[Skell]
Not once did I close my eyes that night.
Sleepless undead or not, there was still value in sinking into a soft pillow and bundling under blankets. Comfort offered plenty things. Like the perfect conditions to swim through a sea of thoughts.
Try to back-stroke in a violent maelstrom, though, and all you'll do is drown. After returning to my inn room for the night, I didn't slip under the sheets.
No. I sat in bed - facing the window - and stared at the glass. Unblinking.
'Till Selem's magical lights gave way to the sun's golden crown. Dawn. The first glimpse at the opportunity of a lifetime.
I reached for my trusty staff, laid slanted against my shoulder. It's now. Or never.
—————————————————————————————————
Anyone could tell something was up, stepping onto the waking city's streets.
Selem's people rolled out of bed early. Ridiculously early, and that's coming from me. But the big day was different. Droves heaped in the many-colored roads and alleys, everyone's mind on one thing: Templars.
Who among them would make the cut, be the newest batch of Squires? Would this generation produce the next Justice? High Justice, even? What stories of them were yet to be told? And most importantly, what was the person beside them doing for the festival?
I tuned it all out. Attention was better spent on beating the heavily-stacked odds ahead - instead of assuming I would, and entertaining what'd come after. Silently I passed through the Argent District's endless conversations. Eventually, I was back again. At the front door of my mortal enemies.
As always, the sky-carving walls - built of a thousand stone hexagons - sealed off the Citadel's interior. Seeing them was even more impressive a second time, when so many comparatively tiny people stood below, hundreds somehow corralled into a single-file line through the silver gate entrance by a number of stoic Templars. They were led like a colony of ants along the sloping pathway, not a single foot touching the pristine emerald lawn.
I joined the back of the line with flicking eyes. Behind me were even more people, stopped at the Citadel's distant moat, waving off their aspiring children, brothers, sisters, and friends.
On a different day I'd have envied them. Not then. Oliver and Amara weren't here to bid me good luck, sure, but I had something better than a friend outside the Ordeals.
I had one in it.
The night before, Niles and I decided we'd meet up inside the Citadel. Seeing as he was the type to charge there first thing in the morning, he was probably further up the line, if not already inside.
Soon I'd find him. And we'd challenge what the Templars had in store for us together.
Still, my nerves could never fully give me a break. As the line shrunk, I found myself passing more and more Templars - their plate gleaming in the sunlight. Large. Short. Paladins. Wardens. Muscular. And… just a little less muscular. Most studied every applicant. All could definitely kill me in seconds.
So many, all in one place. If they knew what I was… shade, it'd almost be funny, if the consequences wouldn't be so gruesome.
For all my worries, though, time marched on, and so did the line. Eventually the base of the wall drew close, another applicant permitted inside the hexagonal opening.
Unlike them, I knew what it really was… sort of. Solid stone - a hexagon like the thousand others around it. Except with some sort of magic object, it could vanish like it was never there. Another method of keeping out non-Templars; at least on any other day than today. But far from the last line of security.
"Scan," incanted a dark-haired Warden. His right eye glowed yellow, its pupil narrowing into two bisecting lines. He studied the man ahead of me - someone else I'd never seen before.
The Templar's neutral face fell into a scowl. "Leave. You are banned from participating in the Sacred Ordeals."
"What!" the applicant stomped. "Why!?"
An armored finger pointed to the applicant's pocket. "Galvan leaf. Releases a burst of energy when bitten into." His voice darkened. "An unauthorized substance."
"You… It-it's merely a trifle! I'm only using what lies at my disposal - you cannot be rid of me over something so-"
"Begone. I shan't repeat myself."
The wealthy-looking applicant shrank at the word, any debate he had ground to dust under the Templar's greaves. He managed a wimpy huff before turning on a heel and storming past me and the rest of the line.
Idiot. They were crystal clear about what you can and can't bring when we signed up.
