A Rhapsody Of Bittersweet Memories

[Disillusioned]

"WOODEN SWORDS? WOODEN SWORDS? WHAT, IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS UNHOLY, IS THE POINT OF A WOODEN SWORD?" Regal shouted at the top of his lungs as he smashed his wooden blade into the neck of another man. The defeated foe was soon replaced by another.

"I believe the point is to avoid killing," Troy muttered back as he parried an oncoming blow and smacked aside the attacker. He too wielded a wooden blade, although he was significantly less vocal about it.

"What the hell's the point of that? What, should I give the guy a splinter? Well, I guess if I gave him a splinter in the throat it would work but...but that would have to be a really BIG splinter. Like, huge!" Regal shouted as he ducked another blow, then stabbed (as best he could) another man in the stomach.

People cheered wildly as warrior after warrior clashed with one another in the middle of a huge ring. The entire center of the town had been cleared for this event, and warriors from all over had entered the match. The rules were simple. A complete free for all; the last man standing won the prize. As the prize was significant (somewhere around one thousand gold) and Troy and Regal were low on traveling funds, the two had no choice but to enter.

They weren't exactly playing by the rules. They hadn't once attacked each other; an unspoken bond between the two. Their chances of winning were better if the they covered each other, and as a man intercepted a blow by Troy aimed for another man, it was obvious that they weren't the only ones who had entered the competition as a group. Troy figured every mercenary and sell-sword within one hundred miles was here, each aiming for a shot at the prize.

The crowd cheered as Regal leapt into a nearby group of men. Regal punched one, ducked a slash, and then punched the man again before he could recover. Whirling about, Regal was a hurricane of death, lashing out at anything near him.

Troy, on the other hand, was far more cool and methodical. With all the emotion of an iceberg he parried a strike, then smacked the man aside in one swift motion. Whereas Regal was furious and wild, Troy was cold and calm. The two could not have been more different, and yet the two had been traveling together for almost a year now.

Regal blocked a blow meant for Troy as Troy struck down a man charging towards Regal's exposed back. Chaos ruled the arena, which was what the crowd seemed to want. Every time a man fell they cheered, reveling in the violent sport. Regal reveled in it too, the look of ecstasy clear on his face. Troy was far more somber.

Unlike Regal he took no pleasure in fighting, but money was needed so he fought. Long ago Troy had been a soldier, but that was in the past. Now he wandered, searching for a family member.

It was an fool's quest. Troy had served his country, and all the men under his command had died. His best friend Hector had sacrificed his life to save Troy's; it pained him every waking moment, and always when he slept. Even though Troy had only been in command of around twenty men the day the entire Benzer army was defeated, the burden of being the sole survivor haunted him. He could not bare the fact that he alone had survived.

So he left. He buried his dead friend Hector, and then walked away. He left his family, all of which loved him dearly, alone and in doubt. They probably thought he was dead, but he didn't know for sure. Alone he walked, a poor excuse for a knight.

Then he heard word of his sister. She too had left home, and for reasons completely unknown to Troy, she had been spotted in several prize-fighting rings. What she was doing there he did not know, but he knew they were no place for her.

Now he sought her out, although he was not entirely sure why. Even though he had forsaken his home and his family, he still longed for them. The warmth of his past days, the time spent with his sister, those memories still lingered all too clearly in his mind.

Would finding his sister bring him peace at night? Probably not. But like a man possessed he sought her out. Much like a foolish child, he nurtured a secret hope that she would help him find the redemption he so clearly did not deserve.

Along the way he had met Regal Burnswidth, the self-proclaimed Sword Demon. Although the two had little in common they had stuck together for quite some time. They had fought side by side before, and now it was no different.

“Maybe if I broke the sword! Then it would be all jagged and...aw that’s just too much work!” Regal shouted as he kicked a man in the shin and finished him off with a wild swipe. Troy brought down another foe with the same smooth precision he always carried with his swordplay.

The crowd grew silent. Troy glanced about. Most of the other competitors were either wounded or crawling away in pain. Regal stood several feet away from him with a sick grin on his face.

“Well, well, well. I’ve always wanted to fight you Troy. I mean, we’ve been together how long and we’ve yet to cross swords?” Regal asked as he bounced about in anticipation of the upcoming battle. The alliance was over. Now it was time to see who was the best.

Troy didn’t care about being better than Regal. All he cared about was finding his sister. It would have been easy for him to quit or throw the match and make Regal appear to be the victor, but Troy would do no such thing for two reasons. One was that he lived by the sword now. His blade was all he really had left, and it paid to keep in practice. Regal would be just that.

Second, he would never hear the end of it from Regal if he just let the man win.

[Unfulfilled]

Regal watched Troy’s movements with a curious eye. Not a muscle was moved without the sword demon’s gaze catching on. His hair fluttering was not lost to him, and the breath he made not unheard. It was no small wonder why Regal was a little disappointed. Troy made no movement at all.

“Don’t think you can depress your way out of here,” Regal said wagging a finger. “I don’t want to hear that garbage about sparing your life until you see your sister. Because, ya know, I won’t do that.” He thought about it, nodding once agreeing that he would indeed not show that mercy.

“You cannot take my life with that wooden weapon, Regal,” Troy said softly as he rolled his eyes. Regal looked to the wooden weapon. Ugh, the killjoys right. He looked back at Troy’s cold eyes.

“Okay, then don’t think that because I beat you with this wooden toy that its not a fair fight! I beat you with this I count as beating you, Troy! You hear me!” Regal shouted wildly pointing at Troy repeatedly.

“I do not think I could not hear you even if I were deaf,” Troy muttered looking around the arena with an appraising eye. Regal watched as the man’s eyes scanned the territory to memory, looking for places to make his moves. Well, Regal could do that also.

“Let’s see, body, body, open spot over there….eh…” he cringed. “That’s kind of far away.” he guessed the spot was four paces away shaking his head. “Not a tactical advantage here, a clean slate to fight on!” Regal shouted jovially.

“You are joking me, right?” Troy blurted suddenly. Regal raised a single eyebrow at his friend’s outburst. He had traveled with the man for what had to been almost a year or so and the moments of life where Troy Priam was not a depressed wanderer and was human were easily counted on Regal’s hand.

“You feeling okay?” Regal asked sincerely. “I mean, if you're sick that makes this fight hardly fair.” Regal rambled on about the various reasons why fighting with just the common cold was considered a bad thing.

“Your concern is touching, but I feel fine,” Troy interrupted, watching the crowd begin to scream at the two to fight.

“I’m not concerned about you!” Regal shouted defensively. If Troy only showed his human side enough times to be counted on one hand, then Regal equally showed his compassionate side on the other hand. “I just don’t want you making any excuses for me kicking your ass!” Troy sighed softly.

“A bit premature to conclude the battles end with an outcome before the first strike has even been declared.” Troy stated getting into a ready stance keeping his hand hovering by the hilt of his blade. Regal snarled his teeth. The man was a fast draw and Regal grudgingly admitted that Troy was the far faster man.

“I don’t exactly follow any of those words you just said, but if I caught your meaning right then you're afraid of me.” He nodded to the man. “And that’s totally understandable considering I am the Demon of Swords! I mean,” Regal looked to the piles of bodies all groaning on the ground. “I knocked out at least forty or fifty people.”

“There was only thirty or so people in the competition…” Troy retorted, his own patience starting to draw thin.

“Ah, yes that’s right, I did knock out those people as well…“ Regal began to pace a bit before he decided to illuminate his companion on his problems “You see Troy, what you lack is the ability to assess the battlefield. To take your time and observe that which goes on around you. Find every advantage and every hot spot that can bring you a swift victory. You, you have to center your mind and close your thoughts to all but the battle. That’s what being a good warrior is all about!” Regal said flicking his blade between his hands. As his wooden sword crossed his chest Troy revealed his blade in a blindingly fast arc knocking the toy away.

Regal looked to Troy with a hesitant face, red marks of embarrassment covering his flushed cheeks. The crowd cheered for Troy and his antics. “D-do you mind if I go get that?” Troy sighed heavily, nodding once gesturing for the man to hurry. Regal ran over, grabbed the blade and kicked a man in the stomach before returning to his original spot.

“So like I was saying!” Regal continued as if nothing had happened. “You got to stay focused…”

[Disillusioned]

"Hmph. Focused," Troy muttered while he stuck his wooden into his belt, much as if there were an actual scabbard there. Regal raised an eyebrow while he held his sword in a ready position. Perhaps to a casual observer Troy was leaving himself defenseless, but Regal knew better.

"Yeah. Focused. Okay Troy..." Regal said as he brought his blade back and crouched low. The crowd grew silent at the upcoming clash.

"Let us begin." Troy said softly as he hovered his right hand over the hilt of his wooden blade. Then, in the span of time it took for a hummingbird to flick its tail, it had begun.

Regal was first to charge as Troy had expected. The man stabbed at Troy wildly with his wooden weapon, as the former knight dashed to the side to avoid the blow. Regal turned to continue the attack, but Troy's hand was on his sword, which only meant one thing. Regal shifted to a defensive stance as Troy whipped his blade out with blinding speed. The wood made a loud cracking sound as the swords clashed with one another.

Regal pushed himself forward, shoving Troy back. Instantly the Sword Demon was on the attack again, slicing and stabbing at him from every direction. With almost no emotion at all, Troy parried the oncoming blows as Regal let out a laugh.

"Hey! This actually pretty fun!" The warrior chuckled as he twirled his blade about and struck at Troy's head. Troy ducked the blow, then stabbed at Regal's chest, only to watch Regal quickly step to the side. The former knight quickly slashed in that direction, but Regal blocked the blow with his sword. Troy leapt back to dodge the counter strike, and the two paused for a moment to assess the situation.

"Regal..." Troy whispered softly as he raised his sword. Regal grinned back at him.

"Troy..." Regal whispered back as he raised his own sword. Instantly Troy recognized the stance that Regal was taking.

Storm Of Swords. He'll attack repeatedly, never stopping his assault. I'll block the blows, but he will just keep coming. It's near impossible to block it all. But Regal, do you really think it will work with a wooden sword? Troy thought to himself as Regal flung himself forward. As expected, the man's sword became a flurry of attacks that hammered away at Troy.

Wait for it. Troy thought to himself as he parried a blow, only to have Regal smack his knee. Troy knew the weakness's of Regal's attack very well. Attacking so many times at high speeds always took away from the damage done. Still, a sword wound was a sword wound, and eventually the smallest of cuts would add up. However, that was with real swords. Regal was using a wooden sword and as such, whatever power his attacks would have were easily cut in half.

Not yet. Troy thought as another blow struck his shoulder. He continued to block the onslaught as best he could, but every now and then a strike would find its way through Troy's defense. Troy remained in one spot, further reducing his defensive capabilities. He deprived himself of the movement needed to dodge the strikes and instead relied solely on his sword play. Blow after blow rained down upon him but Troy did not falter.

"It's over," Troy whispered as Regal aimed a blow at his neck. Troy raised up his left hand and allowed the wooden blade to smash into it, blocking his neck, but sending a course of pain through his left hand. The man ignored the pain and brought his own blade down upon Regal's own exposed neck, where Regal's sword was too far away too defend.

Regal's left had made a sickening crunching sound as he reached up and grabbed Troy's sword before it had a chance to strike the exposed neck. Troy raised his eyebrows in shock as both warriors continued to press forward with their swords, while their free hands guarded their necks.

"Don't think I haven't been studying your style as you have mine Troy!" Regal whispered. The man only grunted in response and broke off his attack, leaping back to avoid Regal's follow through. The Sword Demon stopped his onslaught and looked at Troy, who ran a hand through his dark brown hair.

"Regal. Good block," Troy said with a sad smile, which was the only way he smiled nowadays. Regal however, was adapt at seeing if there was a hint of joy hidden in those smiles. He grinned back.

"Troy. Nice counter," Regal said as he pointed his wooden blade at his foe. Troy quickly placed his sword back into his belt in one smooth motion, and hunched over as if he were prepared to dash forward at Regal; his right hand was inches away from the hilt of the wooden blade.

"Battōjutsu. The art of drawing and slashing in one smooth motion. The draw gives you a boost of speed and power, but it's pretty hard to defend yourself with your blade tucked away like that," Regal stated as he lightly tapped his sword on his own shoulder. Troy just looked at him with his ice blue eyes.

"I prefer one blow to end battles rather than your messy style of hacking and slashing away," Troy responded softly.

"Ah, but my style wears my opponents down for the final blow!" Regal countered.

"Any battle can be ended with one blow. All that matters is where that blow is," Troy shot back. The crowd began to stamp their feet, tired of the swordplay discussion and anxious to see who would triumph. Regal cracked his back, then pointed his blade at him once more.

"Battōjutsu is meant to be used drawing a real sword from a sheath, not these stupid wooden replicas. Do you really think it will work?"

"Only one way to find out."

The crowd was silent. All eyes were on the two warriors. Regal leaned forward, anxious to see what would Troy would do. A gust of wind picked up at that moment, causing Troy's brown cape to flutter about with his hair. Troy focused his sight on Regal and began to move forward. Either way, the final blow was but one step away.

"STOP THE COMPETITION!" A commanding voice shouted.

[Unfulfilled]

Regal loved a fight. He loved a fight more than he could describe with mere words. The adrenaline rush, the clashing of steel, the sweat, the blood; he loved it all. He despised anyone who would run from a fight calling them cowards. It was also very hazardous to one’s health to stop Regal when he was in a nirvana of bloodshed. In this particular case he was in such a state as he waited with bated breath for Troy’s strike. When the screams for the battle to stop rang out over the arena he actually stumbled forward and tripped falling flat on his face.

Without skipping a beat he was up on his feet again, roaring his hatred for whoever dared stop the fight. The crowd was also screaming their dissatisfaction with the turn of events. Garbage was tossed into the arena in protest and the master of ceremonies sheepishly stepped into the lion’s mouth as he tried to calm the audience. Several of the fighters in the pit fight were ushered back into the main circular tent and Troy let out a soft sigh as he dropped the wooden weapon. He had a hint of relief on his face and Regal was all the more infuriated. Things had just gotten interesting and now it was over.

“THIS IS INJUSTICE!” Regal shouted in a frenzy. “THERE HAS TO BE SOME RULE TO PREVENT THIS!”

“YEAH!” several mercenaries shouted in agreement with Regal. The master of ceremonies was playing around with some orb in his hand, trying to activate the runes around the hilt of the base, but his nerves were being tested as angry mercenaries and peasants alike were threatening his life. He at last managed to thumb the rune correctly and spoke into the orb, his voice amplified to easily reach the ears of everyone in the auditorium.

“Your attention please! By order of the new active chief counselor, Renald Victor, all mercenary fights are to end and further more all mercenaries are required to remain in this auditorium for processing.”

“Processing for what?” A short creepy looking mercenary cried out. Cries of outrage began to break out as the mercenaries all grew restless and Regal joined in their cries for some explanation. At last a tall brute of a man walked forward, looking back at all the mercenaries behind him.

“Hey, there’s only one of him and thirty or so of us. His pitiful guards can’t stop us. Come on guys, let’s go!” He motioned for his comrades to join him and a few mercenaries nodded their heads marching to the exit alongside the upstart leader. The master of ceremonies dropped the orb and ran back to the entrance dome screaming like a banshee. As the mercenaries charged forward into the dome the sound of screaming and hollering echoed back into the arena before the mercenaries returned with their hands all lifted up in surrender.

Soldiers dressed in fine blue and red colors marched outwards in military precision. The spearmen were held in formation as the first of the forming line, archers aiming notched arrows over the spearmen’s shoulders. Even Regal’s tenacity took a gulp at the sight, noting three ranking officers marching forward with the line, some heavily armored knights making a wedge between their commanders and the rift raft around them.

One of the men fixed his hair in a very casual way before bending over and picking up the orb. He smoothly turned it on and looked to the audience. “As of this moment you are all excused to your homes to begin the arrangements for immediate evacuation.” The crowd all hushed their protesting as they heard the words spoken, and soon they all began to quickly file out. Soldiers walked up to each exit and prevented any mercenary from being able to leave. Regal did not like the feeling of being trapped and his shoulders tensed up in agitation. Before he could even think of doing something rash a cold wave of depression washed over him as Troy held his arm, shaking his head softly. Regal snorted his anger but stayed calm.

“Okay…not going to lie to you gentlemen. You all were a little had.” Protests rose from the mercenaries. “Let me explain please, let me explain,” he asked lightly. Some of the mercenaries hushed those around them as they waited to hear what was going on. “You see gentlemen and ladies, you have all been teased into joining this tournament with a hefty bounty to the winner in the hopes that we could get as many mercenaries as we could for the defense of Fort Caliben. It is the only fort we have where we can make a flanking action against the fast approaching Carthage army.” Murmurs began to rise as the mercenaries all began to stir uncomfortably. Regal was one of them, but his stirring was more a feeling of excitement. Troy on the other hand merely sighed as he usually did.

The man continued. “As of right now you are all drafted into the Emprean army under the command of High King Horus. This isn’t a negotiation, this is a fact.” An uproar bellowed from each throat of the mercenaries and the soldiers all took a few fearful steps backwards until one of the three commanders, a man with heavy armor, giant axe, and short spiked hair stepped forwards screaming orders to them not to take another step back. The woman in the group lifted her hand up in a ready position, and all the bows of the Emprean archer’s were notched back in anticipation to loose.

“How can we be drafted?” One man shot out in the crowd. He wore a loose white long sleeved button shirt with an open black vest, rubbing his messy short curled hair. “I mean…I know the laws in this land prohibit drafting anyone not of this nation. So you technically can’t force us to do anything. This is unlawful imprisonment and that means you’ll have to answer to an authority that is higher than your king.” He stepped forward as he spoke, and the mercenaries parted to make room for him. “I mean, come on. Your about to start war with Carthage, the blood stained kingdom! That’s not exactly one of those nations where you can divide your attention. So why not just let us go, and we all are happy.” Mercenaries shouted their agreement as the man softly bowed to them and lifted his arms in triumph.

“Shut up!” the armored commander roared sourly. “You all signed a waiver to be in this competition, right?” Mercenaries all slowly nodded. “Fine print, morons. Try reading it.” Snorting his disgust at their defiance he motioned for his men to lift their spears to ready positions. The woman gave him a curt look, but said nothing on the matter. The mercenary lifted his hands up pointing to the armored commander.

“You must be one of those six legendary heroes of Emprea everybody talks about. I'm guessing with that attitude you must be Paul Donavon,” he said smoothly with confidence. “The warrior with Enraptured Aggression," He added in mocking fashion. "Hey, that’s cool you don’t like us, because frankly I don’t think a single one of us like any of you.” Paul lowered his eyes into two small slits of warning. “But no matter what you say to intimidate us, we aren’t idiots. We all read the contracts. So knock off the bluff.” The mercenaries all cried as the soldiers once again looked to Paul for support. The woman cleared her throat and lifted her hand backwards as an archer marched forward placing some papers in her hand. She approached the orb and the man gave it to her without hesitation.

“In addition to any other agreements made, the signer of this contract here-by acknowledges and concedes his right to deny being drafted based on nationality or other reasons that may be brought up in protest. Furthermore the signer agrees to void any rights they may have as a draftee and is placed under custody with their commanding officer.” She rolled up the papers and looked to them all carefully. “Did not a single one of you read that?”

One man coughed loudly to get their attention as he stepped forward. “Um, if I may.” The woman nodded motioning for him to continue. “I am just a medic. I didn’t fight nor sign any fighting waivers. So…Can I go now?” The woman looked to him, looked behind her as more papers were dumped in her hand. She shuffled through them, looked to the man and lifted the paragraph.

“You waived your rights as well. You are to be drafted as an apothecary to the mercenary forces.” The man lifted his hand up in protest, but sighed deeply as if someone just kicked his dog, and retreated back into the masses.

“You know,” the man from earlier said loudly. “This is all a little unfair. You tricked us all into this, so you should at least allow us a way out of it!” Every mercenary agreed with his comment. He stepped forward lifting a deck of cards. “How about this, the entire fate of this group rests on who can draw the highest card. Sound fair?”

“Get back in line, cretin!” Paul shouted. However the man with the orb stepped forward.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll take that bet.” Paul shot his eyes over to him as did the woman. The soldier’s all began to murmur as did the mercenaries. Captains began to order silence and the mercenaries all remained quiet to see what would develop.

“Knock it off, David. We can’t afford to lose these men,” The woman said defensively.

“I have to agree with Rachel, we don’t have much a choice in this. We need every body we can get,” Paul warned. David lifted his hand coolly.

“Don’t worry guys, I got this. If it goes sour I’ll take full responsibility,” He turned back to the mercenary with the loud mouth. “Okay, I’ll play. We just draw one card right?” The mercenary nodded. “Fine, who goes first?”

The mercenaries all howled with laughter as the man put on the most smug face as if he was some hot shot big guy. Regal’s breath was caught up in this whole ordeal, and even Troy kept his gaze on the proceedings with a keen interest. Not a single peep was made as they watched him shuffle the cards over and over.

“Another of the legendary heroes right? David King?” The man nodded. "I’ll go first, and you know pal I have to admire your guts." He shuffled the cards before the man showing no slight of hand, even letting him have a go at it. They cut the deck and David held it for him. “Lady luck however, won’t let her chosen son go empty handed and die on some useless wall. That’s why they call me Roulette,” He spoke with a confidence of a hero standing up to some mere bandit bullies. He took his hand and lifted the card on the top of the deck. “And what do you know, I got me the King of Spades.” he said smugly. Everyone in the arena cheered for Roulette as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Rachel and Paul both looked to David carefully as he nodded in testament to Roulette's luck. Yet he never dropped his grin as he fanned the deck out and began to look at the cards. Roulette’s face suddenly dropped a bit in fear as if some master plan just went horribly wrong.

“Lady luck is certainly favoring her chosen son. But you see…” He picked up one card and held it up to his face before grinning wildly. “Lady luck is a mistress, and she has many lovers. Sorry buddy. Pack your bags; You’re all being drafted.” He tossed the card into Roulette’s hand, and the mercenary looked to it with a shaky hand.

Ace of Clubs.

He turned to the other mercenaries who all glared at him like he was a demonic pig. “Hey guys, you know what’s fun? Pretending to be in the army!” He snapped his fingers to them before looking around. “Uh…heh heh…” he managed to squeeze out.

[Disillusioned]

"This is the last stack of papers, right?" A large man in a soldier's uniform asked as he was handed a number of papers. Before him multiple papers were stack in an untidy fashion. They were the names of every mercenary that had recently been drafted or bought, both from the tournament and from elsewhere.

"Yes sir," The man who delivered the papers muttered as he took his seat at the table. Around the table every officer of rank in the fort sat, discussing the upcoming invasion. Some where nervous, others were quite calm. The large man at the head of the table picked up another piece of paper.

"Bruiser. I swear these mercenaries and their stupid nicknames," The man muttered as he read over the paper before him. Each person attending the tournament had to fill out a small questionnaire asking about their combat experience and their specialties. That way when they were drafted their commanding officer would know a bit about them. Not a single officer had volunteered for that distasteful duty.

"Fought in over five wars eh? Bah, he's lying through his teeth I bet," There was a general murmur of agreement from the officers as the man tossed the paper on the top of one of the stacks.

"Roulette? Oh, this is good. Under talents he wrote gambling. Quality candidate there!" Chuckled the man as he tossed the paper onto a different stack then the last one. The men around him laughed, and yet all wondered who would be unlucky enough to command this sordid group of scum.

"Stitches. What, do they all have to have a nickname? He's the medic, and pretty much the only one they've got. He'll be busy." Another paper tossed aside and another one picked up.

"Buttercups. Buttercups? All right, there is no way that's his real name. Hell, what kind of person would even choose that as a nickname?" The man reading the papers (who was obviously the highest ranking officer) asked as the people around him shrugged. The commander just shook his head and reached for the next paper.

"Troy Priam. My god, a normal name. This one must have a close to average IQ," The commander said with a chuckle as he looked about. He placed that particular paper off by itself. One more to go.

"Regal Burnswidth esquire the third...aka The Sword Demon...Master Of The Blade...Lord Of Chaos...Saint Of Swords, or soon to be anyway...." Regal’s scrawled hand writing continued down the side of the paper listing numerous names, achievements accomplished, and achievements he would soon accomplish. The commander shook his head in irritation and tossed the paper aside.

"And that's the end of it. That's the most recent group of mercenaries we drafted. Combine them with the ones recruited earlier, and we have seventy or so to add to our defense. So, any volunteers for the job of commanding these...warriors?" The commander asked. Instantly every person at the table began to throw out excuses.

"I can't do it! I’m already commanding the archers! By order of the Captain of The Archers herself!"

"In charge of the outer wall."

"Can't. Ordered to command the spearmen by Paul Donovan."

The commander just shook his head. Emprea had six leading generals, three of which had shown up to gather the mercenaries together. Of course, after doing so all three of them had left him here with orders to defend this fort, and then hit the Carthage army's flank. It was so like a general to show up, belt out a few orders, and then ride off into the sunset. He had already ordered the mercenaries to be kept separate from the actual soldiers; trained soldiers who knew what loyalty and honor was. Only a fool would want to command a group of sell-swords and prizefighters over actual Emprean soldiers. As he thought of that, the commander came up with a brilliant plan.

