Author's note: I wrote this in the past 2 years when I played Granado Espada. At that time, there was no Granado Espada story section here in . Now that there is, I guess I can post it up here.
At the command, a horde of bullets left their rifles and honed straight to the battlefield. The battlefield was no foreign land of grass and dirt. This battlefield was the middle of the town square – or what remained of the town. The citizens had evacuated long ago, and the army of the families and the Queen poured in to remove the oppressors: the Vespanolans.
This was the war that unreeled its vivid replay, a mess of bodies, blood, fervent valour and hatred all intertwined in eliminating the opposing party. And Senor Dylan hated it with his life.
The musketeer captain reloaded his rifle, turned around and shot. His shot went wide, but a nearby comrade succeeded in downing the enemy's scout captain. Cursing, he shoved back into shelter. He never was such a good shot with the rifle. He glanced out to see his brother hard in battle – and loving it.
Senor Dilos Latemn, favourite of the Queen and key wizard and bishop of her court. He was currently launching fire with his fighters spread out before him. While Dilos led the frontline storm, Dylan brought up the rear with the wizards and musketeers. Dylan did not worry about that zest in his brother to fight. He only worried that his brother would deal better shots than he and survive this attack.
The Vespanolan fighters charged forward, the captain of the platoon leading the rampage. Dilos wisely retreated to his brother's side while their own warriors engaged the onslaught.
"Captain! What do we do now?"
Dilos looked to Dylan, his shock of white hair and slight age a sharp contrast to the younger and blonde musketeer.
"I have a plan, Dylan. I need you to back me up. Get your pistols."
"Yes, and my own trick," Dilos confirmed, slipping another bracelet onto his wrist.
"That's illegal, brother, and you know it."
"Anything for victory, dear brother. Prepare yourself."
Screams sounded from behind – the fighters were staggering. Scouts nearby desperately attempted to heal, and other scouts drew out their daggers and lunged in at the now weaker and easier prey. This was the distraction the Latemn brothers needed. Both men charged through the fray, avoiding blades as they went on. Crossing the battlefield with ease, they broke through the enemy's defense line of musketeers, warlocks and scouts. There, they positioned themselves. Dilos raised his hands to the sky, summoning the forces of fire and ice. Dylan cocked his pistols.
The enemy realized the infiltration too late.
Dilos unleashed the tempest upon the platoon – sending majority of the firepower skyward in the terrific blast and annihilating them. The remaining survivors on the ground stood little chance as Dylan unleashed his barrage of pistol power. What remained were the few scouts and wizards that were at the edge of the fray. The rest lay on the ground, inert.
The sound of gunfire behind them stirred the Vespanolan fighters to alert. Their captain, who led that charge, was stuck. The last war strategy of the Orespians unfolded: The whole platoon surrounded the last of the enemy in a circle, the scouts at the back to avoid damage. They fired at free will, in a blaze of hurt.
The Vespanolans lost the battle, but the Orespian army did no cry of celebration. There was no celebration in a war.
Dilos issued the order: Search and rescue any fellow soldier or, forbid, villagers that were hurt doing the blitz. Pairing together, the brothers walked through the town, looking through the damage. Dilos had his face in a grimace, and Dylan noticed.
This was not the only time when his brother would be in a frown after a fight. They had fought more than their fair share of battles for the war and the Queen. It was the aftermath that kept bothering Dilos – the gore and death that the innocent villagers and army-men never deserved.
"I'm all right, brother."
Dilos suddenly paused mid-step, his eyes turned away from the charred ground they trodded.
"Do you hear that?"
Dylan stopped to hear.
Infant cries - from the shattered house to the left.
Both brothers entered, and were disgusted. This was the city orphanage, and it seemed that some of its occupants did not evacuate during the fight. But, there was hope.
Dilos charged up the standing stairwell, Dylan following after and the cries getting louder. It was the infants' room when they finally located the source. The rusting cots stood brazen, miraculously, and there came cries from the cots near the stairs.
