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ลำดับตอนที่ #3 : Chapter 2: The Mysterious Warrior (บุรุษประหลาด)
CHAPTER TWO: THE MYSTERIOUS WARRIOR
What’re you gonna do if you ain’t got enough?
He should worry about himself before that pathetic excuse for a father.
Felin heaved a heavy sigh at the thought as he jostled the reins of his noble steed, driving his war chariot forth.
War chariot…
A carriage pulled by an eight-headed dragon, or at the very least, eight beefy warhorses befitting of his status.
But a daydream is just that: a daydream.
Felin sighed once more and hurled his whip, sending his two aged warhorses—same old Rosie and her trusty mate Felin have no idea where on earth Dad had dragged him from—speeding up their pace a little. All the wars they had been through, according to Dad, he couldn’t care less as he watched them pull his supposedly special war chariot, which looked no different from the old wagon he and Dad had lived in for all their lives.
Dad’s parting words rang in his ears.
“Don’t you go belittling your war chariot, boy! Now tell me, where is the heart of the army?”
“The Commander, of course.” He shot back, annoyed and disgruntled, but Dad was surprisingly patient.
“Wrong.” Madus corrected, his expression uncharacteristically solemn. “The army marches forth on its stomach. No matter how mighty the army, without the Commissariat there is no hope of victory. So, boy, you be proud of this war chariot of yours; it’s the heart of your army.”
The heart of the army: the Commissariat.
A thief, it seems, can never lead an army. Carrying supplies would probably be the best he could manage.
Felin heaved yet another sigh, then decided to push aside his frustration as usual, not wanting to fuss too much over stuff. After all, he should’ve already been used to all of Dad’s stupid quirks. But Dad could always be counted on to come up with a suckerpunch to knock him off his feet.
The Commissariat chariot wound its way around downtown Edinburgh then headed for the castle spires of the King Academy, which looms tall and grand before him. In front of the large gate at the castle walls, a sea of carriages and men and strange steeds swarmed as though forming a parade of some sort. A light breeze beautifully fluttered the purple flags emblazoned with the symbolic crown, sword, wand and ring.
New students awaiting the sorting have formed a line on the green lawn, each smartly and politely dressed in their uniforms, eyes twinkling with hope and excitement. It was a scene that had Felin whispering to himself in remembrance that he was once among them; standing there, stealing glances at the seniors in their fluttering cloaks draped in vivid colors with admiration.
The memory had him looking down at his cloak, which he had used to hide his patched-and-torn clothes, in resignation.
Had it not been for that stupid two-thousand-krown wand…
Shaking the infuriating notion out of his head, Felin glanced around at the colorful steeds of all kinds marching past into the enormous gates with jealousy burning deep in his heart.
Fire dragons. Wreath dragons. Water dragons. Albino serpents. Fiery phoenixes. Ferocious griffins.
Man, even a giant rat might have looked better than this supplies wagon.
“Morning, Felin!”
At the call, Felin turned to meet his travel companion, who drove his chariot closer to him.
Aw, would you look at that. A fellow Commissariat chariot, armed with eight donkeys.
Felin couldn’t help grinning at the amusing sight.
“Morning, Ro! Handsome chariot you got there.”
The Beggar of Tristor smiled slightly in reply, emerald-green eyes glinting as he surveyed Rosie and her old buddy, before he complimented in kind.
“Guess I’d have to say the same for yours too.”
Felin laughed merrily at that. Whether the same could be said about his chariot remains up for debate. All he knew is that when it comes to Ro Zevares, even if his chariot is pulled by only one donkey, that donkey must have something unusual about it.
Last year in riding class, everyone had horses as their mount. Everyone but Ro Zevares, who used a donkey. Yet, his donkey was fast enough to beat most of the other students’ horses.
It was an intuition honed by a life of survival that had Felin unavoidably feeling wary about Ro’s unusualness. Beggar of Tristor he may be called, so many things about him does not fit his title in the least.
“Hey, d’you know? The Grand Marshal, a Paladin and two Guardians graduated last year.”
“Well, they’ve been in school for ages and now they finally graduated. What’s so interesting about it?” Felin responded.
“The Council applications, of course. Aren’t you interested? How about we apply together, you and me?”
“What?” Felin exclaimed, eyes wide. “You’re kidding!”
“Of course not! If you win, you’ll get both fame and glory. What’s more, this time we’ll get to test our skills against talented warriors from all over the fortress. It’s not every day a rare chance like this comes by.”
Felin laughed at Ro’s words.
“A rare chance? For trouble, yeah.”
“You’re not interested?” Ro asked, at which Felin whistled nonchalantly.
“Fame and glory? What good is it if it can’t fill your tummy? Don’t bother egging me to get meself bunged up, old friend. I’m just a puny little thief.”
Ro’s emerald eyes slanted to him before turning back to the road ahead, and he chuckled softly.
