Chapter 2 The Shadows

The first mention I had of this man was from potential talk of a recent thief from a warlord's treasure. I knew only in intuition that this was to be the next to be enlisted; the man knew not by name but by deed, unsavory ones. I may not have known then what I expected of him, who would be the first to rise to the position of godslayer. Could this outlander indeed be worthy? Of course, but looking back, now, I realized the doubt I held was of unfounded superstition. He would always become my brother.

~Lyse Opal (Account from Personal Memoir)

   Lyse was sitting near the gates that had been smashed in by the initial attack. The distinct hard ice that covered the ground here would take days to melt entirely. He had heard legends of some hyperboreans that could produce ice that could never melt, but with the slickness, he observed that appeared not to be the case here. That was, of course, a good thing. At least the townspeople could collect their dead that had been frozen solid where they stood. The raiders even took to smashing a few of these concrete statues, leaving them in red pieces littering the ground. Overall, the town has lost over a quarter of its population and will need immediate aid from the nearest resources. If they had gotten there just a few minutes earlier, they could have perhaps saved a lot more. That was all Lyse thought of as he looked to the town guard slamming their weapons into the ice, men, and women coming to smoldering homes and their dead kin. This war has been going on for years now. And as time went on, Lyse felt it was his part to end it as soon as possible.

"Feeling all right, brother?" Edlund was suddenly beside him. That hammer that he procured from Hephaestus suited him quite well. Of course, the thing was ridiculously unwieldy for any regular person ever to wield, much less pick up, but of course, with the impressive strength of a knight, Edlund managed just fine. He smiled at Lyse, almost as heavy as his weapon. That haggard look on Edlund, he rarely saw it. It's like he had aged so much in the day. Lyse wondered what his smile looked like to Edlund. But, with all that had transpired but one that Lyse was glad to see. He took another sip of water from his flask before offering it to him.

"No, thank you," he said, taking out a smaller flask. "I got my coping mechanisms."

"How did you get wine to the peaks?" Lyse asked him.

"Oh, there are ways, brother. You just need to know how to ask. Or better, whom to ask."

He turned and nodded not so subtly at one of the Poltear, the honor guards of the summit of the sacred mountains of Silondras. Usually, they are happy guarding the strange and wonderous little town they had just left. They were odd. The winged horses, pegasus as Lyse and Edlund learned to call them, were a strange enough sight. Like knights, their helmets were eyeless. And by the way, they fight, they all have at least some training with avra. But after nearly half a year of activity there, he knows so little of these people. The specific one that Edlund indicated to was the captain of this squad that Lyse had to convince to aid them. He was not that much older than them and always gave off a very stern look whenever Lyse saw him. But, according to Edlund, the captain was quite the talker under the right kinds of drinks. He approached them, helmet under one hand and riding upon the white steed. They were preparing to leave now that the Poltear deeds were done.

"How fortunate we made it in time," he said to them. "We left you with two of our great steeds, a gift from him. Also, if I may inquire, how did you know that there would be an attack here of all places, Lyse?"

"Just a guess," he said, though it was a deflection outright. How can one explain that god powers told him where they would end up? Lyse had just heard of some raids occurring in the area, and somehow the pendant took this and implanted in his mind the most likely places they would attack would be Munstud. It felt like a hunch, but Lyse knew it meant far more than that. His bond with the pendant continued to grow. And its applications continued to expand before him, filling him with knowledge and skills he himself discovers almost at random. He wonders how much of him is still him. after all of this. How much of him is simply the influence of the pendant.

"Well, it's a guess worth its gamble," he looked to the town. "They were struck, but things could have ended a lot worse. They already sent a request for help."

"Great to hear," Lyse told him. "Then I guess this is where we part ways, then Connor?"

"Perhaps," he said. "But the gates of Valonia are always open for you two. You are our brothers now, and the knowledge you take with you will not go to waste."

"Oh, we'll make sure of that," Edlund grinned. "Farewell, Connor. I'm sure we'll meet again."

"Of course," he said, then dawned his helmet. "Farewell, and peace be with you."

