A Hero's Quest: Eye of the Demon Emperor

[Birdsie]

Time for questioning.

"What was Baragar like?" you ask. The two of them apparently worked together.

"Well, nina," Senor Fred stops to think. "He had a great sense of justice! Like me!" Senor Fred pointed his thumb at himself with closed, proud eyes, before looking back at you. "He was also really tough. Even I couldn't beat him, and that's a lot coming from Senor Fred. Though he did have a penchant for nasty tricks."

"Tell me about yourself," you request.

"I was born in... when was it again? Gods, I can't remember..." Senor Fred clicks his fingers. "I was born in the year three-hundred... or, was it six... wait..."

"Okay, you don't remember."

"No-no. I do," he protests. "Just let me think..." Senor Fred performs some kind of mathematics, muttering equations under his breath and counting years.

"Strange," he snaps. "I remember Espanian history to a dot, but I can't recall my own birthdate... hijo de puta... Anyway, as I was saying. I was born sometime and somewhere. I recall being a General for the Espanian army before I decided to abandon it in favor of becoming an adventurer! And then I met your grand-pappi! We met in an obscure fort and decided to work together after I valiantly stepped in and saved him from a dragon!"

You frown in amusement. "He was fine on his own, was he?"

"Yes, he was," Fred admits with mild shame.

"Last question. Do you know how to break powerful curses?"

"As a matter of fact!" Senor Fred raises his finger into the air, heroically. "No," he admits dryly and without timbre.

You begin walking away. "BUT!" You stop and look at Fred. "I think being cursed is a good thing."

"What are you talking about?"

"Take it from me, senorita. By the time I was a lad," Senor Fred begins proudly, "I had over twenty-eight curses adorning my spirit like golden badges of valor! For, nina, you see - pain is weakness leaving the body! The more you suffer, the stronger you become!"

Well, that explains a lot. If he had twenty-eight curses by the time he was a 'lad' there's no doubt he would get cursed with memory loss and eternal life as an unfeeling revenant somewhere along the way. Oddly, this arrangement seems to be working out just fine for him.

"Never took you for a masochist," you snark dryly.

"Senorita, please. I am a justice-thirsting hero, not a lusting sinner."

"Pfffsht, whatever. That reminds me, did you ever get married?"

"Although women swoon over me, because of my fabulous glamour, and though a stallion in bed––" Senor Fred takes out a Spiderman Hair Comb and uses it to adjust his hair, before putting it back. "––I remain unmarried. However, I did father several children back in the day with a woman I loved, but I had to abandon her for the sake of her own safety. I wonder where my little ninos ran off to."

Senor Fred muses dramatically.

This guy is a complete waste of time.

"Ha-ha!" Senor Fred smirks at the camera, then winks seductively.

***​

You return back up the way you came, leaving Senor Fred alone with the soldiers overtaken by horror. After making your way through the Inner Sanctum and going past several tombs, you finally make it. You walk up to your mother, who still seems to be figuring out the puzzle.

"How's it going?"

"I'm not quite done yet. I told that goofy skeleton to leave me alone, because he started flexing and telling me how great his biceps it."

"That's Fred, alright."

...

"So, can I help?"

"Feel free to take a look," Leona gives you some light with her torch.

You look at the riddle. It's a wall, with numerous, two-dimensional squares. On each of them is some kind of unusual pattern, like a crest, painted in gray. You stare, and analyze, and try to make what you can of it. You try to perceive some kind of pattern, and finally, you do. There's a repeating sequence of three crests per row, but you can't tell much more than that.

"The shapes repeat in every row."

"I noticed that. I'm just trying to put together what it means."

"You never did this before?"

Leona shakes her head. "It was open since I was a little girl."

"Well, let me know if you can get it open."

You decide to return to Senor Fred and ask him for advice in the upcoming war. You don't really have the intent of staying in these creepy catacombs and exploring them on your own. You never know when you stumble upon a wraith that just so happens to have a particularly bad mood this afternoon.

***​

"A war?! There's a war?! Por supuseto..." Senor Fred's eyes light up with blue fire. "The hated Hirpan Empire is attacking again! We must stop th––"

"No, actually."

"Oh... then... Elucifer is attacking?"

"No. And I have no idea who Elucifer is."

"Hmmm..." Senor Fred clicks his skeletal fingers. "Master Junji went rogue! Is he peeping on the innkeepers again?! Unacceptable!" Senor Fred waves his hand and prepares to draw his sword, but your interruption stops him again.

"No, damn it, and I have no idea who you're referring to."

"An old... comrade," Senor Fred explains awkwardly. "Okay, then it was... no, it cannot be our hated enemy! Turenval has returned?! We must prepare our cannons and a fort! And archers with fiery arrows! Oh, oh, and––"

"No, you buffoon," you say, but you don't tell him who the war is with. His guesses are incredibly amusing, and to some extent even informative.

"Urm... I have no idea... is... is Reina in danger? Did Pandora get possessed by an angel again? James got stuck in a mana vortex? Is Mireille in trouble?!"

Senor Fred keeps muttering different theories about the enemy you are at war with, one theory after another, without skipping a beat. "The Drifter has returned? Or... or Lilith escaped her containment? Woguran?! Akena?! It can't possibly be Kyro, we killed him!"

Senor Fred gasps in shock. "Is it my fangirls?! Do not tell me it is my fangirls, senorita! Have a heart!"

"A lot of names leave your mouth, but not much knowledge," you laugh at Senor Fred, who stumbles, trying to figure out who started the war. "We're at war with Estal, a country to the north."

"I see, I see... then it is a new enemy to overcome! Fabulous! We will sow seeds of justice and bravery, like heroic farmers, senorita!"

"By the way, care to explain all of those names to me? Who's Elucifer, who's Master Junji, who's... Turenval?"

"They are our most hated enemies, senorita! Where we stand as paragons of justice, they are the immortal symbols of evil," Senor Fred poses for dramatic flair. Despite that, his eyes stare at you with utter solemnity, giving some kind of gravity to his words.

"Except for Master Junji, he's just a pervert," he breaks the gravity without missing a beat.

Pick several characters for Fred to expand on. Up to 4.

[] Elucifer.
[] Master Junji.
[] Turenval.
[] Reina.
[] Pandora.
[] James.
[] Mireille.
[] The Drifter.
[] Lilith.
[] Woguran.
[] Akena.
[] Kyro.

Time: Afternoon
Calendar: 1006-01-16

 

[Birdsie]

"The Drifter," Senor Fred exclaims solemnly. His voice actually manages to sound normal and completely serious for once.

"He... he was such a good boy once. When Elucifer started taking over, Dilate Baragar took up the Crimson Riot. Using it, he challenged Elucifer to a duel and sacrificed himself for the greater good with an attack that swallowed them both. He was so little that day. Smaller than you, nina. Barely but a boy. And when he came back as the Drifter, corrupted by darkness, I've never felt more regret because of fighting someone."

"Wait... Dilate Baragar? Who's that?"

Senor Fred blinks in surprise. "Don't you know? Baragar had three children. Dilate Baragar; the first son, Conrad Baragar; the second son, and Arianne Baragar; the only daughter. When your grand-pappy was in a coma after his duel with Elucifer, Dilate was the only one of Baragar's children old enough to stand up for this world. And he was willing to give his life for it."

You've never heard of this story, or of 'Dilate Baragar.' You know about Conrad Baragar, though. He is your direct ancestor. He is a link in the chain of blood connecting you with Baragar.

You decide to move on. "What about Elucifer? Why is he called Elucifer?"

"Because he was a megalomaniac, nina. He renamed himself in the fallen angel's aspect because he thought of himself a man who became God," Fred paused. He thought for a moment, his pause dragging for a second or two. "Well, he wasn't wrong, technically. And he almost took over all of Terra, until brave little nino I mentioned stopped him."

