. Also, note that for this story I consider "Carlie" to be that particular character's nickname, derived from Charlotte.