"Lieutenant Noel Spero!” The commander barked as he looked around the table. Several of the more experienced officers breathed a sigh of relief. They realized that the commander had just made the decision of who would command the mercenaries, and every one of them was thankful he had chosen someone else.

“Oh! That’s me! I mean, umm, yes sir! Lieutenant Noel Spero reporting for duty!” Came a slightly high-pitched voice from a young woman at the end of the table. Her blonde hair was cut quite short (which was standard in the Emprean army), and her green eyes sparkled with the energy of youth. They also happened to sparkle with the inexperience of youth, which did not make her well-liked among the officers. She also happened to be from one of Emprea’s noble families, which not only explained her immediate appointment to an officer position (that made her even less well-liked), but ensured she would be able to keep that position no matter what. Emprea had its politics just like every other country.

Most of the officers thought she was a klutz, stupid, and extremely pathetic rich kid who didn’t know the first thing about being in the army. On top of all that, she wasn’t much to look at. And she was a crybaby. Literally.

“Yes, Noel. I believe you’ve earned a shot at command. Yes, yes indeed. You’ll be in charge of the mercenaries. You’ll need to spend time with them, watch over them, take care of all the problems they have as well as any problems they happen to cause,” The commander stated as several of the other officers snickered. In addition to her other qualities (or lack thereof), Noel was famous for being immensely shy. Those mercenaries would eat her alive, and that would be fun to watch.

“Ummm...si...sir...I don’t know if I’m capable enough to-” Noel began to stammer, but she was quickly silenced by the wave of the commander's hand.

“Nonsense! You’re in command, and that’s that! Actually, let’s all have a toast to celebrate!” The commander shouted with a laugh. Everyone looked at Noel with eager eyes. Next came their favorite part of every meeting.

“I’ll take a brandy.”

“Get me a whiskey.”

“Gin and tonic.”

“Make that two.”

“Vodka tonic.”

“Another whiskey.”

Noel instantly began scrambling about collecting everyone’s drink orders. She floundered about, scribbling down each officer’s request on a piece of paper. Every single one of them laughed at her as she ran about save one. One of them just smiled and waved as she passed by. She smiled back, and nearly fell over a chair.

That was Junior Lieutenant Zyke Hazama, the only officer who was ever nice to Noel. She liked him quite a bit, and all though the others occasionally chided him for his kindness, they respected his skill. He had earned his place, unlike Noel Spero.

*~*~*~

“So Troy, I head about who’s going to be leading us!” Regal yelled as he plopped down at the table Troy had been sitting alone at. Regal noted that it was so like Troy to be sitting off by himself depressed in a corner, but didn’t say anything to the man's face about it.

“So she’s a woman. The only woman officer here actually. Beast of a woman really. Ugly as sin. Battle-scared, and a tyrant to her troops. One jagged tooth is all she has left so when she smiles at you it looks like some sort of weird diseased ivory piece amidst her blood-red gums. Real freak of a woman really.”

“And this is all true?”

“Well, I’m sure some of it got exaggerated along the way but yeah, near as I can figure that’s what we have to look forward to,” Regal confirmed as he leaned back against the table. Troy however, was leaning his head curiously at something.

The only place large enough to gather the mercenaries together without interfering with the soldiers had been the bar. He was looking intently at a person ordering a large amount of drinks.

“Regal, did they say what color hair our commander had?”

“Blonde like dragon’s fire.”

“I don’t think that makes sense. How about her eyes?”

“Green like a vixen’s blade.”

“That one definitely didn’t make sense. I think that is are commander,” Troy said as he pointed to the young blonde at the bar ordering a number of drinks. The girl appeared to be no more than eighteen, and although she was void of almost all of Regal’s stated qualities, she was a female officer with green eyes and blonde hair.

“Yup. That’s her,” Came a voice. Troy jerked his head about, and Regal let out a small curse of shock as both saw a boy sitting behind them. At least, boy seemed to be an appropriate description, for the person looked to be about twelve years old. He had jet black hair, and what appeared to be black eye shadow under his eyes. His face was pale and gaunt, his worn out blue clothes only highlighted these features. Troy and Regal looked at one another, each certain that the child had not been there before. How creepy.

“I’m Ten-Thumbs. At least that’s what they call me. I don’t use my real name but it’s-” Regal held up his finger, silencing the man who leaned in far closer to Regal than he should have. Troy had turned his attention back to the young blonde.

“And two whiskeys, and a gin and vodka...no wait, that’s suppose to be a gin and tonic. Ummm...I can’t really read my writing...” The young woman muttered just loud enough for Troy to hear as she held up a small scrap of paper.

“Well, she isn’t the brute I heard about, but if she can drink that much she can’t be all bad! Chest’s almost as flat as a piece of wood though,” Regal said with a laugh as he playfully punched Troy. All though Troy did have to agree with the later part of Regal’s statement (close to nothing would have been how he would have described her breasts), Regal's remark earned a shake of the head.

“Regal, she has a tray with her. I don’t think those drinks are for her,” Troy surmised softly as the woman continued to order drinks which she placed on the tray.

“Oh, and a water for me please. Wait, what’s my tab?” The woman asked as the bartender did a quick count of the drinks ordered.

“You’re at forty-three gold pieces ma’am.” This woman’s face turned red, and she cringed as if she had just seen something repulsing.

“Oh...forget the water...” She said in the most pathetic and defeated voice Troy had ever heard. The bartender just shook his head.

“Ma’am, water’s free.”

“...um, are you sure?”

Troy would have liked to have watched a bit longer considering how the woman before him would be commanding him in battle (a thought that he was growing more and more worried at by the second), but Regal quickly grabbed him and pulled his attention away from the bar.

“That? That small-chested, tiny, sulking brat is our commander? That’s it the biggest load of crap I’ve...Troy! Troy! What’s she doing now?” Regal asked as he quickly rotated Troy’s view back to the bar. The young girl was placing the drinks on the tray and heading towards the exit. Troy sighed, not at his companion’s question, but because he too did not want to believe what he saw.

“Apparently she’s taking the drinks somewhere,” Was all that was said. Again Troy’s head was rotated to look back at Regal, who at this point was extremely red in the face.

“So...you’re saying that the person in charge of us...the head honcho...our leader...the person we’re suppose to follow in battle...” Regal trembled at the thought. He didn’t finish the sentence, but there was no need for him to. Troy filled in the end for him.

“Yes Regal. It appears our leader is a serving girl,” Was all Troy said as Regal leapt out of his chair, his entire body shaking with rage.

“WHAT THE FU-”

The end of Regal’s sentence was drowned out by a loud explosion.

[Unfulfilled]

Mercenaries and soldiers all ran towards the area where the explosion had hailed from. Shouts of concern and orders from squad leaders kept the Emprean army disciplined in this trying time. The mercenaries on the other hand were a riot of action as they shouted to only those they knew and forgot anyone else could exist. Regal and Troy stayed together running towards the tallest tower, which at this moment was no longer tall at all, but crumbled and destroyed.

“Oh no!” Their newly appointed company commander shouted with an ear piercing shriek. “The commanders!” Four Emprean squad leaders ran up to her and all began to shout at the same time.

“Lieutenant Spero, what are your orders?”

“Your orders m’am?”

“M’am, please direct our forces!”

“Hurry m’am, your orders?” It continued like that for two minutes before at last she was able to make an action. It was to drop the tray of drinks. Her next action took another minute. That was to raise her hands to her face in horror. Troy shook his head at the embarrassment of his commander, and Regal growled in irritation.

“By the gods,” Troy said in what could pass for anger. “This is why the military fails so much. Not a damn soldier will move unless ordered to!” Regal gave Troy a quick appraising look, seeing the most trace, faintest sign of venom in his eyes. He was still predominantly depressed however.

“I agree.” Came a creepy voice from behind them. Regal and Troy literally jumped at the sound and turned weapons drawn on Ten-Thumbs. He breathed heavily out of his mouth, seemingly un-phased that two steel weapons were poised on him.

“STOP THAT!” Regal shouted more out frustration than shock. Ten Thumbs shrugged. Troy turned to look at his commanding officer to see what she would do.

“M'am, was anyone else out of that room when you went to go get drinks?” Her eyes were brimmed with tears and she was shaking violently in her boots.

“N-N-N-Not that I can think off…” Her lips quivered as she looked at the debris thinking of all the dead under the stonework.

“Oh god…” One of the squad leaders muttered. “That puts you in charge of the whole army…” His own tone was defeated and the woman looked to him in wonder, his words snapping her out of one trance into a whole other one.

“Okay commander, your orders?” Another said more forcefully trying to toughen her up.

“GET THE HELL OUT OF THE WAY!” The lithe medic from the mercenaries shouted carrying a litter with Roulette, shoving Noel out of the way as mercenaries followed in pursuit to aid the wounded. Quickly they began to remove rocks as they searched for any survivors. Troy and Regal looked to one another and nodded as they smoothly walked over to grab a litter as well.

“Move that rock over there!” The medic shouted.

“Ya, move that rock!” Roulette repeated while pointing to two men. They were both soldiers, and they both looked like the mercenaries were crazy. They didn’t even budge an inch until the sun set on them very quickly.

“Please gentlemen, this has to be a group effort,” A tall presence spoke ominously, leaning down between their heads. He was an enormous tree of a man. Fat and with short hair that parted smoothly to each side of his face. He had a large round nose and could pass for a jovial giant. The soldiers gave him one look of disrespect and in response his hands lifted each one softly in kind.

“Mercenaries are making a break for it, commander!” A soldier shouted as he eyed the fat man lifting his subordinates. “Your orders commander?” He shouted forcefully. Noel was gone from the world, muttering incoherently about rabbits and pandas.

“Aw jeeze, BRUISER!” Roulette shouted. A tall muscle necked man stepped forward from the wreckage. “Go get the other mercenaries and make sure nobody leaves! Chances are we are going to get the shit end of the stick for this little stunt.” Bruiser cracked his knuckles in response and ran off to the front of the fort. Roulette turned to Noel and pointed an accusing finger at her. “HEY, FEEL FREE TO DO SOME COMMANDING WHENEVER YOU WANT!” He shouted. The medic next to him hit him upside the head.

“And you feel free to do some work!”

“I am working, Stitches!” The gambler promised. Stitches rolled his eyes and pointed to the pile of rocks.

“I mean physical work! Go help Spooks!” Roulette gave him a quizzical look.

“You saw Spooks?” Stitches shook his head.

“No, I just heard he was helping. Now grab a rock!” He turned to Troy and Regal. “Stop looking depressed and stupid and help!” He shouted. Regal gave him a curt look and turned to Troy.

“Heh, he called you stupid!” Troy just sighed as he ran over to help with a particularly large rock.

“SWEET FRANCIS! WE GOT A LIVE ONE!” Roulette was being obnoxiously loud in Regal’s ear and the sword demon felt his ire grow. Stitches ran forward, leaping over Regal using his shoulders for a base to jump off.

“Now see here!” Regal began, but Troy lifted one hand to Regal’s shoulder, shaking his head. “Grrr…” He growled and grumbled about how he was a Demon of Swords.

“My, my…” the survivor said weakly. “I’m really in a lot of pain.” He joked smiling. Noel heard the voice and with a shake of her head had ran over to the surviving officer. The soldiers all rejoiced as one as they ran over to see who it was. Junior Lieutenant Hazama saw the expecting faces, and the soldiers all pushed mercenaries to get to him. “Oh good.” He looked to Noel with a sad face. “At least you're alive…” He trailed off closing his eyes. Stitches was grabbing something out of his medical bag when a soldier pushed him off to the side violently. Roulette and another mercenary stepped up to them pushing back.

“Knock it off!” Stitches said wiping some dirt from his cheek with the back of his arm. “Let them take him to a medical facility.” One soldier stayed behind and turned to Noel.

“You are still highest ranking officer, m’am.” It was the sound of defeat in his tone as he walked away, ordering his men to pull back so the mercenaries could do their thing. Stitches and everyone in the area looked to her with expectant eyes.

“Wow…this is all so sudden…” she said trembling. “I’m not really sure…what I should be doing…” she said softly.

“Clearly,” Regal muttered loudly. She looked to him and that glare in his eyes, listened to the venom in his tone and felt the ice in his demeanor. It was all Noel could handle.

Noel Spero, General of the Emprean army at fort Caliben, cried like a babbling baby.

[Disillusioned]

"Heh. Check it out Troy. I made her cry," Regal said as he elbowed Troy in the side. Troy just shook his head at the sheer lunacy of the situation he was stuck in. Not only did he loathe being back in an army, but his commander was crying. In front of everyone. Everything he had ever learned during his time in the military screamed for him to walk over and smack sense into his commander, but instead he just sighed.

"Ridiculous. I'm leaving," Troy muttered as he began to storm away from the scene. Regal just turned and looked at his companion.

"As in leaving this pitiful scene, or leaving this pitiful fort?" Regal questioned as Troy just continued to walk away.

"Both," Was Troy's response.

"WAH! You can't leave!" Noel stammered as Troy just turned and glared at her. Noel curled up into a ball and continued to cry as Regal let out a loud laugh.

"Oh! Nice one! Let's bounce!" Regal said with a grin as he ran after Troy. The sole medic of the mercenaries quickly ran ahead of them.

"Wait," The man said in a remarkably polite tone. Troy just sighed and halted his walk. Not by choice; the man had ran in front of the nearest door.

Troy looked the man over slowly. The man wore no armor (not a surprise given that he wasn't expected to do much fighting as a medic), but his clothes made him stand out. He was well dressed given his station, and all though his long white shirt was now covered in dirt, he could see the man cleaned it well. The man's black pants and jacket were also of a higher caliber than most of the other mercenaries could offered. Perhaps as a healer he had a better income.

"I may not be a fighter, but I do know that having the entire command squad wiped out can only be a prelude to a larger operation. In order to survive we must stick together," The man said firmly. Troy just shook his head.

"What is your name?" Troy asked him softly.

"Stitches," Replied the man with a polite bow. Troy raised an eyebrow as he returned the bow, surprised to find such formality before him.

"Stitches?" He asked with a puzzled look. The man just shrugged.

"A nickname I picked up. I prefer it to my real name."

"Which is?"

"My own business."

Another shake of the head, another sad smile. Of all people, Troy could certainly respect privacy.

"Well then, Stitches. My name is Troy Priam. As I have some meager experience in war, I can assure you your assumption is correct. I am sure something is about to happen, and I don't intend to be around for it," Troy responded. Another man ran up to him, this one large and muscular. He wore a long red coat, and Troy recognized him as the one who had been called "Bruiser."

Why everyone here seemed to have a nickname was beyond him.

"Got 'em all. Any more problems?" Bruiser said as he stepped forward to Troy. Regal quickly stepped in front of Bruiser, and the two locked eyes. Bruiser cracked his knuckles as Regal smiled sickly.

"You need something, Shorty?" Bruiser asked dangerously as he towered over Regal.

"Shorty? Fool, do you not know who I am? I am Regal Burnswidth! The Demon of Swords! You five had best run and call for reinforcements if you think to challenge me!” Regal snarled as Stitches gave Troy a confused look.

“Five? I only see me and Bruiser,” The man whispered to Troy, who only shrugged in response.

“He does that. Best to ignore it completely,” Troy said as yet another man ran up to him.

“Hey there. Look, I understand you don’t want to be here, but I think I have a solution to all of our problems. How about a game of-” The man reached into his pocket for something before he was cut off by a wave of Troy's hand.

“Roulette isn’t it? I believe it was your game of chance that got us into this mess,” Troy said softly as the man nervously scratched his head.

“Ah yeah, well, can’t win them all right?” Roulette said with the practiced smile of a life-long gambler. Before Troy could answer, he heard Noel scream.

“AH! We need help!” Noel shouted through her tears as she ran up to the group. All turned to look at her save for Regal and Bruiser; those two were far too busy. They were locked in a heated discussion of who did what with each other’s mother.

Troy opened his mouth to tell Noel to go away, but the explosion that rippled through the area drowned out his voice.

“Well I took your mother and, wait what was that?” Regal muttered as he turned to look around. Noel screamed, Troy dashed for cover, Roulette hid behind a box, Stitches grabbed his medical bag and Bruiser...well Bruiser just continued to rant.

“Upside down and over a table, you hear me? OVER A TABLE!” Bruiser shouted as an arrow nicked his chin. Both he and Regal glared at one another before they scattered.

“Troy! What’s the plan?” Regal asked as he skidded to a stop next to Troy, who had taken shelter behind one of the many buildings. Troy glanced around, and then quickly pulled his head back as an arrow narrowly missed him.

“It seems we won’t be leaving after all Regal,” He muttered as Regal whipped out his sword and licked his lips.

“Cool. I’m going to go cut something. Where are they?” The Sword Demon asked as his eyes darted about. His companion just shrugged in response.

“How would I know? I’ve been here the entire time. I don’t even know what they’ve sent against us,” Troy muttered back as he glanced out into the open courtyard. Most of the mercenaries were behind cover, a brave few had grabbed their weapons and rushed to defend the wall.

Noel Spero was crying like a baby as she scrambled for cover. She tripped over a box on the way, and curled up into a ball as arrows flew over her head.

“Well I’d like to know WHERE I can cut stuff Troy!”

“Just what do you expect ME to do about that Regal?”

“Small cavalry squad. They ride in, front throws bombs against the gate and the back covers them with archer fire,” A creepy voice echoed from behind Troy and Regal. Ten-thumbs stood there and the boy breathed quite heavily down Regal’s neck.

“STOP DOING THAT!” Regal screamed as Troy risked another peak. Several mercenaries were on the wall firing their bows at the attackers. Every now and then a small volley of return fire would arc over the walls, but the volley was random and hit nothing important.

Firing for the sake of cover. Small cavalry squad. Prelude to something bigger, or a commander out for glory? Troy thought to himself. He glanced at his so-called commander, which was something he soon regretted as he saw her hidden behind a barrel in the middle of the courtyard. He let out a long sigh, and then pointed to the wall.

“Regal, take Ten-Thumbs and get on that wall. I don’t expect a cavalry squad to scale it, but I’ll need you up there. Take up a position right above the gate and stay there.”

“Why do I have to go with Ten-Thumbs? I don’t like him; he creeps me out!” Regal shouted as Troy waited for the next volley to fall.

“I like you Regal...” Ten-Thumbs whispered as Troy dashed out into the field towards Noel.

“TROY! COME ON TROY! THIS ISN’T FUNNY!” Regal screamed after him. He realized Troy would pay him no more heed and, as he mimicked the sigh Troy made on many an occasion, he dashed off towards the top of the wall. Ten-Thumbs followed far too closely for Regal’s comfort, as Troy snatched Noel into his arms and ran behind another building.

“Whew. Tha...thanks a lot!” Noel sniffed as she rubbed the tears off of her face. Troy just shook his head.

“Look, Noel was it?” Troy asked as Noel nodded her head.

“Yup! I’m Lieutenant Noel Spero!” She said as she stared at the man who had rescued her. He quickly became uneasy as she looked into his eyes.

“Right, well my name’s Troy Priam and-”

“You have pretty eyes Troy! They’re so blue!” Noel said as his face became red with embarrassment. He quickly moved to put as much distance between him and Noel as possible.

“Lieutenant. Do you have a plan?” Troy barked as Noel’s face became red. She peeked around the corner, and then squealed rather loudly.

“Ah! The battle’s going really badly isn’t it?” Noel sobbed as she fell to her knees. Troy wasn’t one for the dramatics, but he felt he had no choice but to slap his head under the current circumstances.

“Yes. Do you...want some advice?” Troy muttered softly. The girl's ears perked up immediately.

“Oh! Oh! Advice would help! Give me good advice, okay?” Noel yelled as she pulled out her pencil and paper. Words could not describe what Troy felt at that moment in time.

“Right. Well, how does the gate open?” Troy asked as he moved over to Noel and gazed out. Several more explosions rocked the fort’s walls as he did so.

“I know that one! We can normally open it with a wheel that pulls on the chains attached to the gate, but in case of an emergency there’s a lever that will fling the gate wide open in an instant. This was developed in order to quickly move troops in and out fifty-three years ago by General...” Troy just held up a finger to silence her.

“I don’t need a history lesson! Now, here’s what...” Troy would have loved to tell her his plan. Even though he could think of a thousand places he would rather be, he was stuck in this fort at the moment, and he had determined not to die here. He still had to see his sister, and as much as he would loathe to do it, he would use every bit of military training he had received to survive this.

But he couldn’t do anything if Noel continued to cry.

“WAHH! Why do you have to be so mean? I was just trying to be nice and tell you what you wanted to know and you had to go and yell at me! I’m sorry that I talk too much but I’m really stressed out and arrows are flying at me and all the commanders are dead leaving me in charge and I don’t know what to do!” Noel bawled as she fell to her knees. Troy was about to punch the wall in anger, but instead he patiently counted to five, then leaned down to help Noel up.

“Okay, okay! I’m sorry! I’ll make it up to you later, just, will you please stop crying?” Troy asked in the kindest voice he could summon. Eventually Noel’s sobs stopped, and she gazed up at him.

“Okay...” She managed weakly as Troy breathed a sigh of relief. It took him about three minutes to explain his plan. Afterwards she gave him a rather strange look.

“Wow, that’s pretty good advice. Did you go to a military academy or something like that?” She managed to stammer. Hewanted to tell her to shut up and do what he told her to, but he could not risk another three minutes of tears.

“Yes. A long time ago.”

“I went to one too. I didn’t really want to go, but my parents made me. I scored okay on most exams, but my field work wasn’t too good. How did you do?”

“Erm. All right I suppose. They gave me an officer position when I graduated.”

“Me too, but everyone says its because of my parents.”

“Well, I’m sure they are just jealous.”

“No. The commander even told me so.”

Troy’s only response to that was to sigh. It was a very long sigh. As Regal reached the wall and charged up the stairs to the top, he felt like he should laugh. The Sword Demon wasn’t sure why he felt he should laugh, but he decided to go with his gut, and let out a very loud cackle.

“Well, now seems like a good chance to prove them wrong,” Troy muttered softly. He managed to keep all the venom out of his voice, but his hand had begun to hurt. It had been clenched in anger for the last ten minutes straight.

“Yeah! You’re right Troy!” Noel quickly turned about and began to run forward. She hesitated as a volley of arrows nearly struck her.

“Ummm. Do I really have to go out there? I mean, would it be all right if I stayed here and told everyone the plan?” Noel asked as she looked up at Troy with hopeful eyes. Troy just shook his head as Noel sighed and turned around. He was thankful she did not break into tears.

“Okay...I forgot my weapon but I can-” Noel began but Troy cut her off. This time he was sure to do it in a very kind manner.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll protect you.”

“You promise Troy?” Noel asked softly as she gazed up at him with hopeful eyes. Her eyes were bright green, and full of inexperience. They were also full of fear, worry, and most of all hope. Hope that Troy would follow through with what he said. Hope that Troy would protect her. Troy could only think of all the people he had failed to protect the last time he had been in a war.

They hurt, those eyes of her's.

“Yes. I won’t leave you,” Troy answered quietly. Noel shot him a smile, and waited for the next volley to pass.

“Let’s go!” Noel shouted as she ran ahead.

[Unfulfilled]

Regal’s feet pounded the stonework stairs as he reached the final top of the wall, looking at the horde of cavalrymen and spearmen and archers. Of course, in his mind there were also vampires and werewolves and cannons and pirates assaulting the fortress as well. Ten Thumbs on the other hand saw the scout formation of Carthage with an appraising eye and watched as Regal looked to them all with savage glee. He breathed heavily watching Regal’s body tense, noticing the minute facial twitches and the heaving in his chest as he prepared for battle.

Regal cast Ten Thumbs a sideways look. “What the hell are you staring at me for?” Ten Thumbs shrugged.

“You look cool when you're ready for battle,” He breathed heavily. Regal shook his head as he turned back to the courtyard. Troy and the commanding idiot, Noel, were both running towards the inner gates. His stomach churned at the thought that Troy would spill blood before the Demon of Swords and he gripped his blade tighter making his knuckles white.

“I swear that I shall kill them all before Troy does,” Regal whispered as he turned back to the wall looking across the field of battle. Ten Thumbs lifted his tiny hand reaching for Regal’s jacket, and with a soft tug the demon was yanked back as four arrows nearly impaled him. He scoffed at the boy's help adjusting his jacket before running against the wall and ducking down. Ten Thumbs slid down next to Regal and breathed heavily looking into the Demon of Sword's eyes.

“If it means anything, I think you could take Bruiser,” he confessed. Regal’s face contorted in anger and confusion before he sighed loudly peaking over the wall. “He’s about to open the gates,” Ten Thumbs spoke as he crawled over to the ledge where the wall looked down upon the courtyard. Bruiser stood near Troy and Noel looking at them with keen interest. Ten Thumbs licked his lips and crawled backwards next to Regal.