"And who are Lilith and Pandora?"

"Do you know physics, amiga?" Senor Fred asked nonchalantly, yet bluntly.

"Well, urm, kind of?"

"For every action..." Senor Fred starts, leaving the rest off to you.

"There is an equal and opposite reaction?"

"Precisely," Fred clicks his finger. "So when the Elder Dio created the world, while he created time and space, he also destroyed in equal measure. But since he didn't want to destroy what he created, he destroyed what didn't exist. This created a force we know as entropy, nina - the anti-creation. The end."

"The end?..."

"The end indeed. Lilith, dear nina, is entropy. She exists to destroy what was created. She is the equal and opposite reaction. She exists only to play with mortals and torture them. And she's mean! Fortunately, the Elder God gave us a neat tin can! And we locked her in it, so she's not a problem, at least for now!" Senor Fred grins proudly.

Senor Fred's grin stops. He just stares, completely speechless for a moment, incapable of putting his thoughts together and speaking to you. You clear your throat audibly, breaking him out of it. Senor Fred looks at you, then begins explaining.

"Pandora, she's... urm..."

For the first time since you met him, Fred is speechless. "Heh... she's..."

Fred thinks about a proper epithet. "An interesting woman. Pandora was a paladin, a... rather destructive one. She worked with us, but then she was possessed by an angel and took off somewhere on a holy quest. We've never heard from her again until she broke into our fort and we discovered her rehabilitation after being possessed for several years went..."

"Went what?"

"Went wrong, it did."

You shrug. "And what about–––"

"Solved it," Leona interrupts you walking down the stairs. "Let's go."

"Talk to you later," you say to Fred, then run in Leona's direction.

***​

The two of you walk back to the riddle. The patterns are arranged in a repeating sideway pattern, and next to the riddle, a passage to yet another staircase is open. You and Leona proceed upstairs, and you hope not to get scared again like you did with Senor Fred.

The two of you reach the first floor of the Inner Catacombs. You walk past many crossings, with many graves in the walls, with many names. Almost all of them ending in 'Baragar' as the surname. The scarcely lit torches lightened the way to the tower. You and your mother proceeded up the 50-meter long flight of stairs until you made it.

It's His grave.

You are at the top of the tower, surrounded by fractals that let the sun's light inside.

Before you is a small, humble construction. A stone coffin, similar to a sarcophagus. On the walls of the chamber, are several more graves, including one called 'Leona Baragar' and 'Little Baragar.' You look at your mother in surprise, tugging her.

"Why is your name on that?"

"Leona is a common name passed down in our family. I was named after my great grandmother. This Leona, here, was Baragar's wife."

"And who's 'Little' Baragar?"

"Their pet lizard."

"Oh."

The two of you kneel and pray.

And you pray.

And you pray...

And pray.

And pray...

You pray...

Ten minutes of constant thanksgivings pass. Suddenly, you feel a warmth on your hip. A warmth, like that of a torch. You look down and you see something peculiar.

"Mom."

Leona looks at you. "Good heavens!" she calls, standing up.

Excalibur is glowing. You draw it, right there.

"Be careful with that!" Leona warns. "First time it did that with me, I blew up half the mansion on accident!"

"S-s-sorry!" you draw Excalibur, it stops glowing. "Why is it activating?"

"Because He heard you, Artoria," Leona looks at Baragar's grave. It makes sense. There may be an archangel inside, but he answers to Baragar first and foremost. Being with your grandfather reminded him who's in charge. Perhaps he will start listening to you?

The two of you look at the grave together, and then...

SNAP-SWOOOOOOOOOSH!

A yellow, thin rope attaches itself to Leona's leg from down the stairs. It happens faster than your eyes can register, and both you and Leona realize what happened only after it happened. Leona is pulled down the stairs and you can hear brief sounds of combat from below.

"Mom!"

You run down the stairs, after her. As you run down the stairs, you hear swords clashing, but then one opponent disarms the other.

***​

You enter the darkened catacombs. Torch in hand, you walk down and you see a pair of figures in the darkness. Your mother is one of them, with a hand on her mouth, keeping her from talking, and her body tied tightly by the same yellow rope that pulled her down.

"This rope was made for restraining dragons," the man's voice exclaims. It is low-pitched, apathetic and dark. The voice of the man is cold and callous.

"Leave my mother alone!" you demand.

"All it will take is one, swift push of my right wrist to destroy her internal organs," the figure's eyes ride from you to his right hand. You follow them, and you see a glowing sword in his hand, its blade almost piercing through Leona's armor and into her flesh.

The figure moves his left hand off of Leona's face, taking a pair of chain handcuffs and throwing it in your direction.

"Don't do it!" Leona yells before the grey-haired figure forces her shut again with his left hand.

"Put them on and your mother is free to go. Your only other option is to fight me, which endangers her life."

"Who are you?"

"They used to call me Wolf. White Wolf. They don't call me anything anymore," his voice remains callous and apathetic.

You hear footsteps from downstairs. The soldiers? Senor Fred?

"You have ten seconds, then I kill the hostage and flee. Capturing you is not worth being captured myself, but now I've given you a reason to comply. Do what you will."

The footsteps get closer. You stand, frozen by the heat of the moment. Leona looks at you with protesting eyes. Just her look is enough to tell you that you shouldn't do what he's saying, but what if there is no better choice? Damn it, where's Cervitou when you could really use him?

"Five," he counts down.

And closer.

"Four."

You can almost hear them.

"Three."

[] Put the handcuffs on.
[] Use Excalibur.
[] Distract him. How?
-[] Write-in.

Time: Afternoon
Calendar: 1006-01-16

 

[Birdsie]

You draw Excalibur, whipping it out in an instant into your now magically-reinforced arms. Your body moves together in one, uniform motion. Like a calm leaf in a raging storm, Excalibur shines brightly lightening even the dimmest corner of the room. Before the attacker can realize what is going on, a yellow tide of holy energy is halfway through the hall.

Excalibur's attack connects, burning the attacker, leaving your mother undamaged and freeing her. Leona kicks the opponent further back. He manages to sneak in a grazing hit to her back, but lets go of the sword as a result. As he lets go of her momentarily, the rope releases Leona, who retreats back in your direction and stands beside you with her sword drawn.

Whoever your enemy is, he is still standing. You can see the outline of his body. While it is hard to calculate the damage, the opponent is very intelligent to stay in the shadow where you can't see him and therefore catch a grip on his status. His sword lies halfway between you and him.

BZHHTTT!

An ear-piercing sound scares you. A red light flares into existence on the other side of the hallway, in the shape of a long line. "I was told to bring you back. He didn't specify you had to be alive."

Upon closer inspection, the line of light is... a sword. He drew another sword. It moves slowly in the darkness. Suddenly, the line moves in a familiar, fast, vertical motion. Before you realize it, the light intensifies. He swings his sword. Instinctively, your arms move and Excalibur attacks with a wave of gold once again. Midway to the enemy, the wave of gold collides with another ––– a wave of red color. The two tides clash and nullify each other's power, however, the immense force of the wind still breezes past your ears and hair.

And then, you hear the footsteps come to an end. Senor Fred stands at the other end of the hallway. The skeleton grins proudly, unsheathing his sword and pointing it at the attacker. Speaking of which, you still didn't get a good look at him. It appears he blends well with the darkness, so you can't get a good look at him, except for his determined, glowing, red eyes and the accompanying blade.

Senor Fred takes the spotlight. The soldiers behind him are too afraid to approach the figure in the darkness.

Senor Fred calls out. "I have a strange feeling I've met you before, amigo. What is your name?"

"Armando," the figure answered, in clear, dry satire.

"Armando, I see, that name suits you!" Senor Fred answers, taking it seriously. "Yet, I do not recognize that name."

