A Path Ends, Another Chapter Starts

"Every life has its own story, every story has a life. Dead people tell no tales, that is why people live."
~Aor, The First True Apostle

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A Ranger's Tale

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"Man, this sucks," yawned a young redhead, the ivory side gate manned by two Home Guards, "They say this is a place where fortification meets absolute beauty, but I don’t even get to have a wee glimpse inside!"

"We're here to stand guard under orders, kid. Go wank on some pretty filly instead," grumbled his senior counterpart looking twenty years older.

"Sorry, but nobody wants to look like old Mutton after prolonged inactivity," replied the boy with a clucking of his tongue. No sooner his statement had reached its end, Mutton boxed his ears.

"Mutton is not my name. Name’s Muttos, Carl," snarled the goateed man, throbbing pain ringing in Carl’s reddened ears, "Prolonged activity is the cause of inactive cocks and my cock is still perfectly fine. Get me, retard?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know that. I know that Fort Park is only for privileged cocks and prestigious tits. Happy?" sighed Karl, his free hand thrown up in exasperation.

"Carl, stay alert," snorted Muttos, "Bunch of merchants coming up next."

"So?"

"So let's do a bang up job then!” growled Muttos, an index finger scratching his matted brown mane, “Puff up your chest, boy!"

Yeah right, puff up your chest. That’s a good pick up line. Bet I’ll impress Gracie this time round.

Carl could feel his thing stirring in process, a silent reminder dictated Muttos as his brand new teacher. Standing at the narrow gate’s front, a portly middle aged man went up and produced the relevant documents.

"Ladros, good soldiers" bowed the jovial Human, "We're here to escort wine under Lord Jarvis Dukes’ request."

"Request means a helping hand to bang the bride," mumbled Muttos, "Young Master is bloody lucky to… hey! What the fuck you’re doing, Carl?"

"C'mon, Mutton! Relax!" shouted Karl impishly, "Check out all these stuff here! Vintage Marsiel! That Cinha filly must be worth at least three thousand whores!"

As soon Carl finished his words, the leader apparent approached Muttos.

"It's okay, comrade. Kids are born to be curious," a friendly statement accompanying a friendly pat, “So long as the cat doesn’t die from it.”

"I'm not your comrade," snapped a peevish Muttos, "I'm a sol…"

Like a grinning feline stalking its prey, the rotund merchant pulled out a dagger gleaming red. Muttos did not react, for dead people fight no battles. No longer whole with lengthy entrails spilling out, Carl could only gape like a carp flopping on dry hard ground. A comely young girl suddenly hugged him from behind, her dirk opening a gaping hole in his neck.

Lerry Dukes had appointed Carl Vires and Muttos Lambert to guard this gateway meant as the sole emergency exit, no one had informed anyone of merchants going by that way. Honest folks should be entering through the main entrance, someone forgot warning the powers-that-be on lacking decisiveness. Verily fast enough, an olive cluster of invaders cast aside their disguise as nary an attention was paid to two wide eyed guards slaughtered.

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Jarvis Duke enjoyed sighting the night time harbour. Edwood was a special place to him, it was also a special place for the Empire as well. He was born here, never leaving Harvena once bar occasional expeditions to repel the Dwarven scourge. Founded by Gaelis the Seafarer, Edwood used to be one with Seaside under a common government. Even now decades after a short brutal annexation, its former glory still remained unchanged. Edwood was now an island encircled by defensive high ground, Fort Park being his home was entrenched on top of rocky hills. As balmy sea breeze refreshed his wearying want, cerulean orbs turned to his most alluring bride.

“I don’t give a damn to whatever rumours going on between us and I suck badly with flowery words. Firstly, I don’t like you. Secondly, take good care of Alestrial. Thirdly, I’ll be back if you treat her like a bitch. Think over why I trust you over any richy, Jarvis.”

"Forget about him," smiled the bridegroom, his hand caressing Alestrial's jet black hair like an actual lover, "I know ‘tis a tall ask, Ales, but…"

"It's over, Jarv. I do not mean you and I, but rather me and Guy," lamented Alestrial, her rueful smile directing towards a full moon seemingly returning the favour, "Fairy tales are fairy tales, Jarv. Do you still remember my mother telling us bedtime stories by the fireside when I used to visit Fort Park?"

“Hell, yeah,” grinned a mischievous Jarvis Dukes, “There was one time during Samien where I badgered Lady Lord Emma to tell us a ghost story. Turns out to be a romantic one... hey, wait a sec, Ales.”

"What, Jarv?" Alestrial raised her dainty eyebrows in surprise.

"Am I seeing the same ghost story coming alive? You're giggling like Little White!"

Drawing giggling mirth with a smooth porcelain hand covering her mouth, Alestrial replied in like.