"My… by the Queen… Brother, look!"
In a cot, squeezed together in a tight wedge, were three infants, alive and crying. Dylan reached forward and took the child in the middle of the squeeze – a black-haired girl with a top-pearl on her lip. Her brown eyes were wide open, and her hands reached out to him. Dilos carried the other two – one silver-haired and the other gold-haired. Both cried; the silver-haired child's emerald eyes wide and tearing. The blonde's blue eyes were moistened with her own tears. The children grabbed hold to the cloths the men wore tightly - they needed attention.
Dylan looked to Dilos. Dilos looked to Dylan.
That was a good question. Neither had been married nor knew the least about looking after infants. Dilos looked contemplative. The children, now gaining a source of warmth from the men, had turned quiet and slept in his arms. Dylan's infant seemed to like the strokes on her head that Dylan administered, and she grew quiet too.
"I… I think, Dylan, that we should take these children. In our care."
Dylan looked up, his starling-blue eyes wide with incredulous surprise.
"Dilos! We have –"
"We have the resources. Our mansion is huge and our wealth is enough to last many families; we have maids that would help us. We are not married. They can be our children."
"And who would be their father? Or mother?"
"They have no mother. As for their father," Dilos turned to his brother, "You shall assume that role."
Dylan almost dropped the infant in his arms.
"Brother! I –"
"There is no room for argument, Dylan," Dilos turned to his brother, "I have news from the court, before our stand against the Vespanolans."
"The Queen has requested that I leave Orespia for the new world, Espada Granada," Dilos reasoned as he moved across the charred floorboards to the window of the room. The view from it was nothing but burned-down town-houses and streets cluttered with masonry and gloom.
"You mean Granado Espada, Dilos."
"Ferrucio Espada was not trained in the literal arts. The Queen needs me to oversee the clearing and occupation of the new world, especially in one of the cities. You have to stay, Dylan, to look after the proceedings here."
"But there's no future left for Orespia!"
"But we cannot leave her unguarded until the war ends! And, by then, I hope that these children would have grown up. You all can join me and we can all help build Espada Granada."
"Granado Espada, brother," Dylan replied.
Dilos was not shirking his responsibility to save the children, he knew. He was merely unable to do what Dylan could do. But Dylan was not sure if he was ready for fatherhood.
His eyebrows furrowed slightly, "Dylan, you are a fair man and caring in nature. You have what it takes to be their father. I can give you a break from the war if you prefer it to oversee their welfare –"
A hand rested on Dilos' arm, stopping him mid-way.
"Enough, Dilos. I understand."
Dylan patted the shoulder of the other, "I will raise these girls – but you are not out of the picture. We'll go to the church later and make you their godfather."
A twinkle of mirth shined in Dilos' blue eyes and he chuckled, "And here I thought I could get away scott-free!"
Dylan laughed back, clapping his brother on the back, "Absolutely not, brother. Absolutely not. The children would love to have you as their godfather."
Side by side, children in their arms, Dilos and Dylan Latemn made their way to the battlements, for once not counting the dead, but saving the living.
And that was how Senor Dylan Latemn found company in the old world. Not soon after the discovery and adoption, Senor Dilos Latemn left Orespia for Espada Granada. The children were still too young to bid farewell. He took half the family's wealth with him to get the necessary resources for a considerable base for the children and his brother. Senor Dylan stayed behind as the new captain. Vespanola was defeated by the end of the Three-Year-War. Orespia gained victory, but the captain of the army was not joyous in the days of celebration in the old world.
His brother, Dilos Latemn, had disappeared – along with squandering his wealth and more from the Queen to not only build the largest church in the New World, but also creating his own private army and shirking his own duties to gain more wealth. The army had disappeared along with its captain, and the church was now a hostile place of monsters.
But, in that blow, Dilos Latemn had destroyed the Latemn family's reputation. They were now hated by the people of the New World, condemned and possibly barred from entry. He also made Dylan lose his only brother, and this Senor Dylan mourned.