"Well! Let's jog your memory then, shall we?" The mysterious man amasses force in his legs and leaps at Fred. Fred stands his ground and blocks the attack. Their blades cross with such power that it creates pure, red light and sparks. The sparks reveal the opponent's body to you.

He has white, long, unkempt hair. His red eyes are like furious incisions. On his torso, he has some kind of thick metal that doesn't seem to be armor - it's a part of his actual body structure. Most of it, however, is covered by a dark gray cape. On the rest of his body, he wears a shadowy suit and a pair of black boots.

Spoiler

"Missed me, uncle?"

Fred's face twists into shock. Your expression follows Fred's, as you come to the realization of putting one and two together. Red sword, recognizes Senor Fred, wasn't terrified by Senor Fred.

"The Drifter..." you whisper.

Suddenly, while their swords are still connected, the Drifter holds onto his with his right hand, while he uses his left to grab a dagger and stab Fred in the neck. The cut goes uninterrupted and sinks deep in between the bones keeping Fred's head attached to the rest of his body, but it doesn't make him collapse. It seems to be a mere inconvenience, not letting him look too much down, rather than actually harming him. The Drifter is visibly annoyed by this.

BAM!

Fred amasses force in his neck. Like a cap stuck between two fingers pressing with great force, the dagger shoots back out. Its pommel hits the Drifter in the face, stunning him for long enough to allow Fred to cut him clean across the chest with his rapier. This appears to damage the Drifter, as he retreats back into the darkness. "En guard!" Senor Fred calls out.

"Draconium Rope!" the Drifter calls out, more like an incantation. At his word, the yellow rope that your mother was caught in, becomes animated. It flails around like a snake for a moment, before jumping wildly in the Drifter's direction and wrapping itself around his left arm. The Drifter looks around and calculates the situation he is in. He estimates whether he can win this to his satisfaction, or whether retreat is the only viable solution.

He isn't left with much time to think. Ten shards of razor-sharp ice shoot at him. The Drifter swings his sword as much as he can but only manages to knock down eight out of ten. One of them crashes against his dermal armor while the other manages to cut him across his left cheek.

The Drifter groans. "I'll be lenient. Just yield. Now."

"You're in no position to demand that from us," you answer boldly.

"Fine. So be it. Never complain I didn't give you the chance."

The Drifter rises his sword far above his head, about to unleash some kind of attack, but before he can do anything...

"To return hope to hearts who lost it! To help surpass the boundary to those who crossed it! To cure despair! Evil beware!" Senor Fred calls out, interrupting the Drifter from doing what he was about to do. Everyone in the room stares at Fred awkwardly.

"Sometimes, I amaze myself," Fred exclaims, clutching his chin and sheathing his sword calmly and nonchalantly. This is completely unrelated to his heroic speech.

The Drifter looks underneath his legs, to find that a good chunk of the floor was literally cut out while Fred was distracting everyone with the bizarre monologue. Against gravity itself, the Drifter floats in the air for several seconds while his eyes adjust to the surprise. The Drifter, still holding the sword above his head, looks up at the camera. In a second, his potential energy turns into kinetic energy and the Drifter kicks off flying to the floor below, much like in a Looney Toons cartoon, and leaves behind a white, thick cloud and trail of smoke that indicates fast movement.

What is on your mind is how exactly Fred accomplished the deed of cutting the floor out because doing it alone is implausible at best. He literally drew attention to himself with the heroic speech, yet he is the only one who could perform the act of cutting the floor out unless he had some sort of help.

Fred smiles at the camera with heroic self-confidence. He takes out a Batman™ hair comb and fixes his hair. "Will Senor Fred beat the Drifter? Will Artoria Baragar get a cool hair comb? Who is the Drifter working for? Jump in after me to discover the truth on the next part of... A Hero's Quest: Eye of the Demon Emperor!"

"Mom, what is he talking about?" you ask.

Leona shakes her head. "I think he went off his rocker cooped up in here for so long. That, or he just broke the fourth wall."

"Banzai!" Senor Fred jumps down the hole he made.

[] [Action] Follow him. He'll need help.
[] [Action] He's Senor Fred. He can handle it. Just let him deal with Dilate, or, as he is called now - the Drifter.
-[] [Action] Remain up here and observe.
-[] [Action] Yell at the soldiers for not doing their work.
-[] [Action] Use Ice Magic to help Senor Fred from a distance.
[] Ask Leona to call Cervitou here. Cervitou is the best problem-solving machine on this planet. And he would probably make a decent interdimensional can opener too. This would be too much of a hit for your pride. Option restricted from being a write-in.
[] [Action] Write-in.

(Note: His 4th Wall Perceptions sometimes do extend to other characters. A bandit he encountered once literally said: "He broke the 4th wall, get him!" like I mentioned before. Just telling you that the above is a faithful reproduction of how he really was. I understand Fred can be obnoxious, and that's why you have this set of choices before you.)
[] [4th Wall Toughness] Senor Fred is fine as he is.
[] [4th Wall Toughness] The 4th Wall can take a lot of punishment, but Fred is dishing too much of it. Let's take it a step-down, but keep it relatively similar.
[] [4th Wall Toughness] Senor Fred needs to notch down a little - he didn't break the 4th wall; he blew it up with a bundle of dynamite. This has to stop.
[] [4th Wall Toughness] Revoke 4th Wall clarity from Senor Fred by means of losing the Elder God's favor.

Time: Afternoon
Calendar: 1006-01-16

Mana: 185/200

 

[Birdsie]

You and Leona run to the edge and look down.

One versus one. Senor Fred against the Drifter. Senor Fred is a mighty swordsman, much stronger and faster than the Drifter, however, the latter's body is incredibly tough thanks to that durable, gray armor all over his body. They both fight at borderline superhuman speeds, much like the fight between Galiel and Leona several weeks ago. Fred clearly has the upper hand, constantly following the retreating Drifter across the crypt below. Having a good chance to help, you aim with your finger.

Three shards of ice grow out of the air, floating around your finger until you shoot them in the Drifter's direction. As they are shot, new ones grow in their place, only to be shot again. The Drifter doesn't seem to have enough finesse to handle two opponents at once, so he instead rises his sword and fires a red beam at you, but Fred intervenes, cutting him across the shoulder. The Drifter's sword flies to the right, cutting half of the ceiling in half and making numerous boulders and rocks fall. Now you understand why ancient dungeons are in such a state of disrepair.

SSSSSHLANG!

Fred cuts surely and deeply across the Drifter's chest, leaving a hole in his dermal armor. The Drifter falls onto his back, with a mixture of blood and some kind of dark, inky substance flowing out of his wound. Senor Fred points his sword at the Drifter. "You lost, amigo. Give up, now!"

The Drifter's body jumps in an instant. He snaps into place, raising his sword to the sky with both hands. "Crimson Rebellion!"

KHRAAAA!

The ground shakes and the heavens scream. The Drifter's sword emits a bright light, blinding you. The light is followed by a wave of pure force that pushes you, Leona, onlooking soldiers, and even Senor Fred back, throwing everyone whole meters away. The wind in your hair practically roars.

A few seconds pass. You lay on the stone ground, speechless.

"Are you okay?" Leona turns to you, with your health being her first concern.

"Yeah," you mutter, standing up and offering your mother a hand. Both of you proceed back to the edge. You look through the hole in the floor and find Senor Fred, or rather, parts of him. Fred's bones are scattered all across the floor. A fractal window is broken, indicating the Drifter jumped out through it and escaped.

"His sword is impressive," Leona admits. "It can probably compete with Excalibur."

"Probably?" You recoil in surprise.

"Yes."

...

"Well, that's scary," you shudder.

***​

"Don't you want to stay with us and go to war, Senor Fred?" you ask of the skeleton, now sitting upon his horse.