With his farewell, he and his men whipped their wings, and the pegasi responded in kind, fluttering their snow-white wings and bounding off into the sky, back towards the mountain from which they had just left. All but two had left, two pegasi with gear and much packed on ready and waiting to be guided. Lyse was comfortable enough to ride one with their training with them, though Edlund noticeably looked ill to see their mode of transportation. But with them, they could be in Silondras within the week and finally see their home family.

"So with the pair face," Lyse patted him on the back as he walked over to his pegasus. "We're headed home. I don't want to arrive with a half-dead brother, now would I."

"You haven't fallen off of one of these things," he said. "Twice. Try different horses."

"You survived," Lyse waved away.

"I swear Lyse, these things are out to get me," he said, stroking his pegasus mane carefully. "Not going to say that I'm going to be using old sink eye as that often anyway where I'm going."

"If that what you're calling it?" Lyse asking l asked, laughing.

"Maybe I am," Edlund says defiantly. "Old stank eye. He'll get used to it."

"Well, get Old sink eye comfortable cause he's going to be huffing it to Silondras. And let's hope he doesn't respond to the unique name choice."

The pegasus sputtered its response. Lyse noticed they were a bit more intelligent than your typical horse. They responded whenever addressed in a very human way sometimes. Granted, Lyse had never even seen a pegasus till they got to Valonia; they were seen as a dying species. Returning home like this would undoubtedly make a statement. He climbed aboard his pegasus. It was a nice gray color, speckles of black spots across its feathered wings. Edlund reluctantly did so with his own, hanging his hammer on a holster on the horse's side. Surprisingly, it made no complaint with the added weight of a sixty-pound hunk of metal, patting the earth as if out of the challenge. Lyse smiled, looking off towards the south, directly towards Silondras, to home. Edlund did the same. It felt like an eternity at Valonia. But they made sure not to waste a moment there. The place where his father became the man they both knew him as children to men themselves. And they came out of those golden gates ready to carry out his legacy even further.

And Lyse carries his sword, even. Said to of been forged by ancient arts, the identical elements have bent to his whim. He only knows a few techniques, really the flame and earth attribute. And as he remembered, the old man had placed his father using eight different characteristics, and Lyse wished to learn them all. But he did not waste his time only on his father's blade. No. With the training given to him by the most extraordinary mind of the knight's practice, Lyse senses his abilities far surpass what they were before. And he has devoted much time getting in tune with his pendant during this past half a year. So many things he has discovered on his own just by examining it, trying to use its power. And Edlund was not far off from his efforts. That hammer they acquired from the forge of Hephaestus has some strange properties to them, and he was a monster wielding it. He was always gifted in using aura, but he truly is the definition of a one-person army with a weapon like that. No wonder Lyse's instincts told him to trust Edlund to launch the surprise attack. An Edlund a year ago would not be able to do such things. It was shocking how much they had accomplished so far. And this was only the beginning of their journey, as far as they were aware.

They prepared their horses to take off, but before they could, a guard stepped forward to stop them. It was one of the officers that were escorting the civilians, as Lyse remembered. He stopped to look down at the man.

"May I help you, sir?" he asked him.

"Who . . . are you," he said wondrously. "I have to know who saved this village this day, my lord."

Lyse smiled at him, nodding to Edlund as well. "Us? Well, we're just some farmers on the ways, brother. So stay safe, stay warm. And may peace be with you."

Within the southern outland kingdoms, a walled city has been seeing quite a bit of traffic lately. Of course, this is primarily due to some more trade routes headed east to west from Shi'Asedians or other eastern outland territories moving goods to the Empire, but it was good business either way. This tiny little market town, Form, had taken the opportunity to welcome this new influx of wealth headed their way. Surely they would be a fool not to. The sole sovereign of this tiny city-state ordered the gates permanently open and even incentivized some shops to stay for good, hopefully, increase the influence on the surrounding territories in the meantime. However, this openness has given Ryan an opportunity, as far as he was aware. Granted, he was a bit surprised, honestly, to see so many people headed this way. Merchants packed the roads, selling their pieces and various exotic meats preserved in them. Ryan allowed his horse to the field for now. He blended in perfectly with the ordinary vagabond wondering these dry hills, and they would not care to stop some traveler simply looking for work. Though the work Ryan has entrenched himself upon will not be to this lord's liking, not in the slightest. 