“Where do you suppose the enemy commander is?” Regal asked as his eyes scanned the battlefield. Another wave of cavalry was running towards the walls. A few mercenary arrows found purchase felling the horses and causing panic making the attack run break off. Ten Thumbs pointed right inside Regal’s personal space at the commander. It was a heavily armored warrior on an impressive black warhorse. “Hmm, I wonder what Troy is thinking,” Regal breathed lightly to himself.

“Probably going to open the gate to lure the commander in and then ambush him,” Ten Thumbs whispered into Regal’s ear. He jumped away from the child mercenary, sword under the boy's chin as he glared at him.

“SERIOUSLY, STOP IT!” Regal seethed. “Not only are you creepy as hell, but you also ruin the magic! I told you that I was wondering what Troy was up to. If I wanted to know what that depressed moron was up to I would have asked you, now wouldn’t I?” Ten Thumbs shrugged not understanding any of Regal's inane logic. “GOD YOU’RE A CREEP!” Regal shouted moving towards the stairs. As he ran down the wall he found an over sized bear of a man hiding behind a large amount of crates that never got the chance to be opened. They were marked as supplies and weapons. “I have an idea!”

“All of you grab a box and when the gate opens let the enemy have it!” Ten Thumbs ordered standing next to Regal producing the world’s smallest dagger. Regal turned to him, snatched the weapon in Ten Thumbs hand and pocketed it in his coat giving him a scolding look.

“My idea, my right to shout it!” Regal hissed. “Besides, with a name like Ten Thumbs I don’t feel very secure with you next to me holding a weapon.” The tree of a man stepped forwards.

“I’d recommend we get the other side to work on this as well.” Ten thumbs nodded running back over the ledge. Regal ran over to the giant like mercenary.

“So what do they call you?" Regal asked rubbing his chin. Bear? Mountain? Jack the Ripper?” Regal shook his head quickly. “No wait, I bet they call you Dragon! Is it Dragon? I bet it’s Dragon.” Regal said assuredly.

“No, that’s not my name.” he said waiting for the cue to begin the ambush. Regal scratched the back of his head in thought.

“Bet they call you the Bowler, in the way you bowl over your foes!” The mercenary shook his head again. Regal snapped his fingers. “Beef cake! That’s your name right?” he shook his head with a sigh. “Well then what the hell could it be?” he asked throwing his hands up in confusion.

“Buttercups.” he said lightly.

“Buttercups?”

“Buttercups.”

“As in…”

“Buttercups.”

“Like…the…”

“Buttercups.” he said definitively. Regal looked to the man, and then with a loud groan the doors opened below them taking Regal’s attention away.

~*~*~*~

“Sir, the enemy has opened their fort gates,” A soldier reported as he approached the commanding officer snapping a salute. A pair of binoculars lowered down to the soldier’s face, where he proudly grabbed it looking up and waiting for an order.

“Odd…” The commanding officer mused rubbing his chin. “Emprea’s commanders should all be dead from that explosion. Yet tell me, runt, what do you see over there?” He lifted his gauntlet up and pointed inside towards a man in a brown jacket and an Emprean officer. The soldier looked and then with hesitation he spoke carefully.

“An Emprean officer, sir.” The man nodded upon his horse patting it on the side. “Our orders were to break the walls and storm the place to route the enemy. So far there has been, if weak, some resistance. The Emprean soldiers are holding their sections, but the front is being held by…” He shuddered to think it. “Mercenaries.”

“All you are telling me is things I know. Which is clearly why you are not a Carthage Advisor but a serving boy. Remember that runt,” He chided. “Emprea has to know we do not accept surrenders under any circumstance, so this can only mean it’s a trap.” The officer laughed to himself rubbing his chin as he looked to the open invitation. “Yet…the officer is in plain site.” He lifted his helmet from the side of the horse. “Round up the house knights. We’re going to charge in.”

“But Sir!” The soldier balked. “You…you just said that it was a trap!” The commander took his backhand and slapped the soldier across the side of the face.

“Insolent whelp! I will not have some young runt telling me, a soldier with ten years experience, what to do! Is that clear?” The soldier nodded weakly as he trembled. “Emprea is making a foolish final stand. If I can run in and spring the trap, kill the commander, and return it to the commanding officer I will most assuredly be rewarded with the glory of leading the spearhead against Emprea’s castle under command of General Ares!”

His eyes glinted at the thought of the glory he was going to gain in this one attack. The fort of Caliben will fall in the first wave by the leader of a scout group. No Carthage officer will ever be able to doubt his abilities again and the king would surely give him accommodations in front of the whole royal family. He’d be promoted and placed in charge of the entire house knights, rubbing elbows with Generals Ares and Victus and even Prince Lucifer. Well, maybe he didn’t care so much about the bastard prince, but everything else was tantalizing. He kicked his horse’s flanks and spurred it on lifting his lance out of its holder. All twenty house knights rode up in a wedge formation behind him as he ordered and the archers rode in the middle of the wedge to make a screen of cover fire.

As they neared the fort the captain gave out a mighty war cry and they charged inwards. As they reached the portal and crossed the threshold he expected enemy ambushes. Instead he saw an empty courtyard as his warhorse galloped along the brick laid road. As the last of the horsemen entered he slowed himself to a trot looking around.

“NOW!” A voice shouted overhead.

Dozens of large crates and barrels suddenly fell from the sky free falling onto the knights and the archers. The armored knights took the brunt of the attack, being knocked off their horses and falling into the archers making the horses panic and stir trampling the warriors under foot. Many of the archers had their bodies smashed by other horses and most fell off to their deaths as the horses whinnied and panicked. The commander growled as he ordered for his men to regain their bearings. The boxes and barrels stopped falling as their hushed whispers. His men all moved to help each other up and calm the horses. Some archers did a few volleys of return fire.

“SECOND WAVE!” Another voice shouted. The commander waited for the next wave. Each Carthage soldier looked to see what would be coming. There was no movement and the warriors all arranged began to grow disturbed as the horses paced in place, their ears twitching in nervousness.

“What the hell is the second wave?” A soldier at last cracked under the pressure.

“ME!” A crazed swordsman with white hair shouted jumping down upon the forces from the walls in a suicide dive.

~*~*~

“Face the wrath of the Demon of Swords, fools!” Regal laughed as his body collided with four archer’s, each one breaking his fall. Tenacity sung a bloody chorus as each swipe of his blade drew either horse flesh or human flesh. He began to butcher anything within range and eventually a circle was made around him.

“FINAL WAVE!” A shout came from above, and now mercenaries joined in Regal’s festival of carnage while other boxes and barrels began to fall from above. Troy moved forward only from a corner observation with his saber in hand, and any Carthage fool who dared stray close were met with a swift end. Bruiser shouted with a war cry that made the horses flee causing more panic as his fist began to break bones and tear flesh with each connection.

“I got your number right here, Sword Demon!” The brute taunted. “I’m already on seven!” He shouted punching a Carthage archer’s face in.

“Bah! Remind yourself who you are competing against! I’m on forty seven!” The Sword Demon shouted twirling his blade in hand and slamming it deeply into the visor of a house knight. Bruiser’s fists only flew faster as he redoubled his efforts to outshine the Demon of Swords.

Regal laughed with sadistic glee as his blade claimed another life feeling elation as the blood dripped down his face in a crimson mask. He looked up to find where the enemy commander was, noticing Buttercups and Ten Thumbs closing the gate quickly so reinforcements could not break through. A formation of Emprean Spearmen charged down their flanks, a war cry on their disciplined lips as their squad Sargent ordered for the utter destruction of the Carthage enemy.

“Ah, a wonderful day to be the Demon of Swords…” Regal gasped in mirth stabbing another archer in the back of the neck pushing him off letting the dead man's blood wash over him.

~*~*~

The Enemy commander looked around as his men were being butchered like cattle. He assessed the situation and realized he could very well escape as the Emprean army had yet to lock to the gate. It would take all the men he had left but it could happen. His face contorted in rage.

Failure was not an option in the Carthage army. He had committed his forces and they were getting slaughtered in what should have been in his finest hour. There was no way he could return and expect anything short but his death. Stay and die, or, retreat and die? His options were a little one sided. Each Carthage warrior knew this was the lot of their lives. To turn tail and run is only to accept the fate that you wish a Carthage soldier to stab you in the heart like a coward than to face death like a man. This fearless discipline meant that each warrior who Emprea was fighting was fighting with the savage feeling of a caged beast. They wouldn’t go down easily.

He licked his lips as he thought of a plan. He could leave this whole scenario alive, but only if he could get one thing accomplished first. He kicked his horses flanks and began to search for the Emprean commander left alive.

[Disillusioned]

"All right! Did you see that Troy?" Noel screamed as she jumped for joy as the Emprean spearmen joined the battle and smashed into the trapped Carthage horsemen. Troy was too busy fighting off a heavily armored Carthage knight to pay Noel any heed.

Many of the Carthage horsemen had fallen off of their horses when the mercenaries had dropped boxes upon them. That was good, the knight’s heavy armor rendered them slow when they weren't on a horse. However, that same heavy armor made it very hard for Troy to land a killing blow. He had already dispatched several archers whose bows had been broken when they fell off their horses; those hadn't been too tough. Archers had less armor.

Disillusioned bounced off the knight's armor once again as the knight lumbered forward and swung his sword. Troy ducked the knight's attack, then stabbed low into the man's knees. Once more the heavy armor repulsed Troy's blade, and he had no choice but to jump back in order to avoid the knight's slow but deadly counter.

"Are you okay Troy? He's tough isn't he?" Noel whispered as she ran behind Troy. Unfortunately for him, she ran too fast and smashed into Troy as he retreated. About to lose his stance, he decided to roll forward and risk an attack. The Carthage knight's swing nicked his chin as he rolled forward and plunged his blade into the man's armpit where there was no armor. The knight only let out a small grunt as Disillusioned tore into him, then the knight fell to the ground dead. Troy picked himself off of the ground and shot Noel a glare.

"Ummm. Ah. I'm really sorry! Don't be angry!" Noel pleaded as Troy just shook his head. Yet, as he did not yell at her Noel took it as forgiveness and shot him a smile. He returned it with a solemn salute of his sword (much to Noel's disappointment, for she had hoped for a smile) as Roulette ran up to the two.

"Geez. All messages were delivered Commander, which you can obviously see as your plan went of without a hitch. Odd that," The mercenary gasped as he rested his hands on his knees to catch his breath. Noel walked over and gave him a kind pat on the back.

"Oh, it wasn't my plan! Troy thought of it all," She said as Troy gave her a slightly harsh look while Roulette raised his eyebrows. Noel's face turned red as Troy quickly remembered who he had glared at, and just as quickly he changed his harsh look into a sad grimace.

"Don't say that Noel. I just gave you some advice. You enacted it, so it was your plan," Troy muttered as he glanced about the field. The last thing he wanted was for the Emprean soldiers to know a mercenary had been the one who actually led them to victory. They would not take too kindly to such an act, and Troy knew that Noel did not need to deal with angry troops along with everything else. Good to know I have not forgotten what was taught to me at the academy though. He thought to himself.

"Ummm. Okay, I guess," Noel said as she wondered if it was really okay. Roulette just scratched his head and walked over to Troy.

"Well, next time do you mind if I do something else other than run about? I'm exhausted. Couldn't run another step," The gambler muttered as he glanced about the battlefield. Noel screamed and Roulette disappeared; nothing save a cloud of dust to mark his exit as the man fled as fast as his legs would carry him.

The knight who approached was covered in red armor from head to toe. A steel helmet covered the man's head completely; two large horns adorned it. That one still rode his giant war horse, and he wielded a huge trident that slew mercenaries and Empreans alike. But the man who still rode strong was not concerned with ordinary soldiers. As the knight circled about, Troy saw him spy Noel, and the Carthage knight began to move towards her.

One last desperate act? Armored like that, I believe that one is the commander of this group. Troy thought with a frown as he turned to Noel.

"Go! Take cover!" He ordered, and Noel hurried to obey. The knight spurred his horse onward after Noel as Troy looked towards Regal who was in the middle of the battle. Regal slashed furiously away at his foes as the commander drew ever closer to Noel. Troy calmly sheathed his sword and walked forward.

"Regal! Spear!" Troy shouted as he held out his hand. Regal quickly obliged as he leapt a few feet and cut down a Carthage knight. He then quickly grabbed the spear the dead man held and flung it towards Troy, who caught it with ease. Troy stepped in front of Noel as she fled in order to protect her. He then flung the spear with all his might at the commander.

It bounced off the man's armor rather pathetically. Troy muttered a curse as he dove out of the way of the knight. Fortunately, Noel had enough time to hide herself thanks to Troy's action. The commander grunted and turned his horse about to face down Troy.

"Regal! Give me another spear!" He ordered as Regal dodged a blow.

"What am I? A shopkeeper? I'm the Sword Demon, not some fat clerk! And even if I was, I would only sell swords! Big swords, small swords, medium swords. You name it, I'd sell it! All the blades would be razor sharp too. I'd polish them every morning, shine them at night..." Regal continued to ramble as he yanked a spear away from a another Carthage soldier and tossed it to Troy.

He caught it and took a deep breath as the commander rode at him. Troy calmed his nerves and charged forward, spear ready in both hands. The commander seemed to hesitate for a moment, obviously slightly confused at Troy's tactic. At the last moment Troy stabbed his spear into the ground and poll-vaulted himself at the Carthage commander. The two collided with a large thud, and both were flung to the ground.

Troy was up in an instant. His left arm throbbed, but he ignored the pain and yanked out Disillusioned with his right hand. With a smooth slash he brought his blade across the commander's chest.

Nothing. The thick armor repulsed his blade with ease. With a curse Troy leapt back as he tried to move his left arm. It did not respond. In fact, it hung uselessly to his side. Broken. He thought sadly as the commander slowly got up.

The man was heavily armored. He was slow, and his trident was heavy and inaccurate. But no matter how fast Troy was, no matter where he attacked, the armor deflected his blade. The commander knew this, and he made no sudden movements. Ever so slowly he advanced on Troy; the man’s trident slowly worked its way closer and closer. Troy had no choice but to retreat.

"Regal! I need a mace!" He shouted as he sheathed his now useless blade. He ducked a stab from the trident and rolled to the side. The commander had no choice but to slowly lumber after him.

"Don't got one!" Regal shouted back.

"What about a flail of some sort? Or a war hammer? Do you have any of those?" Troy yelled as the trident found purchase in his flesh. He stumbled backwards, his clothes ripped; blood began to drip from his chest. He heard the commander's chuckle echo through the man's helmet.

“Nope!”

“Well then Regal, what do you have?”

“A mace!”

“WHAT?” Troy screamed as he quickly dashed close to his foe in an attempt to render his opponent’s spear ineffective. The man just grabbed Troy and flung him away as he continued to attack with his spear.

“Supply and demand Troy! This one just showed up!” Regal shouted as he began to hack away at the soldier with a mace. Behind him Ten-Thumbs had procured another dagger, and he tried to fling it at a Carthage soldier.

True to his name, Ten-Thumbs fumbled the knife to the ground.

“Regal. You’ve been fighting that one for ten minutes,” Ten-Thumbs said in the same creepy voice he always used. Regal glared at him.

“HEY! WHOSE SIDE ARE YOU ON TEN-THUMBS?”

“REGAL! I NEED THAT MACE NOW!”

Troy was struck to the ground as Regal arced his body forward. The Carthage soldier Regal faced leapt back, but Regal just jerked his sword to the side violently. Both the mace and the man’s hand fell to the ground as the knight screamed in pain. The mace was then tossed to Troy, hand and all.

“How morbid,” Was Troy’s only response as he gripped the mace and kicked the still attached hand off. The commander attacked again, but Troy was ready for him now. With the speed he gained for lack of armor, he rushed the man and slammed the mace into his helmet. The helmet absorbed the most of the damage, but it became mangled under the weight of the blow. The commander had no choice but to remove the mask.

With the same quick-draw he had used to embarrass Regal in the tournament, Troy drew and slashed with Disillusioned. The heavy armor of the commander prevented any movement or dodge, and all though Troy’s wounds stung and his left arm was probably shattered in several places, the commander lay dead with one cut across his throat.

Troy cleaned his blade (no easy feat with one hand) as the combined forces of the mercenaries and Emprean soldiers finished off the remainders of the Carthage forces.

“Troy! TROY! Our scouts say Carthage has called off the attack for the day! OH MY GOD! ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?” Noel screamed as she burst forth from her hiding place. Troy just shook his head.

“I think I broke my arm.” He muttered as he stumbled towards her.

“Oh! Let me see!” Noel said, her voice full of concern. However, when she tugged on his broken arm a bit too hard, Troy let out a cry of anguish and fell to his knees with tears in his eyes.

“Whoa Troy. Didn’t think you’d lose to a little boy,” Regal said with a laugh as he jogged over.

“Ah! I didn’t mean to! I just wanted to help!” Noel stammered. Her brain then processed what Regal said. “Hey! I’m a girl!”

“Oh? Couldn’t tell with that flat-chest of yours,” Regal chuckled as he helped Troy to his feet. His companion just woozily stumbled about.

“My breasts aren’t small! They’re just...petite,” Noel muttered softly, a few tears appeared in her eyes. Troy just rolled his own eyes and did his best to walk forward.

“Medic. Need one. Preferably sooner rather than later,” Troy said as he clutched his left arm.

“Ah! Right! I’ll help you!” Noel offered as she pulled Troy close, this time she was sure not to touch his broken arm. Troy did not collapse in pain this time, but his face did turn a bright shade of red as she hugged him close.

“Ah, Noel. I think I can-” He began. Regal quickly cut him off.

“Troy! Quick, how many did you kill?”

“I am not sure. Five? Maybe six? I do not usually keep count of such things.”

“HA! I got one-hundred and five! Beat you!”

Troy was certain no more than fifty Carthage soldiers had been trapped inside. He said nothing about it, however. He was content to let Regal have his moment, but the Sword Demon still did not let him leave.

“Wait! Who killed this one?” Regal blurted out as he pointed with his bloody sword to the slain commander.

“Regal, my arm is broken and I-”

“WHO?”

“For the love of...never mind. I did.” Regal angrily shoved Tenacity into his sheath.

“Damn it! I lost! Damn, damn, DAMN!” The Sword Demon swore as he began to stomp away.

“But you killed more than me...” Troy tried to say. He just received a glare for his efforts.

“Bah! What good is it if I kill a hundred bugs, and you slay a dragon? DAMN IT! This is all your fault Tiny-Tits!” Regal swore as he stormed off.

“MY BREASTS AREN’T SMALL!” Noel turned around and screamed. Troy tried to pull away from her, but along with insecurities about her chest size Troy also discovered Noel had quite the death grip. Mercenaries and soldiers began to mutter amongst themselves.

“Is that Lieutenant Noel? Hugging that mercenary?”

“Yeah.”

“Does she like him?”

“Probably.”

“What’s that mercenary doing with that boy?”

“That’s Noel. She’s a girl.”

“Oh. Didn’t know Troy liked them so boyish.”

“STITCHES! GET OVER HERE NOW!” Troy screamed as loud as he could. Noel just cringed.

“Ah! Don’t scream so loud Troy! You’re right next to me! You’re kind of violent Troy,” Noel said as she covered her ears.

“But at least you’re cute,” She whispered quietly as Troy just smacked his own head.

[Unfulfilled]

To say that the mercenaries were celebrating after their victory would not have even began to scratch the surface of the activities going on. Inside the bar area was every cretin and degenerate of the defense force at Caliban and they drank like sailors boasting achievements both real and clearly made up on the spot. Bruiser and Roulette were off in a corner holding arm wrestling contest. Stitches was near Troy in his depressed corner of the world checking on the fallen knights arm which was now in a sling.

Regal was stuck with Buttercups and Ten Thumbs, the trio standing like wall flowers as Regal longed to be near the festivities. He had isolated himself from the main group doing a clean up of the bodies casting the dead Carthage soldiers over the wall after stripping them of their armor. It was a practice he had heard of and wanted to volunteer to do. It was almost spiritual the way he removed their armor, offering the soul to the great void muttering their meaningless existence when they decided to cross blades with the Demon of Swords.

He mostly did it because he was more than positive the Saint of Swords would do it. Should he ever get the chance to fight Karel Raven he would kill the man, take his title, and become the paragon of good. Might as well get the training in now. He looked casually around to find that Noel Spero was not anywhere around, which was just fine with the mercenaries. It was not a huge secret that it was Troy’s solid “advice” that led to their victory. Every man passed him by, offering to buy the fallen knight a drink for his service to them. Of course, being the giant killjoy he was, Troy had always declined.

Roulette stopped the competitions for a moment as Bruiser slammed another well built mercenaries wrist on the table with a sick grin. The two wandered casually through the crowds to the Demon of Swords and with a quick glance at Stitches the medic took note of the gambler, nodding once closing his medical bag and walking towards them. Regal lifted his arms across his chest staring down Bruiser who mimicked the action and glared back.

“Welcome gentlemen,” Stitches said politely nodding to each man. “I just want to let you know that this meeting must be short, brief, and to the point. Noel Spero is an incompetent klutz and the biggest cry baby I have ever seen. She is going to get us killed and I happen to enjoy my life.” Nods of agreement passed each mercenary.

“We all know that If Troy didn’t take the reigns of command she would have froze up and the fort would have been sacked by now. So with these two conclusions I must admit that there is only one course of action we can logically take,” Roulette added softly looking each warrior in the eye.

“We need Troy,” Regal, Buttercups, and Ten Thumbs all spoke at once, with Bruiser whispering the words a few seconds behind. The brute was originally going to nominate someone else, which would not have been a surprise that he was thinking of himself.

“Correct,” Stitches said dryly looking to Regal’s companion in the corner as he nursed his drink of water. “So I say we force him to do it.” Bruiser cracked his knuckles and Roulette only nodded softly scratching his head. Regal stood up defiantly in front of Stitches, causing Bruiser to step up between them. Surprisingly Buttercups had stepped up behind Regal with a solemn look upon his face.

“I can’t exactly say I like the way that sounded. Force him?” Regal clucked his tongue wagging his finger. “You try to force anything on Troy, and your going to have to go through me first.” Bruiser cracked a grin.

“What are you? His lover?” He joked looking to Regal laughing.

“I will say this once, and only once.” Regal’s tone was so dead set it made Bruiser’s grin drop to concern. “You have one, and I repeat, ONE chance to knock me out, or I will beat the ever living hell out of you. I am not called the Demon of Swords just because I’m damn good looking,” He smiled in a challenging way, flashing his teeth in a demonic like grin. Bruiser looked to him and began to softly lift his hand, clenching it tightly getting ready to punch Regal square in the nose. He pulled his arm back and thrust forward.

Regal didn’t even flinch. The punch stopped just inches away from his nose, and a bead of sweat fell down Bruiser’s face. Regal laughed wildly to him, watching Bruiser get agitated punching his fist into the palm of his other hand turning and walking behind Roulette muttering.

“I agree with Regal,” Buttercups said moving the conversation back on track. “I do not believe in violence being the first course of action.” Stitches lifted a hand to his chin in contemplation.

“Very well,” Stitches said lowering his hand and offering an idea like he was serving it on a plate. “How about you just hold him until we convince him to do it?”

“Bah, good luck,” Regal snorted curling his lip into a snarl. “Troy doesn’t like being told what to do. See, the thing is he served in the army before and…” Regal stopped talking looking up to see Troy standing not a few scant paces away from them. Ten Thumbs sheepishly poked his head out from behind the knight and waved to Regal. “Worthless runt! Not even loyal!” He chastised the boy before looking Troy dead in the eyes.

“What is this about?” Troy asked calmly.

“Well, erm, let me put it this way. You saved the day today, Troy!” Regal said pacing a bit back and forth.

“I only offered advice. Hardly makes me the hero here,” Troy countered keeping his face neutral as he dismissed Regal's praise.

“Enough with the depressing bull crap already!” Regal waved his hand dismissively at his traveling companion. “She’s an idiot cry baby with nothing in life going her way. She can’t even make a decent woman to stare at with her chest so flat. Hell man, I bet you she could walk into this bar without a top on and everyone would treat her like she was one of the guys.”

“Breast size doesn’t mean,” Troy sighed deeply before thinking. “Look, small breasts or not, she gave out the orders not me,” He continued moving them past their lack of commanding officer's breasts.

“Troy, let’s be realistic. You tried to abandon this place earlier. You left us all to our fate to die,” Stitches said smoothly entering himself into the picture again. Roulette stood behind him as Bruiser leaned against a wall attempting to look intimidating.

“Yes, I did. How does that make me more qualified than her to lead us all?” Troy looked to them all and each felt a wave of cold depression wash over them. Regal shuddered under the effects and cursed for feeling that way. Stitches however stood his ground.

“That means you have survival instincts. You came up with a plan on the fly to survive.”

“I told you all, I just gave her advice!” Troy spat raising his tone.

“Then give her more ‘advice‘!” Roulette said offhandedly. Regal stepped forward.

“Look, what were you when you were in the military before?” Troy’s eyes narrowed, wishing not to reveal that he had been in an army previously to the mercenaries.