"I apologize, amiga," he shakes his head. "I can't do that. I must go after the Drifter, for he is a villain a step above the ordinary. Whatever he and his masters are up to goes against justice, so I must stop him. I am sure we will cross paths again, senorita. Until then... adios!"

Senor Fred's horse turns around, then drives off into the distance at high speed. "Rapido, Pedro, rapido!" The hooves of the horse leave behind a cloud of snow and dust behind them. Senor Fred disappears behind the horizon, looking heroic until the last second of visual contact you have.

You turn to Leona. Both of you are ready to set back out and be on your way. "How long will it take until we're at the Estal border?"

"A month," Leona retorts with crushing honesty. Not a lot of people can take a month of travel in the middle of winter. The weather is really harsh, but since the pay is good, many of the mercenaries will stick to you like flies to a beetroot.

"What happens when we arrive at Sinclair's castle?"

"Conflict and death, Artoria. I do not welcome them, but I accept them, and you must be prepared to do so when we arrive."

"Yes, mother," you nod confidently. If you are to die in any of the following battles, so be it. You will be remembered as the war heroine who died to protect her country. That's more than a lot of people who were given the chance can say.

With that, Leona sets off and leads the army onward and you follow your mother.

***​

Days passed. Last night, you arrived in Castle Sinclair and your army reconvened with General Sinclair's army. After taking some time to resupply, you set off beyond the border of battle and to the Estalian city of Waeke. From the reports you received, the fighting here was going on for almost a year, so a lot of the local terrain was razed and destroyed by constant bombardments from catapults and magic spells.

And then, you present a plan to General Sinclair, which he approves of. Ten kilometers south of Waeke, you detach from Leona and Sinclair's forces, assigned a squad of fifty-eight men under your command, including six mages. Your team is to infiltrate the city from the sewers using earth magic and attempt to get past the walls.

You lead your men to the western side of the city and order your mages to begin digging using Earth Magic. After several hours, you gain access to the sewer system and you begin an internal assault and sabotage of the enemy's resources. In a day, the enemy surrenders due to the sudden disappearance of their food.

More days pass. You participate in several skirmishes with the enemy, as well as two major battles under two major cities. As the war goes, days, even months fly off of the calendar like they are hairs flying off of the head of a balding man. By Spring, the front pushes twenty kilometers inland, until the last of the enemy's bastions finally reach the very edge of Albion. The vast foes go on their boats and flee back to the island of Estal. You have protected the fatherland.

However, protection is not enough. It is time for vengeance. This is a war, after all. The enemy must be punished. His territories taken away from him. His armies put to shame. His king forced to admit surrender. Starting tomorrow, you, Leona, and many other leaders of Albion's armies will begin a united invasion of Estal, just days after pushing the enemy from the borders.

You're a veteran at this point, however, your mind is becoming tired. This war wasn't the glory you expected it to be with such excitement. It's just travel, then battle, then travel, then battle. Nothing to write legends about, nor something to be remembered fondly by. Although you can overhear commanders speak your name with dread, fearing you because you killed a Greater Dragon, none of them really respect you as an equal.

***​

Last night, Cervitou paid your mother's tent a visit. The two argued as they always do until Cervitou departed. You thanked him once again for the gauntlets before he left to return to whatever stuff Cervitou usually does when he's not with Leona for their monthly, heated argument.


The war so far isn't as bloody as you expected it to be, but some of your comrades died. Each soldier lost is a scar on your mind, but you're doing this for a just cause. You are doing this to beat an enemy who attacked Albion unprovoked. You are doing this to enact justice. And all those who sacrificed themselves for this goal deserve to be called heroes. There is no other word you'd rather use, and there is no one else you'd rather ride into battle with than fellow heroes.

Roland and Roderick are also at the camp you are in. This may well be the last chance you get to socialize... actually, that statement applies to every social interaction you perform, but it carries more weight when you are a leader during a large-scale open armed conflict between two sovereign nations. Maybe you should consider talking with someone? Putting some of the stress from the battles off?

You get up from your bedroll in the morning, awoken by horns.

You put some clothes on, stretch, do some morning calisthenics, and you leave your tent then get a good look around. Next to you is your mother's tent, several other tents belonging to minor army commanders and more important mercenaries hired by her, as well as a great number of large, communal tents belonging to the soldiers under her.

Several soldiers, without armor, walk by you, carrying pots of water from the local stream, followed by several chefs carrying slabs of meat from the local hunters. They are about to prepare breakfast, it seems. The first meal of the day is the most important one, but, oh, how you miss your home. Not because of your family –––– everyone is here with you, after all. No. You miss home because of your own, personally selected cooks and chefs. The ones you chose for their outstanding talent and the quality of the food they cook. You miss the taste of sweet strawberry desserts and tough, juicy steaks. You miss the taste of scrambled eggs and freshly-gathered cucumbers covered with various sauces. The military food is meager at best, although to be fair, it does fill you rather nicely.

You sigh.

CLANG! Someone bumps into you and falls over.

"Oh, sorry, I should have moved out of the way," you look to your right, at said person.

"No need, it was my fault," he replies, looking at you with a dumb smile. You smile back and offer the boy a hand. He's not much older than you.

"Thanks," he accepts the help. "I'm Lancel. Lancel Ott. I'm a Paladin Acolyte. This War is like a graduation for me, actually."

"Really? That's cool," you exclaim in moderate joy. Getting to know new soldiers is a daily thing at this point. New comrades come and leave, but you should make friends while you can. Who knows which one of them is the one who will have to keep your back safe, or deliver your last words? "I'm Artoria Baragar."

"Artoria..." his jaw drops and his eyes widen. "Baragar?"

"That's right. Don't make a big deal out of it," you snap him into reality.

Lancel nods. "I'm sorry. Is it true you made a dragon's skull into a... treehouse?"

"Yup."

"That's amazing. I wouldn't dream of beating a dragon. I envy you."

"It runs in the family," you boast with a smile. "Anyway. I have to go find my brother, Roland. See you later, Lancel."

"See you later, indeed," Lancel replies as you walk past him.

***​

Some time passes. The sun sets beyond the horizon. What do you do?

[] Spend some time talking with Roland. Maybe a spar, or a contest to see who's better at fighting?
[] Find Lancel and talk with him about being a Paladin and such.
[] Spend some time with Roderick. You rarely spend time with your father, so maybe this is a good time?
[] Leona is best left alone, but your mother is probably going through a lot of stress right now because literally every single member of her family is in danger because of the war. Talk to her.
[] Write-in.

Time: Evening
Calendar: 1006-03-30

 

[Birdsie]

"Dad?" Your arms open the two cloth draperies of Roderick's tent. Some light pours into the darkened tent, lit only by one candle. A man is sitting on a stool, next to a wooden table. He appears to be writing a military report to someone, probably a superior. That man, writing the letter, is your father.

"Come in," he welcomes absently. Roderick is sad or absorbed. Maybe both. "Give me a moment."

Typically, Roderick smiles much more, but this is a time of war.

You sit down on a stool next to him, looking around the tent. It's very empty. Not much furniture, except for a few candles, a chest for equipment, a bedroll, three stools, and the desk he is writing his letter on. The dark cloth of the tent isn't very appealing or decorative either. The grim atmosphere is a perfect match for the war.

You peek over his shoulder. You see him writing a letter to... His Royal Majesty? Oh, of course. They're related, somewhat distantly, but still. And funnily enough, this means you have a decent shot at obtaining the throne if the king doesn't have any heirs or heiresses. But thoughts like that are childish and silly.

A few minutes pass. Finally, Roderick puts the quill back into the ink holder and turns to you. "How can I help my beloved daughter?" he smiles.

"Well, I don't knooow," you state sarcastically, before getting to the point. "I've seen a few sirens near the beach."