He pulled up his hood, not too much of a suspicious move to most, especially since it looked near to a downpour within maybe a few hours. Ryan surveyed the layout. It was very simplistic, all the shops and cart setups in the front near the gate and the fortress itself nestled in the back. This place must have been an outpost at one point, he thought.

If they were keeping something valuable, it would most likely be, he thought to himself, looking towards the fortress now as he made his way across the courtyard. Guards were scarce; he suspects most would be guarding this treasure deep within the defense. However, by the gear and how the men outside behaved, he doubts he will find an avra user here. However, the gate leading into the main fortress was far more protected, everyone approaching it being met with impatient stares and guarded stances as they shooed pedestrians away. He will have to try an alternate route, then. He looked around for windows. There will not be many, but only one would do. He circled back towards a few buildings nestled against eh fortress walls. They looked like housing units but were abandoned and left in a state of disrepair. He took a deep breath, leaping from the house onto the wall and pulling himself over. Then he made his way up one of the smaller buildings of this fortress and scaled a tower. From there, he could see, even more, the main structure in the middle especially.

Moreover, on the southern side of it, there were indeed windows lining that side. Ryan smiled satisfactorily and made his way over. They were fools to not set more guards up in high places. Ryan saw a man asleep with an unstrung bow in his lap in one of the taller towers, which would have spotted him as soon as he scaled the wall. Nevertheless, he was not the one to complain; it all made his job that much easier.

Ryan abandoned his cloak instead of going down to essential black clothing that left a lot less of an impression. He used a knife from his side to unlatch the windows and pulled them open, revealing what appeared to be a guest room unused at the moment. Ryan did not bother looking through them; they never valuables in this sort of place unsupervised. He closed the window behind him but did not latch it shut, just in case. He carefully stepped towards the door that presumably led to a hallway and placed his ear against the cold wood. Ryan heard muffled talking in the distance and receding footsteps. Once they were a safe distance away, he opened the door and swiftly closed it. Ryan could sense several people around him, making their security checks rather sluggishly. He moved to where the footsteps had receded, finding a stairway going both up and down.

"He said it was in a vault, right?" he said to himself. "Nothing in the plans he gave me spoke of one, of course. So it looks like we are going down then."

Ryan climbed down with a light foot and bated breath. Though decrepit and neglected, these halls will only get more and more tightly secured the further they go. The one who informed him of this item had said that it was a prized trophy of this lord, and thus he doubts it will be anywhere in the open. An office or vault, maybe. Of course, that informant had no clue where that could be, but Ryan could feel the men within his senses clustering at specific points of interests, perhaps, even the office of this lord. That would indeed be an excellent place to start. He weaved through the halls, sticking to shadows and outside the periphery of the guard's vision. Finally, Ryan stopped at the end of a gallery, hearing footsteps approaching from the perpendicular direction. He is completely naked here, nothing to hide behind. Ryan took a gamble and opened the door to his right, closing behind him just in time to allow the guards to pass him. However, one of them stopped, and Ryan's heart froze as he moved behind the door. The guard checked the nob, then opened it, seeing an empty guest room undisturbed. Ryan's blade was ready to slit throats, but he did his best to mask his presence.

"What's wrong?" a voice called out behind the guard.

"Nothin'," he said. "Go on and sweep the rest, and Imma get some rest out here, okay?"

There was some detested mumbling, but the other guard went on without him. This guard sat his sword near the bed and climbed on top, stretching out as he did so with the satisfying sigh of a long day. "He's working us like dogs to protect that damned rock. Should just sell the thing and give the rest of us a-"

His complaint was cut relatively short, as, within the blink of an eye, Ryan had crossed the room from the shadow and held the knife against the guard's neck. Immediately sweat began pouring down the side of his face as he went deathly pale. He did not even lift his hands to surrender as he was due the wing movement meant his life.

