Story:Kings of Strife/Part 10

Part Ten
Much like it was the last thing he remembered seeing before succumbing to his injuries, the blanketing snow of North Norzaven was the first thing Vikcent saw as he awoke.

A quick scan reinstated that he was no longer, in fact, on Norzaven, per say. In fact, he appeared to be on a boat - the same boat that took him to Norzaven. Before he had lost his consciousness, he was pretty close to the shore in which he had left the boat, so he had probably been picked up by a crew member. Once he registered where he was, the next item on Vik's mental checklist was not a location. ''Hasey! Where...Where is Hasey?! Is he safe?''

He sat up in alarm, but very soon regretted that decision. Most prominent of the ensuing pain was in his left hand. As he thought earlier, it felt like most of the bones in his hand were broken. His fingers looked crudely wrapped into a normal position so as to prevent irregular healing and problems, but it was definitely not work of a doctor. In addition, his other wounds were similarly bandaged, but faint traces of blood were beginning to seep through the thick gauze.

Weakness lightened Vik's head, and he unconsciously felt himself fall back on the pillows of the bed he was laying in. On cue, the door to his dim room opened, and a figure walked through. Vik squinted at the sudden light, and almost sat up again when he saw who entered the room, although he managed to resist it this time.

In walked Hasey Troblum, visibly unharmed but for a little chill. Vik coughed and spoke with a hoarse voice. "H-Hasey! Where have you been... What happened? Are you hurt?"

The boy sat on the end of Vik's bed. He still wore Vik's heavy, oversized fur coat, but besides that he wore simple cargo pants and cloth boots. Vik hoped that the arctic cold didn't affect the boy like it did him.

"You drove that man off. While you guys were fighting, I ran back to the ship, but by the time the crew members came back, the man was gone and you were dying in the snow. They helped me bring you back here and bandaged you up, but they said you wouldn't last that long without a doctor, so we're on our way t-" Hasey stopped speaking to look up as Vik sat up on his elbows, wincing in pain from his shoulder wound. He shivered before speaking.

"No, that won’t do. Tell them to go straight for Straits City. I need..." He winced at some unidentifiable pain somewhere. It all hurt to him at the moment. "I need to speak with someone there." Vik looked away from Hasey and began looking around his room for something. Hasey stammered in protest.

"What?! But if they don't get you to a doctor fast, they said you might die! Your hand might get infected and they might have to cut it off! They, they you’re your cuts could fester and kill you! What’s wrong with you, can’t you see how badly you’ve been hurt?!" The boy received no reply. "Ah... What are you looking for...?" Vik gruffly responded after a moment of searching as he rubbed his still growing beard with his good hand.

"My bag. Did you bring my bag?" He looked to Hasey, startling the boy with the fire in his eyes. Along with the unchecked facial hair on his face and the red cut on his eyebrow, the craze and desperation burning in his eyes lent him an image not unlike a devil or an insane man. Hasey, normally a mild-mannered and emotionally reserved boy, was suddenly shocked speechless by this seamless transformation and couldn’t reply until the fear had left his heart.

"Ah... Yeah, they... They brought it, bu-"

Vik cut him off with a fierce, spiteful reply. "I don't care what they said anymore. I'm the one paying them. Bring me my damn bag and go tell them what I said..." He trailed off with a vicious, painful sounding cough, and lapse of shivers. "P... Please." He looked down at his bed and gingerly laid himself down on his pillow, signaling his conversation with Hasey was over.

The boy stood up from the bed and left the room without a word. He returned mere minutes later, opening the door just wide enough to toss the personal bag at Vik. He watched as the soldier took hold of the bag and held it tightly to his chest as he shifted his position to his side.

The boy had had seen enough. He closed the door and leaned on it outside of the room, letting a hand go up to his forehead and shift his dark-colored bangs aside. He had never seen the man act like that before... It implied something that Hasey had rather not think about. “Just… How far along is his sickness? Have I been acting too late?” A dark chuckle befell his features and his temperament changed entirely. Much as had just earlier happened to Vik, the entire demeanor of Hasey’s behavior morphed and the boy became engulfed in a devilish aura. Now his gray eyes shone with a darkly mischievous luster and his hands gripped into tight fists.