"I'll alert my men. Thank you for telling me."

"No, no! No need to do that," you smile maliciously. "Wanna kill 'em? As in, on our own."

Roderick's eyebrow shoots up. "What?"

"You know, a monster hunt. Father and daughter bonding! That kind of stuff."

"Isn't it mother–––"

"Shhhh..." you shush him with your finger. "If you're too scared you'll lose to a little girl, just say so."

Roderick's neutral face twists into what you assume to be the face of injured masculine pride. "Challenge. Accepted."

***​

SWISH! SWOOSH! SHWING!

In three motions of Excalibur, the fourth siren falls down, cut into three pieces. The wounds on her body glow with bright, yellow light, which soon subsumes and leaves behind only cauterized wounds. Ever since you reached Excalibur's full potential, the radiant damage it deals has become more powerful.

You turn around, Excalibur's blade resting on your shoulder. You see Roderick bash in the skull of another siren, sending her flying, headless, back into the ocean.

Sirens are evil creatures that lure sailors in by singing, then kill them. They should never be confused with the beautiful, innocent mermaids. Sirens are ugly, vile creatures, while mermaids are pure and guide the sailors away from danger, often marrying them in the process.

The stuff you're killing is just monsters.

"What's your kill-count?" you ask, as Roderick approaches with bloodied hands. He doesn't seem to respect these sirens very much, as he didn't even take his sword, or his bow for this hunt.

"Eight."

"You really wear the pants around here," you give him that. He's got twice more than you. "Anyway, think there's more of–––what."

You lean to the right and stare at something behind Roderick.

"Huh?" Roderick turns around. His neutral curiosity turns into shock of disbelief.

Before the two of you stands a particularly attractive, naked woman. No, more than that. She's the very embodiment of beauty. Her slim jawline is accompanied by more-than-impressive hunks of feminity. She has a tiny, innocent face and deep, seductive blue eyes. She has slim, smooth, silky blond hair that flows down her body. The only thing that covers her privates is what seems to be thick clouds of white steam. You feel immense envy when looking at her body.

The woman stares.

"C-can I help you?" Roderick asks, bewildered and embarrassed.

The woman stares.

"Madam, please, say something," he pleads.

The woman stares.

"Please, don't just stand there, put some clothes on," Roderick averts his gaze, looking off to the side and obscuring his line of vision with his hands.

The woman stares. She winks, not at Roderick though.

Confused, you point one finger at yourself as if asking: 'me?'

The woman stares for a moment, then nods and seductively licks her lips.

You turn red in embarrassment. You can feel blood vessels turn purple and burst in your nose, as blood flows out of it. You can feel your legs turn into noodles as you become light-headed from the embarrassment. You hide behind Roderick, averting your gaze from the perverted woman.

"What are all of you doing?" a familiar, female voice asks. You look to the right, to see Leona standing there. She looks at Roderick, then you, then at the naked woman. She puts one and two together and gets the wrong idea. She stares at Roderick angrily.

You and Roderick both yell at the same time, in perfect union: "It's not what it looks like!"

Leona smiles joyfully, with closed eyes. She shows relief.

You sigh in relief, so does Roderick.

Leona, still smiling, says, "I'm divorcing you."

Both of you scream in childish fear.

POOF!

"Huh?" Leona, you, and Roderick all look at the woman after you heard a bizarre sound, like a fart, or some kind of other gas release. Everyone is surprised to see that the woman is there no longer. In her stead, a small, green-blue cat is standing there, watching all of you. His eyes are wide open, like circles, and his tongue is out. This cat is clearly a magician, and it was clearly mocking you.

"The cat can cast magic?" Roderick asks, relieved. "It was just an illusion. See?!" he turns to Leona, who slaps him so hard he flies into the water.

"Bastard!" Leona calls out, more hostile than sad. You always took her for the kind of woman that would cut off a man's genitals should they betray her, but you never thought she'd jump to assumptions like this.

"Mom! Mom! Calm down," you take her arm. Your voice soothes her.

"You're right," she calms down. "It's just a dumb cat playing with magic. Speaking of which, how did it learn magic in the first place?"

You stare at the cat. Suddenly, it teleports away, with a sound of static mana.

"Some animals can use magic instinctively, if their souls are powerful enough," you explain, having enough knowledge on the Magical Theory to delve into topics like these. There are even races of magical animals, such as a race of lava slugs somewhere to the far east of Albion.

It seems that cat is intelligent enough to play pranks. The cocky spitball... You wish you knew where he was, so you could get some revenge for your father's jaw. Wait, that's right! You have the scrying compass. Still, it's too late to go off seeking vengeance right now.

***​

You wake up the next morning. Today, at noon, the ships will sail off toward Estal. You should consider the activity for this morning, as it will be the last thing you do on homeland soil.

[] Roland.
[] Leona.
[] Roderick.
[] Lancel.
[] Screw socializing, let's find that cat with the Scrying Compass and get some sweet vengeance.
[] Write-in.

Time: Dawn
Calendar: 1006-04-01

 

[Birdsie]

"So, remind me... why are we after this cat again?" Lancel asks, sword in hand, shield in the other hand while looking at the pine trees of the forest.

Staring at the compass in your hand, you answer dryly, "Because I want the cat to be my familiar. It knows some neat tricks."

"Pfft," Roland smirks, "Like showing off a big, juicy pair of boso––"

You stop, turn to Roland, and give him a mean look. This shuts him up in fear of provoking you. Roland, while on good terms with you, and very attached and bonded with you, would not dare summon your anger into his court. He knows better than that.

You keep walking. The compass needle starts to turn more and more until it makes a whole 180-degree turn... but, that shouldn't be possible. It'd mean you passed by the cat.

"I don't get it."

Lancel and Roland stop.

"Show me the cat that turns into naked women," you command the compass. Before it can show you an image...

SHWING!

A katana rips the compass away from your hand. It flies from the trees above, thrown like a knife. It causes the compass to fall out of your hand, without damaging either the compass nor injuring you. Whoever threw it must have pinpoint precision, despite the fact that a sword should be cumbersome.

You look in the direction of the thrower, surprised and battle-ready. You draw Excalibur. Lancel and Roland get into position for a bandit attack, but...

KRAK-BANG!

From a tree above, a suspicious, stubby figure drops down to the ground. It's the cat from before, but... he's wearing clothes? And what's that red creature behind him?

Spoiler

You get a distinct impression that this is Senor Fred all over again.

Suddenly, the katana the cat threw at you rises from the ground and flies back onto his belt. The cat stares at you, with the creepy, blank smile.

"What is that thing?" Lancel asks, bewildered.

"That's the cat I told you about."

"That thing is not a cat!" Lancel protests, still bewildered.

The cat takes out a sign from his pocket. Literally. The wooden sign reads: 'YOU KIDS WANNA FIGHT?'

"Hey, explain yourself, you cat-monster! Why were you pretending being a beautiful girl?"

The cat turns the wooden sign to the other side. 'AH, YES. MY SEXY JUTSU CAN BE QUITE DISTRACTING. THE REASON, IS THAT I LIKE SPYING ON PEOPLE.'

"Way to be creepy," Roland notes.

"You have to face punishment for your crimes," you tell the cat. "Justice must meet those who would endanger social growth!"

'COME AND TRY, KID. GET THEM, COMET PLANT!'

Suddenly, the red creature runs at you. Or rather, it floats toward you at high speeds. It tries to punch you. You slash it apart with Excalibur.

"A spirit? My Excalibur can cut through spiritual bodies. This was a novelty," you boast.

'I SEE. I SEE. IT WILL TAKE SIX YEARS FOR COMET PLANT TO REGENERATE. I MUST SAY I UNDERESTIMATED YOU.'

"Who are you?" Roland asks.