“Squad Captain.” Troy reluctantly admitted. Regal rotated his hand as if digging for more information.

“So that’s like, what? What rank would that make you?” Troy took a moment to think. It had been so long ago and the military organization of Benzer was a tad bit different than most standardized militaries.

“I don’t know…Lieutenant?” Regal snapped his fingers.

“So not only are you just as qualified as she is, but your better to boot. So come on Troy, just lead us and use her as a pawn!” Troy stomped his foot stubbornly.

“NO!” He shouted wiping his good arm in front of him. Regal just looked to Troy with concern. After the moment had passed Regal looked to Buttercup and nodded solemnly. Buttercup began to move forward slowly.

“Troy you already broke your arm so your no good in a fight anyway,” Roulette offered trying to find some reasonable and logical way to get Troy to lead them.

“I fight with only one hand anyway.”

“I’m sorry, Troy. I tried to be nice, but…” Regal muttered looking away. Buttercups grabbed Troy with his massive hands by the shoulders and lifted him up like he were nothing but a pillow.

“WHAT THE…?” Troy lost his composure as he dangled in the air.

“Look Troy, we aren’t bad people!” Roulette began to speak quickly. “It’s just we all got really attached to living so much that we decided we want to keep doing that! The only way is if you take over!” Troy continued to shake his head no.

“Look,” Stitches said in a serious business like tone. “You either help her and lead this army. Or we break your other arm. It’s that simple, I'm afraid. The only salvation we'll have is with you in charge and I'd hate to resort to this method.” Troy gave him a challenging look, but it wavered as Bruiser slowly stepped forward. With a loud sigh Troy looked down to dangling feet.

“Fine,” He muttered. “I’ll go be her…advisor.” He looked back up and his eyes were filled with a sadness that made everyone but Regal’s heart melt.

After that was settled Buttercups released Troy to the ground gently. Roulette smiled turning and preparing to announce the news when suddenly the doors blew open and a solitary man stood in the doorway. He had wild brown hair tied up in a ponytail in the back that just continued to fritz outwards. A long red scarf adorned him and his very presence seemed to demand the attention of the room.

“Have no fear, for the darkness must tremble before your hero, Justice! Reporting in!” He shouted loudly walking into the bar. “I am deeply honored to be working among other volunteers like myself to hold and defend the candle of Justice from the deflowering impact of those Carthage bastards! Inside each one of you I can see burns the virtues of truth! What glorious deeds we will be able to achieve together!”

“Who is this clown?” Regal laughed. Roulette and Stitches just slammed a fist into their forehead.

“His nickname is Justice, but it really should be Loudmouth,” Stitches groaned.

“Or Headache,” Roulette added. Justice was walking up to each group of mercenaries, patting them on the back and shaking their hands. When he reached them he stopped looking at Troy as if he was some god and with out ceremony he bowed before him.

“Ah, the great Advisor! I am deeply honored by you! Your achievements were no less than spectacular. I dare say I would be hard pressed to do better myself!” He laughed looking to Troy and patting his bad arm. All mercenaries and Regal cringed as Troy’s eyes just popped open in pain. "Not that I couldn't, you know, think of a plan either. In fact I was ordering some of the soldiers to enact that exact same plan! I was just...late...that's all."

“If your so confident,” Troy took in a deep breath to stomach the pain. “Then why don’t you lead.” The entire room began to protest, and Justice took it as a compliment.

“Not to worry brothers!” Justice shouted. “I could never abandon you on the wall. I fear the curse I have is the inability to be everywhere at once, HA HA HA!” He laughed, no one else joined in. “But I can see that you sir are the man who can lead this group to great glory and teach those Carthage bastards about Justice!” He lifted his hand up quickly clenching his fist tightly. He grinned to Troy as if the two shared a secret bond, and the Demon of Swords tilted his head in confusion.

“Justice?” he asked loudly. The mercenary cocked his head to the side to Regal.

“Yes, brother?”

“I don’t have a brother, I killed him,” Regal said proudly.

“How um…different.” Justice replied. “Nevertheless, in a time such as this we must all band together and bond like bark to trees, grass to earth, glue to paper, burgers to…to….” He struggled looking for something to add it together.

“You are an idiot,” Regal observed smugly.

“PICKLES!” Justice shouted lifting a finger up in revelation. “Like burgers to pickles!” Regal and the rest of the mercenaries all laughed at the silliness. “Well if you think your brighter than the virtue of JUSTICE!” He roared for no particular reason. “Than please, show me. One cut with your blade. One chance to show your virtue by chopping into this piece of wood!” He pointed to a table. Regal lifted Tenacity up and aimed it carefully.

“Cleanest slice, whoever has the smoothest cut wins,” Regal replied. Justice nodded.

“WAIT!” Roulette shouted reaching into his vest and pulling out a black book. “TAKING ALL BETS!” He shouted. “Demon of Swords VERSUS the …um….JUSTICE!” Mercenaries began shouting out bets as he wrote them down, and Regal snarled as he waited for the bets to come in.

After a few minutes Roulette gave Regal the go ahead. With a fluid motion the blade sliced cleanly into the table, making Troy above all else impressed with how clean it seemed to cut into the table. Justice lowered his cocksure smile but still grinned, excited by the prospect of a challenge. He stepped up to the table and pulled out a small hand axe looking towards the table. He raised the weapon up over his head.

“Where there is evil, I shall be good, where there is wrong, I shall be right, and where there is darkness, I shall be light. I shall become the HAMMER OF JUSTICE!” He slammed the blade down and made a neat cut into the table. It was a solid blow, and the cuts looked near identical. Both men turned to Troy.

“Count it,” Regal demanded. Troy shook his head.

“Honorable truthsayer! I know you will not lie!”

“Okay words hurt Justice,” Roulette commented. Troy sighed heavily realizing he wouldn’t be able to leave if he didn’t judge it. He looked at the cuts carefully.

“I don’t know, they both look the same,” Troy muttered tiredly. The mercenaries growled but Troy turned walking away. “I declare it a tie.”

“Ah, but you see friend!” Justice grabbed Troy by his bad arm again bringing him over. “I clearly have the smaller number of splinters.”

“I really don’t think that is a fair basis of a judgemen-” Regal lifted a finger to Troy’s lips.

“No…” He said emotionally. “The man is right.” He looked to Justice. “Teach me of your…Justice,” Regal breathed. Troy just sighed loudly moving away from the mercenaries to the barracks.

“This has got to be some higher powers form of sick vengeance.”

“I thought Vengeance was in Salvar,” Roulette said offhandedly. Troy only rolled his eyes.

[Disillusioned]

"I fail to see the logic in threatening a man and then asking him to command you in battle, but who am I to judge?" Troy muttered as he left the mercenaries to their own devices and began to wander down the halls in search of Noel. He might as well get an early start on this "advice" thing.

It did not take Troy long to find where Noel was located. All he had to do was follow the Emprean soldiers around the hall and look for the place where all of them brought their questions. As there was only one officer with rank among them, all questions fell upon Noel. Troy simply waited patiently for all the soldiers to walk into a room, talk for a bit, and then leave. When all the soldiers were gone Troy knocked upon the door.

"Come in!" Came Noel's voice, energetic but weary. Troy slowly opened the door before him and walked into the room Noel used as a command room. It was littered with papers of all sorts, most were scattered about randomly. One large map was hung on the back wall, a map of Fort Caliben. There were blue pins and red pins that dotted the map, the red pins represented the Carthage forces and the blue represented Emprea.

The red side heavily outnumbered the blue side.

"Oh! Hi Troy!" Noel shouted, her mood significantly improved the moment he entered the room. "What brings you here?"

"I was just promoted to spokesman of the mercenaries," Troy muttered as his face grew dark. His appointment had not been one of his liking, but Noel seemed to not notice.

"Congratulations! Should we, uh, celebrate? I have a little bit of money left, I can buy you a drink..." Noel said as she dug into one of her pockets and pulled out a nearly depleted bag of gold. He just shook his head.

"That's not necessary." Was all Troy said as he walked over to her. “How do you like being in charge?”

This was the time where a good commander said nothing. A good commander was always confident, always sure of his decisions. It was important to be confident when you led, for if the troops saw doubt in their commander then they too would have doubt. This reduced their effectiveness. Noel Spero was not a good commander.

“It’s so hard! I spent two hours answering questions about what to do and now I have to figure out how we’ll marshal our defenses tomorrow! I’m tired and need a massage!” Noel moaned as she slumped down into the chair at the head of a desk covered with many papers. She let out a long sigh as Troy walked over to her and rubbed her shoulder with his good hand.

“It certainly is difficult,” Troy said as he gently massaged her shoulder. He could remember his first few days of command ,and they had been quite trying and stressful. Troy also had his best friend Hector to help him through it as his second-in-command, Noel had no one. He certainly felt a small kinship for the poor girl.

“Ohh. That’s nice,” Noel muttered as she closed her eyes and nuzzled her head against Troy’s arm. He quickly frowned and retracted his arm, an act that caused Noel to sigh again. Troy just ran a hand through his hair to regain his cool.

“So, how did you deal with the pressure Troy? I bet it didn’t even phase you!” Noel said as she sat back up and stared at him. He just shrugged.

“I had a good friend to help me through it,” Was his response. Noel let out a sigh, and rested her weary head on her hand.

“I wish I had someone to help me through it,” She whined as Troy shook his head. He made a mental note to payback each and every single mercenary who put him up to this.

“Well, would you like some advice?” Troy asked as Noel instantly shot out of her chair, her spent energy instantly recovered.

“Yes! PLEASE!” Noel screamed as she grabbed his arm, flung him into the chair, and shoved a handful of papers onto his lap.

“What should we do? Carthage has us surrounded and I’m not sure how we should defend! Maybe we should attack them? Wait, that’s stupid. Right? I‘m not sure...” Noel began to ramble as Troy shifted through the papers before him. Various notes had been written on the papers, general reconnaissance and the like.

“I certainly wouldn’t recommend it. Some of this is rather good Intel. Where did you get it?” Troy asked as Noel grabbed a nearby chair and moved it over so she could sit next to Troy. She placed herself next to Troy’s good arm and leaned over, an act that caused Troy‘s face to turn a shade of red.

“Ummm. Well, we have scouts and stuff. Oh! Spooks helped too!” Noel said as she pointed to one of the papers. Troy just gave her a look.

“Spooks?”

“One of the mercenaries.”

“I don’t think I have met that one.”

“Me neither.”

Troy almost commented on that, but he decided against it, and instead he turned his chair about to stare at the map before him. Noel followed suit and did her best to mimic Troy’s hard stare.

“Noel. What if we...” Troy would have finished his statement, but he then looked at Noel. Her face was bunched up and a frown was set upon it. Her eyes were narrow and squinted at the map. She also stroked her chin as if she was about to hatch a master plan of some sort. He could not help but chuckle.

“Wha? What’s so funny? That was my serious face!” Noel whined as Troy shook his head.

“Nothing. Why don’t you get some rest? I’ll figure something out,” Troy said as he turned his attention back to the map. Noel shook her head.

“Nope. I’m not tired at all,” She said with a yawn. Troy raised an eyebrow.

“Really! I can stay up all night!” Noel almost pleaded. Troy simply shrugged his shoulders and began to shift through the papers while he glanced back and forth at the map.

Three hours later he had thought of what he hoped would be a good defense for Fort Caliben. He turned to Noel and started to speak, but he frowned and shook his head. With some amount of difficulty due to his broken arm he picked up Noel, who let out a loud snore in response, and tucked her into a small bed that occupied a tiny room attached to the main room.

He then sighed and went back to work.

[Unfulfilled]

“Aw come on Regal!” Roulette spat as he shoved his cards into the center of the pot. “Four queens? I’ve never seen four queens…ever.” The demon of swords chuckled as he brought in the pot of money scattered in the center of the table. Ten Thumbs, Stitches, Bruiser and Justice all sat at the large round table whistling as Regal released control of his poker hand.

“You can’t blame a man who has slept with royalty,” He joked. The group looked to him with disbelief.

“A royal chick?” Bruiser scoffed. “Yeah right.”

“No, I really did,” Regal insisted. “A queen, her personal hand maiden, and the princess. All at once.” The group all shouted their disbelief.

“You know,” Justice screamed at the top of his lungs over the outbursts. He had four empty bodies of vodka in front of him. “I once met this really…really big chested bimbo…from Dunland.” He hiccuped. “I saved her from…” He looked to Ten Thumbs with wide eyes. “From a great travesty. See she wanted…to save her brother…Touching I know, I know…well…I…uh…”

“Did you need to read the back of The Princess and Wanderer again?” Stitches mused as he stroked his chin. “If memory serves me correctly, Princess Lila was saved by a gentlemanly rouge named Sheex. Of course, there are several versions of the stories.”

“He’s just copying me,” Justice muttered. “Copy cat…”

“No Justice. None of those stories included you.” Stitches said firmly.

“Bah, I didn’t want to make a fuss.” He collapsed backwards in his chair snoozing peacefully. The mercenaries took his money and divided it amongst the group with absolutely no shame.

Roulette took the deck and began to shuffle again as he looked to the people at the table. “Kind of makes you wonder,” He said offhandedly. “As mercenaries we do all kinds of heroic deeds, but do we get credit?”

“No,” Bruiser muttered as he watched his cards be dealt to him. “You suck at dealing by the way.” He folded his hand out of turn.

Roulette just grinned as Stitches placed in the first bet. “What do you expect?” The doctor mentioned casually. “We aren’t heroes. Heroes never asked for money after performing a service.”

“Well, unlike heroes we can’t survive without gold,” Ten Thumbs breathed heavily.

“Could you really stop breathing on me?” Regal asked. Ten Thumbs just looked to Regal with a blank expression.

“That’s the big problem!” Roulette shouted as he took two cards for himself. “I expect people to be grateful! Like when Bruiser and I defended that small shanty town from bandits not forty miles from here.”

“What do you mean we defended the town? Memory serves me right I did all the fighting!” Bruiser interjected.

“You would think that for saving them from bandits that they would shower us with gold! But no, they got pissed when we asked for some compensation for our trouble!”

“What did you expect?” Stitches raised adding more coins into the pot. “Heroes don’t ask for anything in return!”

“Why do you all care?” Regal asked folding his hand irritably. Ten Thumbs shoved some gold into the pot calling. Roulette revealed three aces, Ten Thumbs showed a baby straight, and Stitches whistled not revealing his hand.

“You little cheat!” Roulette seethed. Ten Thumbs shrugged.

“You shuffled.”

The cards snapped as Stitches shuffled. “I believe Regal asked you all why you became mercenaries.” He began to deal. “Which I sometimes would like to know myself.”

“Support my mum,” Ten Thumbs whispered looking at his cards one at a time. “She’s really sick.” Regal looked at his hand and sighed.

“I’m in, two gold.” The sound of coins clinking filled the air.

“I became a mercenary because as a kid I always read those comic books about heroes and I promised myself that I would be a hero one day.” Roulette looked to his cards then with a snarl folded. “Turns out you can’t make a profit being a hero.”

Cards were dealt out. “Anyways, while I was being a hero I started gambling to make my income. Naturally, as a paragon of good lady luck would smile on me. Well…guess which was more lucrative after a month of being a hero.”

“You’re too realistic,” Stitches said looking to his cards and raising the bet. “Heroes fight for free, for the sense of a virtue of good deeds.” Regal snarled at the sentence. “Is that really such a terrible thing? Doing something out of the kindness of your heart?” Stitches looked to Bruiser. “Are you in or out, hurry it up.”

Bruiser looked confused, but with a wolfish smile he raised. Regal and Stitches called, Ten Thumbs folded.

“Two,” Regal said as Stitches dealt out taking two for himself. “As for your idiot remark: Goodness in the heart is just…not human. Mankind since the dawn of time has had the mentality of look out for yourself and crush those in your way.”

“For once I agree with him,” Bruiser said lifting his glass of beer in a salute. “It’s in our genes to not trust anybody!”

“You don’t trust me?” Roulette asked shocked.

“No I do.”

“What about me?” Stitches looked to his cards.

“Well you helped me learn to read and write. Of course I trust you. One card.”

“You are a moron,” Regal chided. “Fifteen gold.” The coins clattered on the table.

Bruiser raised the pot. “I became a hero because my grandpa was in the Savion army. He taught me the basics of fighting. He looked me in the eye and with this stern face he said…he said ‘Son, if you have any brains in your head you’ll stay away from fairy tales. They only bring you misery and pain. The world doesn’t need heroes, because heroes only inevitably bring villains. It’s a vicious cycle and’, call.” Bruiser dropped in his coins.

“And what?” Roulette asked.

“No that’s it, he died,” Bruiser said coolly. “Dropped dead in front of me, had a death grip on my arm. Couldn’t move it for two hours.” The table all coughed and looked away. Stitches looked to Regal and changed the topic swiftly.

“I find it so odd that you and Troy are friends.” Regal’s eyes shot up to Stitches and venom coated his every word.

“He’s not my friend. I follow that miserable cuss of a child because his luck is just so damned terrible that I get all the fighting I could ever want. We fought undead zombies, a doppelganger, dragons, an entire Asylum of lunatics and guards, and now all the Carthage bastards I could ever want.”

“Wow, you fought a dragon?” Ten Thumbs looked to Regal with star glazed eyes. He also called the bet.

“Well,” Regal admitted scratching the back of his head. “Troy shot it with a cannonball in the stomach before he forced me into a boat, but you know, I could of taken it.” The table laughed. Hands were shown and Roulette cleaned up. Bruiser looked confused.

“But I had a straight,” He whined, his tone very confused.

“No…you have two, three, four, five, nine. The six sits down, the nine stands up,” Stitches said academically. Bruiser huffed as he tossed the cards to the center.

Regal growled as he bent forwards and snatched the cards. He began to shuffle. Bruiser gave him a scrutinizing eye before he tipped his beer bottle and sipped. “So what makes you think you could take on a dragon?”

“Because he could,” Regal whispered in a near ghost like tone.

“Uh…who?” Roulette asked motioning for the Demon of Swords to elaborate.

“The Saint of Swords.” He looked to his cards intently. “Karel Raven.” The table laughed again.

“No offense, Regal,” Stitches said wiping a tear from the side of his eye. “But Karel Raven has many sword skills. I heard he can summon these golden replicas of his blade to fight for him. He could take on a whole side of the wall by himself and not even break a sweat!”

“Yeah, if Karel was here we wouldn’t be in such a miserable mess,” Bruiser added.

“I have to admit, while I appreciate a Demon of Swords, I’d rather have a Saint of Swords,” Roulette muttered. Regal’s fists slammed into the table making all the coins jump. Justice awoke from his slumber with a start as he looked around startled.

The Demon of Swords was trembling in rage as he looked deep into the bottom of his glass of ale. He softly began to site his litanies of hate, going over each and every deed he accomplished and each deed he would one day fulfill.

“Regal,” Stitches said gently. “We didn’t mean anything by that.”

“No, I get,” Regal said taking a deep breath. He placed five coins in the middle. “You’d feel more comfortable in the presence of a Saint than with a Demon. Do not worry.” He picked up his three cards. “I’ll one day kill Karel Raven and become the Saint of Swords.”

The table remained quiet.

“I think you could win.” Ten Thumbs added his five gold.

“I certainly would want to watch,” Stitches admitted.

“Who’s raise is it?” Bruiser looked to the table.

“AH HA! THREE KINGS!” Justice shouted.

“That was four hands ago, go back to passing out,” Roulette muttered. “No wonder I could never find that second king.” He bent over and picked up Justice’s hand as the mercenary nodded dumbly going back to sleep. Roulette looked Regal square in the eyes.

“Tell you what,” Roulette said calling the bet. “If I heard that you found Karel and fought him, I’ll put up the betting charts.” Regal smiled. Everyone else groaned. Four aces.

Roulette took the cards and shuffled again, looking around the bar at all the fallen drunken denizens. “So I was thinking,” He said slyly. Stitches gave him a knowing look like someone who has been down this road with Roulette before. “I have a few…ideas to make staying in this fort more fun. How would you guys feel about some betting pools?”

“What would we gamble on?” Ten Thumbs asked as he looked at his cards. “Stop cheating!” He squeaked pointing to Bruiser. The brute of a man dropped the top card of the deck.

“Well, I was thinking of a few things, but mostly a pot for the next time Commander Noel Spero cries.”

“That’s callous and rude,” Stitches snarled placing four coins in the middle of the table. “I think that’s pretty low even for you, Roulette.”

“Heh,” Regal chuckled to himself. “I’m totally down for that.” He added his coins to the middle. “Even if I lose the bet I still win seeing that flat chested bimbo twit cry.” Roulette pulled out his black book.

“So who’s in?” He asked licking his lips.

[Disillusioned]

The sound of a fist on wood quickly woke Troy from his slumber. With a slight snort his head shot up; a piece of paper clung to his cheek and a blanket was wrapped around his shoulders. With a small sigh he reached up and plucked the paper away; with a nearly invisible smile he folded up the blanket. He glanced about and realized he had fallen asleep at the table he had planned the upcoming battle at. He sighed once more and opened the door. Stitches smiled and offered him a polite bow.

"Morning Troy. How's the arm?" Stitches asked as he examined Troy's sling. Troy just shrugged and scratched his head.

"As expected. A little sore and completely useless, but other than that, fine. What's going on?" Troy asked as he step out of the command room and glanced about. Soldiers and mercenaries ran about frantically. The mercenaries more so than the soldiers.

"We expect Carthage to attack within the hour. Noel is busy giving out her orders. Rather planned out I must say," Stitches said with a slight grin. Troy glared at the man, but Stitches never broke.

"You're saving lives Troy. If nothing else, remember that," Stitches said with another polite bow as Troy grimaced. When the man was right, the man was right.

"We have an hour?"

"That's what Spooks told us, he's usually pretty accurate."

"You actually met with Spooks?"

"Nope. Found a letter on my bed."

"And you're sure its from him?"

"Handwriting matches. He's been with us for a while actually. Well, not with us per se, but at least around," Stitches finished as Troy gave a shrug and looked back into the room.

"In that case, I will wake myself up with a quick shower and meet you on the wall. Make sure Noel doesn't do anything stupid in the mean time," Troy muttered as he gave a polite bow to Stitches and headed of towards the shower. Stitches just smiled and saluted Troy.

"Yes Commander!"

*~*~*~*

"TROY! I DEMAND YOU LET ME HOLD THE WALL BY MYSELF TODAY!" Regal screamed as Troy walked over to him. The two were on their way to the wall, several mercenaries passed by them. Each one nodded to Troy and smiled. He frowned on the inside, but nodded back each time. It seemed every mercenary had been made aware of just what part Troy would play in the battles ahead.

"Use your inside voice Regal. You want to hold all of the wall by yourself? That will make for many a bored person on our side," Was Troy's cool response.

"Bah. Big deal. They can go put up some money on Roulette's new pool."

"Oh? I was not aware of a pool. What is it on?"

"Are you actually going to bet?"

"No."

"Then it doesn't matter! So, can I hold the wall or not?" Regal pleaded as Troy stopped his walk and shook his head.

"No. I need you to watch Ten-Thumbs," Troy stated as Regal glared at him. Troy shrugged. "If you fight all by yourself he'll be put on supply duty. Do you honestly think that's a good idea?"

Regal nodded vigorously.

"The answer's still no. After all, don't you have a competition with Justice? I could have sworn you two said something about being able to kill more than one another. Bruiser as well," Troy said although he had heard nothing of the sort. However, whether it was a good guess, or something else entirely, Regal just smacked his head.

"You're right! Damn it! That Bruiser's just a dumb brute, but that Justice has got me worried! He's got that whole, er, justice thing going for him. I bet he's already got the best spot picked out and everything! Damn it, damn it, DAMN IT! Got to go! Thanks for reminding me!" Regal shouted as he dashed down the hall. Before he was completely out of earshot, Troy heard him scream "just so we're clear, you're still a killjoy!"

"Hmmm. What an interesting way to deal with Regal," Stitches said as he coolly walked up to Troy. The man had a white coat draped over his normal clothes, and cradled his medical bag with his right hand as he walked, obviously he had prepared for the blood that would soon be spilled. Troy just watched Regal run off.

"Oh, he's not that bad once you get use to his somewhat inane antics. Something you needed?" Troy asked. Stitches frowned, and motioned for Troy to follow him.

"Yes. Some how I doubt this is part of the plan," Stitches said as he walked Troy over to a nearby door and held it open. Troy peeked his head in, and frowned along with Stitches. Only one person was inside. Noel Spero donned her armor as Stitches shut the door, and Troy softly punched a nearby wall to vent a bit of his frustration.

"She cannot go out there," He muttered slightly.

"Worried about her?" Stitches asked with raised eyebrows. Troy looked at him for a moment and almost said "yes." Instead, he silenced the thought and shook his head.

"No. But if she dies who will I give 'advice' to? I doubt the rest of the army will look kindly to my interference," Troy responded as he opened the door. Stitches nodded in agreement and followed him in.