He wasn't the first to be sent away. As I stepped up to the Warden's exacting stare, I doubted I would trace his steps.
"Scan," the Warden said for what must've been the millionth time today. He scrutinized my armor, and staff, and bad posture. Then beckoned.
"Enter. May the sun light your way."
Whew. Almost thought he'd find some way to say no. I started toward the opening.
Though really, I'd have always been allowed in. Stated clearly was that applicants bring nothing but weapons and armor. Herbs, enchanted anything, and stuff they only described as "gizmos" would earn you a nice three-hundred and sixty-five day vacation from the Order's premises. And that was a crying shame for the views alone.
Lapis lazuli and white timber clad the walls and floor of the hexagonal vestibule - a tunnel-like art piece magnified by Selem's Domain. I'd read about it during my training. Accounts claimed you could literally get lost in its intricacies for hours.
I was shooed through in all of ten seconds. Though not before noticing a pipe of all things - made of the same priceless materials - built into the wall. That, and…
On top of it, is that a… bubble wand?
A good question for a bad time. Pointing gauntlets thrust me to the other end, clogged with frozen stares and gasps. They peered through an opening exactly like the one behind us. But this didn't lead to just another city district.
This was a paradise.
Pearl pathways hugged the gentle hills, spilling into numerous directions like veins of honey. Sectioned between their lacework were flamboyant gardens, and multi-layered fountains, and buildings of the purest marble, and cloud-white trees bearing puffy fruit that seemed one bite away from gushing with juice. Pleasant scents wafted around us - based on nearby comments. And the great walls in the distance… just, you'd think being encircled by walls would feel confining. But with so much air, space, and sunlight between them, it moreso felt like a prestigious island secluded from the rest of the world.
The Templars were considerate enough to let us gawk a moment. But not forever. Our numbers were directed to the rightmost pathway, rounding along the curvature of the walls above.
Our whispering trail continued 'till a fork split the path. We took the left one deeper into the Citadel, toward a spot where people dispersed ahead. Here, the buildings and vegetation parted, leaving multiple open acres for two things:
On one side of the growing crowd - under the eye-creasing sun - was a stage. Empty. The base reached over everyone's heads. Several Templars lined the front, still as statues.
It'd probably been there a week.
The other? A colossal column of rugged crag that soared over us, thick strata of red and orange and grey layering the ascent. Hundreds of feet high it rose - approaching the Citadel's walls themselves.
It'd probably been there for decades.
Joining the massive crowd, I pondered. A giant rock formation smack in the middle of a level field? Why? What for?
Others were curious too. Wide eyes jumped from the base to the clouds, searching for the unseen peak.
Every pair quickly turned at the sound of a voice.
"Once again," announced a stony-voiced Templar, "I ask for your patience."
…That voice. I stood on tiptoes to peer over the crowd, cursing my very average height. Valérie?
The Warden stood tall in front of the stage, her eyes seeming to watch us all simultaneously. "Proceedings will be underway in short order, once the last of you arrive. You may not leave the bounds of this immediate field. You may not disturb the Templars. You may speak amongst yourselves. That is all."
True to her word, Valérie left that spot to take up position at the outer edge of the crowd. As for the many applicants? Well, they got comfortable.
Or at least, tried to. Despite our idyllic surroundings, an undeniable unease permeated the air. The Ordeals were shrouded in mystery, but their danger and severity was no secret to any of us. So while some meditated, or whispered self-encouragement under their breaths, others gathered into groups and took their mind off the upcoming trials by socializing. Jokes were told here, reasons for applying were given there. The rare applicant even knew another.
Like Niles and I.
Should hurry and find him before everything goes down. But… I looked around the countless groups and individuals peppering the field. This'll be like finding a hyperactive needle in a haystack.
I picked a direction and walked, cutting across the field and around conversations. While looking for the swordsman however, I noticed just how varied everyone else was.
Sure, all were relatively young - the Order refused recruits over thirty - but besides that, those around me came from all walks of life.