'THEY CALL ME MASTER JUNJI. AND YOU KIDS ARE ABOUT TO BE IN A WORLD OF PAIN.' The cat maintains his blank, creepy smile, as he puts the wooden sign back in his pocket.

"Prove it," you challenge Junji. Wasn't this the pervert that Senor Fred mentioned? This should be a piece of cake.

Master Junji draws his six katanas, holding all of them at once. Three per hand.

Somehow, another wooden sign pops up from his pocket, all by itself, without him holding it. 'MEET MY SIX SWORDS. I CALL THEM: CHRISTINA, JENNIFER, ALICE, NICOLE, TIFFANY, AND DEATHBRINGER.'

"What kind of doofus names their weapons at this age?" Roland snarks.

"And these names draw suspicion," Lancel sneers.

'I WILL LET YOU KIDS HAVE THE FIRST MOVE.'

"Wait," you say, out of the blue. "I don't want to kill you. I just want you to submit to my will and become my unwitting familiar."

'SOUNDS NEATO, LITTLE GIRL. HOW ABOUT A LITTLE BET?'

"A bet? What bet?"

'YOU BEAT ME IN COMBAT, I'LL BE YOUR FAMILIAR FOREVER. I BEAT YOU IN COMBAT, AND YOU'LL BE MY FAMILIAR FOREVER.'

Knowing that Senor Fred mentioned him, and considering the impossible nature of this cat – plus taking into consideration he is called Master Junji, it is very likely he laid a trap card beforehand. Clearly, this is some kind of trick, so you should watch out. It also seems that he is abusing the Quest mechanics by using six katanas at once and holding them in his hands, therefore dealing 6d10 damage + whatever his Strength Bonus is, instead of the typical 2d10+SB that a dual sword wielder would get. He's some kind of genre savvy that breaks the fourth wall. You need to be careful.

-[] Accept his bet, but be wary of any tricks.
--[] How do you begin combat? You can talk to Lancel and Roland beforehand to make a plan.
-[] Deny his bet.

Time: Morning
Calendar: 1006-04-01

 

[Birdsie]

"No."

'WHAT?'

"No. I'm not taking your bet."

'OH. WELL THEN... BYE.'

...

...

Master Junji sheathes his swords, turns around and begins walking away. The wooden sign hides back into his pocket. The cat you have just met is a walking mark of impossibility. Like a stain on an otherwise clear universe. And he doesn't even care.

Roland shrugs. Lancel just stares with impeccable bewilderment.

***​

You return to the camp and you spend some time talking with Roland and Lancel. Nothing eventful happens. The three of you discuss your participation in the war. Expectations. Questions. And then you tell Lancel the story about Pyndwyn. The whole story. Exactly as it went down.

Several hours pass, until...

The heavens squeal. You look at the sky and you see constructs in the distance. Huge ships of metal and wood, propelled by fiery turbines. Airships. Ran by dwarven engineers and pilots, and propelled through engines that are a mixture of technology and magic you've never laid eyes upon.

They land, refuel, perform some maintenance work, and then give the generals a green light. The troops load up onto the airship. As you scale the ladder, you grow progressively more anxious. You make it onboard of one of the smaller frigates, that act as escorts, alongside with a squad of troops. Neither Lancel or Roland are there with you, so you feel a bit lonely.

The airships take several minutes to check if everything is in order, then take off in the direction of the north.

***​

"Baragar, miss," a dwarf approaches. "We will be near land in ten minutes. Prepare your men."

You nod to the engineer, who proceeds to return to whatever duties he was assigned.

You're standing at the very front of the aircraft, which moves forward with enough speed to make your hair flutter. It's almost difficult to stand with all the air friction, however, the magical barrier in front of the airship protects you from being blown off of its surface.

"First time?" a female soldier asks you.

You look in her direction. "Fighting? No. That's trivial at this point."

She smiles audibly, almost chuckling. "Same for me. I had to fight ever since I was a little girl. We're not so different, you and I."

You smile. "I guess. My name is..."

"I know who you are. Who doesn't? The girl who killed Pyndwyn. The youngest leader in the army. You've already surpassed your parents' doings. Soon enough, you will be the greatest hero Albion knew."

"I doubt it. Baragar already has that title. He's done everything I could. I'll never surpass him," you reply.

"Thinking like that is unhealthy," the soldier replies. "You think that you have something to prove. Someone to surpass. That's not true. You're a person of your own. You're not defined by your ancestors. You grow at your own pace, and even then, you still surpass everything about your ancestry."

... "Sorry, do I know you?"

"Name's Aegis," the girl replies. "My title is the King's Fist. In-fact, I'm in charge of this operation, but consider yourself my equal."

You look at Aegis. She has the standard uniform of a Royal Knight. Knights, in the past, used to be mercenary vassals employed by the King to assert his authority. Over time, they became a legal, strict organization. With it came a dress code that applied during wartime. Aegis wears a heavy, plated, silver armor and a blue cape on her back. Her weapon of choice appears to be... gauntlets? She has very thick, perhaps magical gloves. You can't determine her race because her face is concealed by her helmet.

"How I miss the old days," Aegis reminisces.

"Old days?" you squint.

"Yeah. I used to be like you. A free spirit. Doing whatever I wanted. Now I'm bound by duty. Not that that's bad. I follow orders religiously, but I miss the days when I'd enter nests full of giant spiders and rip 'em apart. Real nasty things, but awesome to fight."

Had you been a normal person, your jaw would drop. While amazing, this is something normal for you. Your face remains expressionless, but deep down you feel slightly impressed.

"You like fighting, don't you?" you ask.

"Yeah, but only if my cause is right," she replies. "Like this one. We're taking one for the homeland."

BZZZAAAAAAATTTTTT–––––the sound of static mana suddenly pops up. It's very heavy, almost deafening, like a roar. The dwarven engineers panic, and then...

"Damn barriers," Cervitou grumbles, teleporting next to you and taking hold of the fence to support himself.

"Who are you?" Aegis prepares to fight, raising her fists.

You stand in front of Cervitou protectively. "Calm down, he's a friend!"

"I don't have friends. I'm an acquaintance," Cervitou corrects you. Kind of a mean thing to say, but that's classic Cervitou. Suddenly, he turns to Aegis in realization. "Oh."

"Wait..." Aegis squints. "No way."

... Cervitou takes a step back.

"It's you," Aegis states with malice, lowering her fists just slightly. Not fully, but slightly.

"Miss me?" Cervitou jests with sarcasm.

"Hardly."

"You two know each other?" you break in.

"Of course we do," Cervitou sneers. "If it isn't His Royal Majesty's favorite general; Aegis Caliburn."

"If it isn't Cervitou, the black mage. Did you come here to fight me? Get even?"

"Don't flatter yourself," Cervitou snarks. "It was a draw at best."

"Funny coming from the guy who yelled 'this isn't the end!' after I punched his mask off."

"Well, it wasn't the end," Cervitou states coldly.

Aegis looks to the side, muttering, "He's not wrong..." Aegis looks up at him again. "What do you want? We're kind of in the middle of a land invasion here. I have soldiers to command, and enemies to defeat."

"Oh, soldiers to command? I thought each and every single of your 'commands' started somewhat like this:" Cervitou clears his throat and pretends to be Aegis, even changing his voice. "Hey... hey! Cerberus, hold my beer and watch this!"

"Why, you!" Aegis steps forward, wanting to punch Cervitou. You stop her, putting all of your might into it.

The dwarven engineer interrupts. "Prepare for drop-off!"

"Drop-off?" you look at Aegis in confusion.

"We'll be jumping off. Magic will slow our falls."

Cervitou looks at you. "One thing, Artoria Baragar. I just wanted to confirm something. Is it true you saw Senor Fred?"

"Yeah, wh–––"

"Where?" Cervitou interrupts you.

"At Baragar's End?"

