“The barkeepers and maidens, they both shout: Oh no!

The barkeeper when I come, the maiden when I go!

La da hey da da di ha ha he ho!”

The Gryphon’s Den erupted in a drunken song, drinking and dancing and singing and cheering. The hall was packed with people of all kinds, gathered together to forget their worries. Standing on a table and leading the song was not the War Lion, like most nights when he was in town, but a newcomer: a cheery young maiden with a strong, yet beautiful voice, an unusual girl with a lion’s tail.

“Hah… I can’t believe it.” The War Lion set his head on the table. A headache of regret mixing with nausea of shame began to throb in his head. “I never knew I’d meet someone like her… Someone who can outdrink me without breaking a sweat…”

Metis sat side-by-side close to him, their shoulders touching. A gentle smile touched her lips. “It is a surprise to me as well. But worry not, be proud that you lost not in a weak surrender, but in a last stand of resistance.”

“Am I getting old, Metis? Is tonight the night I retire?” Orlando lifted his head to reveal child-like tears threatening to flow down his cheeks. “Did I grow weak without knowing it? What happened to me?”

“Silly little man, it is but one defeat. If the shame hurts you so, then prepare properly for the next battle.”

“Ah, I knew you’d get me, Metis!” He leaned in closer to the woman and gave her a tight embrace, one which Metis reciprocated after a moment of surprise.

“What am I watching?” From across the table, the white-haired half-demon boy observed the interaction in half-confusion, half-horror. “Do you get used to that, too?” he asked the fox girl beside him.

“Unfortunately, yes,” she agreed while closely examining a small ice crystal in her hands, intrigued by how it retained its temperature.

She smiled as she saw the demon boy’s sea-blue eyes darting back down to the metal parts and crystals and tiny wafers of incantation circuits that her magic compass had been disassembled into. In the past half-hour, she felt as if she’d met someone she was fated to meet. The boy was a few years younger than her, but he was an extraordinary mage, someone she knew would reach echelons of magic she’d never even dream of, as much as it pained her to admit, but on the other hand, he was one who seemed to refuse to fit the mold of a typical mage. He was someone who shared his knowledge happily, and better yet, someone who understood her work and found it fascinating.

“You!” Orlando broke the two mages’ amiable silence. “What are you two still doing here?”

“Huh? Whatta ya want, Lany?” Sumako asked, taken aback by his sudden attention to her. Though a drunken Orlando was never hostile or aggressive, alcohol had a certain way of dialing up his already-lively-enough energy.

“You two, you shouldn’t be hanging out here, I don’t care if you’re having the most profound conversation of your life or the most intelligent discussion of magic. Dance and have fun with everyone else! Enjoy nights like these when you have them!”

“We’re fine here, aren’t we, Luqa?” she asked, setting down the ice crystal on the table. The boy only softly laughed to himself though when he heard Orlando’s drunken suggestion.

“No, no, I won’t have that Sumako!” Orlando continued, “You’re still young so you don’t understand, but one day, you’ll grow old, and you’ll regret having wasted your youth!” Sumako would have taken more heed of his wisdom if he wasn’t sniffling and being stroked on the head by Metis.

“You know what? Why not?” Luqa suddenly piped up.

“Wait, what?” Sumako said.

“He’s not wrong. We can always do this another time, right? Plus, he’ll just keep bothering us if we ignore him.” He offered an outstretched hand to the fox girl and smirked boyishly.

“Another time? You mean there’ll be another time?!” she said, her tail whipping about excitedly to and fro.

“As long as you’re not leaving the city first thing tomorrow,” he laughed.

“Then, fine, I guess I can dance for a bit,” the fox girl said exasperatedly and added an eye roll for show, though she still took his hand nonetheless. “But, warning, I can not for the life of me dance.”

“Same here,” the boy offered in consolation.

Orlando and Metis watched in pride as the fox girl walked with Luqa to join in song and dance with the crowd circling Shara. If there was a feat achieved today they could commend Luqa for, it was not inadvertently taking down a notorious criminal ring, but for getting Sumako to willingly partake in dancing to drunken singing.