There were other matters at hand. If Dylan was ever to enter the new world, he would have to go under a new name. The girls cannot take up the name of Latemn as he (and his brother) wished. They were still young. There was hope in them. He would teach them, train them and raise them up here. The threat is over and Orespia had peace, albeit peace that came with gloom of a dead land. The soldiers in his family's army are still loyal to him – they can train the girls. He himself will oversee their progress and welfare.
And with that, he rose from his chair in the master room and walked firmly to the Latemn Army's barracks with a grim, and determined, spirit.
Years after the war, Dylan gathered the girls in the master room of the mansion.
They have grown up as fighters in their own right. It was a shame that they will never meet their god-father, and another shame that none of them had taken up his skill as a wizard.
The oldest of the group, Lyamirn was closest to him. She picked up the rifle and became a musketeer. Studious, upright and firm in discipline and value, she was indeed the leader of the group. The other two followed her with little squabble. She was a far cry from the day he held her in his arms as a black-haired baby suffering without care, well-acquainted with the skills of a tactician and familiarized herself with her home.
Amabelle would remain a mystery to Senor Dylan. He expected her to take after Dilos, given her hot-headed temper and the gusto in her that mirrored his brother. She went even further – she became a fighter, and strong in the art of dual-blade fighting. She bickered with Dylan, who refused to let her join him in the army. She only relented when she was given the duty to 'protect the home grounds from invaders'. But he saw in her loyalty and bravery. While Lyamirn was the leader of the group, it would be Amabelle who would lead the fight if ever the sisters would chance upon one.
Chemille was a joy to raise, and a greater joy to see at her age. She was not like her sisters – she was light-hearted and a great source of support to her father. The youngest of the group, she was never far behind her sisters and eager to join in their activities. When it came to choosing her occupation, she opted to be a scout. She wanted to stay close to heal and support her sisters. Upon Amabelle's insistence, she picked up the double-daggers as well.
They were now three strong ladies. Senor Dylan had done what his brother asked him to: He raised them up and prepared them for their future.
They were ready for the new world, Granado Espada.
"My dear daughters, I have news for you. We will leave for the new world, Granado Espada, as soon as we can. It has been years since the war ended, but Orespia can no longer support us."
"When will we move, Father?" Lyamirn asked outright, her eyes betraying the surprise she had. Foreign territory would be a challenge, indeed. She needed to prepare.
"As soon as we realize the mansion's value with the Queen, dismiss our army and rent our vessel. Bring what you wish to keep with you, but remember to bring war necessities. Granado Espada is still a hostile place, overrun with monsters."
"I'm sure we can take them on!" Chemille assured.
"I hope so too, my dear. Girls, do remember your godfather?"
Godfather. That was Dilos Latemn's only memory to the girls – just that rank and nothing more, save pictures on the walls of the Latemn mansion and stories he told them at bedtime as a hero of Orespia.
The girls nodded.
"He had vanished long ago in the new world."
The girls nearly stood up in alarm.
"Father! We must find him!"
"Amabelle, I'm afraid we can't. He has done something despicable. We cannot speak of your godfather when we reach the new world. He wants us to live our lives peacefully and well in Granado Espada, and we'll do just that."
"Can we, at least, find out what happened to Godfather?" Amabelle was running a hard argument.
"No, we can't. No one knows what happened to him, and that is enough."
"We can always try, Father," Lyamirn reasoned.
"I will put this matter aside for another time. We have another matter of urgency. We cannot go to the new world as the Latemn family. We will need to adopt a new family name."
The girls nodded. They understood.
"Our new name is the Tyrillian family. No meaning exists behind our name, and none of you will use our old family name. Remember this, and you will be safe in the new world's society. Understand?"
The girls grimly nodded. Senor Dylan took this as confirmation – Tyrillian, after 'trio' and after the three girls, a trinity of his pride, joy and only family.
"Good. We shall leave tomorrow night."
'Brother, wherever you are, we'll find you.'