ANDRY

Andry found Tyram in a small park, disused at that hour of the evening. It was really just a circle of green with some benches set around a statue. Of who Andry couldn't tell. He probably should, since chances were if there was a statue to them they were important to the history of the planet he'd been born on, but the village seemed far removed even from things like that. It didn't matter right now. Kicking the hell out of Tyram did. He was sitting on one of the benches, his sword in his lap, looking at it with a vacant expression.

“Hey!” Andry shouted. “Dumbass!”

Tyram looked up, blinking like he just woke up.

“Andry,” Tyram said. “I don't want to hear it, alright?”

“Who cares?” Andry said. “Besides, I want to hear it. What the hell is wrong with you?”

Andry sat on the corner of another bench, a position that let him look Tyram in the face. It took Tyram a moment more to respond.

“I wasn't supposed to inherit the Dragon Regalia,” Tyram said. “I had an old brother. Well, technically a cousin. Our parents were on a trip together and there was an accident. He was...oh, he was five or six? I was three or four. Grandfather took us in, started training both of us. He was always better than me, and not just because he was older. Grandfather always said he had a Regalia in mind for me too, but Kerral was going to get the Dragon Regalia.”

“And why didn't he?” Andry pressed.

“He joined a mercenary group,” Tyram said. “Four standard years ago. He only signed on for a year, he just wanted some real combat experience before he accepted the Dragon Regalia. He had Grandfather help him pick it out, make sure he got real soldiers and not just a bunch of glorified pirates. We got a message back three weeks later—he was getting a bravery metal for his first battle. That was...that was just sobhim. And then three months after that, we got the message telling us that he died. So I inherited the Regalia.”

Tyram turned the sword over in his hand.

“Kerral should have been here,” he sighed. “Kerral would have been able to deal with all this. He was the one really cut out to be a knight. Although Grandfather always did say he'd make sure I got a Regalia too. That I was just as talented, maybe more talented than he was. Not that I ever bought that.”

“So what?” Andry said. “You think you can't cut it because you weren't the first choice? But you keep winning all the fights! I'm the one who went out and go my ass kicked first time--”

“I know that!” Tyram said. “God, why does everyone keep saying that? I know I do, alright? I have noticed I keep winning the fights, thank you!”

“Then what the hell is the problem?” Andry demanded.

“Grandfather had these old books,” Tyram said. “Ancient texts, written by warriors from as far back as Long Lost Earth. In one of them I read this thing. “The way of the warrior is the acceptance of death.” I thought I got that. I thought I had that covered, you know? Because I thought they only meant my death.”

Tyram shook his head.

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“He cut down the bandits,” Tyram said with an unhealthy half-laugh. “that's how it goes in all the stories right? He cuts them down, and then they're gone and they don't matter anymore. They're not still lying there on the ground bleeding from holes youput in them. Missing pieces that you tore off. I thought I knew, I really did, that Grandfather was teaching me how to fight, and that fighting meant hurting people. And I got really good at it. Kerral was always better with a sword, but I picked up the hand to hand stuff really quick. I was so proud.

“And I haven't...I still think there needs to be knights. And part of me still wants to be a knight. To use all this power to help people. I just wish...I just wish I didn't know what it feels like to rip somebody's ears off. I wish I didn't know that when you tear out someone's throat it wriggles in your hand.”

“But you were the one who talked me into this!” Andry said angrily. “You were the one who showed up and called me an asshole! And you were right !We did it, Tyram! We saved the village! Just like in all the old stories! And now you're saying you can't handle it because bad things happen on a battlefield?”

“No I was ready for horrible things to happen on the battlefield,” Tyram said. “I just wasn't ready to be one.”

“So that's it?” Andry said. “You got a little blood on your hands and you can't handle it anymore? After you hauled my sister out into the fields to drag me back?”

“Hey wait a minute!” Tyram said. “I'm not running off selling us out to bandits because I'm scared!”

“No,” Andry said. “No you're just running away. Rimni keeps calling me a coward, but you're right here--”

“I didn't tell you to become a knight,” Tyram said. “All I said was come back to the village and stop being an idiot. And if you've been trying to use me as a role model or something when I'm dealing with my own shit that is not my god damn fault!”

They were inches from each other now, fists clenched, auram rising, and for a moment they were back in the field before Zweibel showed up, furious and wondering which of them would throw the first punch. The illusion only lasted a moment.

“Tyram,” Andry said.

“I see him.”

The knights jumped away from each other as two bursts of glowing energy flew past them, obliterating the benches they'd been standing in front of and leaving a crater in the dirt. They landed, summoning their Regalia, and turning towards their attacker.

“You're not going to be a bitch about this are you?” Andry demanded.

“No,” Tyram said. “I'll fight as long as I have to.”

Birger strode into the park, smoke still wafting from the twin barrels of his gun. It looked a little bit like a shotgun, but the barrels were longer and larger than a human should be able to carry in one hand and there was a thick sided rotating disc on the top of it. The blast it had fired had been mostly auram too, so it probably had something to do with the man's regalia.

“Who are you?” Andry asked.

“They just call me Birger,” he said. “first mate to captain Balthazar Nodd.”

“This is about Jalgoz,” Tyram sighed.

“Of course it is,” Birger said. “The captain's sentimental about blood. Jalgoz, well, maybe with Jalgoz he had a point but the rest of his grandkids...feh. Did you have to leave Jurgo alive though? Personally I think you'd have done the world a favor if you put a hole in his head. But the captain went and put the little snot in charge of us to take you all down, and the captain's the captain. We'd all be nothing without him. So we guard him on his deathbed, and if he says take orders from the snot, we take orders from the snot.”

“I dunno what his regalia is,” Andry said. “But it doesn't look heavy on the armor.”

They moved to flank him, but Birger pulled out a second gun and tracked each of them with a weapon. Andry fired a sonic blast and Tyram came in for a charge, but Birger bent like a read and avoided them both and slipped away from the melee.

“You're both close up brawler types huh?” he said. “Not my favorite opponent, but I'm first mate to the greatest man who ever lived. You'll have to do better than that.”

He brought both his guns to bear on Andry, unleashing a merciless barrage. In his desperation the Lion Knight discovered he could knock Birger's energy bolts aside with his own sonic blasts, but it was taking all his concentration keep from getting hit. Tyram tried to take advantage of the confusion and kick the pirate's legs out from under him, but Birger jumped over his kick as nimbly as a ballet dancer and adjusted his aim so Tyram found himself staring directly down all four barrels of the pirate's guns.