"Hiya Troy! Sleep well?" Noel said as she finished donning her chain mail and picked up a steel helmet. Troy was surprised by how well made the armor was, but then he remembered Noel was from a noble family. Her parents had probably bought her a whole set when she became an officer; his parents had done the same.

"Yes. I take it you wrapped that blanket around me?" Troy asked as Noel nodded and smiled.

"Yup! I didn't want to wake you, but you looked so cold sitting there all by yourself. Hey, that room we were using for a command room is free and comes with a small bedroom, so why don't you bunk there? It'll be easier for you to give me advice that way," Noel said as Troy shrugged. The offer certainly made sense.

"Sure," Troy said. He was then about to tell Noel not to go into battle, but she quickly began to ramble.

"Great! Oh, my room is right next door so if you need anything feel free to ask. Some water, a bit of food, your pillow fluffed, a foot massage..." Noel continued to ramble on as Stitches let out a small chuckle. Troy silenced him with a glare, and then turned back to Noel.

"I'll remember that. Now then Noel, what are you doing?" Troy asked as politely as he could. Noel grinned at him.

"Well I'm getting ready for battle silly! Last time I wasn't ready, but with this," Noel said as she held up a silver spear that gleamed in the morning light, "I can lead from the front like a commander should!"

"Noel. A commander commands. You don't need to be up front for that. I am not saying to hide here, but you certainly do not need to cut the front line," Troy said softly. Noel shook her head.

"And I can command better from the front!" Noel said as she picked up her spear and began to march. Troy frowned as he stared at the spear. Her armor was well-made, but the spear was gorgeous. It was not adorned with any jewelry, but it shinned beautifully. The weapon was first-class, the wielder was not.

"Stop," Troy ordered as he grinded his teeth in irritation. Noel was too similar to how he had been. Too eager to prove herself, too ready to fight. Because of his eagerness, because of his rashness, Hector was dead. His heart churned in pain as he looked upon the young girl, so similar to his young self fresh out of the academy.

"But I can Troy! Really!" Noel pleaded. Troy's cool attitude and demeanor overruled her actual rank. Stitches stepped back as Troy's face turned red.

"I said no!" Troy barked at her. Noel recoiled slightly in surprise as Troy stumbled a bit under the weight of his nightmares. A dead friend, a dead army, and a failure of a knight that had managed to survive. I will not allow Noel to make the same mistake!

"Why not?" Noel pouted as Troy's good hand shot out and yanked her spear away. Noel whined and tried to grab it back, but he was far faster.

"You are not yet ready," Was all Troy said as he flung the spear across the room. It landed right where he had aimed it, in the middle of a very large pile of garbage that had yet to be taken outside. Noel cried a bit, but then to Troy's surprise she huffed at him and put her hands on her hips in defiance.

"Well the joke is on you Troy Priam! That spear happens to be a family heirloom, and I can summon it to my hands immediately!" Noel said as she stuck out her hands and focused. Troy raised his eyebrows and waited.

Nothing happened.

"Ummm. It's not working...maybe if I try harder?" Noel said with no small amount of embarrassment as her faced turned a deep shade of red. Stitches decided now was a good time to toss in his two cents as Troy shook his head.

"Noel, he's not trying to be mean. But we need you to relay the commands," Stitches said as he gently patted her shoulder. She stomped her foot in anger.

"But I want to prove I can fight! I want to lead from the front!" She stammered as she tried again to summon the spear. Once again, nothing happened. At that moment Troy heard the door behind him slam open, and he whirled around to see Regal run into the room.

"Troy! The battle's just started! Justice said he could beat me here but I totally-" Regal never finished his sentence. Justice slammed into him, and both tumbled to the ground as Troy let out a long sigh and Stitches shook his head.

"Commander! The enemies are at the gate! Come my band of brothers! We must defend the wall!" Justice screamed as he shot up to his feet. Regal groaned as Justice stepped on his stomach on the way out.

"Ugh. Hey Noel, what are you doing with your hand held out like that? Begging for treats? Guess it fits, your armor looks like something I'd put on my dog," Regal said as he stumbled to his feet. As usual, Noel began to cry.

"I'm not a dog! My parents bought me this armor when I graduated! They said it was really expensive!" Noel sobbed as Troy grabbed Regal by the coat and yanked him down the hall. Stitches followed quickly.

"You saw that Stitches! You're my witness! Nine-thirty on the dot!" Regal laughed as Troy pulled him along. He wasn't sure what the man laughed at, but now was not the time to discuss Regal's antics. The three ran into the courtyard which was now filled with the sounds of battle. Thankfully, Troy looked up at the section of the wall the mercenaries were ordered to guard.

They were ready.

"‘Bout time you got here Shorty! You’re down by three!” Bruiser shouted at the top of his lungs as he grabbed a Carthage soldier by the shoulders and flung him back over the wall.

“And you sir are down by two! I am the HAMMER OF JUSTICE!” Justice screamed as he leapt passed Bruiser, and slammed his sword into the helmet of a Carthage soldier who had reached the top of one of the three ladders the Carthage army had erected to help their men scale the walls. Troy was certain more were on the way.

“Incoming cavalry!” The amazingly kind voice of Buttercups shouted. Troy just shook his head.

“More bombs to fling I suppose. Ignore them. Regal, go!” Troy said as he pointed to the top of the wall. As if an invisible chain around his neck had been removed, Regal screamed with glee as he charged forward. A huge volley of arrows sailed from a nearby tower over Troy’s head and at the oncoming cavalry.

“That was quite a lot of arrows,” Stitches said softly as he looked at Troy. “It will lay waste to the cavalry. How many archers did you station on our side?”

“All of them.”

“But the other walls...”

“Are fine. I ‘advised’ Noel to have the archers fire only three or four volleys and then to disperse to their original locations. I guessed Carthage would hit this side the hardest to begin with as we are the less-reliable mercenaries. Those volleys should make them break up their attack...”

“And give the illusion that a majority of the soldiers were moved here over night. You’ve a talent at tactics Troy.””

“Arrow storms are simple and deadly,” Troy said softly and sadly, more to himself than to Stitches.

“You know much of battle.”

“As do you, for a medic.”

“I suppose I do,” Stitches said just as softly. He bowed politely, and then ran off to tend to the wounded. Troy ran a hand through his hair and looked about. Noel was nowhere to be found, but that was all right. Actually, that was preferable. The mercenaries would follow Troy without too much of a problem anyway.

Troy sighed. His second command had begun. He prayed silently that it went better than his first.

[Unfulfilled]

Regal's fist punched a Carthage soldier square in the nose, his lips parting into a snarl of sadistic bliss as the crunching sound echoed in his ears. Like a wet towel the soldier's body snapped backwards and down he fell off the wall. In short order another two enemy warriors ran upwards and over the wall. With a wild horizontal slash Tenacity cut across their throats splashing him with a spray of blood.

His eyes grazed across the battlefield looking to the lower wall segments. The enemy cavalry began their usual tricks of trying to bomb down the door, but the heart they had from the previous battle wasn't there. He looked out to the field in front of him as he scanned the horizon.

"Tch, this isn't anything special," He snorted and spat in the eye of a Carthage soldier before impaling the other eye with Tenacity. "This is just a scared and frantic commander sending everything he has at our walls."

"You think?" Ten Thumbs breathed behind Regal. The Demon of Swords nodded his head ignoring the fact that Ten Thumbs was invading his personal bubble again. He twirled on his heel swinging into the chest of a lightly armored enemy spearman who had tried to impale the boy.

"We're going to see Troy," Regal mumbled as he casually walked across the stone works. "I'm bored."

The two walked as chaos reigned around them. "You see, the biggest issue I'm having these days is finding something worthy of my attention. Karel Raven would be soooo bored right now. I bet he has some special ability to just end this battle here and now."

"Most likely," Ten Thumbs added.

"So my test is to find the challenges and meet them head on. For every challenge I can survive is another minute I can keep up with him." He looked to his right. "Hey, isn't that tiny tits?" Ten Thumbs peaked around his back.

"Um...yeah."

"What's she doing?"

"I think she's running towards some soldiers..." Ten Thumbs looked to Regal, who looked to him dumbfounded.

"She's not thinking about joining the battle is she?"

"How should I know?" Ten Thumbs squeaked. Regal grabbed the kid by the collar.

"Because you're always sticking your nose in other people's business, THAT'S why." He released him turning and charging with blade held high into four Carthage soldiers.

Regal's body moved like he was being controlled by a puppet, his agility greatly improving. As one spear came to thrust he dodged under it. When a follow up blow would come crashing down by an enemy sword he twirled on one foot back up to a vertical base. No matter how hard the enemy fought they couldn't land a decisive blow on the Demon of Swords.

Regal grew irritated. The turnaround for having such amazing dexterity always robbed him of his offensive abilities. He was always in motion but never in the right spot to kill off any of those who assaulted him. At last he was able to roll away and turn spinning his blade in hand outwards and forwards.

Now his blade moved in a frenzy of a motion. Where it stabbed once two other cuts formed in opposite directions. He became a frenzy of vicious combat and it threw the Carthage soldiers off guard. He still howled in frustration. In this form he was a blur of motion, but his attacks only cut and grazed his opponents. Their armor was protecting them from the worst of his deadly dance.

Ten Thumbs stood awestruck to see the Demon of Swords in motion, attacking relentlessly. His mind was captivated as each strike began to add up on the enemy who had no idea what to do to stop his insane style of fighting. Only when an enemy shouted at the top of his lungs did he notice the spearman charging behind him.

He turned lifting his arms up to his face in fear, but a massive tree like hand engulfed the enemie's face grabbing it into his palm. With all the force of a mighty titan of legend the arm lifted up the Carthage soldier before slamming it down right upon the ground, neck first. The body was lifeless and Buttercups turned to Ten Thumbs bowing politely to the mercenary.

"Thanks!" He squeaked in praise.

"Do not worry yourself about that," Buttercups smiled walking over to the boy looking to Regal. "He's quite smitten with the prospect of battle."

"Said he was bored."

"How sad..." Buttercups watched a bit longer before lifting Ten Thumbs up by the back of his shirt and walking away from Regal's fight. "I must ask you a favor, Ten Thumbs," He said in the most serious tone Buttercups had ever used. The boy looked to him and motioned for him to go on.

"I must ask you to please never, ever, tell Regal about my prowess in battle. While he is one who enjoys the thrill of bloodshed, I am opposed to it whenever it is possible."

Ten Thumbs looked back to Regal. He was howling like a wolf as two of the enemy soldiers lay at his feet dead, one more joining them as the fourth ran from him screaming in terror. Like a pack animal the Demon of Swords was on the hunt chasing down the coward who fled.

"Deal!" Ten Thumbs mumbled lifting his hand to shake Buttercups. The taller mercenary smiled taking the hand.

"Very good, now come on, Spooks has alerted me that the enemy is nearly about to overrun our wall section."

"You saw Spooks?" Ten Thumbs breathed in amazement. Buttercups shook his head.

"No I did not."

~*~*~

Bruiser and Justice ran at each other, both lifting into the air with a mighty leap and slamming shoulder first into opposite sides of the same Carthage soldier. The impact shocked the warrior's body and he stumbled woozily forward where Regal's sword lifted up and stabbed him through the chest.

"Cowards deserve a cowards death," Regal whispered as Bruiser ran towards him with his fists in the air.

"THAT WAS MY KILL!" Bruiser shouted.

"Bah, whatever moron!" Regal sassed back. "I already was playing with him far before you did."

"Gentlemen!" Justice shouted holding off two soldiers. "Do you think...maybe...ARGH! GET OFF OF ME!" He screamed pushing them off his blade. With two swift shots of Emprean bow fire the soldiers fell to the ground dead.

"Oi, that was close." Justice wiped his brow. "As I was saying, maybe we can all just count that kill for ourselves. You know, share the point!"

"HELL NO!" Bruiser and Regal bellowed. The two looked to each other in a challenging way as enemy units began pouring over the wall. They never blinked as they stared into each others eyes never flinching. When an enemy soldier came near Tenacity would end them with a swift swing or a massive fist would break their nose and knocking them down and out.

"Would you two idiots just discard the kill and defend the wall!" Roulette shouted behind four barrels. It was like he was in his own little fort screaming orders out. The two men continued to stare a bit longer before they snarled turning to face the horde of enemies surrounding them.

Roulette watched as Regal and Bruiser charged the circle of soldiers with reckless ferocity, snarling and cursing the Carthage soldiers. Whenever they moved their limbs blood would shed in their wake. Side by side they slaughtered the enemy units as they never once stopped bickering.

"It was so my kill!" Bruiser's fist dented a helmet inwards.

"First blood was mine!" Regal retorted as a wrist was slashed.

"First blood means nothing! It's last blood that matters!" Bruiser's fist lifted in a brutal uppercut knocking a soldier off her feet and over the wall.

"Than the blood on my sword is testament to my ownership of that kill!" Tenacity impaled through one arm and into the neck of a soldier behind.

"You're a cheater!" Bruiser's foot kicked the stabbed warrior away before he gripped the other wounded solider in his arms tossing them back over the wall.

"ROULETTE!" Regal shouted glaring deep into Bruiser's eyes. With a childish yelp of panic Roulette lifted his head over a barrel.

"What?"

"What's the ruling?"

"Well, technically there is no rules about this contest, so we'd have to go with the final blood cause. Whoever causes the-" He ducked as an arrow nearly impaled him. "Can we finish this later?"

"Bah, whatever!" Regal chided as he ran towards Justice to aid him in slaughtering the Carthage pigs. Bruiser was hauling right behind him, intent to defeat the Demon of Swords in their silly contest.

"Those guys are nuts," Roulette sighed as he sunk lower into his hiding spot. "I mean, jeez, you'd think for once they could think about something other than killing. I just don't get it myself really." He looked up at the clouds in the air.

He took from the gentleness of the air its serenity and slowed his heart rate. Battle was never Roulette's thing, and he flinched every time the call to violence was shouted. He much preferred being stuck in the back making up pools for gambling. Organizing and book keeping was his best skill and he didn't want those skills to be wasted when he died in combat.

He yawned stretching his arms out. A metallic grip grabbed his wrist and pulled upwards dragging him out from his hiding spot. Roulette sweated as he looked at two female Carthage soldiers. They had heavier armor on and he could only summarize they were line officers. Both held him at point with their small swords, their circular shields nearly identical except for one rune at the top of each.

"Sisters?" Roulette mumbled. Both gave him an odd glare before one pulled back her sword to impale him. "WHOA THERE!" Roulette shouted jumping to the side at the last moment. The other sister grabbed him by the arm and shoved him onto the ground. Boots began to kick him in the stomach before they back off.

"I take it..." Roulette said woozily. "That we can't...maybe...play a game of chance for my life?" He pulled out a deck of cards smiling wildly. Both soldiers kicked him again into a barrel, which he used to lazily get back to his feet. He knew they were both toying with him, or else he would be dead by now.

"Is all of Emprea as weak as you?"

"Actually, I'm a native of Carthage. I know, go figure!" The irony wasn't lost to Roulette.

"So then you abandoned your duty to serve King Victus!" The other girl shouted as if this act was the foulest sin Roulette could commit.

"Well, technically, my mother was from Carthage, my father was from Salvar. I lived in Carthage for like, two years as a baby before we moved away to Salvar." He sweated nervously as the sister on the right hit him in the stomach.

He winced in pain and bent over, Carthage soldiers pouring over the wall in more handfuls. With so much support these two could easily play with him. He had one last chance, and he was loathe to think he had no choice.

"Ladies, you should never under estimate the abilities of your foes...you never know when they will reveal the secret they have been holding for years." He looked to both with a challenging glance. They both looked back to him, a look of doubt on their faces, but a hint of curiosity in their eyes.

He lifted his hands up in supplication to the sky, his lips humming in a mantra as he placed both hands, palm over palm, forwards with the deck of cards facing outwards. He rose his tone and the two officers took a step back in shock as he reached a fever. Then, with all his energy he could muster he bellowed out a war cry.

The cards fluttered into the woman's chests as he bent both card ends inwards launching them outwards. After he was out of cards he turned screaming for help flailing his arms as he ran pushing Mercenaries and Carthage soldiers out of his way.

"ANYBODY, SOMEBODY! HELP ME!" The two officers were upon him in a second, shouting curses to his mother and his life.

When they were about to grab him by the back of his shirt two green and teal fletched arrows zipped past Roulette and into the chest of the sisters. Two more arrows flew past the terrorized mercenary killing them at the same time. Soon red and blue fletched arrows slammed into the Carthage soldiers who poured over the wall, and within moments the enemy blasted the horn of retreat.

While the mercenaries and the Emprean soldiers cheered their victory Roulette looked out to the battlements and towers. He scratched the back of his head looking for whatever guardian angel saved him.

"Thanks, Spooks," Roulette said in earnest. As he turned to walk back down the wall another arrow hit the barrel next to him. Attached to it was a small satchel and a note. He grabbed the note and opened it.

Inside is my bet for first person to knock Regal Burnswidth out. Fifteen gold crowns on Justice. Spooks

[Disillusioned]

"Well?" Troy huffed as he stood over Noel. She rubbed her leg and her spear lay beside her. Behind the two lay several dead Carthage soldiers, and several more fled from the mercenaries that charged after them. Noel looked up at Troy with a red face.

"Ummm...I guess I could use a little more practice," Noel stammered as she gave Troy an embarrassed look. She had attempted to charge several Carthage soldiers at once, and all she had done was give herself a slightly twisted ankle as Carthage charged back. Thankfully, Troy had seen her reckless charge, and he had gathered what mercenaries he could to back her. He sheathed his sword and gently rubbed a cut on his shoulder; a farewell gift from a now dead Carthage soldier.

"I told you that you weren't ready!" Troy spat as he looked about. Carthage was in full retreat, and Emprea had carried the day again. He shook his head and turned back to Noel.

"I’m really sorry Troy! I just wanted to help! Don’t be mad at me! My ankle hurts," Noel whined in response. Troy let out a long sigh and moved to help her up. He offered a hand, which she quickly grabbed and used to pull herself up. Much to Troy's embarrassment, she then leapt up on his back and wrapped herself around him.

"Thanks for the ride Troy!" Noel giggled as she nuzzled her head into his neck. Troy then smelled the air around her. She smelt of garbage, trash, and some form of dead animal. He nearly gagged, but kept quiet. Regal was not so kind.

"WHOA! The hell is that smell?" Regal shouted as he walked up to Troy. Noel's face turned red as she hid behind Troy.

"Well, well Troy threw my spear into the garbage and, and well I needed it back, but I couldn't summon it...and...well...well I..." Noel continued to stammer as Troy closed his eyes and braced himself.

"Moldy food. Some sort of liquid, probably spoiled milk. A bit of feces," Regal said as he sniffed the air. Troy heard Noel scream slightly at the mention of feces; all Troy could do was plug one of his ears, lament his broken arm, and hold his breath.

"SHAME! SHAME ON YOU DUPSTER DIVER!" Regal shouted as he pointed a finger at Noel.

"But...but I needed my..." Noel began to cry.

"NO BUTS! Troy, I demand you start seeing another woman! You can do better!" Regal screamed as he tore Troy away from Noel. She landed square on her butt, squealed, and then grabbed at Troy.

"I'm not seeing anyone Regal!" Troy shot back as Regal tugged on Troy's arm. Thankfully it was his good arm.

"But my leg hurts and Troy was going to help me back!" Noel whined as she pulled on Troy's other arm. His broken arm. Troy muffled a scream as he shut his eyes, and a few tears of pain rolled down his cheek.

"Well, I need Troy to help me count my kills! And I haven't gone through any garbage lately!" Regal shouted back. He then patted Troy (who's face was red with pain) on his back. "I'm only thinking of your health here."

"I'm not a disease infested rat!" Noel screamed.

"No, but you sure smell like one," Regal countered.

"STITCHES!" Troy finished as Noel began to cry again. Regal let out a laugh.

"Oh yeah. The Demon Of Swords is hot today! ROULETTE! I MADE HER CRY AGAIN!"

*~*~*~*~

"Sorry for taking so long to get to you. The Emprean's demand mercenaries take care of mercenaries, and I’m the only doctor we have,” Stitches apologized as he finished his work on Troy’s arm. Troy just shook his head. Several other mercenaries did their best to help Stitches with his work, but it was clear he had the most experience in the medical field. As such, he was worked to the bone each day.

The largest room on the mercenary’s side of the fort had been remade into a make-shift hospital. The seriously wounded had beds to lay in, but most of the mercenaries just lay on blankets upon the floor. Troy himself occupied a small chair in the corner of the room. Every now and then a moan of pain went throughout the room, which caused Stitches to turn his head and sigh. There was only so much he could do.

“Doesn’t matter,” Was Troy’s response as he flexed his still good arm. Satisfied there was no permanent damage, he grabbed his shirt and put it back on. It took a lot longer for him to perform that simple action due to his broken arm, but he managed nonetheless.

“You will heal up fine. I applied a little bit of tonic to reduce the scaring. I believe it is said that some women are impressed by scars, but I don‘t think Noel is that type of girl,” Stitches said as he packed up his bag. Troy shot him a glare.

“I expect that of Regal and the others, but not you. And the scar doesn’t matter. There’s a war on, looks don’t matter,” Troy said as he glanced about. He sighed as he looked at the wounded men. Some mercenaries chatted with one another, most lay in pain, a few hid their tears.

“Perhaps they wore off on me a bit too much. Besides, the love story of Noel and Troy is the talk of the camp. The two lovers meet under the flames of war, tragedy forces them together, the dashing hero helps the maiden in danger and so on. Nice rescue today, by the way. Very heroic,” Stitches laughed as he let out a yawn. It was obvious the man was tired, but he still had several more mercenaries to attend to.

“You’re the only medic we have?” Troy asked softly. Stitches let out another yawn and nodded. “Then you had best get to work. Or shall I tell Bruiser you are free? He and Justice were in a rather fierce debate of how many points a Carthage officer was worth, last I checked. Perhaps you could judge?”

“You’re a real slave-driver, Commander,” Stitches joked as he walked over to the next patient. Troy shook his head and headed of in the opposite direction of Stitches. With his good hand he panted mercenaries on the shoulder, and thanked them each individually for a job well done.

*~*~*~*

“He saved me twice! And he’s really cute! Kind of a loner, and a bit cold, but cute!” Noel said excitedly. She sat next to Zyke, who lay in the officer’s medical room. As there were only two Emprean officers left alive, it was a very quiet room. This suited Noel perfectly.

“Well, looks are important,” Zyke said with a smile. All though Noel was dressed in her Emprea uniform, which was a rather simple dress colored in red and blue (the colors of Emprea), he lay in a simple white shirt and pants. As the only wounded officer, he pretty much had the room to himself. Except of course when Noel came to talk to him.

“They are? Shoot, I’m not very good-looking...” Noel said as she rubbed her shoulders in disappointment. Zykes just let out a laugh, and patted Noel on the shoulders.

“Sure you are,” Zyke said as he leaned back against his pillow. His face was pale from loss of blood, but his dark brown eyes were still full of life, and his black hair was perfectly combed down the middle. Wounded as he was, there wasn’t much he could do save comb his hair, and make himself look presentable for Noel whenever she decided to visit.

“You’re just saying that!” Noel pouted as she playfully slapped Zyke’s shoulder. He just chuckled.

“No, really! Besides, who wouldn’t want the hero of Fort Caliben? I must say Noel, your defense has really been amazing,” Zyke said with a smile. Noel’s face turned red.

“Ummm. Thanks. But it’s not all my doing. People help,” She managed to say. Troy had made her promise not to tell anyone that he had helped her plan the battle. She still didn’t feel completely comfortable with it, but Troy had wanted it that way. She figured that since it was his plan, it was his choice on whether or not to take credit for his actions; he was adamant about his actions being kept a secret.

She still felt bad about it though.

“I expected as much. Don’t discredit yourself though, Noel. You do a lot too.” He said as he rubbed her shoulder. She let out a sigh.

“Thanks Zyke! You’re always so nice! Well, I’ve got to go back to work!” Noel said as she gave him a hug and stood up. Zyke just hugged her back.

“Well, what are friends for?” He said with a grin as he waved her good-bye.

[Unfulfilled]

The gathering of mercenaries in the now defunct officer's club was a far cry from yesterday's group. Where once it was nearly standing room only it swiftly now became seated groupings. The joviality from the day before had lost some of the spunk, but still glad tidings and boats were exchanged between everyone as time continued to march on.

Regal looked inside the room and found Roulette standing up and motioning him to come over to his table, which happened to be the largest. He grinned as he moved through the sea of bodies until he reached the table, taking a seat next Ten Thumbs and Buttercups.

He glanced at the company he kept, seeing Roulette across from him and Bruiser to Roulette's right. A chair was empty to his left, with Justice sitting next to Buttercups. He looked to the other side to see Ten Thumbs complete the circuit. All they were missing was one person.

"Ah, there he is," Roulette mumbled standing on his chair again and waving. Regal turned to see Stitches nod in acknowledgment as he made his way to the table. One of the younger mercenaries stopped by the table and took drink orders. When Stitches sat he did so giving off his drink order before collapsing into the arms of his chair.

