CATCHING HOPES:

Distant memories.

Lecca held those images; her as a child, in the fields just beyond Glacies. Shinning stars, bright colors. An invention from afar, one not of her own people. It left an impression on her young mind, one to remember for the rest of her life. In this, her father carried her over his shoulders—a smile beamed into the heavens above, with her too looking into the endless sky amongst a crowd that stared in pure awe.

Even throughout time there were distant recollections. Once she stood alone on a balcony. The weight of her dress and the winter garments she had gathered for the night kept her warm amongst the frozen wind. Not far away, her people celebrated. Yet, she remained alone, never to stand by someone’s side for the longest of times. It had been a growing sensation, a yearning for someone familiar, warm, to be by her side. Her heart ached.

Many years later, her wish was granted. Be it by God or Mother Juna, amongst the chaos of war, death, and famine, there were those that rose beyond the occasion, to become legends from nothing. She could remember when that warmth returned. In the cover of a crater, one created by weapons she could then not imagine existed. He changed her perspective. Challenged her beliefs and gave her reason to strive for a better future. This time, with someone glued to her side.

She could just remember the beautiful fireworks celebrating the reunification of Zivaland. It was after a tipsy night, dancing, drinking, and smiling with that who would remain beside her. She felt her love grow to a threshold that she could return from. Mike had that draw, the magnification to keep her within arm’s reach, even if it was miles away. She always strived to close the distance between. Even as her shouts were drowned out by war, she always had something to pursue.

Reality.

In the assault to reach the heart of Glacies, not many had made it past the great walls. Many had perished. Her heart swayed.

Lecca had expected to find many she knew amongst the dead. To that, she was right. However, there were those that survived the unwinnable battles, and now they stood beside her once more, braving the bright colors of gunfire and magic. Her heart sung with honor, with courage. She was committed to this final push.

With her hand to the sky, a field of particles rained upon the castle, nullifying even the most destructive of magic. She reached for the steel sword on her hip, and with a determined posture, set pace to the heart of this kingdom.

This was not yet just a battle for the survival of her people, of the kingdom. She had many dreams to achieve—most that were to follow this victory. Her engagement to Mike Randall, the reconstruction of her nation, and the birth of her child.

Mike had long given his word. Both as a formality, and something that they knew long before they set course for Ignis. Many would criticize their choice. For what they did not have, those people chose to stand against them. Yet, in stride, the two, man and woman marched into the unknown, sword and gun raised.

Uncountable events had occurred during this war. Many things had ended, many now to find their start. The damage was beyond devastating. The world would once more have to seek peace with those they called ‘enemy’. Forgotten tales, those told, would be put aside. Relegated to history. It would be a great endeavor for the flourishing of humanity. Yet, beyond mere history books, she knew that the people of the world aimed to improve their own lives for the chance of survival. If that meant dancing with the darkness, well, there was enough room in the light to take their steps.

“He’s dying.”

To a heavy breath, Lecca lowered her hand. Beads of blood poured from her arm and dripped from her fingers. Rummaging in the shattered palace, she ripped a line of cloth from the warrior next to her. She held the soiled cloth in her hands as she stepped closer to the body. Her body shook with ever movement.

He won’t make it…

She had retrieved the fabric to stem the blood escaping the body. What she looked upon was a newly minted Knight Specialist, the backbone of the officer corps. Lecca did not recognize the man at first glance, however as she knelt to his level, it was clear who he was. Marco Politer. One of three officers that had assisted in her mission at Bishmark, and into the Frontier. She stared at his pale skin and fading eyes. He was alive, yet not for much longer.

“He’s alive...”

Marco had made more than a promise to the princess. His words held no anger, no mistrust. Even with the otherworldly knife sticking from his abdomen, the officer remained poised, answering every question the silver-haired maiden threw at him. Leccamaradel began to break upon realizing that Marco being in possession of the Ranger’s knife was that too of a promise. The young blood held the line, allowing the soldier to carry out his mission to end those behind this madness. Never again Mike promised himself that he would sacrifice those for something he could do himself, yet the officer was more than insistent, threatening his life if he did not continue.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

By the time the blood had fully sept through the fabric, Lecca saw all life fade from the knight. It would have been easier to let the mages no less than five minutes behind reach her position. To save this warrior’s life. With his wishes, to die for a greater cause, Marco had let his life to those above. He was the lucky one. To achieve his own peace.

Keep on keeping on…

By the time she had reached the throne room, a spare glance out the window beside her told her everything—Mike was yet to pursue the king. He had tracked an unknown target and their entering to the indoor garden adjacent from her position. He was alone, outnumbered. Blood covered his entire body, and with luck he would simply fall unconscious.