“And is little Jarvis still Little Black?”

Cracking childish jokes was Jarvis Dukes’ specialty, certain things would never change. Having swept countless ladies off their feet, the boyish redhead never saw himself as a philanderer. A steadfast lover chiefly with a strong sense of duty placed not so a distant second, he was lauded as an able rapier user and excellent naval tactician. The previous end of winter marked his twentieth year, the following spring heralding a knighting ceremony marking him an Argonaut. He embodied all that any self-loving lass would desire in her husband, Alestrial should be no different. Then...

"Fire behind the main gates! Be wary of all!"

"The wine cellar has been set afire!"

“Some bloody asshole torched the Central Garden!”

"Flare! A flare just shot up from the nearest watchtower!"

"Fuck the watchtower, newb! Shit's not even part of the fort! Fire’s everywhere now!"

Jarvis Dukes gnashed his teeth in chagrin, a knowing dread dawning on him. Fort Park was his family residence, the Seat of Edwood. Lerry Dukes was its Governor and a Senator put together, only a fool dared contemplating such a brazen slap. Indeed laying even slightest of insults against the Imperial Parliament would be an act of treason, a crime punishable by death and family execution.

"Milady!" exclaimed Hugue Lloris, his blurring form barging into the room, "A million apologies for kicking down the door, but we must hurry!"

"Hurry for what?" bellowed Jarvis Dukes, ire made flesh seizing Hugue by the collar of his marine blue shirt, "This is Fort Park! A castle of beauty and stone! Why must…"

Then it happened like a viper fastening its fangs onto an eaglet stranded on ground. Alestrial Eliaden could only stare in horror and tears, trauma disintegrating whatever little she held faith in.

That surely there must be a certain good in every individual so that anyone can be saved.

Jarvis Dukes never noticed what sliced through his chest. Or mayhap he knew about it, but only when demise was imminent. Dead eyes opened wide in shock, Hugue Lloris ensured only one fluid stroke would suffice. Alestrial understood her bond’s martial ability right at the start, a flip of the arm and his rapier’s thrust would suffice. A dagger’s blade stuck inside Jarvis’ wrist, this was a foul blow reserved for both the dead and living.

Naran… he looks like Naran… a monstrous snake wearing a humane mask.

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Dead.

Everyone’s dead.

Am I alive or dead?

Blood smeared across my face…

And onto my bare naked chest…

Why do I feel so cold?

Why do I feel so warm?

This man, who’s he?

Looks like an Elf… but different colour…

What’s he trying to say? What’s his face?

Guy jolted from his sleep, orbs of sapphire blue greeting a bright full moon. He did not know how long his slumber has gone, he only remembered emotional pangs knifing straight to the heart like millions of sharpened blades.

And his voice… sounds familiar… oh no, not him. Fuck no.

"No need for a slap, what a bummer."

A Lancer’s heart skipping a beat, Guy spun towards his left. An amused pair of ruby orbs revealed a lean muscular figure, an otherworldly aura stilling the air akin to water freezing into ice. Guided not by reason, a lion’s instincts resolved a question nagging in his mind.

The god of cheap shots, oh great. Sucks to be you, Guy Cody.

"Lars Alterfate at your service," smirked the golden blond with his hand extended, “But only if you need advice on girls.”

Guy could only stay rooted on spot, an oddball show of courtesy stupefying him. The lad was dressed flamboyantly so as to speak, a sleeveless white vest opened at the front. A tattoo resembling three scratching marks engraving on his bare naked chest, a matching pair of loose trousers was complimented by a silver sash tied around the waist. With straight golden bangs forming a stark contrast with the rest of his black hair cropped short, Guy tensed up slightly.

"Do… I know you?"

If there was any indication pointing to Lars knowing Guy, he merely affirmed whatever answers left unknown by seizing the young lion's hand and shaking it firmly. Survival instincts kicking in like a crossbow bolt fired, Guy forced himself away from the grinning stranger.

"What do you want?"

"No proper manners, no proper answer," sighed Lars, strong hands dusting his pants while picking up a familiar weapon, "Here, you forgot your wife."

Catching Gae Buidhe’s golden shaft, Guy Cody could only mutter to himself words of self-revelation.

"Why is it that I always feel at ease gripping a spear? I used to ask myself this whenever fumbling with one, but now I don’t need the answer."

"Gae Buidhe and Gae Dearg, the Gold and Crimson which are one," commented Lars wryly, "You'll need some serious help with that thing. In fact, I doubt you know a shit about Gae Dearg getting activated by some other asshole. Correct?"

Guy narrowed his stare as he managed to put two and two together.

"Draft me under your wings?"

"Yep, that's right, my little lion,” beamed Lars, “I can be the fairest bastard in The Known World if I want to. Get my point?"