The finest armors decked some - like that of a white-haired man of confidence - while others carried nothing but old pitchforks and stained shirts. Proud proclamations rang, the names of noble houses and distant villages both - the latter from a Ratfolk who unlike what I expected of his kin easily hunched over those around him.
Others I picked out from the crowd, those drawing interest: a lone, well-dressed lady who analyzed the others as much as I did, an applicant who - though missing an arm - loudly boasted she could beat the ten next strongest applicants on her own, and a round-spectacled woman who sat neatly away from the others, scribbling softly in a journal.
Wonder if that's just a regular bucket list, unlike mine, I joked, before shaking my head. No. Stay focused.
Left and right, right and left, I searched, over and over. But for as… visible as Niles could be, I saw nothing of him. Even after minutes passed.
Where is he? Don't tell me he's moving around too. Urgh. Prefer not to go around calling his name. Though, hm. Maybe asking around would be smarter.
Closest to me was a big group; eight people. Too many. Distaste entered my mouth, even though I lacked the sense. I turned back. Opposite them was man sitting alone in the grass.
Perfect.
Though as I approached, I noticed just how… much he stood out from the others.
Cradled in his lap was a unique wooden scabbard - decorated with the visage of a hundred crows flying toward the hilt. He hunched over it like someone would their precious child, dark-blue eyes rolling across its expertly-painted surface. He seemed mesmerized by what he saw. Though something told me him and that weapon were deeply familiar.
Weird. Though, guess I'm guilty of staring at my own staff now and again.
My shadow crept over him. And his scabbard.
Down my spine crept a chill, when he glared up at me.
In another moment it was gone. That was the worst part: the vacant unease - the second-guessing about a feeling so fleeting it might've never existed at all.
We stared for a while, my face flustered, and his narrow, foxlike features exuding unmasked agitation. He reached for his choppy hair - same color as his eyes - and brushed the former out of the latter to better scowl at me.
"Well?" they asked, without him saying a word.
"O-oh, I… wanted to ask you something. That all right?"
Lean fingers tapped his knee impatiently, but otherwise he didn't respond.
"…I'll take that as a yes," I said. "There's this guy: red headband, dimglasses, loves life - hard to miss, really. I'm looking for him. Happen to see someone like that around here?"
Again, silence.
"You… do hear me, right? Or are you ignoring me?"
His uncaring gaze drifted elsewhere.
A real wordsmith, this guy…
Before I could do more verbal floundering, my eyes locked onto the strange jacket over his shoulders - though jacket might not have been the right word. White and flowy, the silk garment was embellished in violet strokes that merged into a peculiar shape on his back: that of a three-legged crow.
I'd never seen anything like it - in the capital, or Belza Hill, or in the few restored scraps of my shattered memories. Neither had I seen his type of wooden sandals, or socks; even his dark undershirt wrapped around him in a unique fashion.
But I couldn't get distracted; Niles wouldn't find himself. I cut the gawking and considered a new angle of approach. Too bad it wouldn't make a difference.
"Hmph." The blue-haired applicant rose and attached the scabbard to his waist - all without giving me a single glance - and quietly walked off. In seconds, he'd disappeared behind a cluster of applicants. It was long after the fact when I realized his stature didn't even reach my shoulders.
No, I couldn't do anything then but watch. Stunned. …He can't be serious. All I did was ask him an innocent question, that's it! Did something crawl up his backside and die? Or is that really all it takes to strike his nerves?
"Wow," someone commented behind me. "What a prick."
Of course, I turned. Just to find the sun in my eyes.
Fiery orange hair almost glowed in the daylight, streaming down the woman's shoulders - and completely over her right eye. She smiled mischievously, revealing a couple crooked canines. "Well? That's what ya were thinkin', wasn't it?"