"Be silent, or I will remove your tongue," Ryan whispered to him. "The office of your boss, where is it?"

He gulped audibly. "Y- are you going to kill him? I . . . uh. You'll never get out alive. The others will catch you."

     "I've gotten this far," Ryan said. "And my blade has try meet blood. Dare me too get a little desperate friend?"

     The guard hopped, going as still as death before saying. "Down the next day of stairs, his apartment is at the very end."

"Wonderful," Ryan did not lift his blade. "See, I'm not going to kill as long as you're useful. Just tell me about guards or anything I should be aware of."

The guard looked around as if hoping someone would pop open the door and save him from interrogation. But Ryan was aware the other guards were long gone. This man was probably a mercenary before landing this job, at least judging by some of the tattoos on his arm and his general demeanor. Ryan knew these types valued their own lives more than any loyalty to their cause. The guard told him that the lord was gone at the moment, back to the city on some personal business, but two men guarded the office. Two? Well then, Ryan guessed that this item wouldn't be in there.

"Where is he keeping the gem?" he asked him. He didn't loosen his grip on his knife.

"He . . . right he got the thing held in some vault in the southernmost towers," he splurted out. "Six guards on it at all times. That's all I know about it. I swears it. Is . . . can I . . ?"

Ryan smiled. "Sure thing."

He slammed the hilt of his shortsword into the side of the man's head, knocking him unconscious in an instant. Ryan hoped he would be just a figment of this man's imagination; he wasn't fond of killing random people in these sorts of jobs where it wasn't necessary. But now at least, he knew his target. He had seen the tower on his way here, the shortest out of the lot but also thicker. An undesirable location, but he's dealt with similar arrangements before. Six men will be somewhat of a problem however. Usually, such armed guards on watch meant a lack of faith in the security of the actual vault, which means a key might not be needed. Besides, if the lord isn't here anyway, he most likely took the key with him, so the office is not required at the moment. That just left the guards. Depending on how it looks, it might go down to a fight, and depending on their strength, the risk might not be worth the item. But he has no choice, he needs that gem, and he's going to get it. He doesn't care if he'd have to fight every last man in this little fort to get to it.

He headed back the way he came, back to the first room and out the window. Climbing onto the roof, he spotted the tower mentioned, careful to stay out of sight from anyone on the streets below. He could sense that there were indeed six people there. Four were regular, but two felt different, their aura's a bit brighter than the others. Indicative of those who practiced using avra. How strong they were remained to be seen, as he knows those like himself can hide their ability rather well. But he doubts they are stronger than he. It was rare to find capable avra users this side of the fertile hills steal after all. He snuck on a bit of bridge that connected the bridge to the top floor and entered. The vault was locked, but he noticed the frame was, in fact, wooden. How fortunate, but he doubts that things would not end in fighting, so he was left with only one option: go in with a full fury.

The guards were unprepared for the monster that had arrived. It was just a typical dull day of looking after this little rock until the door two of them guarded exploded open, and a man clad in dark clothes came rolling in blade drawn. Before the two immediately guarding the entrance could remove edges, Ryan efficiently slit the wrist and stabbed the other in the leg. Both unfatal but certainly debilitating for the time. He immediately spotted the pedestal, holding a rather large ruby gem that radiated a soft light, his target. And immediately flanked it were four more guards, two in full plate armor and another two drawing their swords at the ready. He could guess which were the more capable fighters as they approached him with long two-handed swords prepared to slice his slices in an instant. But instead of engaging, he took a knife from his belt and flung it at the first man's face. He was quick enough to dodge the sudden movement, but it was only a distraction to allow Ryan to get in his guard within the moment. The guard, caught off guard by his speed, was left utterly vulnerable as Ryan got into a low stance and channeled avra to his hands before slamming them open palm into the man. His chest plate crumpled like paper as he was sent flying into one of the others. His companion recovered from this display, using avra to fuel his strength as he slammed his blade down towards's Ryan's exposed side. But with unfound agility, Ryan flipped, completely clearing the strike as well as putting him in his next opponent's line of engagement. With only a few cuts, he got into the chinks of this man's armor before he could recover his sword, and he too was forced to one knee as finally. However, the man flung a wild hot that connected with Ryan's nose squarely. It certainly was enough to scramble his senses as he barely dodged another man trying to bury his blade into him. His blade only sink about an inch deep into his side before Ryan grabbed the holy, and buried his elbow into the man's jaw, regretting him unconscious.