"In exchange for?" glowered Guy warily. Then something immediately clicked into mind.

"Wait a holy sec. You know the truth behind my past?"

"Past shouldn’t be the correct term," shrugged Lars nonchalantly, “Correct word should be truth.”

"Stop talking riddles, fuck you!"

"And you think I’m doing this for shit and giggles?" retorted Lars, the surrounding air warping abruptly, "Know this fact, boy. Being a man is only down to your Truth awakening. You understand me?"

Dumbstruck and nodding like an ignorant cub, Guy Cody could only remain stunned. Lars Alterfate now looked much more terrible, taut muscles like a thousand beasts roused. Then all too suddenly, the golden blond relaxed himself. The atmosphere reverting to normal, he asked Guy that one vital question.

"So, any last words for Aera Darko? He’s the one saving your ass, not me."

Guy only knew the answer too well without intrusion from rationale.

Don't give me that empty look, I've yet to settle our scores. Until that day, you better keep yourself alive.

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"Why do you want to live? Is it for vengeance or just another chance to prove something else? I won't demand answers because this is a question I shouldn't ask from myself."

Waking up from a soft bed made of finest down, Aeranath focused his azure glare against the surrounding grandeur. Pressing a hand onto the wound ripped into by Guy, the True Apostle at last understood Gae Dearg’s real power. No pain was felt, not even a scar was present. A wolf can only choose to die alone, Ziron had said so before. Whether it was a literal truth or metaphor, the Ranger gave not a single damn. All he cared about currently was a nagging answer serving only to further unsettle him.

"So you've finally came around."

The voice was a relic from a long forgotten past, yet Aeranath could not let go of her honeyed tone.

"I should have known you're the one experimenting with my body, Nanaya no Geun'Jin,” growled the silent wolf, “Or should I just call you bitch of the Church?"

Sarel Aphros betrayed neither anger nor erupting protests laced with vehemence. Aeranath smirked at the Grand Damsel's impassive stance with nary a joy. Stepping down from his bed adorned in crimson silk and wolf's pelt, Aeranath headed for the exit without looking back at the white haired girl. That was when Sarel performed an action taking Aeranath aback. Hugging his dark muscled back tightly against her ample breasts, Sarel could no longer hold her emotions in check.

"Please, I beg you … you can never win against him," wept a broken little girl trapped in a seductress' guise, "Because if you do…"

"It will mark the end of my shit," completed Aeranath, his dry manner of tone defying Sarel's sincerity.

"It's not a game, bonko! Ah’na is already dead," sobbed the supposedly unbreakable schemer, "And Lars ah’ni, he’s returned home also! Why not we…"

"Me, Lars, and you… three idiots living together without that stupid bitch completing the picture…” mused Aeranath wistfully before reverting back to his original self, “Are you retarded? Heaven and paradise?"

Sarel's clinging grasp got forced apart, Aearanath’s callous answer breaking her, "I won't say sorry for bailing out, but I won't mind you telling me where my stuff is stashed. Thanks for housing me."

"Favour?" cackled Sarel suddenly like a deranged mother robbed of her child. Seizing a fruit knife lying on a nearby table, she screamed behind Aeranath her single challenge, "Take a look at me, sorou!"

As Aeranath turned back like a wary wolf looking over its back, a scarlet shower painted his face red. This was Sarel’s own vengeful act, her own blood being proof of twisted hostility.

"Witness me with your cold blue eyes, Aeranath," whispered Sarel audibly, greatest evidence of life flowing ceaselessly from her neck artery severed, "My blood shed by my own hands... it's red and human. Just like my sister's when you howled like a wolf with its mate departed true."

Aeranath only assumed an emotionless façade, knowledge on Sarel’s rant impaling his heart. He understood not what caused Nanaya no Geun'Jin to become another person literally, but he could not withstand the sight of this existence mocking his life. It was not his fault or Sarel's, let alone Hyo'Ah's. That was what truly sealed the deal for him. Unable to face Guen'Jin and Hyo'Ah, rest could go to Hell. Including himself.

The way her wound is healing… great, now another pain in the ass.

"I've seen it all, it won't work on me."

With a parting shot most damning, the True Apostle cut a solitary figure. Her heart thrown into turmoil, Sarel could not let Aeranath see her weakness in full glory. He never glanced back once, a much desired reprieve was granted as a result. Proclaiming swiftly her decision made in response, the Grand Damsel’s heart reverted back to despair and nothing else. Suppressing an inner beast fed by turmoil, the white haired beauty finally spoke calmly.

But not before taking a deep breath.

"Your equipment is stashed in my private wine cellar below, for I do not want word of your presence leaked. But where is your destination?"

Aeranath decided to continue marching until Sarel offered him an irresistible suggestion.