Who in the Abyss is this? I asked myself. Twice, when my attention dropped to her clothing. Opposed to the dark shades and subdued colors worn by that silent applicant, this woman was dressed in a sleeveless yellow shirt that stopped at her midriff, revealing the lower half of a soft set of abs. Along similarly toned arms were two red vambraces, pointing down to white pants and bright sandals and ten orange-painted toes.
She was a walking splash of warm color, and all of a sudden, I was feeling a little warm too. "Well, that's… not exactly what was on my mind."
"It's what's on mine," said the woman. "Told him to show me that wacky sword of his. Got called an 'aggravating hussy' instead."
Instead of finding the insult, well, insulting, she grinned wider. Was she flattered? Masking irritation? Genuinely amused? I couldn't tell.
What was clear was the mischievous look on her face. "This time I was coming around to bug him on purpose. Ya beat me to it. Bravo."
"…Thanks?" I rubbed the back of my head. Not my goal, but…
Leaning closer, she watched me with one almond eye - the other hidden behind her hair. "But that's enough about the pretty boy. You? I know you."
"What? You do?"
"Only as well as you know me." She snickered at my puzzled expression. "Ya forgot. Then again, I can't blame ya for remembering your balancing act on those rooftops over a second of eye-contact."
"Rooftops? Wait… yeah!" I pointed. "You were the woman in that alley under us. When I was, was…"
"Givin' the city guard a lousy case of hemorrhoids?"
I might've laughed, if I wasn't concerned. "You heard what happened?"
"Yep. Directly from the captain of the guard."
Huh!?
The woman laid a hand on her hip, amused. "Man, aren't you gullible! I didn't hear a thing - if ya don't count the usual city gossip. Just saw your little leap-o'-faith. And some guardsmen bumblin' through the streets."
"I'm not gullible. Maybe you're the guard captain's daughter, or something."
"Ooh, gullible and defensive. Bad combination, I'm told."
…All right, so this woman's just screwing with me. Maybe that douche with the sword was onto something.
"Add impatient onto that list while you're at it," I turned. "I've got somewhere to be, and quick."
"Not so fast, hotshot," she lifted five orange-painted nails, face still relaxed in a permanent half-smirk. "Couldn't help myself. But I spoke to ya for a reason. To get to my favorite gamblin' hall, I've gotta cut through the market. And the gossip I heard there was real buzzworthy. Chasin' a thief through the stalls? Over buildings? Into sewers? I even heard he swiped a whole boat and you swam through the Selem River to keep chase!"
Well, one of those definitely didn't happen.
"Embellished or not, the impression's clear - you'd get your belongings back. Personally. But ain't that funny? A normal person would've just yelled for the city guard. A law-abiding citizen, surely?"
My eyes narrowed.
"I'm not judgin'; I'd do the same. Makes a girl wonder, is all. Why would someone like that apply to someplace chockful of rules and restrictions?"
"You said you'd make the same decision I did. Why would you?"
"Me? Simple," she shrugged. "Being a Templar sounds like a blast."
What? Risking my life? Having no say in where I'm assigned, and when? Slaying my own kind? I can think of a hundred ways to describe that. 'A blast' wouldn't even make the first thousand.
She nodded. "And you?"
Despite her odd answer, I smiled.
Yesterday, Niles helped me realize something: in the Ordeals, there'll be certain questions I should be primed to answer. I couldn't be left grasping for an explanation again. Even an "I can't say" could arouse suspicion.
My secret needed to be perfectly veiled. Something possible only when sealed over by airtight cover-ups.
"I wanna save lives," I answered. "Make the world a better place, and drive out anything that keeps that from happening."
Her eyebrows raised. "Oh."
Yeah, who's the gullible one now!?
"Well that's not terribly interestin', is it?" she commented.
Wait, she thinks it's boring? Should… I have thought of something more noteworthy?
She spun on a heel. "Thought you'd be a little less stiff than the rest. Ah well." She tossed up a careless hand. "Au revoir."
"H-hold on, I'm not straight-laced!"