"Long day?" Buttercups said softly clapping the man on the shoulder gently. He easily reached across the entire length of the table. Stitches yawned loudly.

"Yeah," He smacked his lips lightly. "Carthage is getting reckless. Don't think they will make a mistake like that again though."

"Bah, let them come and throw their lives upon my blade!" Regal chided as he looked for the serving boy. Ten Thumbs pointed to the server, his finger reaching underneath Regal's nose which irritated the Demon of Swords greatly.

"Speaking on the more sane half of the group," Roulette mumbled. "I really wish they would take a break." Stitches nodded in a forced habit.

"Most likely they will. I think the commander's didn't expect to have to formulate a strategy. Want to hear my guess on the situation?" The table nodded. "I think they had been ordered to take fort Caliban in a week's time. Chances are they weren't expecting Commander Spero to survive the explosion, nor did they expect us to survive the first scout run."

"I also think they underestimated our sense of JUSTICE!" Justice stood lifting his fist into the air for added effect.

"Yeah, that's exactly why." Bruiser rolled his eyes huffing out a deep breath. "Want to know my opinion?"

"No," Regal muttered. "But you're going to say it anyways."

"I think they are terrified of me," Bruiser said honestly looking down to his hands. The table laughed. "No really! I'm a scary guy!" He looked around to each face. "I'm being serious guys, come on!" The table laughed harder.

"That's why it's so funny!" Buttercups mused as he chuckled. Bruiser turned to Ten Thumbs looking the child in the eyes before lifting his hand to strike him. He squeaked in terror covering his face.

Regal's right hand flew out and hit Bruiser's fist, knuckle for knuckle. "Nobody touches Ten Thumbs but me," He breathed in warning. Bruiser looked the Demon of Swords in the eyes as sparks exploded. The two stared each other down before Stitches coughed loudly.

Roulette brought out his little black book. "Come on, we have a strategy meeting to discuss," He said irritably. "The faster we get through this the faster we can play cards."

A murmur of agreement left the mercenaries lips. "Okay, first order of business," Regal looked each warrior down with his eyes, looking them each in the eye with all the serious intent he could muster. Nobody flinched back and he let his lips curl into a gleeful grin.

"Who made Noel cry at what times?" He finished.

"Ugh, I got it on record as you making Noel cry twice Regal. One at nine thirty I believe, and again at a time I really can't remember." Stitches scratched his head. "I still want to tell you all I'm opposed to this entirely, so keep me out of this part of the meeting."

"Yeesh, you got jackpot on nine thirty...damn!" Roulette let out a whistle. "That's five hundred crowns!" He looked down his list. "Bruiser you had one o clock, you make her cry or did anyone for that matter?"

Bruiser shook his head. "I see," Roulette thumbed through the pages. "Ten Thumbs, you placed forty crowns on five-ish? Is that even a unit of time? Ish? Come on kid, this is a legitimate illegal gambling operation. Next time you got to place a real time down."

For all the words Roulette spoke it mattered not. Ten Thumbs was breathing heavily as he looked to Regal with wonder. The table glanced at the scene. "You defended me," Ten Thumbs breathed on Regal. "You like me?"

"HELL NO!" Regal shouted bringing his arms up across his chest scoffing to the child. "You just bring trouble wherever you go. Like Troy. I like that in a guy." He turned back to the kid looking him down. His eyes were glossed over in admiration. "Uh...stop it?" Regal wasn't sure what to do.

"I like you," The boy replied back indifferently.

"That's not even scratching the surface of how creepy I find you," Regal muttered. "Which in itself is rather sad all things considered." He punched the kid in the shoulder. "Little rascal."

"Uh...okay. Moving on. We have three pools going tomorrow based on the other officer's recovery. Regal you got him placed down as never going to happen in this lifetime. Well, he's still alive last I heard, and sick people do get better." Roulette turned the page.

"Hey, people can trip and fall and bash their head in creating a pool of blood that becomes their cradle into the afterlife." The table looked to Regal. "What?"

"Ten Thumbs, you put forty gold coins on Buttercups as the most likely to eat a forth helping of the mystery meet."

"While I appreciate your confidence in me, young Ten Thumbs, Please exclude me from further eating bets." Buttercups smiled. "I am on a diet and you make me feel self conscious."

"Why did you change crowns to coins?" Ten Thumbs asked Roulette as his little beady eyes locked on his. The mercenary gulped as he felt an undeniable wave of creepiness wash over him.

"I KNOW!" Regal shouted. "It's freakin creepy when he stares at you!" Roulette nodded and then took a breath regaining his composure.

"Crowns and coins? All the same to me. What's the difference?" The gambler shrugged. "They all pay the same."

"You should be more consistent. In the world market a crown has a value higher than a coin in some areas. Like the Salvarian gold coin is worth two Coronian crowns. You need to take into account nationalities when you run a business like this I'd think."

"Now see here, runt!" Roulette looked the boy square in the nose, for he was afraid to look him in the eyes. "I know the desert people's gold coin is worth three Salvarian coins, and the Carthage crown is worth ten Black Archipelago coins. I know for a fact that the Emprean golden crown is worth jack shit right now as well!" He pointed his finger accusingly at the heavens.

"SO CROWN OR COIN, WHEN YOUR ABOUT TO DIE IT'S ALL WORTH THE SAME!" Roulette shouted as he felt his pride was picked upon. Ten Thumbs nodded.

"So what if we live?" He asked. Roulette sat down and thought about it.

"Then the crowns are worth double, the coins are equal and the silver is worth double." Roulette said rapidly without batting an eye.

Regal blinked multiple times. "What the hell just happened?"

"Just making sure the exchange rate is covered," Roulette promised.

"Any other pools I should be aware of?" Bruiser interjected. Roulette looked to his ledger.

"Yeah, Stitches how many wounded did you work on?" The doctor rose his head somberly as he looked to Roulette.

"Fifty or so," He mumbled. "I wrote it in my report to Noel, we can check later." Roulette nodded.

"Which brings us to the last order of business," Roulette breathed heavily. "Who got the most kills."

Justice, Regal and Bruiser all sat up as each held a grin on their face. Justice couldn't stop fondling his hands and Bruiser flexed his fingers in anticipation. Regal just grinned wildly like a demon as he waited.

"In third is...Now I want you all to promise you won't beat me up when I give the standings!" Roulette pointed to them. Regal reached over, grabbed the finger, and bent it down into the table.

"Get on with it!" He spat angrily. Roulette nursed his finger as Stitches reached over and gently looked to his finger.

"Okay, ow, ow, ow, OW STITCHES!" Roulette glared at Stitches who shrugged back.

"It's fine," He said casually releasing his finger.

"Okay, third place is Bruiser with seventy four." Brusier slammed one fist into the table breaking off a piece of the edge.

"DAMMIT, DAMMIT, DAMMIT!" He bellowed. Justice and Regal both howled at him in laughter.

Roulette looked to his ledger and wrote down some notes before handing Ten Thumbs a small sack of coins. "Thirty cold crowns to you," He said happily. The boy grinned.

"You bet against me getting first?" Bruiser looked to the child incredulously.

"Well I wasn't wrong for doing so!" He said pointing to his winnings.

"Second place!" Roulette said moving them along. Justice and Regal turned to him hungrily. "Is Justice with ninety four confirmed kills." Justice shot out of his chair.

"This is an outrage! I demand a recount!"

"The bodies are over the wall already! What do you want me to do? Open the gate and count?" Roulette asked as he loosened his collar. "Besides, a sword cut is a sword cut, what the hell difference does it make? Nobody can tell the difference! You want to make sure things get counted correctly, you got to have a spotter. Regal had Ten Thumbs, Bruiser had me."

"This is so not Justice," The mercenary pouted as he folded his arms over his chest.

"What the hell?" Roulette looked at his notes. The table looked to him. "Justice, you bet on yourself to get second anyway. Why you complaining? Here's your three hundred gold coins." Ten Thumbs cringed at the exchange change.

"Well of course!" Justice said sheepishly. "I mean, I have to give the others a sporting chance. It's the just thing to do!" The table groaned.

"This makes Regal first place with...five hundred and ninety nine? Is that really true Ten Thumbs?" The boy nodded. "Uh...okay. Here's your gold coins." Regal took the pouch grinning.

"Hah, you were all fools to challenge a demon." He looked inside the bag.

"It's all there! Don't insult me!" Roulette warned. Stitches placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Deal out the cards. I may want to call it an early night." He yawned again looking at his pocket watch.

"Say, I've been meaning to ask this of you brothers," Justice spoke up lifting a hand to his chin. "I seem to be missing my poker winnings. Do you know what happened to them?"

"You donated them to us," Roulette said casually. In truth, when Justice passed out Roulette was the first to divide his winnings.

"It was very noble of you," Stitches added.

"The just thing to do," Regal mumbled.

"You're an inspiration to all of us," Bruiser added. Buttercups only laughed as he looked to his cards.

"Ah, that's right," Justice said cocking his head to the side. "Now I remember."

[Disillusioned]

Five days later...

The dark of night covered Fort Caliben, and all of Emprea for that matter. The stars twinkled in the sky, and if one were to look down upon Emprea, one would see the flames of war engulf the country. Fort Caliben was no exception.

Troy arced his blade low, and then in one smooth motion brought it upwards. It caught the Carthage solider off-guard, and soon enough the man lay dead. Torches lit the courtyard, and soldier after soldier poured over the fort’s walls.

“A night attack. Should have seen it coming,” Troy muttered as he glanced about the fort. His mercenaries fought hard, but Carthage swarmed like insects. It was only a matter of time before they were overwhelmed. Even now, Troy could see Regal slay two men, only to have another five rush him.

“Stupid insects! Die on my blade!” Regal screamed as he stabbed his blade low and into a man’s gut. The red life blood of the soldier poured out as Regal yanked out his blade and twirled it about. Troy dashed over to help him.

“Ah, Troy! Been awhile since I’ve seen you fight! You haven’t gotten rusty spending all that time with Noel have you?” Regal asked as he parried a blow and leapt back. Instantly Troy dashed forward, and brought down the man with one swift stroke of his blade.

“Apparently not,” Regal muttered as Troy step sided an attack, and countered with a stab to his attacker’s knee. The man lurched forward ,and Regal dashed over and beheaded the man in one fell swoop. The two soldiers left hesitated as Troy and Regal stared them down, which gave Justice enough time to arrive and tackle one.

“Fear not my worthy foe! I would never sully my honor by killing you from behind!” Justice shouted as the man kicked him away. Instantly the Carthage soldier was up, and the man delivered a harsh blow to Justice’s side. The Carthage soldier would have followed up, but Regal (who lacked Justice’s sense of honor) drove his blade into the man’s neck.

“And I would never sully my honor by allowing you to steal my kill!” Regal spat as he coolly walked oer to Troy. In response, Justice picked up a Carthage sword and flung it into a nearby enemy. Regal’s face turned red as Ten-Thumbs ran up to the group.

“Preparations are set Troy,” The child muttered, not to Troy but rather to Regal. And the child didn’t mutter as so much as whisper softly into Regal’s right eye. Troy ignored Regal’s yelps, and ran over to Noel, who frantically ducked a Carthage spear. Troy prepared to attack her enemy, but instead two small bolts fletched with green and teal feathers sailed into the man’s neck. Troy looked about, and saw a mercenary upon one of the fort’s buildings.

He could not make out the man’s face nor his features. All he could see was the man’s long black cloak that flowed about him; obscuring his features even more. He did however notice the small crossbow the man held in his right hand. With rapid speed the mercenary reloaded the weapon, and fired off another bolt into a Carthage soldier. Troy raised his blade in salute to the mercenary, who returned the gesture with a raise of his small crossbow. The man then vanished, although Troy noticed a slight limp in the man‘s sprint.

“Who was that?” Noel asked, faint of breath. She wore her armor and clutched her spear tightly. Once again she had insisted to be in the fight, and rather than worry about her doing something reckless, Troy instead asked her to stay near him so he could protect her if need be. It was a request Noel had accepted all to eagerly.

“A mercenary, not sure which one. I cannot know them all I suppose. How are you holding up?” Troy asked sincerely. Noel smiled back at him and hefted her spear.

“Great! How’s the wall?”

“Terrible. It will be overrun any moment.”

Noel’s only response to that was to sob. That sob soon turned into full-fledged tears as Regal shouted for Troy to “stop spending time with Tiny-Tits” and “start looking for other women with bigger boobs that didn‘t stink.” Troy just sighed and shook his head. Noel had still yet to entirely wash away the foul smell from her previous adventure.

“Regal you jerk! Why do you always have to wreck the moment?” Noel pouted as Troy clucked his tongue and ignored her. One by one the mercenaries had begun to fall back as his orders were relayed. Fort Caliben was well-built; not only did it have all the requirements of a small city (it once had a small civilian population), but it also had two walls rather than one surronding it. The first wall only contained a now crowded courtyard. It was the second inner wall that protected all the actual buildings.

The more he thought about it, the less he liked it. Caliben was well built, as solid as any other fort Troy had ever seen. How then did Carthage manage to target the command room and slay all the officers in one move? At first he had chalked it up to a lucky siege weapon (Carthage had now begun to regularly hurl boulders as well as larger bombs by the use of catapult), but something just didn’t sit well with him. He had no time to ponder, however.

“Noel. We should fall back,” Troy muttered as he brought up his sword and began to move. Noel, who still sobbed softly at Regal’s words, shook her head.

“What? But I can fight! Really! You said I could fight!” She whined as another Carthage soldier attacked her. She screamed, but managed to fend of the blow with her spear. As the Carthage soldier was occupied with Noel, it was a simple matter for Troy to approach him, and sever the man’s neck. Noel quickly cringed as a bit of blood sprayed on her.

“It’s not a matter of fighting! It’s part of the plan!” Troy shouted over the sounds of battle. Noel instantly brightened up.

“Oh duh! I remember now!” Noel said, much like a teenager in high school. Troy then remembered she was only eighteen, and could very well be in high school if she had not been forced into the military by her parents. He shook his head softly as Noel bellowed out an order.

“EMPREA! BEGIN OPERATION NIGHTLIGHT!” Noel screamed as Troy’s eyes went wide. Instantly he dashed forward and sheathed his sword in one smooth motion. With his next motion he scooped Noel up with his good arm, and began a mad dash towards the inner wall.

“You fool! You were suppose to order the retreat first! And I'm still not sure why I let you name the plan!” Troy screamed as a Carthage arrow scraped his leg. It did no serious damage, but it did cause him to stumble and fall to the ground with Noel.

“What’s the difference?” Noel screamed as several torches were flung into the air. Troy glanced about, and thanked the powers that be that his mercenaries had already fallen back. He himself was only ten feet or so away from the safety of the inner wall, but he knew he could not cover that distance in the amount of time it would take the torches to reach the ground.

“You’ll see soon enough,” Troy muttered as he grabbed his cape and flung it over Noel and himself. He huddled to the ground with her, who was a bit surprised, but did not really mind for Troy held her tight. The torches then hit the barrels of explosives Troy had placed about the courtyard ,and soon enough the first wall (as well as most of the courtyard and the Carthage army) was rocked with explosions. Noel let out a scream and clung to Troy for dear life as earth was upturned and chunks of stone flew about. Troy’s good arm was pounded with debris he could not see as he covered himself and Noel with his cape.

“I don’t wanna die in an explosion! I don’t wanna die in an explosion!” Noel whined as another piece of rock hammered against Troy who sheltered her.

“You are not going to die! We are close enough to the inner wall that most of the damage should-” Troy didn’t manage to finish his sentence as a large piece of the wall, sent into the air via explosion, smashed into him. Both he and Noel rolled with the impact across the ground.

As the explosion died down, Troy found himself a mere five feet or so from the inner wall. He also found himself on his back with Noel on top of him.

“Gee. I think it all worked out rather well!” Noel giggled as she sat up on Troy’s stomach with a leg on either side of him.

“Noel.”

“Yes Troy?”

“Under no circumstances are you allowed to tell anyone that you got to straddle me.”

“Awww, you’re such a killjoy Troy!”

[Unfulfilled]

"No consideration!" Roulette barked as he ran back into the inner wall with Bruiser, Justice, and Regal behind him. "I had a high straight flush! HIGH STRAIGHT FLUSH!" He bellowed entering into the inner tavern where mercenaries were gathering. The outer walls were overflowing with Carthage soldiers, orders given by the line officers who led them. Each warrior cried out a war chant as they prepared to charge.

Then they exploded.

Like a celebration of a nations ancient history the walls went up in a cascade of debris and smoke, killing off almost the entire Carthage offensive. Soldiers wailed in agony as they burned to death, others were silenced as boulders and rocks smashed them into the ground. The few that had managed to survive were unable to bear the brunt of the sudden counter charge by the Emprean Soldiers.

"What a waste," Regal muttered.

"Such a great loss of life," Buttercups said gently walking next to Regal looking at the wan ton destruction. "I am surprised you care." He looked to Regal with an inquisitive eye.

"I always care. Do you know how many kills I could have gotten if Troy would've kept me on the wall? Dammit I bet Karel Raven could of held the wall by himself. So many steps backwards...what a waste." He turned walking somberly over to the commanders hall.

Buttercups looked to Regal as he lumbered away in a sunken depression. He hadn't noticed Stitches moving next to him and only when he the medic looked to his wounded arm did he greet him.

"Hello," Stitches said politely. "I am sorry not to have seen you sooner." Buttercups smiled bending lower so Stitches didn't have to lift on his toes. He pulled a broken arrow out of the wound and immediately placed a cloth upon it. "Not even a flinch," Stitches whispered. "Just what is the man behind the Buttercups?" They laughed gently as he applied healing tonic to the open wound.

"I am trained in the ways of a monk. Warfare is not my idea of a good time."

"How did you get involved in this group to begin with?" Buttercups winced as he began to tend to the wound in earnest. "Ah, there's the reality of pain."

"I am out on a spiritual journey. I am trying to find my balance in my being in relations to the celestial order." Stitches gave him a wry look. "Or in simpler terms, I'm trying to find enlightenment."

"Got a history with that?" Stitches pulled out his needle and thread. "Talking will help ignore the pain."

"Like Regal I once sought the thrill of battle. Well my mouth got me into a mess of trouble with an Akashiman monk. I pushed, he didn't flinch. I punched, he smiled lightly. I threatened to kill him, I was on my back faster than I could blink. He looked to me with such sadness that I," Buttercups winced again in pain as Stitches finished snipping the thread and tying it off. "That I asked him why he took pity on a battle hungry fool like me." Buttercups smiled as he shook Stitches hand.

"What was his answer?"

"He never answered it. He instead offered me his hand and told me that if I have the patience to learn he will teach me all he knows until I am ready to seek that answer myself."

"The celestial balance," Stitches said smiling softly. "I take it Regal's been giving you quite the flashback to your younger days." The giant of a man nodded solemnly.

"I see why the monk took pity on me. To look at such a life destroy itself day in and day out is...so sad." Stitches clapped him on the back of the shoulder.

"That still doesn't explain why you entered into the mercenary brawl."

"Ah!" Buttercups nodded. "Ten Thumbs asked me to help him." Stitches laughed softly.

"I must be going Buttercups." He shook his hand one last time. "I have work to do." Buttercups nodded once as he watched him go.

Fort Caliben had survived yet another attack, but with the outer wall destroyed it was now no longer a matter of how the mercenaries would repel the next wave, but when the mercenaries would fall to it.

Buttercups looked up to the sky and wondered what the celestial order had in store for them.

[Disillusioned]

"Not the best day for the forces of Emprea," Troy muttered wearily as he sat down on the chair at his desk. His body was sore from the pieces of the fort that had rained against him when he had sheltered Noel (who had yet to stop thanking him), and there was no remedy for that pain save sleep. But he could not sleep, at least not yet. He still had to work out a plan for tomorrow's defense.

With his good hand Troy began to go through the papers before him, reports of losses and used up supplies along with movements of the enemy. Troy clucked his tongue as he read over the reports. If he had a bigger army he would have perhaps tried to sally forth and strike at the enemy, but his forces were just too small. One wrong move, one error, and Fort Caliben would be doomed. How the higher-ups of Emprea had decided that the fort was to attack the Carthage flank was beyond Troy.

Perhaps Emprea's generals hadn't considered that Carthage might notice the fort's position? Was Emprea run by fools, or did they just not expect Carthage to have any tactical skill? Carthage’s nickname was the “Blood-Stained Kingdom” and it did not pay to take such a foe lightly.

Such things did not matter. Whatever plans Emprea had put into place obviously hadn’t taken into consideration that Carthage might send a force to destroy Fort Caliben before it became a problem. What mattered now was the survival of the fort. He had to wear Carthage down, make them pay for each life they took, and when the time was right then he could strike. But not yet.

Troy was so immersed in his work that he barely noticed Stitches when the medic came in to check on Troy’s wounds. Stitches said little and only patched up his wounds while Troy himself tossed various papers about and scribbled notes for himself wherever he could find space on the page. It was only after the medic had finished and was about to leave did Troy notice something was amiss.

“Stitches,” Troy said softly. The mercenary turned to look at him with tired eyes. No surprise there, each man in the fort must have been rather tired at the moment. Yet Troy saw more in the mercenary’s tired brown eyes. He saw concern and worry. Again, not something that was too uncommon at the current moment, yet he felt compelled to say something.

“Is something wrong? You’re not your usual self. I was expecting some glib remark. At the very least you could tell me how Regal is taking coming in second to Justice in tonight’s competition,” Troy asked as he set down his pencil and pushed the papers before him aside. One of the first lesson he learned at the academy was that a good commander always made a little time for those he commanded.

“Furiously upset, although he did have a point of contention about whether or not explosives counted for kills. Justice was firm in his belief that the ‘fires of justice which rained down from the floor’ should count as kills if he placed the barrel of explosives himself. Regal disagreed.”

Troy blinked once.

“Rained down like fire from the floor? I was under the impression that rain came from, well, above,” Troy said as he leaned back in his chair.

“His words, not mine," Stitches said with a sigh. Troy gave him a somewhat sympathetic look and Stitches took it as a cue for him to tell Troy what bothered him. He had to admire that in a man; able to ask a question without actually asking a question.

“I’m worried about Spooks,” Stitches said with a frown as he sat down across from Troy, who motioned for him to continue. “I think he’s hurt.”

“I am going to just assume you haven’t actually seen the man,” Troy asked and received a nod for his troubles. “Then, how do you know he is hurt?”

“Just a hunch, nothing more. The way he writes changes when he is in pain. More rushed, less composed. Things you notice after a while I suppose,” Stitches responded. Such a statement only aroused Troy’s curiosity further.

“Must be hard traveling with a man you’ve never seen,” He said off-handedly. Stitches shook his head.

“It was at first, but he has become some sort of guardian angel. I wasn’t always a wandering doctor you know,” Stitches said as he leaned back in his chair. Troy remained silent and let the man tell his story.

“Suffice to say I got into a bit of trouble during my youth. The type of trouble you do not stick around for,” Stitches began. Troy wanted to ask just what type of trouble he had got himself into, but the doctor moved right along with his story. It was clear he would not converse about what he did.

“So I became a bit of a wanderer. Took up doctoring as a trade, figured it was a good way to help people, and in a weird sort of way atone for my sins without ever really facing them,” Troy smiled sadly as the man talked.

“I can understand that. Wanting to atone for your sins but not wanting to face them,” Troy said with what would pass as a sympathetic smile. Stitches smiled at him in turn.

“It wasn’t easy. I found it very hard to change. Along the way I met Bruiser and Roulette. We aren’t exactly similar, but there are times where muscle is needed, and Bruiser fit that roll nicely. Roulette, as you already know, has a way with words, and always manages to bring in enough to survive on. And with two men like that, a doctor is a handy thing to have around.”

Troy nodded and walked over to a nearby desk. Noel, in kindness for saving her, had made him some tea. He poured a bit and passed the cup to Stitches, then poured another cup for himself. The tea was actually quite exquisite.

Troy did his best to ignore Noel when she added “and for letting me be on top” among the reasons she had made him the tea.

“But from the beginning I always had someone watching over me. A note here and there. A sign fixed just before I arrived. A room paid for when I was out of money. A bit of extra money in my pocket, a bit of food when I was hungry,” Stitches said as he sipped his tea. He sighed contently as the flavor of the brew soothed his tired body.

“You either have an obsessive stalker following you, or someone who thinks of you quite dearly,” Troy muttered as he too sipped at the tea and said a silent “thank-you” to Noel for the drink.

“Believe me, I was very concerned at first. But after a time I began to feel as if I knew this person. As if he was someone close to me, but eternally dancing out of my reach. I do wish I knew who he was, but I am more concerned about his wounds.”

“Well, what would you usually do under these circumstances?”

“Leave out a bit of medical supplies for him. Not exactly an option in a fort filled with mercenaries who would happily pocket it for themselves,” Stitches said sourly. “Can’t exactly leave a note saying where to find the either.”

Troy thought for a moment. Stitches, despite whatever he had done, was obviously a good man. It was clear that this good man was worried about someone who, although it was a face never seen, had watched over him from the shadows. Troy frowned and looked at the clock on the wall. He could spare a bit of time.