"The county of Edwood is already lost. Eliador de Lioncourt is assuming total lordship over that island. Do not underestimate the Serpent of Histalonia. I believe you know why I'm giving you this warning."

"Because he pulled one over you? What an asshole…" replied a nonchalant Aeranath, a hand brushing over his hair of clearest frost.

"So will it be Edwood or Histalonia?" probed Sarel, both knowing all that is at stake.

"It takes an asshole to know another asshole," quipped Aeranath, boundless azure locking stares at ruby abyss, "I can guess the answer with both eyes closed."

"Guy Cody is in safe hands, I believe you’ll welcome this piece of news," smiled Sarel sadly, lingering traces of profound melancholy dissipating altogether.

"Not just that kid," said Aeranath in a voice barely audible, an ominous tone betraying volatile chaos within, "There should be another one."

"Jarvis Dukes and his entire family are dead. Alestrial Eliaden managed to survive somehow," answered the Grand Damsel quietly, “Just don’t ask me why.”

"You don't seem happy," queried the Ranger, “Bah, why the fuck am I wasting my time?”

"Your reaction is the correct answer. Jesters can only perform one type of task for a living," Sarel's fists were clenched hard upon hearing her own verdict.

"Any ships going to Histalonia?"

"No. The Imperial Navy is now preparing to retake Edwood. Already rumour has it that even the Red Lions are being put on standby alert with Ian Holls put in total charge. Joes Mouriz, on the other hand, is now embarking on a negotiating mission."

“You don’t have to fill me in,” sighed the True Apostle, “I’m willing to bet this Joes whatever will get his ass flayed alive while Ian Holls can’t match shit up against that slippery snake.”

“You seem to know the Red Lions fairly well,” mused Sarel, a wicked smile drawn.

"Wrong, bitch,” came the final answer as Aeranath made his exit, “I merely know Eliador de Lioncourt as that greatest fraud capable of shafting anyone he damn well pleases. That’s why he can easily shaft one whole county.”

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Sarel Aphros took a sip of vintage Marsiel as night befell the City of Napishtim like a black cloak draped. Scholars had mentioned before that Marsiel as a wine was produced from the finest grapes, the colour verily of deepest red.

Like blood itself…

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Background notes

Marsiel is not only the name of a wine, but at the same time the name of where the wine hails from. Name inspired (?) by an actual city in France called Marseille. Incidentally, the nature of how wine is named in The Known World is no different from how the system works in our actual world.

Fort Park has nothing to do with Fort Canning Park. Rather, it's a fortress built upon Mount Lancas where beautiful gardens are cultivated within the walls.

On any questions stating how a Governor and a Senator can be the same person, let's just see things this way: Everything is done through the Emperor's decree through merits performed by deed and name.

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The Wolf, the Boy, the Maiden Fair

(THE END)

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Eliador de Lioncourt: Battles are fought by soldiers and knights, wars are won by knaves and liars…

Arondight: Fionn of Cumhaill, I still remember the oath sworn by the Fianna, I hereby place Ceres under your care. For the blood of battle is now crying out to me.

Lars Alterfate: For love and liberation? That’s a pain in the ass. So what say you, man of steel?

Arondight: Shut up and kill. There are still many more waiting to die…

Joes Mouritz: Oh shit. Guess they’ve stolen our thunder. Batshit crazy lunatics…

Ian Holls: Self-mutilation? What the fuck is going on?

Southgate Garrat: You know I have a daughter, Chief. That’s why you give me this stupid command. Yes, Joyce is my daughter, bastard or no bastard. But for sure I’m still gonna cover you, stubborn jackass.

Karen Tenias: You’re a brave man. Foolishly brave years ago, but still brave nevertheless.

Yeras Wynda: And what will you do if your two bosom lady friends are now determined to follow Guy Cody even till humiliation and death? Fighting tooth and nail for him, that’s what I’ll do, Ales.

Lukas Brun: There’s a difference between sharks and dolphins. The latter knows how and when to fight rather than just fighting.

Moggray Tonn: One last time, Guy Cody. Are you with me or against me?

Guy Cody: Both. That’s why you’re seeing me in front of you instead of beside you.

Aeranath: A whore will always be one, no matter how much your red tresses resemble you.

???: Shut up, you brown piece of shit! You have no power over me because you’ve only bought my freedom!

Aeranath: And that means you only belong to me. Am I right to call you Hye’Na?

Hye’Na: Yeah, that’s my name alright. Wanna fight?

Aeranath: I don’t like remembering people’s names. You’re luckily excluded.

Aor: There are ways more than merely physical in mutilating self. Silent solitude and self-mockery, your stage is now set for all actors and actresses alike.

Alestrial Eliaden: Hrunting…

~2nd Arc~

~A Sea of Arms and Craft~