I even broke out of custody. Twice!
She kept walking, unconcerned with my outburst. But before she got too far, the woman half-turned - just enough to slip me into her sight. "By the way, your partner in crime?"
Her thumb shot westward.
She said nothing else. Just strolled nonchalantly into the distance. Though not before something caught my eye - the curious weapon fastened to her side. Dangling from a metal chain was a studded metal ball big enough to fill out a hand and hefty enough to crush one. A flail. One hung on the racks in the combat center room. When I asked about it, Amara emphasized that among all the weapons on display, that'd be the worst possible choice. For it was "tricky" and "dangerously unpredictable".
But that wasn't all I noticed. Engraved into the short wooden handle was a word carved in a slipshod hand:
Soleil.
That must be her…
I ignored the thought. According to the woman, Niles was somewhere to the west. But how'd she know I was searching for him?
She overheard me, I figured. Then she could've said that before all the jibber-jabber. Guess she did eventually tell me, but straight-laced? Defensive?
…I don't care what she thinks. Barely even know her. Anyhow, there's more important things to focus on. Like finding my "partner in crime."
—————————————————————————————————
"Niles!" I jogged, spotting him near the stage front.
The swordsman waved me down, but didn't look in my direction. "Purple," he called back with about half the excitement I usually expect from him.
Soon enough the reason became clear. He had fingers where his dimglasses should've been.
I slowed. "Your dimglasses! Are you all right?"
"Yeah, yeah," he gestured with one glove and rubbed his eyelids with the other. "Just dealing with this motley of colors is all. The Templars had an issue with me bringing them inside. It was either them, or the Ordeals."
"That's ridiculous," I complained, giving just half a thought to the fact that a number of Templars were within earshot. "It's not like it gives an advantage; all it does is help you see like everyone else."
"Well, their rules are basically law - you know how it is. Don't worry about it mate; I should've gotten used to this Domain business a long time back." He made a show of shaking off the discomfort, and held out a fist. "Good to see you, Purple."
"You too, Niles." Our knuckles bumped.
"Well," he looked around. "It's the moment of truth. Any moment now and we'll be thrown into the frying pan. Or Abyss, maybe just straight into the fire. Anything we should do with the time we've got?"
"Team up."
"Hm? Haven't we already?"
"We are, but I've been thinking. Whatever's ahead, it'd be even easier if we're facing it with more numbers. Two's great. But what if we have more?"
Niles paused, then slowly nodded. "Smart. Y'know, if we're looking for someone who can hold their own - I saw a real tough-looking fella earlier."
"You did?"
"Mhmm. He was standing off on his own. I thought about going over to chat, but…" he pointed to his eyes and frowned. "Now, though, they're bugging me less, and you're here. Say we both go up and work out an alliance? We've got a shot, I know it."
Someone tough-looking? Better not be that sword guy again. He looks skilled, but we'd have an easier time convincing one of these Templars to help us. Still, there's hundreds of applicants here. Could be anyone. Hopefully someone without a splinter in their stones.
"Sounds like a plan then. Know where he is?"
Niles smiled and started along the stage front, beckoning me to follow. With him at my side, I walked confident steps through the crowd. Together I started to see victory in the distance - even before our first challenge. I had the training. The knowledge. The ally - and possibly even allies. How could I not?
"Hey," Niles thrust a gloved finger, "over there! That's the guy!"
Tall and alone stood the man in question, turned in the opposite direction, those around him giving a wide berth. His face was hidden, but below a head of neat black hair was a buttoned white vest that hugged tight around his muscular figure.
Niles lowered his voice. "We applied on the same day. I ended up catching his name when he signed up."
Is… is that…
Down his face hung two strands of thick, familiar hair, nearly touching an unfamiliar stubble. They both swung around as he spun - probably catching our voices. His dark eyes locked onto mine.
And crescendo of chills shook my very soul.
"Apparently," Niles whispered, "his name is Hyland Peredur."