“Seems you’re so keen on keeping your sword sheathed. Oh well, there’s still time. Think it over carefully.”
Twelve Guardians, huh.
The Knight Fortress Council consists of two Generals, three Paladins, four Justices and twelve Guardians.
Come to think of it, Guardian does have an incredibly cool ring to it, but if you have to fight tooth and nail for it, he’ll probably have to back off. Overall, Knight Fortress is a great place to be in, really, save for this knack of dueling over every freaking matter making it more like a home to a bunch of thugs than future kings. No matter how exciting it may seem, he just can’t—
Felin’s train of airy thoughts was snatched from him just as his war chariot reached the entrance. In an instant, his whole body plunged into an inexplicable state of chaos. The heavens became a crimson of blood. Dull gray shrouded his surroundings. Everything fell completely silent, as though time had stopped.
Then came the sound of heartbeats. Tens—no, hundreds—thousands of them—ringing one after another like a choir of snare drums, roaring in unison with a mysterious, disembodied wailing cry. Eerie. Fearsome.
His body felt like it was being weighed down by tons of boulders. His shaky, stilted breath was jerked away from him by an invisible hand. His head felt dizzyingly light and empty, before his world started spinning.
His vision was blurring. His cry for help could never leave his throat. He felt a strange power trying to separate his head from his body. It felt like the moment of death.
An unbearable, indescribable torture overwhelmed him, before his whole world plummeted into total darkness.
“O sorcery of darkness great and divine, bestow upon us your strength. Cast your shadow upon the light. Draw screams of grief and pain from those that walk- the earth. Unleash your destruction far and wide upon the land. Curse the soil to part and crack. Drive the oceans into madness. Let their waves swallow every life within reach. Let rain of blood flood the land. Damn the paradise Eden to its infernal past.
O almighty lord of the demon heart, bestow upon us your power. Beguile the fickle hearts of those puny humans that dare to challenge your might. Let hatred rage ever fiercely upon the land. Let hardship and famine spare not a blade of grass. Let the flower of despair bloom and prosper. With the flames of war we shall light the altar in worship of the God of Death. Open the doors to victory for he who shall rule eternally.”
The queer chant echoed from a man standing a little way away with his back to Felin. His broad frame was cloaked wholly in black. His short golden hair reaching his nape was flecked with gray. Most striking, however, were the strange crown sitting on his head and the mysterious wand held in his left hand. The crown and staff which shine brightly but not blazingly so.
The overwhelming familiarity had Felin’s heart thundering hard with fear rather than excitement. The two artifacts may look different from what he remembered, but something inside him could clearly sense their true nature.
Felin unwittingly clutched at the chest of his shirt, and the sudden realization that came with it sent his heart falling down to his feet.
Back to a girl!? But why?
Her confusion did not linger, however, as all she could feel were the frenzied beating of her own heart, and the cold sweat trickling down her spine. Though Felin never thought of herself as brave, never did she consider herself a coward, either. But now, she could not answer herself where all her courage had fled.
What is this place?
Why did she return to her true form when Dad’s ring is still on her finger?
And who is he?
Felin tried with much difficulty to calm down. Taking deep breaths, she glanced around the room, taking note of the pillars and the walls, which she felt looked queerly familiar.
Just then, she noticed something which nearly sent her heart stopping; the two things floating before both her and the strange man.
The Ring of Philosophers. The Sword of Kings. The two artifacts restrained by enchantments are shining dazzlingly, as though calling to their companions already in the man’s possession.
Then came the same chant once more…
O sorcery of darkness great and divine
O almighty lord of the demon heart
The Wand of Power. The Crown of the Demon Heart.
No!
Felin staggered back in terror. Just then, the strange man whirled around to her, staring straight into her eyes, and a surge of fear overwhelmed Felin to the point that she almost crumpled to her knees.
The man emanates power and radiates bloodthirst. His dark, fearsome expression was further underlined by a large scar which runs from his hairline down the middle of his copper-skinned face, lit majestically under the torchlight.
Demon Warrior!
It was the first notion that came to mind as she locked gazes with the mysterious warrior before her. His blue eyes were clear and beautiful, but at the same time harsh, powerful, fierce and terrifying.
His strange power kept her rooted in her place even as he drew near, his eyes never wavering from her. Nearer yet he drew, nearer, nearer…
Felin felt numb with cold all over. Her heart was drumming frantically. Fear swept down her spine.
Behind her, a hand emerged out of nothingness. It landed softly on her shoulder.
Who on earth…?
Her mouth went dry as fear gripped her heart. She could not tear her gaze away from the willful eyes of the man before her, even with someone behind her on the verge of ending her life.
The hand on her shoulder crept up to her neck, hair-raisingly feeling up and down, before tightening its grasp as though finding the perfect kill spot.
It was the last straw that blew her tattered restraint to pieces, and all Felin could do was scream before she could never do so ever again.
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