“Spooks I assume is always watching over you or one of your friends?” Troy asked the mercenary. Stitches only shrugged.

“I can only assume so. He always seems to be around one of us long enough to hear where we will be.”

“Then give me a bag of supplies and head for the bar. Take a break, you need it,” Troy ordered as Stitches chuckled and rose.

“You don’t look so great yourself sir.”

“And yet the planning, which the lot of you so kindly forced upon me, cannot wait. Still, I shall take the good doctor’s advice. Noel wanted me to swing by her room anyway when I had time,” He responded with just a hint of sarcasm. Stitches opened his mouth to retort, but Troy just held up a finger.

“No Noel jokes, please. I am far too tired after tonight’s previous events.

“Strange that. The woman is suppose to do most of the work when she’s on top.”

*~*~*~*~

“My comrade! Surely you admit that the Carthage soldier died?” Justice bellowed out.

“But not by the sword!” Regal bellowed back.

“So if I were to toss a man off the wall, delivering a foul Carthage evil-doing bastard to his death, that would not count?”

Regal grudgingly agreed it would, for he had scored several kills by that method.

“Then death by a fire of JUSTICE should surely count for...me. Justice,” Shouted Justice as he triumphantly sat back down. Troy ignored whatever retort Regal had and walked over to Roulette, who as usual was busy taking bets.

“I hear you’ll take any bet as long as you can rig it. Is this true?” Troy asked as he walked up to the table where Roulette sat at.

“Hey now! As I said before, this is a legitimate illegal gambling operation! Why do you ask?” The mercenary asked as Troy mentally noted that the man had completely avoided his question.

“I would like to place a bet. This bag shall be gone from my office within say, two hours?” Troy said as he held up the bag for all to see. He hoped he held it high enough.

“How much are you betting?” Roulette asked softly as he appraised the situation.

“One hundred gold coins,” Troy said as he reached into his pocket and tossed the bag on the table.

“You of course will be nowhere near the office. We who make the bets cannot be around to change the game,” Roulette said softly. Troy didn’t believe for a minute the man actually practiced what he preached, but he agreed anyway.

“You have yourself a bet then, Commander,” Roulette said with a chuckle. Troy smiled his usual sad smile at the man. He would only be two hours behind in his work by the time he got back. Hmph. I will be lucky if I can get away from Noel in two hours. He thought as he turned around.

“Regal. Bruiser. You two are on guard duty. The Commander’s Office. Lot of important information in there after all. Don’t want spies snooping around, right?” Roulette added in right before he left. Troy frowned for a moment and then looked at both Bruiser and Regal.

“Agreed,” Was all Troy said with another sad smile.

Three hours later (Noel had been quite persistent that he stay a bit longer to try her cooking) he walked into his office. It was a complete and utter wreck, but the bag of supplies was gone, and a small note was pinned to the wall. He lit a candle and read the letter to himself.

Thanks.
-Spooks

Troy smiled, rubbed his pleasantly full stomach, picked up a chair, straightened up the desk, and got back to work.

[Unfulfilled]

Mercenaries were a strange creature. Though none of them seemed to have the values of a normal human being, long since abandoning modesty and decency for the guarantee of a hot meal and a place to rest, a civil code among them did still seem to exist. First code was you never took another mercenaries girlfriend; the fact he managed to bag one was a miracle upon itself. Second code was no matter the circumstances the groin shot was always a last ditch option. Third code was you never squelch on a bet. The final code above all others was never cheat on a bet either. Of course, there was a hidden fifth code, and that was if you could cheat without being caught you damn well did so!

But one thing was sacred, even amongst a den of scum like those at Fort Caliben. That was the scared kill count. No man on earth valued the holy kill count above others than Regal Burnswidth, and today he was fighting for his beliefs in the code.

“What you are failing to realize is the idiocy of your kill count! I mean, come on!” Regal shouted in Justice’s face. “You get to count all the kills for the destruction of the walls because it seemed Just?” Justice lifted a solitary finger, wagging it at Regal.

“A sore loser would never understand the virtues and principles behind JUSTICE!” He roared. Regal slapped his face in anger before he looked to Troy. He was talking with Roulette, handing him some bag along with a lot of serious cash. He decided to dwell on that later.

“You don’t get those kills!” Regal continued sipping some ale and pointing to Troy. “It wasn’t your idea, so you don’t get to count it!”

“What do you mean by that?” Justice cried in shock.

“Sure, you placed a few explosives, but who’s idea was it to plant them in the first place? Noel’s?” Regal sassed. “Your taking the credit for the kills that rightly belong to Troy!”

“Ah ha!” Justice chimed. “I concede the point.” he finished.

“Told ya you’d see it my way!” Regal said beaming proudly to himself. Justice nodded.

“Yes, normally you would be right.” Justice continued nodding his head as he grew more and more confident he was on the right track in life.

“See, knew you would…“ Regal muttered slyly before taking a sip. Immediately he thought about what Justice said and spit it all over poor Ten Thumbs, who shrugged not seeming to mind as he wiped himself with a napkin. “Wait what? What do you mean normally I would be right? I am right!” Justice only clucked his tongue wagging his finger again.

“You see, Troy wishes to be like me, a hero fighting for the cause of JUSTICE! He wishes to stick his mighty chest out and roar like a lion and fly from his birdcage singing the glory of JUSTICE!” The mercenary lifted his fist each time he said the word Justice, roaring it over the noise of the crowd. He then pointed to Troy with an accusing finger, a look of lust in his eyes as he let a solitary tear drip down his face.

“That is why I innately knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that this plan he created was in honor of me!” He said looking down in solemn respect to the depressed knight. “And also why all those kills rightly belong to me!” He said rapidly straightening up and folding his arms over his chest looking to Regal.

Ten Thumbs and the Demon of Swords looked to Justice with wide eyes filled in terror. They both turned to each other, confused as hell to what they just witnessed and heard. At last Bruiser walked in to break the silence as he lifted Regal by his coat.

“Come on, Shorty. Roulette needs us.” Regal fought off the grip before he stopped glaring at Justice.

“THIS ISN’T OVER!” He cried back before turning and approaching the gambler. “What?”

A bag was tossed into Regal’s hand, a large red cross over the front of it. Brusier poked a finger inside to see if something special was inside as Roulette went over the mission details. Regal looked over to Bruiser.

“NO, NO!” Roulette said taking a piece of paper and rolling it up quickly. Within seconds he started to push the two apart from each other as they sized the other up. “STOP IT YOU TWO!” He shouted hitting them both on the nose. Mercenaries began to appear near the betting pool as they saw the new bet placed on the board. Roulette turned quickly getting the bets in.

“That’s right everyone, get a cut of the action! If this bag remains in the main office for two hours you could all be very rich courtesy our esteemed and venerable Troy Priam!” Mercenaries began slamming gold down upon the table as Regal and Bruiser looked to the bag and then Roulette.

“Hey, can we bet?” Bruiser asked popping his knuckles. Roulette nodded evilly.

“If it means you two work together, sure, why not?” Both men placed a fifty gold bet, the highest of anyone thus yet. Stitches appeared with Buttercups looking up at the new bet on the board and groaned.

“Why has nobody placed a bet with Troy? Is everyone positive that it won’t happen?” He whispered. Ten Thumbs dropped in fifteen gold coins before turning to the good doctor.

“Come on, it’s Regal AND Bruiser. Nobodies getting inside,” He squeaked in excitement. Justice stepped forward and dropped in a twenty gold pouch.

“I think this bag will be taken from under their noses by the VIRTUE OF JUSTICE!” Roulette rubbed his ear and wiped his face.

“Not so loud, and not all over my face.” He muttered. He took the coin pouch and looked to Justice. “So who exactly qualifies for the virtue of justice?” he smiled.

“Me of course!” Justice said happily. Regal turned to Bruiser.

“Want to just, I dunno, take care of this problem right here?” The Demon of Swords offered. Bruiser nodded as the two men jumped Justice, picked him up and placed him on a chair, tying him up and holding him down as the last knot took effect. Mercenaries cheered as Roulette gagged the virtuous mercenary.

“ONE DOWN!” He shouted. “Now go and protect that bag with your lives!” He ordered happily as the mercenaries all cheered for them to succeed.

~*~*~

High atop the fort on one of the last few towers stood a dark silhouette. It peered into the room with a personal telescope, a cross bow laid on it’s side against the wall with a quiver of Green and Teal fletched arrows. It watched the two in the room, cursing lightly as it winced in pain. A lucky arrow had grazed the sentinel in the leg and the usual method of taking care of it was stripped away when the medicine bag was dropped in the battle all the way down to the floor below where it had exploded in its haste to escape.

Spooks looked up to the moon with a curious eye, looking around the fort for signs of anybody watching, and with quick movements the mercenary lifted up its weapon and placed it upon its back moving down the stairs to a window. Setting up quickly it placed the telescope upon the tip of the Crossbow on a little mount specially designed to hold it. Aiming carefully Spooks aimed the weapon right at Regal’s face. With a silent twang noise the arrow was loosed.

~*~*~

“Well,” Regal said summing up his feelings. “I’m bored.” He placed his hands over his head as he sat in Noel’s chair resting his feet on the table. Bruiser sat looking at the bag, his eyes never leaving it as he began to sweat, so intense was his stare. Regal gave him a curious eye before going back to resting.

The sound of glass shattering broke the two out of their separate worlds as the arrow knocked over the lantern by the central table, blacking out the room. Bruiser shouted like a girl as Regal fell out of his seat cursing loudly as the two men screamed at the slightest movement.

“Don’t even think about the bag, buddy!” Regal snarled as he gripped something fleshy.

“Ah ha! Thought you could hold my arm, eh! Well eat my fist!” He connected with a nose of some sort.

“AH SHIT BRUISER YOU PUNCHED ME YOU IDIOT!” Regal shouted grabbing nose.

“There he goes! I got him!” Bruiser said chasing a moving figure.

Regal ran there first, tackling down the mighty behemoth.

“WHAT THE HELL YOU TACKLING ME FOR?” Bruiser let his fists fly as Regal parried his onslaught backing away.

The two men stood in the room silently, both looking around carefully for signs of an intruder. At last Regal started to move again, feeling around in the dark for something to light. He stumbled upon the lantern and fixed it, lighting the candle with a match book he found not far away. When light returned they both looked to each other, then to the bag.

“Hey, it’s still there!” Bruiser said in amazement. Regal stepped forward and lifted it up placing it across his chest. “What did you do that for?”

“It’s called strategy. If one of us wear it then the culprit will have to get through that person to take it.” Bruiser nodded before he pointed to Regal.

“So why you?” Regal rolled his eyes.

“Because I am the Demon of Swords. Your just…Bruiser. Which sounds cooler to you?”

“Bruiser.”

“And this is why you never get invited to the strategy meetings captain dumbass!” The larger mercenary stepped forward.

“I got invited to your mother’s last night,” He said darkly. “Told me you should be nice to your father, cause she called me daddy all night long!” Regal snorted stepping forward slamming the bag on the table.

“Ha! My mother’s dead!” He countered.

“That explains why she didn’t move much while I grabbed your sisters ass!”

“Your mother didn’t complain when I took her around the back of the Grape Garden for the Two Buck Tuesday special!” Regal countered, seething as the two glared at each other.

“Oh yeah!” Bruiser said, stepping forward.

“YEAH!” Regal said stepping in his face, both men heated and angry. “Your mom gave tricks for free to all the local boys so she could have another baby that would be smarter than you! To bad she’s so dumb she ended up sleeping with a DOG!” He shouted. “Then again, not far from your true father, now is that?”

Both men were soon stuck in a brawl.

~*~*~

Spooks pulled the last nail out of the board to the ceiling, looking down upon the two idiots fighting. Looking for the bag, the mercenary spied it on the table, just resting there for it to grab. The shifty mercenary lifted up a hook placing it upon its back as it checked one last time to make sure the rope was ready.

Entering the room slowly from the ceiling Spooks descended down one inch at a time so not to cause sudden movement. Spooks was positive that if caught the other two mercenaries would easily forget their idiot fight and take the sniper down.

Slowly the bag inched closer, and with a sweat filled face the rope continued to lower as Spooks kept an eye on the fight. The two tore into each other like savage animals, both insulting the other’s mother as fists flew into face. Spooks shook his head, muttering about how dumb they were when the rope slid in between the leather gloves the mercenary wore. Spooks nearly toppled until the mercenary managed to grab the rope, pulling tightly. Its stomach churned, eyes glossed over as the pain nearly made him cry out in alarm. Next to the shadowed figure was the bag within arms reach. Quickly reaching out for it Spooks was about to claim its prize.

“OVER A TABLE!” Bruiser shouted as a wild haymaker knocked the bag to the back of the room. Without even thinking Spooks cut the rope and fell to the floor as Regal and Bruiser stopped their fight. The mercenary crawled under the table and made a move for the bag when Regal snatched it up dropping it on the table. Bruiser weakly stood up and Spooks looked to both men’s feet.

“Hey…someone is in here,” Bruiser whispered.

“Gee captain dumbass, was the rope your hint, or the hole in the ceiling? I’m grabbing the bag.” Regal scoffed as he picked it up. Spooks’ eyes went wide cursing the goddess of luck. The Bag was ripped from Regal as his feet shuffled violently forward.

“I get to hold it, you held it last time.” Regal snatched it back and Bruiser tried to rip it from him.

Are you kidding me? Spooks thought in astonishment. You clowns just admitted that there was someone in the room and your still…not my concern. Got to get the bag or Troy’s bet is wasted.

The bag dropped right before Spooks as the two grappled again, cursing as they hit the wall. The night crawler heard the grunts of several gut punches and decided to make its move. Rolling out and grabbing the bag in one motion the mercenary turned and ran like the wind looking back.

Spooks stopped, looked as the two continued to argue and fight and shrugged walking over, grabbed a pen, and wrote a little note before causally walking out. Before anyone was the wiser Spooks returned to the shadows, soon out of sight forever.

~*~*~

“Times up and…WHAT THE HELL?” Roulette shouted as Stitches and Ten Thumbs entered behind them. To say the room was a mess could have been the biggest understatement of the year. Regal and Bruiser both were on the floor, locking the other in a strange human pretzel choke hold.

Stitches broke down laughing wildly as Roulette and Ten Thumbs cried the loss of their wages. The bag was missing, the two guards were looking up with a sudden realization they just screwed up something fierce and Roulette was counting to ten to keep himself from exploding.

“So…I know what you're thinking…” Regal started.

The string of curse words from Roulette's mouth was to say the least, epic.

[Disillusioned]

"Roulette, you look upset," Troy muttered as he leaned back against his chair. The room was still a mess, but at least he had cleared the table of various debris. Well, he and Noel had.

"Your winnings," Was all the gambler said as he dropped a rather large bag of gold onto the table Troy sat at. Regal and Bruiser looked on enviously in the background.

"I only bet a hundred gold..." Troy began as he looked through the bag. There was at least three hundred coins, possibly even four hundred coins, inside the bag.

"Yes, well, the odds were not in your favor."

"Then I imagine you made a killing Roulette. Why so glum?"

"Because I am now the most hated man in all of Fort Caliben."

It was true too. There wasn't a mercenary that didn't mutter foul words at Roulette as he passed, and no small number of times had Roulette ducked behind a corner to avoid a person out for his blood. He had successfully swindled almost every mercenary, and was now learning the price of his chosen trade.

“Troy! We have a problem!” Noel yelped as she rushed pass Bruiser and Regal who quickly pulled their heads back and hid. Apparently they thought they were being sneaky. Suffice to say their stealth skills were equivalent to that of a beached whale.

“Carthage?” Troy muttered as he quickly stood up and reached for his sword. The Carthage army had held off all attacks since the last battle, but that would not last indefinitely.

“What? Oh no, they haven’t moved an inch since Operation Nightlight!” Noel responded as Troy heard a loud laugh from nearby.

“What kind of a stupid name is that for an operation?” Regal’s voice cried out.

“It’s a good one!” Noel shouted back at the top of her lungs.

“Will you please get out from under that desk Roulette? And you may as well give up on hiding you two. I can see Bruiser‘s foot,” Troy said with an irritated look. Roulette let out a pathetic chuckle as he crawled out from his hiding place, while Bruiser and Regal walked in with sheepish looks on their faces.

“Now then. What is wrong Noel?” Troy asked while Regal punched Bruiser on the shoulder.

“Well, I was on my way here to talk to you and I passed by some mercenaries,” Noel began. Regal quickly interrupted.

“Troy is not responsible for any acts concerning your lack of breasts,” The Demon of Swords quickly added in. This made Noel yelp rather loudly.

“I don’t think she saw your drawing yet,” Bruiser whispered to Regal. That made the man frown. He had posted a rather vulgar drawing of Noel for all to see down a nearby corridor.

“If we could get to the point...” Troy said as he motioned with his good hand for the group to speed things up.

“Oh, right. I made you chicken!” Noel said as happy as could be as she laid a plate onto Troy’s desk. He failed to see what that had to do with anything, but he sat down to eat anyway. Bruiser and Regal hovered over Troy as Roulette walked about nervously.

“Hey! That actually smells good!” Bruiser exclaimed.

“It is delicious,” Troy responded as he took a bite out the meal and gave Noel a grateful look. She quickly pulled over a chair and leaned against Troy as he ate, much to his dismay. He allowed it, however, since the chicken was really, really, really good.

“Hey, so, Troy. Think I could just have that little piece there?” Regal said as he reached towards the end of the chicken. Troy quickly swatted away the man's hand.

“Okay. How about some of those mash potatoes?” Regal asked as he reached for the other side of the plate. He received a fork in his hand for his troubles. However, the fork did have a bit of food on it which was left on Regal’s hands, so the Sword Demon considered it a victory.

“Am I the only one who remembers that she came in here about a problem” Roulette exclaimed in a rather girlish voice. Noel, who until this point had been watching Troy eat intently, refocused her attention to the matter at hand.

“Oh! Oh right! Well, I was on the way here and...Regal. Are you eating your hand?” Noel asked as she leaned over the desk where Regal sat, his tongue slobbered over his palm.

“Good God Troy! I mean, I had my doubts as to why you were nailing that boobless chick, but MAN! This food adds a whole other meaning to the words ’now go may make me a sandwich.’ Delicious! I detect a hint of cilantro as well. CULINARY GENIUS!” Regal shouted as he gnawed on his finger to capture the last bits of food there.

“Well, I knew that Troy likes cilantro so I decided to add a bit-” Noel began to explain as there was a knock on the door. Puzzled (at how Noel knew he liked cilantro, not at the knock) Troy asked Regal to get the door. Still licking his fingers and ranting about the perfect amount of spices used on the chicken, Regal opened the door.

Justice then struck Regal square in the jaw.

“Take that you foul evil-doer! How does the wrath of JUST...oh. Sorry Regal,” Justice said as Regal grabbed him by the throat.

“I told you one chance! One chance to knock me out! You failed. I’m not even sure why you punched me, but I must follow through with what I promised,” Regal muttered as he drew his hand back.

“You are the Sword Demon. I believe that could qualify as an evil-doer,” Troy threw out as he took another bite of his meal.

“Ah. Good point,” Regal said with a nod.

“And you are quite foul,” Noel spat at him.

“...Also true.” Was Regal’s only response.

“That being said, why did you punch Regal?” Troy asked as Noel wiped his chin with a napkin. Regal quickly barked for Noel to “stop babying Troy and make me some chicken.” Noel did not comply.

“Well, you see my dear friend, quite a few mercenaries were upset at a certain SOMEONE, and I could not refuse their pleas of help,” Everyone stare at Justice for a few moments. The man jerked his thumb behind him.

“We want Roulette,” Justice muttered as no less than seven mercenaries appeared behind him.

“Regal! Bruiser! I’ll give you twenty gold if you protect me!” Roulette squealed as he dove for cover. Bruiser yanked Roulette back onto his feet.

“Hell no. We lost fifty gold on your stupid bet,” Bruiser shouted.

“Yeah. Actually, I think I’m going to side with these guys. After I punch Justice,” Regal then proceeded to punch Justice.

“Commander!” Roulette yelped. Troy just let out a long sigh.

“Take it outside," Was all Troy said.

The mercenaries complied with the utmost respect.

Two hours later...

It still bothered him. Don’t want spies snooping around. That was what Roulette had said when Troy had made his bet. As he walked through the wreckage where all of the Emprean commanders, save for Noel, had died he mulled over those words.

“The more I think about it, the less I like it. Not that I liked it to begin with,” Troy said to himself as he surveyed the scene. The Empreans had done little to clean up the mess; the fort’s defense were of far more importance. As such, burned tables and destroyed furniture lay strewn about the area. The only things that had been removed were the corpses.

How did Carthage know where all the officers would be? Even then, for such an accurate strike to occur, the Carthage army would need an amazing amount of luck. Something was definitely wrong. Not that things often went right in war, but one of Troy’s old teachers had told him “the winner in war is the side who makes the least mistakes.” Troy decided it was time to figure out just how big of a mistake had been made.

“But how?” Troy asked himself as he turned over a table. He wasn’t sure what he would find there, but at least he was doing something. For the record, all he found under the burnt table was a bunch of dirt to match the rest of the area.

“Why not start there?” A hushed voice echoed throughout the ruins. Troy heard the twang of a small crossbow and soon enough a green and teal fletched bolt struck several feet away from him.

With no other ideas at the moment, Troy shrugged (as best he could with one arm anyway) and picked up a shovel that had been left behind during the scramble to search for survivors. He began to dig at the spot where the bolt had hit.

“You might want help. Digging isn’t exactly easy with one arm,” The voice came again. It was hushed and hidden. Troy couldn’t make out much of the voice except it sounded high pitched. Like a very young boy’s.

“You could give me a hand Spooks,” Troy muttered as he guessed the voice’s owner. He heard a soft laugh.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that. I prefer to work alone,” Was the voice’s response. Troy just grunted as he shoveled aside another clump of dirt.

“I see. Well then, may I ask why you protect Stitches and his friends? Are you childhood friends perhaps?” Troy asked of the voice.

“Something like that,” Was the answer.

Troy then noticed that the dirt he had been digging through was fresh, as if it had already been dug up once before. When he asked Spooks about this, silence was his only response.

An hour or so later, Troy sat down and wiped the sweat of his brow. His clothes were stained with dirt and he was tired, but he had learned something important. With a shake of his head he opened up the trap door he had uncovered and peered through it.

“Damnation,” Troy said softlyas he stood up.

“Better than salvation!” Regal joked as he walked up to where Troy stood. The Sword Demon had a few bruises on his face, but seemed no worse for the wear. “Digging yourself a way out of here?”

“Someone beat me to it. But I don’t think they left just yet. I believe I have figured out how Carthage killed all the officers,” Troy said as he tossed a bit of dirt back on the trap door to cover it up. Best to keep it secret for now.

“Except for Noel,” Regal chimed in.

“Yes. Actually, do me a favor Regal. Go tell her I need to see her. I intend to take a quick shower,” Troy responded as he glanced at his filthy clothes. “And wash these clothes.”

“Sure thing. Want to freshen up before seeing your girl. I gotcha. I still don’t approve of this relationship though,” Was Regal’s not so kind response.

“It is not a relationship Regal!” Troy spat, but the man was already gone.

[Unfulfilled]

Two hours earlier…

“Now, this isn’t exactly fair!” Roulette shouted as he dodged another incoming object. This time it was a chair. Surrounding him in the hallway was a group of ten mercenaries, all glaring at him for their loses. He had made a few quick deals, but that only gave him two mercenaries on his side; not promising odds at all.

“Shut your mouth evil doer!” Justice shouted, though he was only two feet away from Roulette.

“Hey, Justice, this isn’t, uh, erm...uh, Just! Yeah! Just!” Roulette said in a panic. “Is it not only fair that they made a bet and lost, and thus must accept their fate?” Justice cocked his head to the side as he brought a hand up to his chin, stroking the small stubble for a brief second.

“I suppose…” He admitted.

“Yeah but he swindled us! It was a sure bet he shouted!” A female mercenary cried out in outrage.

“Yes, you did swindle the whole mercenary pool. That’s not Just,” Justice grumbled while nodding to the point. Roulette’s eyes turned into solid orbs of terror. “Prepare to face Justice!” He shouted dropping into a low fighting stance.

“This is so not Justice!” Roulette screamed. “There are two mercenaries on my side, and eight on yours. Is that really all that fair?” Roulette noticed the mercenaries eyes all turned to the loudmouth mercenary.

“Why…that isn’t! I shall join your cause good doer!” Justice jumped the two feet turning and striking a very pathetic pose as he lifted his clenched fist up in triumph. “You evil doers won’t escape!”

“For the love of god, Regal, punch his lights out!” Bruiser shouted. The Demon of Swords stepped forward sizing up the mercenary. They nodded to each other, fire in Regal’s eyes, an ocean of calm in Justice’s. Tension began to grow as they looked each other down before Regal smiled a vile grin.

“Nah, I kinda like his side. Makes for a more interesting fight…” Regal said at last as he turned towards Bruiser grinning. “The fifteen of you don’t stand a chance against me,” He said in a warning tone.