“It is no matter to me; in fact, his new plans serve me all the better. It will make it even easier to rendezvous with V-Heit… Oh, it will never cease to amaze me how the Leader’s plans always come to fruition!”

****

"Hey. You mind telling me how you know where to take me? Or even where we're going?"

There was no response from the female. Again.

The mercenary, Silverius, sighed with irritation and put his hands in his coat pockets. The jacket and the rest of his clothes were dirty and caked with mud and smelled like the ground, further dampening his sour mood. He didn't attempt to start conversation with the blond girl anymore, instead keeping step behind her and looking up at the sky. In this eastern part of Inusia, near the sea, he found that the weather was much cooler than in its northwest corner, near Shorica. It did not heighten his spirits as much as they did earlier. With Maria, he darkly noted.

As he walked behind his female companion, the two of them really didn't have much to talk about - but he had much to think about. When he awoke this morning, he was aching and sore, but he hadn't really suffered any terrible injuries, so he was pretty much fine to walk about. He found that his chest wound, the one he had obtained from the Crimson Death merely two weeks or so before, had healed quickly - abnormally fast. The cut had been serious, not deep enough to cause major internal harm but deep enough to open his skin and cause some serious skin damage. Yet despite these conditions, and the fact that he had sewn it up himself with some crude stitches and an inaccurate hand, the cut had simply become a slightly discolored scar across his chest. His healing had been amazingly fast lately, and the only thing different in his life that was notable to this was the Crystal. He hesitated to even attempt to understand why this was so, but the realization only furthered his protective instincts for it. It seemed to be making him superhuman.

But what was especially superhuman were the recovering powers of Cidolas Teftah. The woman had woken up before him. Silverius himself did not want to sleep, but his combined exhaustion and stress were too much for him to handle, and it was against his human power to prevent himself from passing out. Remarkably, Silverius did not notice his pseudo-enemy fall asleep, but when he awoke she was sitting around, waiting for him to wake up, acting as if there were no troubles in the world. Her jacket still showed the blood from their duel last night, but all physical wounds had vanished. Her shoulder was intact and didn't even show any scars, the skin near the bullet wound showed no signs of scarring or rupturing, her collarbone was back into place, and she was just as fast and energetic as ever.

He had interrogated himself countless times as he fell into step behind her. “Just who is this girl? What does she really want with me? How could she be alive after all that? Could it be that there is another Crystal, and she has it?” Her cryptic naming that last night before he passed out had answered no questions for him - the Teftah surname was new to him. She wasn't anybody famous, he knew, and with the amazing abilities she boasted, she couldn't just be some random mercenary or sellsword like he was. What still boggled his mind was also her disturbing physical similarity to the man he fought in Norzaven. Their faces were alike, their eyes were both an abnormal red, they even fought with the same exact style and used the same exact weapons.

So he had followed her when she got up and started walking, in the hopes that he would find some answers. Or maybe he was hoping that she really would lead him to Maria - but that thought was cutting through his skin to the white meat. He felt like he'd be stronger if he just didn't think about it, but he found it impossible to completely extinguish the thought. He hadn't felt this level of failure since... since his father died. Since he killed his father.

“Of course that’s still in my mind, because I just finished telling it all to Maria. Maria…” He had to laugh at himself when he really thought of how one girl and one little crystal were ruining his life. “Everything I’d built up for myself, every stable apartment, every savings account, everything I thought I knew about myself… Gone. But then again, is it not my fault? Would any of this had happened if I hadn’t taken that heist from the employer? Is my own greed the source of all this?”

He thought he had come to terms with that fact, but it still amazed and devastated him. The mercenary didn’t want to believe in the slightest that anything could really be his fault; he wanted to think that the employer convinced and tricked him into taking the money and the job, that Maria cajoled him into helping her and buying her things, that the crystal hypnotized him, but the truth was that he had done all those things. Singun Crono Silverius was the catalyst for all these disasters, all the killed people, all the stolen property. “Is that what Maria is to me, just property to be taken back? Do I really deserve her in the first place?” His fists tightened and then weakly loosened upon this particular revelation. “No, of course not. I don’t deserve her. I don’t deserve anyone or anything.” "We've arrived." Cidolas' monotone voice woke him up from his thoughts, and he walked right into her suddenly stationary frame. They stood on a stone road, the horizon filled with the towering presence of a city before it was blanketed by the sea on the east.