"Noted," Cervitou states.

Cervitou looks at you. "Artoria." Then he looks at Aegis, and utters words of contemptuous bitterness, "'King's Fist.'" Cervitou explodes into a black cloud, teleporting away.

You look at Aegis. "What was that about?"

"Storytime later, kid. Let's get into the action. Our objective is the enemy leader; Alfred Von Schwneiss. Divinations have it he's cooped up in the castle war-room. We'll try to get there. I don't exactly have a plan other than fight our way in. If you have anything, I'm all ears."

[] Fight our way in sounds like a plan.
[] Write-in.

Time: Noon
Calendar: 1006-04-01

 

[Birdsie]

***​

BANG!

Another soldier falls down to Aegis' fist. "Onward, to glory!" She points her finger forward, as Albion soldiers rush out from cover and take down more enemy forces.

SWISH! SWOOSH!

Two swings of Excalibur. Two enemies down. You walk forward, the arrows of enemy archers literally sliding off of your armor or breaking on impact, leaving you completely unaffected. It was a good call to make that dragon into armor. Even enemy spells leave you with little more than a bruise.

SWISH! Another enemy down. Another one bites the dust.

The enemy is falling back. You have taken the coastline in two minutes of combat and the enemy ran to the higher levels of the city, forming several blockades. Time to regroup. You call your soldiers to yourself, create a shield-bow formation, then bombard the city with fire arrows and fireballs to flush the enemies out. Surely enough, enemy troops rush out in meek hopes of beating you, only to be impaled on the spears of your well-placed men.

You are massacring the enemy, while your own troops suffer only minimal casualties.

You go up to Aegis. "The city is weakened. Time to move in."

She nods, then calls her men, before ordering them to charge through the streets and toward the enemy castle. You run amidst the crowd and reach the stone walls. The defenders have prepared various, entertaining defenses like boiling oil, but they have no magical barriers. As such, one swing of holy energy from Excalibur blows open a hole in the wall, allowing your men to charge further inside and deal with the enemy while you and Aegis proceed upstairs to the war-room before the enemy commander can flee.


You fight your way through the floors of the castle. It is decorated and adorned with Estalian flags, and full of yet eager defenders who meet the tip of your sword and welcome death. Some of them choose to surrender and are left alone. Finally, you get to the war-room and you capture the enemy commander, before handing him off to General Sinclair who proceeds to interrogate him.

The 'siege' took only twenty-eight minutes. Truly, one of the faster victories you've seen during this war. When General Sinclair said we'd invade quickly, mercilessly, and with overwhelming strength, he wasn't joking around. In but a few minutes, reports reach the camp that the whole Estalian coastline was captured and a foothold was set everywhere on the southern border. Since the King dispatched some of the navy to the eastern and northern seas, this means that the enemy sovereign will either give up or meet his death in a matter of months. Your strategical victory is nearly assured.

You spend three days in the city, preparing, regrouping, resupplying, and waiting for reinforcements to arrive. You are the arrowhead of the invasion, meaning you have to wait for some navy reinforcements to arrive before you proceed inland. On the third day of the month, several of your armies to the east set out. On the fourth day, you and the rest of the coastline get the reinforcements and set out, securing more land. The fighting gets fiercer and fiercer the further you go.

When you reach one of the main cities, you stumble upon an incredibly ardent defense. You move inland, capturing villages, securing land, and fighting in various skirmishes with the enemy army. In the late days of the fourth month of the year, your regiment is pushed back during a battle due to massive injuries and you are forced to move back to the coastline to get reinforcements. The war turns into an attrition war for several days during the summer, until fresh soldiers from Albion arrive. You once again march north, to the enemy capital.

Upon capturing it, the King of Estal surrenders and offers a peace treaty to His Royal Majesty. The war is officially over, and you haven't been interrupted by anything weird, surprisingly. Neither Cervitou, nor Senor Fred, nor Master Junji. You haven't caught wind of the Drifter anywhere either, but you're certain he'll come back to do whatever he wanted to do. And you'll be ready to capture him and learn what he wants from you.

Time to celebrate. The king invites all commanders and vassals who fought for him to a banquet in Lanerfield the following month to celebrate. This would be a good chance to meet some influential faces and get to know with other noble children, many of which you simply haven't seen throughout your life. You've met one or two spoiled brats, of course, but you don't have many friends in the upper class ––– something necessary for a noblewoman like yourself. Perhaps you'll even get to know His Royal Majesty and his family?

Will you attend the celebratory banquet?

[] Yes.
[] No.

Training for the remaining days of Summer?

[] Physical training. (Raises physical parameters.)
-[] Focus on strength.
-[] Focus on stamina.
-[] Focus on agility.
[] Melee combat.
-[] Swords.
-[] Spears.
-[] Order new weapon training for yourself. (Write-in.)
[] Ranged combat.
-[] Crossbow, including Auto-Crossbows.
-[] Bows, including Magi-Bows.
-[] Flintlocks.
[] Animal Ken.
-[] Taming.
-[] Riding.
-[] Animal Lore.
-[] Magical Beast Lore.
[] Strategy & Tactics.
-[] Theoretical Warfare.
[] Magic.
-[] Countermeasures.
-[] Magical Theory. (ie: how leylines work, the alignments of spiritual realms, why mana exists, etc.)
-[] Practical Thaumaturgy.
--[] Any specific school or desired type? (Golem-Crafting, Hermetic magic, Rituals, Alchemy, Transmutation, Mind Magic, etc.)
-[] Search for excerpts from the Codex Gigas and study them. This will take you down a dark path... black magic, so to speak, but you didn't hear that from me.
[] Diplomacy.
[] Logistics and management.
-[] How to run a mansion, maintain servants, and organize affairs.
-[] General logistics and management.
[] Etiquette.
-[] General Etiquette.
[] Art, including painting, dancing, and singing.
[] Write-in.

Time: Afternoon
Calendar: 1006-07-25

 

[Birdsie]

After returning to the Baragar residence, you've continued your training. Every day, you would train your body and your skills in swordfighting. You found a team of passing adventurers with whom you trained and ransacked a single dungeon. It brought you the experience you'd need in the future. You also met up with the boy from your village - Tavish Oshha and the two of you trained magic together. You've learned a thing or two about Magical Theory from him, actually. Cervitou taught him well.

You have reached a level of power beyond most people. Your Body is teeming with it. You can crush a table with your grip, or lift your own brother with no issue. Your strength, agility, and stamina. All are at peak-human levels, even for what adults typically reach. But you can go a bit further if you keep training.

***​

You arrive in Lanerfield, in a carriage drawn by horses. You are wearing the accursed, light blue dress. Next to you sits Roland, with an equally shameful outfit. A red robe from silk, with some velvet and fur on it. It is a bright color and easily catches the eye. His hair is slick and drawn back, much to his annoyance.

In front of you, Leona and Roderick are seated with their own outfits, which they appear to be adapted to. Leona wears a dress not too dissimilar to yours, but of a darker, azure color. Roderick is wearing a bright green-red outfit with fur and decorative golden elements woven into it. For a warrior of his mettle, he looks very distinguished in the suit.

"Remember, children," Leona reprimands. "We are not here to fight. We are not here to do reconnaissance. We are here to have fun and celebrate," she says as if you had no idea what having fun is.

"Yeah, yeah," you grumble.

"Try to make new friends," she says, as the valet opens the carriage door. You go through, followed by Roland, Roderick, and Leona in that order. The whole family is led inside the royal castle by a steward, and you enter the grand foyer.

You whisper to the side, "Cervitou, does it work?"

"I assure you, it does," he answers telepathically. "Simply call its name in case of emergency."

"Got it," you answer. You turn back forward, catching up with the rest of the family.