“You know, Metis, you know what’s the best part of being an adventurer?” Orlando reflected.

“You said it was the delicious particular cuisines offered by different places the last time,” Metis answered.

“Haha, that too! But my answer was going to be the people. Being an adventurer, you get to meet all sorts of interesting people,” he said. But before he could elaborate further, another head of hair peeked through the crowd, with a pale, sullen face. It was Marcus, the adventurer he’d talked to today and the only survivor of the monster who was the reason Howling Fox was in town. From the quick glance he could make, he looked in a much worse state than earlier.

Orlando jumped from his chair in pursuit of Marcus, but his progress through the drunken crowd filling the tavern was too slow to catch up.

“Excuse me, let me through!” he said as he pushed through, ignoring the excited cries of ‘Hey, it’s Orlando!’. The man clicked his tongue as he saw his target leave through the main doorway. By the time he himself made it to the door and ran into the street, he had lost the trail. To his left, and to his right, was only an empty dark street.

“Damn it. Where is that fool going?” he cursed to himself. From what he had seen earlier in the day, Marcus was in a state too terrible and too sickly to be wandering the streets of Lefke, doing who knows what. Though he had tried to get him to talk about his experience with the unknown monster, he heard nothing but incomprehensible ramblings and pained weeping from the survivor. And worst of all, the look Orlando saw on his face was alarming. It was a look he had seen countless times on the battlefields of the past from wounded subordinates: the face of one who had lost the will to live.

Orlando began to run to search the street and its alleyways, but a grip around his collar stopped him. It was Metis. Her lips were closed into a tight frown.

“What’s up, Metis? This is somewhat urgent,” he said.

“This is also urgent as well.” She pointed to an aproned woman behind her, the barmaid from earlier, who was crossing her arms in annoyance and tapping her foot.

“What?” the man hissed.

“You still haven’t paid for the little game you played with Shara,” Metis said bemusedly. “We owe them quite a hefty sum – and a sum you will be paying with your own gold. I, certainly, am not using my money meant for our supplies and equipment.”

The War Lion let out a little cry of frustration, mostly directed at himself. He always regretted his games when he saw the bill.

***

“Down you go!” I sat Shara down on her bed. After a few hours, we were back in our comfy room, returning with double the fatigue from before we left.

“Thaank you, Luqaaa,” Shara slurred as she rested her head on the pillow. Her entire body seemed to sink into the bed, without a trace of tension.

“This is new,” I said after a pause. “Whenever you drank with the tailed demons, you never really got drunk. Or at least, drunk enough to this point.”

“It can happen, indeed. Even I have my limits,” she hiccupped.

“And it is a glorious sight.”

“If you say so,” she quietly agreed.

“And you’re more docile than usual. It is… weird, if I’m being honest,” I admitted.

“Savor it while you still have it.”

I turned around to leave, but a hand grasped my wrist. Shara had sat up and stopped me, and a wide smile stretched between the two ends of her face. It was a rare expression. Not sly, nor playful, nor full of intrigue. It had no motives, nor wants. In my eyes, it was an expression of pure happiness, and one that Shara wanted me to see.

“Thank you.” Those two words were as quiet as the dim, candle-lit room. But they were like an incantation to a spell – one whose effects were playing upon me.

“For getting you to bed?” I laughed lightly to cut through the heavy air charged with emotion.

Shara only shook her head gently, and her smile turned enigmatic. But, despite the long silence, I understood.

“You’re welcome.” I finally said after prolonged eye-contact. It was enough to satisfy the gryphon, and she let go of me.

“Though, I shall say this,” she said, “I have developed a grievance against you tonight.”

“Huh? And what would that be?”

“Back during our travels with the tailed demons, I saw you dance eagerly with the adorable, little Farah. And then, tonight, you were dancing once more, this time with the young, captivating Sumako. And that devilish smile you showed her while dancing closely, only centimeters apart... it was utterly deplorable.” She shook her head slowly.

“What exactly did I do wrong?”

“Unbelievable, how shortsighted of you.” She crossed her arms. “I will make myself more clear: do you hold a particular lust for budding maidens?”