The city was surrounded by a low stone wall that stopped at the ocean, and similar modern buildings of stone rose up past it. This was definitely a sea city - its abundant use of stone as opposed to steel was telling, for most cities in Shorica did the same. "We should find your companion in here. Follow." And with that, Cidolas was off again. Crono looked at the looming city once again before dashing off to catch up with her.

****

His left hand surged with a new and amazing energy.

Vikcent wrapped a bracer of cloth around his left wrist, followed by the hard metal pad that attached to it. When he finished doing so, he clenched and opened his hand. The dexterity his fingers showed was... astounding, to say the least. It was only eight days ago when the hand was smashed beyond repair and every bone in his fingers were either broken or out of place, yet his hand moved as if nothing happened to it in the first place. There weren't even any scars.

“What in god’s name is happening to me?” Next he looked in the small mirror in his cabin, observing his face. His beard had grown almost savagely, along with a goatee to match it. More importantly, the axe cut above his eye, once huge and constantly bleeding, had receded into a simple cut that had scarred. “This shouldn’t be…” For such an amazing healing progress to happen in simply eight days defied all logic. Once more, his breathing was calm and not a cough racked his frame to mark the fever he had gotten from the snow. But after passing out in a field of snow with open wounds, he should have infected scars and possibly an illness, if not a simple cold. But he was healthy, exceedingly so.

Out of a new habit he noticed, Vik rubbed the scar that was now over his left eyebrow. It was slightly raised and the hair on his eyebrow stopped growing around it, so Vik found himself rubbing it when he was nervous or in thought.

Now the soldier looked to his bag, still sitting on his cabin bed. The windows were open and the ocean breeze sifted through his cabin, but still he found himself starting to sweat hotly when he thought about what was inside of his hold. No matter where he went on the ship, he could vaguely feel the heat of the Crystal, as blazingly hot as the magma in the volcano he retrieved it from. Its heat was inviting, seductive... but something told him that it wasn't natural. Something about it was inherently dangerous, and he didn't like the way it affected him. Could it be the source of his quickened healing?

“Just what have I done? Would it have been better for me to leave it for Ouroboros?” As much as Vikcent pondered this solution, it quickly became absurd when he remembered that the antagonistic Black Knight was a member of Ouroboros. In that very moment the organization may as well have been an orphan-stabbing group of bastards in his mind, all ne’er-do-wells that needed to be crushed beneath his boots.

Absentmindedly, he looked to the open porthole on the wall of the cabin. The ocean washed out for miles and miles. A thought snuck into his head, a plan of action to get rid of the hated item immediately and cleanly; he would toss the Crystal into the water. He dimly walked over to his bed, reached for his bag, opened the compartment, reached for the Crystal.... But stopped. His hand froze. He couldn't do it. He was shaking now, fear running through his eyes, and sweat was freely rolling down his exposed back. His hands were hot, painfully so. He backed up from the bag, feeling shame and disappointment with himself. His true weakness was now on display for the entire room and all its observers. “What happened to no hesitation…?”

The door opened, and Vik looked towards it. Hasey stuck his head through the door, looking at Vik with an inquiring look. His grey eyes and blank face portrayed an annoyingly innocent image that absolutely burned through the soldier’s patience. Vik thus stared back with irritation.

"Well," he spat out. "What do you want?" While he spoke, he walked to the bed and lifted his arms to put on his shirt. Hasey opened the door and stuck his hands in his pockets, looking at Vik with an odd expression.

"We've arrived. We'll be in Straits within the hour. The captain sends his regards." A coy smile now danced on Hasey's face, and his eyes darted straight at the bed. The glance made Vik uncomfortable and he moved to stand in front of his pouch, obscuring Hasey's view, and crossed his muscular arms.

"So the greedy bastard can't even spit goodbye at me in person? Whatever." He adjusted the red cloth hanging from his belt. "Go ahead and get your things ready. We'll be leaving immediately, and I don't plan on staying in this place for long." Hasey scoffed and walzted to the window, openly disobeying Vik's gesture. The soldier felt a tinge of irritation, but pushed it down. There was no point getting mad at this kid, and he really had no right to, but something about Hasey continued to grate on him without end. It only continued to mount the longer he spent around him.