Ryan looked to the last guard standing, watching in stun horror as Ryan turned his full attention to him. Thought panting, his blade still ready to cut him down. The guard must have realized the futility of engaging and dropped his weapon where he stood.

"Just take the damn thing," he growled.

Ryan smiled, though he could taste the blood dripping from his nose. "Well, at least you're all consistent."

The guard moved aside, running out of the door as soon as Ryan's attention was pressed elsewhere. The other guards were unconscious of caring for their wounds. This had been easier than expected; then again, it's hard to get good security out of mercenaries whose only experience was fighting other poorly trained militia. But if they just had one more capable fighter, he'd have to retreat. These would are mendable. Someone like Ryan, or even a knight, would be a nightmare to appear before them as he has now. Still a blade in hand, he carefully looked around the gem's pedestal, a relatively luxurious holder depicting four dragons curving up and holding the rock between their claws. He has seen such objects before being smuggled from tombs and such, and often they held nasty surprises. But with avra, he still could not sense any particular magical effects associated with the solid pedestal, just the gem. So, with a swift hand, he took it.

Alarm bells rang out. Quickly he secured the gem in a ready pouch and ran back out of the vault. No doubt guards will be here in minutes, but thankfully he already had his mode of escape. He jumped to an adjacent building, picked up his cloak where he dropped it, and climbed back onto the inner gate's walls. It was nighttime by now, and torches were yet to be lit, but without a doubt, they would discover him sooner or later. He watched as both the inner and outer gates closed, clocking off all who still resided within the square below. Guards worked like frenzied ants, shouting at them to stay away from the fortress as many began flooding towards the tower. He hid amongst shadows once more, watching all this below, But he already had an escape route arranged. He scaled onto the outer wall from one of the buildings, not caring if any saw him at this point. A few guards were still stationed on this wall, but by the time they could point their rifles, Ryan's already backhanded them off to fall onto the ground. One did manage to fire a shot off, but the draw and subsequent bullet fired was so slow that it took nothing to dodge and simply disarmed the stunned guard. They were in complete disarray as guards only now recognized his acts and recalled all those who had pursued the confusion within the vault, but by that time, they could spot him; he had already dropped off of the wall and ran across the open field to his horse.

Bullets riddled the soil around him in an erratic display as shouts and bells slowly got dimmer and dimmer behind him. They will send out scouts to find this mysterious thief who runs off in the night, but hopefully, by then, he will be back in the city, getting this thing off his hide and be on his way. As he rode out into the night, the adrenaline slowly losing the grip it had on his mind, he settled in a thoughtful and somber tone. This all had to be worth it. This gem should be his key. It may very well be his only key. He remembers once he was excited for requests such as these, especially for the favors it has earned him. But the more he pursued, the less these rewards returned. The enemy seemed to devolve further and further into obscurity, leaving him with loose threads leading in all kinds of directions. This may very well be the final thread. IF he tugs on it, what will he find? Where does he go after this thread is cut like all the others?

And what did Fate have in store for him? Unfortunately, the answer to this question lies at home.

The first mention I had of this man was from potential talk of a recent thief from a warlord's treasure. I knew only in intuition that this was to be the next to be enlisted; the man knew not by name but by deed, unsavory ones. I may not have known then what I expected of him, who would be the first to rise to the position of godslayer. Could this outlander indeed be worthy? Of course, but looking back, now, I realized the doubt I held was of unfounded superstition. He would always become my brother.