“What!” I could not have been more ruffled. “No! That’s not it at all! I’d never!”

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

“Then why have you not danced with me at any point all this time?” Her face was tilted away, but the slight blush on her cheeks was still visible.

“Oooh, so that’s what you were trying to say,” I said in a sigh of relief. “It’s hard being honest, huh?”

“Answer my question.”

“You never asked, that’s why. But since you’re basically asking now, then next time, we can dance together. I would love to, really.”

“Hmph, you assume you have a second chance.”

“I know I will, you'll forgive me. I’m charming after all.” Her eyes narrowed at my statement, but she then grabbed me by the arm again and pulled me to the bed to sit alongside her. “Woah, what’s up?”

“Sleep with me tonight.”

“What!” If I was ruffled earlier, I was now fully aghast and shocked beyond all words. “What is going on with you Shara! That must be the alcohol. There’s no way you mean what you say! Plus, it would be just… wrong in any circumstance. Have you seen my body? You were going after me earlier, talking about my supposed ‘preference’ for young girls, but then you pull this stunt! The–”

She cackled in contagious laughter, interrupting my panicked rant. “Hm? Why such a reaction?” she asked in a sultry tone. “I only asked if you could lay and sleep beside me tonight. That may alleviate my usual nightmares, as well as yours. Eddeswaz fuer eddeswaz, as the Norlaenders say.”

“Oh," I sighed inwardly. The usual Shara had returned, after not even a while.

“What did you think I meant?” Her suggestive eyes told me she knew the answer to the question very well.

“Nothing.” I tried to shake off my own blush.

“So? What is your answer?”

“Maybe. But not right now.” I gently unwrapped Shara’s hold on me and stood up. “Tonight, I planned to scan the surrounding region with my mystic eye. It may take a while.”

“Hmph. What a shame.”

My mind shook off all irrelevant thoughts as I re-orientated myself back to my goal. I needed to remember once more. I wasn’t in this city for sightseeing. I was here to use being an adventurer as a way to support my goal of going after my soul fragments. A night of tapping into the deepest ability of the mystic eye was long due. Without it, who knew how far or how near the closest soul fragment would be?

***

Marcus stumbled into the alleyway, tears beginning to form in his eyes. He had realized something in the last few hours: he was deathly sick. An experienced adventurer like him had had to come to terms with the idea of dying, whether it was that of his comrades or that of his own, but that did little to prepare him to be composed when the cold dagger of death was pressed close against his neck.

“Hueegh!” Marcus hurled his bile onto the ground. His shaky legs couldn’t support his weight, so he had to lean against the wall. “Ha… ha…” Finished, he collapsed onto the ground, not even caring about the pool of vomit next to him.

“Agh… agh…” His heart beat faster and faster, almost exploding from his chest. An uneasy sensation built in the pit of his stomach. He focused on trying to intake air, to keep himself alive.

For a second, the pain seemed to recede into the background. Only for a second.

In the very next moment, it returned with a fiery intensity. It spread to every corner of his body, down to his feet, into his fingers, up through the spine, into the back of his eyes. Like one million needles pierced every little pore.

Try as Marcus might to shriek in pain, no sound could escape his lips, and no amount of effort allowed him to move himself by his own will. His arms flailed around erratically beyond his control. If he could’ve, the man would’ve begun crying in panic and praying to the Goddess to save his soul.

A slimy sensation began crawling up his throat and into the back of his mouth, and with it, came the loss of his ability to breathe. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, and his body became still. In the shadows of the alley, only a few rays of moonlight peeking through, one last gasp escaped Marcus.

Only a few moments passed before his fingers twitched and moved once more. But something essential had departed the body in Marcus’s last breath. Nonetheless, the body rose with an air of eerie serenity. Every sensation it had been experiencing moments before had disappeared. It could sense it: The blooming bud had done its job of attracting the others with its scent, much as a flower to a bee. The rest of its kind were now here, and their night had begun.