To her right, her men stood ready. Battered and tired, she admired their ability to keep pace in this new revolution. Captain Orwell had rejoined her ranks, and morale was steady enough.

“You’ve prepared yourself for twenty years to inherit the throne. Four of which was spent directly outside of the king’s influence,” Orwell had said with a weak smile. The man was nothing more than an ‘adopted’ uncle to the princess. Those his actions represented that of a father, he still stood under her as a subordinate no matter where she went. “I can not prepare you anymore for this next venture. You are the heir to the throne. A legend to bring back to life. A Silver Demon."

“We are here to bring peace not only to ourselves, but a true future for the children that will follow, Lecca declared to those around her. She had long manifested her choice of weapon, a light rapier that would dispose of the king. Orwell shifted his gaze away from her declaration. He was growing too old for this type of conflict.

DIE ANOTHER DAY:

When Mike arrived, he fought against the growing shadows at the edge of his eye. The guards surrounding Senator Orpheus had spread out around the man. None paid attention to where he stood, just out of sight behind a collection of unmarked wooden crates. There were no patrols scouring the foyer, and the wandering eyes of the guards remained tied to the primary and secondary entrances to the garden. Mike almost chuckled at the poor watch standing, however, that would reveal his position.

Orpheus had his posse in tow as he stepped closer to the farthest exit. It would only be a matter of time before Mike was face-to-face with the senator. By miracle the staff sergeant had ran across Marco Politer. They young knight had been working under the politician for the time that he and the others were out of country. And with such work came espionage from growing hatred.

“The princess is on the way to confront the king!” Orpheus announced. He shared an annoyed glance to the senior officer next to him.

“No word of survivors from the royal court,” He answered, “What should we do, sir?”

“We can do nothing for the security of the vault or my supporters,” Orpheus stated, taking another step towards the exit. “However, we can spare nothing more than a platoon to escort he artifacts out of the city.” Nodding at one of the soldiers, the senator sent the man on his way to inform the nearest garrison and to relay any remaining orders he had.

“Sir, the army depot nearby has enough supplies to enable us to fall back to Phase Line Architect. The artifacts much reach Harbinger Williams!” The officer contested, providing an alternate plan.

“A weapon’s cache.”

Crawling on the ground, biting his tongue to prevent any noise escape his mouth, Mike dragged himself along the stone floor tearing into his wounds and soiling his already dirtied body. The only thing he had left to fight with was his revolver. To why it did not function in his first encounter with the senator was simple; it was nothing more than a frame misalignment caused by the missile that hit the castle. He had already caught his thumb on the internal mechanism to the hammer, and all he had to go on was pure will.

“I will send word to the magistrate coordinating with the third company. We will need to borrow resources from the Adventure’s Gild to get anywhere with reviving the Architect.”

“And what of the Federation’s forces?” The officer inquired.

“Those monkeys are preoccupied with assassinating the Royal Family,” Orpheus replied, “We simply need to gather our forces to relay to the beacon and the relay, nothing more. The void will allow us to speak to our creators.”

Mike had heard enough. Position just behind one of the guards, the staff sergeant eyed a silver dagger he could use. Words could kill, but it was now time to show them all what he was trained to do. This wasn’t to stop a war, or to save a people. Princess Leccamaradel would handle that. His mission was to eliminate a madman. One that sought the destruction of countless of innocent lives in the goal to revive something that he himself could never hope to imagine.

He lunged from the ground.

Turning around, Orpheus paled as he heard a sudden scream from one of his men.

Mike shoved the dagger into the guard’s throat, dragging it across and tearing out both blood and body matter. Holding the corpse in his free hand, Mike wordlessly leveled his revolver on the shoulder of the body and aimed it directly at the senator.

“Federation scum!” The leading officer shouted.

With the other guards withdrawing their blades and surrounding the sole Reclaimer, Mike had to prioritize targets. Even through death he would accomplish his mission of killing the man responsible for everything. The Kingdom of Yondel brought him and his Rangers here to stop an invisible threat, one that was only labeled as a “Demon Lord”. The works of fantasy. Now, he knew, there was no villain, no hero.

Just people.

People, like those he had to leave behind.

Even if no one heard his voice. The truth. He would fight on.

“Kill him!” Orpheus ordered stealing the short sword from the guard next to him.

Loosing sensation in his left arm, Mike screamed.

Blood squirted from his shoulder as he forced the barrel of his revolver into the head of Senator Orpheus.

Letting out a heavy breath, Mike squeezed the trigger.

The staff sergeant went deaf.

And he closed his eyes.