***​

The Ballroom is incredibly rich. It's at least a hundred meters in every direction, with numerous crystal chandeliers, decorations, golden pots with plants, gem-covered clocks, marble pillars, silky red draperies over huge windows, and countless tables with only the most expensive of wines and food on them. There is a statue of the king, a statue of Baragar, and a statue of several other people who are important to the country's history.

Everywhere you look, there are Albionian nobles and aristocrats. The sight is disgusting. Half of these people didn't fight in the war, but they dare come here like they've seen all of the bloodshed and dead friends. You see General Sinclair in the corner of the room, equally lonely as you, and equally brooding. You should speak with him later on.

You scoff, then go and grab yourself a goblet of wine from one of the butlers. You drink and do small-talk with a few other noble children, not bothering the big adults.

Suddenly, everyone looks up at the balcony, where the king of Albion is about to appear. Trumpets play a fanfare, while a herald announces His Royal Majesty.

"Ladies and gentlemen, His Royal Majesty; Advan Fembren Albion, wise, sovereign ruler of Albion, and the royal family!"

Everyone cheers and bows as the king moves into the balcony followed by his wife and children, and at the end; Aegis and several royal guardians. You haven't had the chance to meet the king in person, but from what you at least heard, he deserves at least a semicolon of respect. He's fought in a war or two, but ever since an injury to his leg, he had never personally shown up on a battlefield again. Fair enough. He served his share of time, then became too injured to fight again.

The king grabs a goblet of wine. "Everyone. I'd like to thank you for coming. On this fateful day, we commemorate the deaths of our friends and my most loyal of followers. The soldiers who gave their blood, lives, and souls for this country. As you know, a year ago, the kingdom of Estal attacked our northern coastline under the pretext of unwarranted naval attacks from our side - a deed that most attribute now to pirates with stolen ships - and something we have proven in the court of international law. So..."

The king rises the goblet into the air. "A toast! For our fallen brethren and sisters."

Everyone toasts. Those who actually fought in the war, like you, Roland, your family, and General Sinclair, or Aegis. All are sad. While the rest of the thankless aristocrats cheer as soon as the toast is over and begin getting drunk. The decadence makes you question your loyalty, but you remember that you are loyal to the king, not to the system.

The banquet follows. The servants play music and people begin dancing.

What do you do?

[] Find Aegis and talk to her.
[] Find General Sinclair. Ask him what he thinks of the banquet.
[] Write-in.

Time: Afternoon
Calendar: 1006-08-25

 

[Birdsie]

"Aegis," you approach the woman in armor. A banquet, but she's combat ready. "You're here to protect the king, right?"

"I'm here to protect the guests," she retorts, folding her arms. "The king is the host. He can handle himself."

You squint, looking in the direction of his Excellency. You lean forward and see an enchanted sword and cuirass under his robes. "So it would seem."

"I'm also here to enjoy myself," she adds.

"That will be difficult. That helmet doesn't look like it makes drinking easier."

"I don't need to get drunk to enjoy myself."

"Says who?"

"Says the woman who saved your pale ass."

The two of you laugh. It's true. She had your back during the war. You became buddies. Not the closest of friends, but friends.

"Seriously, what else is there to do?" you question.

"Watch the nobles before they hurt themselves? They're like petulant children. Something is bound to happen sooner or later."

"I getcha," you nod in agreement.

The atmosphere in the ballroom is tense all of the sudden. Something is off about the party. Security seems low, a fact which you point out to Aegis. She says there's more guards outside. The security inside the castle is low as to not upset the guests. It creates an aura of trust.

But you still have a bad feeling about this.

As you finish talking to Aegis...

"Can I ask you for a dance, m'lady?" You turn around, to find a boy reaching with his hand out to you. Alonso Albion. The prince himself. He has slick, light brown hair. He wears a red velvet suit, with white gloves and pants, as well as a pair of thing, black boots. You'd find him more charming if he didn't look like the king of spoiled brats. Oh, wait, that's basically what he is. Still, you can't refuse a dance request from the prince. It isn't proper.

"Of course," you answer coldly. You do your best not to sound impressed or flattered as to not feed his ego. It might be wrong to judge a book by its cover, but you always had a good eye when it came to seeing people for who they are. Until he proves he is an honorable person, you won't have any reason to like him. You could say he's guilty until proven innocent.

The two of you wait for the music and begin dancing together. "So, Artoria Baragar... is it?"

"Alonso Albion," you almost scoff.

"That's right."

"To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Your beauty... and prowess in combat."

He's not the worst at compliments, you'll give him that much. "Are you a warrior as well?"

"I do practice fencing every now and then," he says. "Surely enough to qualify as a soldier myself." You see his lip waver. He's not exactly lying, but he's not as good as he says he is.

"I would gladly test your skill, my lord," you insist.

"No need for that," he backs out.

The conversation is almost like a duel, but replacing the weapons with words.

"Why not? I'd love to taste your mettle," you persist.

"Why, I'm quite embarrassed to fight with a woman."

You stop dancing. "Excuse you?" you ask quickly, certain you misheard.

The prince coughs, clearing his throat. "Why, I said I'm quite embarrassed to fight such a superior combatant."

You continue dancing. He saved himself at the last moment, but he's getting his hopes over nothing. All that awaits this guy is political marriage for the sake of his own, selfish benefit. He can ram these sweet words up his cave, because they mean about as much as a kobold's blood in this world.

After the dance, he brings you to meet the King of Albion himself. The king isn't too dissimilar in appearance to his son, but obviously older, roughly in his early forties.

"Father, I'd like you to meet someone," he says, walking up to the king. You feel the urge to bow.

The king himself looks at you, while Alonso introduces the two of you. "Father, Artoria Baragar. Artoria, His Royal Majesty; King Advan of Albion."

"Ah," the king recognizes the name. He speaks in a hearty tone. "You must descend from the greatest hero known to man. The pleasure is on my side." He reaches out to get a handshake. You'd expect him to take your hand and plant a kiss on it, but it seems he is more straightforward than he lets on.

You accept the handshake. "It is an honor to meet someone as distinguished as the sovereign of my fatherland."

"Think of me only as a man who represents this country's people. Without them, I am nothing but a puppet," he retorts wisely.

"I believe you are a great ruler," you answer. "Not only did you fight for your own people, but you offer mercy to your enemies."

"That's true," he nods. "I am a humble person, but there is nothing wrong with taking pride where it is due."

"Indeed."

"On another hand, I have heard of your exploits. Defeating a dragon at this age? Not even my sons would accomplish something like that."

"It was a greater dragon, your Excellency."

"My mistake, I apologize," he answers, rather sincerely. The king is nicer than you thought. You expected a brutal, if a prideful monarch, but he seems more down-to-earth than most kings.

"No need. It was a trifle," you smile.

"My lord, can I speak to you?" A captain of the guard walks up to the king and bows. "It's urgent."

The king looks at you. "Excuse me." He follows the captain to a corner of the room.

You still have that feeling. That feeling that something is off, and it seems the captain thinks so too. You can't tell what they are talking about, and it'd be rude - maybe even illegal to eavesdrop, but you don't like this one bit. Fortunately, you have a contingency plan.

Cervitou foresaw something would happen that requires your intervence. In-fact, he rigged Excalibur. As soon as you speak its name, the sword will warp straight into your right hand. A summoning spell. Simple, reliable, and quick. Just how you like it.

Then again, since nothing is happening yet, you might as well let yourself relax.

What do you do?

Time: Evening
Calendar: 1006-08-25

[] Speak with General Sinclair.
[] Speak with Leona.
[] Speak with Roderick.
[] Speak with Roland
[] Speak with Aegis again.
[] Speak with the king, once he's no longer busy.
[] Speak with Alonso.
-[] Speak with Alonso specifically.
-[] Ask him if he can introduce you to the rest of the family.
[] Write-in.