***

A lone, shadowy figure stood on the city wall and awaited the signal. Then, he heard it, or rather, he felt the weak vibrations reverberating through the wall. Then, another figure appeared beside him, a clean-shaven man with spectacles still somewhat broken from an earlier scuffle. Over his shoulder, he carried a large bag, the leftovers they could gather from their failed mission in the city.

“Nice work. Time to hightail it out of this damned city, Hugo,” the hooded figure said, carrying a thick bundle of rope. “I’ve had enough of the pissy people here, most of all those knuckle-headed smugglers we’ve been forced with.”

“You sure about this, Boss?” Hugo asked. “The gates on the Almainian part of Orson's Wall are much more strict. And it'll be much more dangerous overall to trek through the demonlands.”

“Beats trying to go through Orson’s wall through this city, and we have more soma than we know what to do with. And hell no we're not climbing up Orson's Wall. This plan is fine. Now help me out here.” The hooded figure leaned over the city wall, and his sight became sharper with the help of Hugo’s magic. But his iron confidence was stopped by the jaw-dropping sight before him. “What in the hell…”

“What’s up, boss?”

“Hugo, use [Sight] on yourself. There’s trouble awaiting over the wall,” the man whistled.

“Hmm?” After finishing the incantation and activating the spell, Hugo realized what sight could baffle his superior: a sea of bodies surrounding the city in all directions, shrouded in shadows. Countless figures extended all the way into the distance, and slowly-but-surely they were approaching the city. It would only be minutes until they were upon the gate. The two silently recognized what they saw, having had information from the top of the Adventurer Guild trickle its way down to them. “Oh sweet Goddess, what are they doing here,” muttered the irreligious Hugo. “If we go down anywhere near down there–”

“Yep, those things will rip the hell out of us. And seems like they’re adamant about paying this city a visit. Change of plans, then.” The man pushed off from the wall and turned around.

“Ah, if anything that makes it easier for us, right? Once those things make it in, the ensuing chaos will make it easy to dash through the southern gate,” Hugo recommended.

“No, not just that, Hugo.” The man revealed a smile that made Hugo uneasy. It was the signature dangerous grin of Jude, that of someone who often flew too close to the sun. “This is our chance to recover our flubbed-up mission. That prideful Bradamant will be leading her Holy Knights to fight against those things.”

“So do you mean…?” Hugo exhaled.

“Exactly. No one will notice one missing Holy Knight with that many damned monsters, or at least, it won’t be a strange thing to happen.” His slit-like eyes were wide open, revealing a glint of excitement in them. “You have enough mana left?”

“…More than enough. You’ll have to do most of the dirty work though if you want to ensure success, though. I have to preserve as much as I can, just to be safe,” Hugo said.

“Eh, fine with me.” The figure threw off his hood and brandished his dagger excitedly.

“Haaah,” Hugo exhaled tiredly. “Do we really have to do this?”

“Not even a choice. An opportunity to secure our mission is hanging in front of us, so we have no choice but to take it. Besides, the Goddess of Death is a woman you do not want to displease, even if years of absence have made her soft.” Jude turned his gaze once more over the wall, and smiled slyly at the approaching Horde. “She’ll skin us and feed us to the dogs if she hears that we ran away from these circumstances.”

“There you go, talking about the long-gone Goddess of Death again… Sometimes, boss, I fear your sanity has departed you.”

“I’m not fabricating anything. I’ve been one of the only ones fortunate enough to see the Goddess of Death’s beautiful face up close. Or maybe, misfortunate, as most who see her face end up giving up the ghost in ‘mysterious’ circumstances. But, trust me, it is truly her, returned and even more vengeful than the tales years ago told.”

“If you say so, Boss. Then if that’s the plan, how about we guarantee that the Holy Knights must react?”

The suggestion only caused Jude to smile cruelly. “Right-o, Hugo, now you’re thinking the way I do! Let’s give a warm welcome to these happy visitors to the city then. An open door is the bare minimum of being polite, right?”

***

“Is that so?” Prince Leffman took a relaxed sip of his tea, a fragrant, expensive luxury, though enough merchants from the south brought it to the city to make it a staple among the wealthy.