Hasey's mocking voice rang through the room carrying a hint of a challenge. "You've recovered miraculously. The men aboard the ship counted you among the dead for a while. Must be the air here." He glanced back at Vik with a questioning look as he tapped a knuckle on the open porthole’s glass cover, but stated no inquiry. Vik grunted and attached the small bag to his waist with his belt. "You must be already packed, then. It's time go." He didn't look back at Hasey while he left the cabin, but he did slam the door behind him.

****

Cidolas stood outside the armory shop, her hands crossed over her chest. She stood watching the populace of the city, constantly scanning and taking notice of every pedestrian that passed the small shop. Her hood was down now, leaving her short blond hair to rustle around her face in the sea breeze. The hair in question was short and layered around her head, as close as possible to the haircut of her male counterpart.

Her sellsword companion stepped out from the store behind her and tapped on the woman’s shoulder. It was a pointless gesture as she had proved that she was acutely aware of his location, even when he was behind her. Upon the crude summons, perhaps to humor him, she looked at him but said nothing. Crono stood awkwardly for a moment, still not used to his companion's odd mannerisms.

"I, uh, I bought some new boots. My old ones were dirty. And I got some bullets." The mercenary spoke with a tinge of irritation, she noticed. Without waiting for a response – to do so would be foolish, Cidolas believed, considering he asked no question – he turned and walked away from her. Now that he had bought his ammo and some new shoes, the man’s shopping was complete, and his pants and jacket were replaced with impeccably clean, very accurate imitations.

Cidolas tilted her head in a confused manner. Had Silverius been behind her, it would have probably angered him even more to witness it. "You show irritation. Why is that?" She sped up and walked in front of him, leading the way to somewhere she still refused to elaborate on. Her reasoning was unabashedly not to irritate him further but to provide him with the leadership he needed.

"Why should I answer anything you ask me when you won't do the same to me?" Now it was obvious that the mercenary was irritated. Cidolas replied with silence, again. Silverius snorted with dark humor. "Prove me right again, nice job. You know, I don't even know why I'm following you. All I know, you could be leading me right to the Crimson Death again, or that old guy who took Maria and his smelly friends, so I can get my ass kicked. You’d love to see that, wouldn’t you?" He scowled and shoved his hands into his pockets.

Shockingly, Cidolas spoke back to him. Not surprisingly, her response was a monotone one that showed no clear apathy or adherence to his cause. "You are following me because I will lead you to the one who stole away your companion. The Blood Knight must be stopped."

"The Blood Knight? Who the hell is that? Wait… Is that that old guy I saw in the woods? Back with Maria?" He looked away, pondering this revelation, and blinked away some running condensation in his eyes. The subject was still sore with him. Next his vision darted to the back of the girl's flashy jacket. "Just why do you care about any of this, anyway? How did you even-"

His question was interrupted as he roughly jostled into a tall, muscular man with a blue shirt and a short shock of black hair. What struck Silverius was how rough and shaggy of a beard that the man sported, one that framed his entire face and helped to magnify the wild and bestial look that shone in the man’s eyes. Not only did his eyes glisten with savage, determined energy, a scar on his eyebrow seemed to reinforce how shocking it was to see such a beast in civilized society. The two shared a silent, hostile stare, and Silverius found it slightly difficult to pull his eyes away and continue walking. He didn't get very far after that before he bumped into Cidolas' small frame. "Dammit, what are you-"

He was cut off again. "That child... that child was the Haze Knight!" She looked behind Crono with a fierce glance and completely disregarded his existence for the moment. For the first time since they fought, Silverius found himself looking into Cidolas’ eyes and marveling at the strength and fierceness found in them. For the second time in a minute he found himself stricken and immobile, perhaps even afraid.

"What the hell are you talking about? That scary guy? I don’t think he was a child – hey, wait!" His pleas were unheard before she pushed past him and stood solitary in the bustling sea of people that was the Straits marketplace. She looked around with unhinged quickness before pulling her sword sheath before her and drawing her katana.

The noise and immediate danger spread through the crowd like wildfire, and panic quickly took over the silent fear from her action. Crono was shaken and bumped as he pushed against the current to Cidolas' location. He yelled to make himself heard over the stampeding din.

"What the hell are you doing?! Where are you going?!" He finally emerged from the mad rush of people leaving the armed woman, and he saw Cidolas in the act of slashing at what looked like a young boy.

The mercenary stood by for a moment, hesitating to draw his sword in response. Then a bullet grazed past him and broke a window behind his head, causing him to instinctively duck. He looked around, still staying low, until he noticed the savage man he bumped into was aiming a rifle at him. Alarms were going off, bells were ringing, and all of a sudden nothing made sense - so the mercenary went with the only solution he could think of. He pulled down a table from a diner patio and took cover behind it, feeling two more bullets slam into the hard wood just as he moved there. Crono loaded his gunblade with some of his new bullets and cocked the hammer for it to be shot. He knew he would need it.

"Hasey! Get behind me!" The soldier could be heard yelling as he looked away from the sights on his rifle. His target got behind cover and didn't appear to be moving and thus the bearded man stopped attacking him - his priority wasn't to smoke this man out, not while Hasey was in danger. He stepped in front of the titular downed teen, staring down the woman who had suddenly attacked him.

“Are you more from Ouroboros?” His question was drowned out by the panicked bustle of the marketplace and he didn’t bother to repeat himself. Judging from her furious look and brandished weapon, he didn't think it was a good idea to ask at this point. The bearded soldier aimed his long rifle at her and began shooting as she started to run towards him.

He found that Cidolas was alarmingly fast, coming close enough to him that his bullets were ineffective fairly quickly. “Ah shit!” He brought his rifle down to block her strike, but it was considerably more powerful than he predicted. “You’ll get me in this close range fighting…” She managed to slash the rifle out of his hands before aiming another cut straight to the bearded man’s chest. He backstepped out of the way but could not dodge entirely, and she severed the strap on his chest, causing his metal shoulder bracer to fall to the ground.

The two next stood watching each other’s moves for a split second, trying to gauge what the other would do next. The tall and bearded man took the initiative, kicking his rifle up into the air and bringing it around to club at her. She predictably slashed it away, and he let it fly into the air before rushing in close once again. The man managed to punch her in her torso three times before she slammed her sheath into his side, sending him sliding across the cobblestone floor and wincing at the strike. Again, he found that she was much stronger than she looked. In addition, his hands were sore all of a sudden - either she had some serious abs, or she was packing some armor underneath that jacket. He rolled backwards and crouched on his feet, preparing for another attack, but was surprised to find himself free of assault.

The bearded man looked around and alarmingly noticed the woman attacking Hasey again. He was holding his own with a knife – God knew where he got one from - but they all knew it wouldn't last long before he was overpowered. The muscular man dashed towards his rifle and aimed it at the woman, but before he could pull the trigger, he heard footsteps running quickly toward him. The more selfish threat took priority, and he whirled around to find the mercenary from before running toward him with his blade extended. He recognized the man once more, and frustration rushed through his veins. An instant before the man sliced at him, the soldier held his rifle in his off hand and pulled a knife from the back of his belt, holding the black-coated man's sword at bay with both.

The black-haired mercenary glared at him and spoke. "Why the fuck are you attacking us, you bastard?!" He held more weight on the word "fuck" as he broke the x-shaped stance and started to attack again. The bearded man, eyes aglow once more with grave and almost grizzly fierceness, spat at the ground and attacked with matching fury and even more self-righteousness.

"It was your friend who attacked mine! Now I'm taking you down. I know just who you are!" The two continued to clash, too close for either to shoot at each other. Each at first tried to parry the other’s slashes, but the bearded one knew his rifle wouldn't be able to withstand too much damage, and he couldn't afford it breaking. "You stole Inusia's Crystal! I'll take it back and bring you to justice!" With that, he slashed away Crono's blade and ran his elbow right into him, causing the mercenary to stumble backwards and clutch at his stomach. The soldier moved to turn around and go back towards Hasey when he bumped into a strong figure behind him.

Suddenly he was being held tightly by two men, and his wrists were confined into handcuffs. “What?! What are you fools doing?” A quick look around showed that this was now the same for his enemy and Hasey, but the girl with the katana had vanished. The bearded resisted his arrest violently. "Get off me! I am Nneonian military - Stop! That man is a criminal! Can't you- Aaagh!" Vik was hit with a hard steel baton in his head, radically knocking out his energy and sending his eyesight rolling. He lost the ability to resist and was very quickly losing consciousness.

"You're all criminals under arrest for disturbing Inusian peace."

...End of Part Ten.

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