“Yes, every day their faction seems to grow and gain more supporters,” the white-haired woman across the table said. “Nobles and elites from outside the Millieun Empire are throwing their dice with them. They have forgotten what the Church must be. I fear it may fracture the Empire apart.”

“But are you not doing the same, gathering the support of powerful men throughout the continent?” the prince said and smiled, “Otherwise, such a pretty young lady wouldn’t be wasting her time with decrepit old men like me.”

“Please, do not sell yourself short, your Highness,” the lady-knight smiled back, “I’d dare say you make for charming company. Besides, it is different. Alphonse and his men are taking money from those nobles to fatten themselves with gold. But I am here to help you and your people, and in return, I only hope you will be an ally to help me protect my people if it comes down to it.”

“Kaka,” the prince chuckled and stared into the fireplace with content eyes, “I knew that, I just want you to be aware of what you’re doing. Also, it hurts to hear you call me ‘your Highness’. Were you always so cold to me? I’m nothing like that, just call me ‘Lev’ like always.”

“Ah, apologies,” the lady-knight nodded. Stray strands of white hair hung over her eyes, a small sign of messiness on the otherwise immaculate braided bun her hair was styled into. “But you call me ‘Lady Bradamant’, so that is not exactly fair for you to say that, no?”

“There’s a difference.” The old man’s dog ears twitched, something that always occurred when he would say something he was proud to say. “You earned your title. I didn’t.”

Bradamant tried to find a proper response, but instead met his statement with an uneasy silence and shook her head. She made to pick up her decorated teacup, but a sharp, familiar pain stabbed into her abdomen. Suddenly, she jumped from the chair and ran by the large, frosted windows. Her right hand grasped her stomach, trying to endure the pain, while her eyes searched the view of the city outside, still bright in the night.

“What’s wrong, Lady Bradamant?” the old man asked worriedly. “Is it…”

“My Sacrament reacts very strongly, much more so than usual. Something has stirred. And worse yet it approaches the city.” Her dark brown eyes turned to the short old man, his expression of ease straining into that of worry. “That can only be one of the demonic beasts.”

“What? That cannot be. Then, the Horde is here?” he questioned, standing from his seat.

“What else can it be?” Bradamant’s lips curved up into a pained smile. “This isn’t unheard of, groups of undead have attacked cities in the past. Worry not, Lev, it just means we'll have to do our jobs sooner. I, Lady Archknight Bradamant of the Holy Knights, will defend your city to my last breath.”

***

The crystal orb shone radiantly. It was the only source of light in the hall aside from the moon light peeking through the windows. On her throne, the veiled Mouth of the Dragon carefully watched the images displayed by the orb. With Diana and Phoebus away from the Sanctum, Minerva was left to do what she tended to do: to observe far-away events from their little corner of the continent.

“Hehe, what a mess Shara is.” She felt a twinge of envy, having seen the exciting events of the fateful pair’s day, and it made her miss the irreplaceable company of the gryphon princess. “But, now, to see how the boy does.” Her smile turned twisted. Even though he had almost killed the boy, Phoebus had shouted words of praise for the reborn Malachi, in his own strange way. But it was up to her to confirm his account. With it, the Dragon’s blessed would choose where they would stand in the future of a world already caught up in the inevitable currents of changes.

The orb, currently showing a bird’s eye image of the walled city surrounded by countless humanoid figures, flipped to showing the inn room of the gryphon and the demon. The gryphon princess’s vessel was busy fast asleep, while the demon boy sat in front of the open window, his eyes closed in concentration.

“Let us see what you can do, child of Ahriman. Will you truly change the world, or will it consume you once more?”

***

A jolt of shock ran through me, nudging me from my bout of meditation. My mystic eye had caught a glimpse of something I didn’t want to see. I scrambled to poke my head out of the window, the chilly air cooling my sweaty face.

“No… No damned way that's true…”

Not far beyond the walls, I sensed a fragment of my soul, its aura already long-familiar. But the fragment belonged not to only one being, but to many, shared equally.

“What the hell is out there…”