“There’s only seven of us!” Ten Thumbs squeaked. “And if Regal is on their team, then I want to be on their team to!” The child mercenary moved across the two foot border and turned. Bruiser cracked his knuckles as he looked at the other mercenaries. Roulette's eyes watered to see so many mercenaries show him care.

“This is stupid. I thought we were going to fight Roulette, not the Demon of Swords. That guy is nuts. I’m out,” A mercenary said passively walking away. Two others followed him as Bruiser noticed his side got drastically smaller. Bruiser coughed lightly and pretended to stumble over to Roulette's side.

“Twenty gold, right?” He whispered. Roulette placed a small pouch in his jacket pocket. With the weight of confidence Bruiser cracked his knuckles again. “Like I said, anybody tries to touch Roulette, they got to go through me first!”

The remaining three mercenaries all turned pale white, looking to each other before Justice jumped between them all flexing his pose again. “They don’t stand a chance against the HAMMER OF JUSTICE!” He cried out, thumping his chest. “Rally brothers!” The paladin mercenary shouted pointing to Roulette. “The chance to regain our honor depends on us!” A few passing mercenaries looked at the group protecting Roulette and called out as a chain of war cries filled the air.

Regal grinned as he watched the enemy number swell again. Justice looked to them all with a proud smile. Then he looked to Roulette and did a quick head count. “Wait a moment… something’s not right.”

“Your side is bigger again,” Ten Thumbs said calmly. Justice snapped his fingers as he nodded walking forward and turning to face the tide of mercenaries.

“Nobody can harm you Roulette, so long as the flower of Justice is on the line!”

“WHOA!” Regal said hoping over the border. Swiftly Ten Thumbs followed in his wake hiding behind the gray swordsman. “Flowers? That is not the way I swing!” He shouted angrily. The two previously loyal mercenaries on Roulette’s side quickly joined with Regal, muttering about how they pitched one way, and not the other.

Bruiser looked back to Roulette. “My fee just went up if I’m going to stay.” Roulette sighed heavily as he dropped another two stacks of gold into his jacket. Nodding once he pointed to Regal’s side. “Anybody who likes boys is on that side!”

Such a silly comment, yet Mercenaries minds were like a bunch of preschoolers, and quickly the hallway became crowded as mercenaries turned the tables again moving to get to the other side in the overly crowded hall. Mercenaries who were just passing by quickly took a side, not wanting to be that particular one who was known for being the odd ball. Even the mighty Demon of Swords pushed mercenaries aside standing next to Roulette and Bruiser. A flock of female mercenaries and a few men stood on the other side.

“Hmm…still doesn’t feel Just…” Justice muttered scratching his chin. With a heavy sigh Ten Thumbs pointed to the other side. “Ah ha!” He shouted switching sides. Regal looked to his side and then cursed as he switched sides. Ten Thumbs was hot on his heels as the Demon of Swords turned looking the other women in the eyes with a wild chuckle escaping his lips.

“It’s a sausage fest over there!” He explained as the women mercenaries laughed at the men, pointing to them and whispering about their manhood. Several mercenaries tripped to switch sides again as they scrambled to be with the women.

“We all ok now?” Justice asked looking up and down the battle lines.

It seemed roughly even, but not overly in Roulette’s favor. The others all looked to each other and began discussing it. Were there rules? Did biting count? Exactly how long was a brawl supposed to last? Should they set some ground rules? Obviously there would be no hits below the belt and the men had to be respectful towards the women. Some veteran mercenaries brought up their point that it wasn’t exactly fair, as some didn’t have their weapons. How could they tell who was on who’s side? Could you switch sides? And most importantly: what the hell was the point of all this again?

As Justice was about to figure it out Regal slammed his fist into the jaw of the mercenary, knocking him down and out as the brawl began.


~*~*~

Regal felt sore, but very, very satisfied as he walked with a swagger to his step. He had been one of the few survivors, walking tall and proud out of the hallway with a wake of bodies behind him. Ten Thumbs had been instrumental in helping Regal avoid being attacked from behind, and in return Regal gave him a measure of protection in the fight.

Buttercups eventually was dragged into the brawl, not by choice but by force as dozens of mercenaries pushed him into the hallway to get in on the fun. He remained as far away as possible, scooping up poor Ten Thumbs who had been separated from Regal and dropping him on one shoulder as he protected the child from harm.

He went to look for Troy to gloat about his triumph, finding the depressed knight in the darkened aftermath of the explosion that had killed all but the one Emprean Commander. Regal didn’t know much about war, but he did know that all the high ranking officials getting blown to bits was far to much a coincidence in his mind. Yet the handicap it gave Carthage was too appealing a prospect to give voice to his thoughts, reveling in the debauchery of the brutal massacre.

He was getting bored however. Karel Raven was out in the world, currently traveling around with his precious Saint of Swords title, mocking Regal to find him. This game of cat and mouse had been going on for more than twenty years as the Demon of Swords searched high and low. His thoughts were interrupted by Troy’s curse and he took interest in his companion.

A short conversation led Regal to believe that Troy had found some interesting information, but the fact he wanted to freshen up and see Noel cast aside any allusions to special privileged information. With a snap salute he ran off to find her, ignoring Troy’s comment. He probably was muttering something along the lines of how he was a depressed soul and needed to get laid. Regal agreed with that comment. His choice of partners not so much…

“Okay if I had no breasts, no personality, and nothing to live for where would I be at this time of hour?” Regal mused to himself loudly. “Duh, the bar,” He said smacking his head trotting off.

When he entered the bar he found it overly crowded with the wounded from the brawl, all toasting and drinking as they laughed wildly about the events that took place. He scanned the room, seeing Roulette drinking with a few mercenaries while Bruiser arm wrestled with the larger muscle necked idiots. Buttercups and Stitches were in the middle of a competitive game of chess in the corner, a few mercenaries watching in and calling dibs on the winner. Ten Thumbs looked miserable as he was stuck between a wall and Justice’s arm as he held him in place telling a story of how he single handedly slew a dragon just by blinking.

Then he found her sitting all alone and boob-less in a corner with a small drink in front of her. She had a stupid smile on her face, like she was reminiscing about a happy memory as she fingered the edge of the glass. It was that stupid soft smile on her face that made Regal pause in his tracks. He knew that smile…he saw it once before.

About ten years ago Regal had wandered upon a town and found himself in a back alley in the mud, his head aching and bruises lining his face as he ranted and raved angrily at anything that came by. Then a woman stopped, bent over and lent her arm to the Demon of Swords. Confused Regal had taken the hand and followed her all the way to her home. He learned her name was Tracy, and the two of them soon began to date. He forgot about his hunt for Karel, the desire to be the Saint of Swords, forgot he was a Demon of Swords, instead feeling content just to be with her.

He later admitted to himself he fell in love with Tracy, and when he told of his love she had put on that same stupid smile on her face just like Noel did. A smile of someone who was in love. It pained Regal to see that smile, knowing that not a few scant weeks later he was the cause of Tracy’s death.

His pain was washed away as he felt a darkness harbor around his mind like a fog, and with a shake of his head he forgot all about Tracy, forgot about that smile, forgot that once the demon knew love. He was on a mission for Troy, and if anyone needed a smile these days it was him. He had very little to smile about.

He approached her table and her eyes glanced up and turned into two small slits of hate. Regal gave her a confused look as he shrugged his shoulders to her, spinning a chair and sitting reversed in it. He laid lazily upon the backrest as he looked into her emerald green eyes. They were pretty.

“Yo, Tiny Tits,” Regal started.

“Ugh, for the last time they are perky, not tiny!” She whined as she drank her drink with a ginger sip.

“Yeah, whatever,” Regal said irritably. “I’m not happy to be here either, but there is someone both of us…” Regal stopped his train of thought. Was he just about to say he cared for…no he couldn’t. He was a Demon of Swords! He didn’t care about anyone or anything. Even if it was Troy.

“Both of us what?” She chided.

“Uh, both of us know,” He said hastily. “That is right now asking to see you.” The second the words left his mouth Noel was up and grabbing her purse. Regal lifted his arm up and linked with hers, sliding his hand to hers and pushing her down and back. She stumbled backwards sitting down and growling at him.

“If Troy wants to see me it must be important!” Noel said angrily. “Let me go, you…you…big meanie!”

Regal lifted a single eyebrow at her insult. “Wow, my heart, you have stabbed it…Ugh why are you being such a bitch?” Regal mumbled.

“Maybe because of this!” She cried, tears swelling up as she slammed Regal’s crudely drawn picture of her emphasizing her lack of breasts. “How such a sweet and innocent man like Troy travels with you is beyond me!” She sniffled. Regal looked to the picture again and grinned wildly.

“Don’t hate me because it’s an exact drawing!”

“MY BOOBS AREN’T THAT SMALL!” She shouted again, pointing to him in anger. This in turn caused every mercenary to turn to her, some looking at sheets of papers. Hushed whispers of whether or not she was crying began to circulate the area and the attention made her swell up in tears. Regal noticed he had a bet on ten o’clock tomorrow morning as his time to make her cry and thus couldn’t afford her to cry just yet.

“Ok, ok, my bad. It was just a joke…” Regal said irritably. She whined more about how jokes could only go so far. “I mean, jeeze, get a sense of humor already!” He barked as she continued to whine, this time crying about how hard she has it compared to Regal. “Look lady, nothing is as hard as listening to you cry!” He seethed, gripping his hair tightly in frustration. That made her tears flow down as a few mercenaries cheered at her tears. Dammit, not my night! Regal fumed.

Regal waited as she continued to rant and rave about how he was such an insensitive jerk, the demon ordering an ale and drinking it as he sighed heavily. This kid had a set of lungs and she wasn’t afraid to use them as she began to go into disgusting detail about how she had a minor crush on the Emprean Hero, David King, and stabbed him in the foot on accident. Regal sighed even louder, trying to get her to catch the hint. She then went on to talk about her training bras.

“LOOK DO YOU WANT TO SLEEP WITH TROY OR NOT?” Regal shouted at the top of his lungs slamming his ale down and shattering the glass. Noel was broken out of her daze as she gave him a confused look. Regal placed one hand through his hair as he gripped the roots tightly. Noel was trying his patience and he was more than impressed he hadn’t snapped earlier.

“What…what do you mean?” She whispered to him as her face flushed red. Regal sighed again as he got up and sat next to her. He wondered if he should put an arm around her, and decided not to.

“Look, Troy asked me to get you, but he said he wanted to freshen up first,“ She motioned for him to continue and he slapped his face as if the hint should have been obvious. “You have to know that guys don’t freshen up just because they are dirty,” He said making a mental note that he needed a shower before bed.

“I…I guess…“ She thought about it in depth as her head leaned upon her chest, her face tightening into contemplation. Regal bit his tongue to prevent himself from laughing about how silly she looked. “Justice is kinda smelly now that I think about it…” Regal ground his teeth in irritation.

“Focus here Tiny Tits,” He said academically. “This is about Troy, not some loud mouth bozo.” Noel nodded once giving Regal all her attention. “Look, Troy is about to do something he probably hasn’t done in…You know I don’t think that poor bastard has ever had sex.”

Noel’s face was completely red as she looked down to her drink. Regal gave her a narrow glance before he chuckled. “You never have either, have you?”

“What?!?!” Noel shouted in alarm. “How dare you…that is to say…well not all the way…I mean…well I’ve kissed a guy before…but…that was more an accident…I think he was in the hospital for three weeks…” Regal looked to the heavens at the uncaring gods and muttered his anguish under his breath.

“Look, you need to learn when the hell to shut your mouth!” Regal whispered. Noel remained quiet. “Now what you need to do is go in there, stick your chest out, and declare your tiny titted womanhood!” Regal said in an encouraging way. “You are his woman, and thus you need to let him know that you are his to take! Go in there, be confident, be cool, be suave! Don’t talk. Don’t utter more than three words in a sentence. You know what, use one word at a time, I think that may help,” Regal said thinking about it.

“I…I don’t know if I should…” Regal sighed deeply. “What…What if I’m not good enough for Troy?” She asked, being completely serious. Her teary green eyes looked to him for help, pleading him to lie to her.

“You aren’t,” He said honestly. This made her cry. Dammit! Losing money as I go! He thought cringing at her tears. “Ah hell, Tiny Tits, get a hold of yourself!” Regal said wrapping one arm around her shoulders and pointing to the horizon. It just so happened the clouds parted to show the moon.

“This is Althanas! This is a world where the impossible happens. Where the hot chick slums it for the ugly duckling, or in this case Troy slums it for you! This is your swan story! You get to go in there, and in your deepest, huskiest voice say, ‘Troy I want to make mad passionate love to you!’ and then grab him by his neat collar and ruffle his hair and rake his back and bite his neck and ears and thrust your tongue down his throat as you rip his shirt off!”

“Go on…” Ten Thumbs said in a soundless breath. Regal jumped as he turned to see Noel and Ten Thumbs both looking to Regal with excited, eager faces.

“Ewww, ewww, ewww!” Regal said getting the image of Ten Thumbs out of his mind. “Look, the point is whether your good enough for Troy or not, he wants you, and he wants you badly. So damn what anyone says Tiny Tits and go for it!” Regal said fatherly like as she nodded in determination standing up and pushing the table aside. She fixed her uniform to be just right and with a girlish smile she gave Regal a thumbs up before running after Troy’s office.

Regal watched her go and placed his hands behind his head stretching out. Okay Troy, I did my job as wingman. Don’t forget this because one day your going to have to be mine. He thought happily before glancing at Ten Thumbs, who still stared at him intently.

“Knock it off!” He said punching him on the shoulder playfully.

[Disillusioned]

This was it. Her big moment. She stood before the door to Troy's room and took a deep breath. Noel checked to make sure everything was just right. Her hair? Done. Her uniform? Spiffy. Her breasts? Best not to dwell too much on those.

"Okay. Just like Regal said. Deep voice. Husky. Tell him I want him. Three words a sentence. Or was it one? Shoot, I knew I should've taken notes..." Noel shook her insecurities away.

It was game time.

"Ah, Noel. There you are," Troy muttered as he rose from his seat and walked over to her. True to his word, Troy had showered and cleaned himself up. His dark brown hair was still a bit wet; his shirt was a bit damp, for it had been difficult to dry himself with one arm.

It didn't matter. He wouldn't need that shirt in a moment.

"Troy. I-" Noel said in her deepest, huskiest, most guttural tone she could possibly manage.

"What's wrong with your voice? Do you have a sore throat?" Troy said as he tilted his head to the side. He looked around for the tea Noel had made for him.

"What? Oh no, I'm fine thank you," Noel said, her voice instantly back to its normal high pitch. She then squealed in horror. Regal told her to use a deep voice! She had already messed up. NO! I'm not going to fail! She swore to herself as she looked into Troy's dreamy eyes.

"Glad to hear it. In any case I...hey!" Troy was quickly jerked about the room as Noel lunged at him and grabbed his collar. Noel gave it a hard yank and tore it apart.

"That took me five minutes to do Noel! It's not exactly easy buttoning your shirt with one hand!" Troy spat as he shoved her away and tried to fix his collar.

Shoot shoot shoot! What did Regal say to do next? RUFFLE HIS HAIR! Noel quickly sprang back at Troy and grabbed his hair. She then did her best to ruffle it, but all she really succeeded at was to pull it. Very hard.

"Ow! What's the big idea?" Troy cursed as he grabbed her hand and pulled it away from his now aching head. She looked at him with her big emerald eyes, and drew another breath.

"That's right Troy! Go ahead and be rough with me! I can take it!" Noel shouted at the top of her lungs. Troy was, to say the very least, appalled. He instantly backed away.

"No! Don't go! I can be rough back!" Noel yelled as she quickly dug her nails into his back and raked down as hard as she could. The man cringed in pain.

"Ow ow ow! ARE YOU INSANE?" Troy screamed as he shoved her away. He shifted his weight about uncomfortably as he tried his best to see how much damage Noel had done to his shirt.

Time for the big guns. Noel thought to herself as she stuck her chest out (as much as she could) and strutted over to where Troy stood. She then, with all her shinning white teeth, bit his ear.

Troy's scream was heard throughout all of Fort Caliben.

"Enough!" Troy demanded as he tossed Noel into a nearby chair. "Oh for God's sake, my ear's bleeding! You know what Noel? Just go. Leave. Get out. I don't know why I even wanted to see you in the first place!"

Noel was horrorstruck. She had failed. The man who had saved her in battle, who had helped her hold the fort together when no one else would, now hated her. Her mouth hung wide open, her fingers trembled. Tears began to well up in her green eyes and before Troy could stop her, the young girl began to cry her lungs out.

"I'm so sorry Troy! I shouldn't have come on so strong! I mean, we're both so inexperienced what the hell was I thinking! Stupid, stupid, STUPID NOEL!" The girl shouted as she smacked her own head several times. To say that Troy was confused would be an understatement.

"Inexperienced at what?" He asked. Noel shrunk a little bit as her face turned red.

"Oh. You know," Was all she said as she began to twiddle her thumbs.

"No, I assure you, I don't. Just what am I inexperienced at?"

"Ummmm. Sex."

Troy was not a man who hung onto his pride. At least, not since he had abandoned his family. In his youth he had been prideful. Too prideful. Now, for the most part, he was content to let other people think what they wished of him and simply move along. Sometimes he would make a remark about how foolish certain opinions of him were (he did that often with Regal), but he was no longer the type to concern himself with what other people thought of him.

Until now.

"EXCUSE ME? INEXPERIENCED?" Troy snarled at Noel, which caused the girl to tumble from her chair and onto the ground. He was no Adonis, to be sure, but he had a few adventures in his youth. He would have told Noel about the time he had climbed into one of his past girlfriend's house and made passionate and wild love to her with her parents but ten feet from the door. But he did no such thing s Noel was busy bawling on the floor.

His girlfriend had been the daughter of a merchant famed for breaking his daughter's suitors legs, by the way.

"I am so sorry! What was I thinking? Just look at you! So handsome...so dreamy. With your beautiful eyes and...and...chisled jaw! You must be a sex god! I AM SO OUTCLASSED!" Noel cried as Troy frowned.

"Well I wouldn't go that far." Troy muttered as he shook his head. This was no time to talk of spies and betrayal. Better he handle that himself anyway. Now he had to deal with Noel.

"Well I would Troy Priam! Just take me! Have your way with me!" Noel said as she ripped off her shirt, desperate to be loved by the person before her. With a grace of a swordfighter who had fought countless battles, Troy deftly caught the shirt before it hit the floor, and wrapped it back around Noel. He then sat down next to her and gave her a soft smile.

"Noel. Why do you like me so much?" Troy asked of her. It was a serious question. Whatever the young girl saw in him, he certainly didn't see. Noel grinned a bit sheepishly as she looked at him.

"Well, let's see. Oh, your cute!"

"That's not a reason to like someone, although I do thank you for your compliment on...how did it go? My 'chisled jaw'was it?"

"Yeah. I guess it I was reaching there a bit."

"So you don't like my jaw?"

"Oh no no no no! I didn't mean that! I meant...hey!"

Troy chuckled at Noel as she playfully punched his arm.

"But seriously Noel. Don't you think you should focus your attentions on someone more fitting? Perhaps another Emprean?" Troy said as he gently rubbed Noel's shoulder with his good hand. She shook her head.

"No. I don't like Emprea," Noel said bluntly. "Here everyone can be a hero, or so the story goes. Well what about the people who don't want to be a hero? What's wrong with being normal?"

Noel's face turned red with a bit of anger. It was at that time that Troy recalled that Noel had never really wanted to be a soldier in the first place. It was her parents' idea. The young girl put her shirt back on as she sniffled slightly.

"What's wrong with just being a waitress? Or a cook? I like cooking. I hate war," Noel took a breath to steady herself as she stood up and headed for the door. Troy stayed her by gently placing a hand upon her shoulder.

"Nothing. And for what it's worth, I think your a great cook," He said quietly as she smiled at him. She gently tugged at his shirt and brought himjust a bit closer to her.

"See? There you go giving me another reason to like you," She whispered to him. He just shook his head.

"It's the simple truth, not worth throwing yourself at me. Still amazed you thought of that, by the way," Troy said as he stepped away from her. Noel almost grasped at him to pull him back, but stayed her hand.

"Oh. Well, it wasn't my idea. Regal said it was what you wanted," She said under her breath. She did not, however, say it quietly enough.

"He said what?" Troy barked as he stomped over towards Noel. "He told you I wanted you to sleep with me?"

"Well. Ummm. Yes," Noel squeaked.

Troy's face grew red with rage as he clenched his fist. It was one thing to tell jokes, another thing entirely to trick Noel into having sex with Troy. Regal's jokes always walked a line, but this time he had gone too far. Noel deserved better than that.

"Excuse me," He grunted as he walked towards the door and opened it. He blinked once in surprise as Regal stood there with a grin, along with almost every other mercenary in the fort.

"So? How was she? And don't spare anything, I want all the dirty details!" Regal said with a grin as the mercenaries hooted and hollered at Troy. Noel blushed in the corner and did her best to readjust her clothing while Troy glared hard at Regal.

Troy then reached back and punched Regal as hard as he could.

[Unfulfilled]

The shouting and hollering was a warped cry as Regal felt his feet lift up from under him, his face exploding in pain as his world went starry and blurry for a moment. At one point he saw Troy’s face, the next moment he saw a ceiling, at last he looked down upon several mercenaries feet.

Silence ruled the small hallway as not a soul said a word. All eyes were upon Regal as he groaned loudly. He lifted himself up to his elbows, a task that was far more complicated than it should have been. He looked into Troy’s eyes, saw that depressed, soulless look, but his face was contorted into hatred and rage. This was the biggest spark of life Regal had ever seen in his usually somber friend. It terrified Regal as he felt his spine try to escape from its fleshy prison and flee before him.

All eyes focused on the two. Justice felt his jaw drop in shock as Bruiser dropped the ale in his hand. Ten Thumbs looked like somebody had just kicked his puppy and Roulette was furiously turning pages in his ledger of bets. Stitches made the first move towards Regal, a look of concern on his face. Buttercups only stood behind Ten Thumbs holding the child in place.

“Ah shit!” Regal said at last. “I ate that one good.” He fell backwards off his elbows and felt his world going black. “Like getting hit by a boulder,” He muttered as his head rolled to the side with his eyes shut. Stitches at last reached Regal, giving Troy a concerned look as he began to check Regal’s vital signs.

“Well he’s not dead,” Stitches said loudly. A few mercenaries sighed at this. “Hmmm, you may have broke his nose, but I’m not really sure.” He began to slap Regal over and over to wake him up. Troy just glared before taking in a deep breath running his hand through his hair. With a loud sigh he returned back into the regular old Troy, the sadness filling his eyes as he looked down upon his companion.

“See to it that mess is taken care of,” Troy ordered turning around. Noel’s face was full of cheerfulness as she watched the man she loved deck the man she hated. She made a mental note of one more thing she liked Troy for.

“WAIT!” Roulette shouted as he ran forward and grabbed Troy’s good arm. The knight looked down upon the gambler with a groan as he wanted to be left alone. “Somebody in this damn hell hole is about to become filthy rich. I mean, FILTHY, DIRTY, I HAVEN’T SHOWERED IN FIVE THOUSAND YEARS RICH!” He shouted to all the mercenaries as he lifted his ledger up. “Only ONE mercenary placed a bet on Troy Priam knocking out Regal Burnswidth with one punch. Now nobody moves until we figure out who it was.”

“Do I really have to be here?” Troy asked, his voice straining to be let go. Bruiser and Justice both walked up to Troy.

“A fine deed was done on this evening, all in the name of-” The mercenary was cut off as Bruiser shoved him aside.

“I was going to do it! You got a lucky fluke punch! You hear me! Luck!” Bruiser threatened to Troy. The knight’s only response was to sigh. Some mercenaries congratulated Troy, others remained quiet, while some just kept praying to random gods for the fortune to be theirs. Roulette had Stitches begin to go through one of his other ledgers of bets as the two searched high and low. In all of the gambling pools this was the one bet that got the most activity. Even Roulette placed a large portion of his winnings he made off of Troy’s stunt on someone knocking out Regal with just one punch.

“I FOUND IT!” Roulette shouted. The whole room began to tense up. “Let’s see, Ten Thumbs you bet on Buttercups…”

“Why?” Buttercups blurted looking down upon the child mercenary. “I seldom ever fight.”

“Yeah but if anyone was going to provoke you to punch it was going to be Regal!” He squeaked. The group nodded. Sound logic.

“Hmm, Buttercups, you placed a bet for once. On…Ten Thumbs?” All eyes fell upon the child mercenary.

“Accidents tend to happen around the small one. While in no way could he do it fairly, a set of odd events by the celestial order may have proven profitable for me. So Ten Thumbs.” He smiled to the boy who smiled back giving him a thumbs up. This made Buttercups laugh nervously as he avoided eye contact. He was rather creepy.

“We got Stitches with Spooks…Don’t know how you could verify that,” Roulette mumbled. A large twang went off in the distance, followed by a chuckle as a mercenary fell flat on his back, completely knocked out. “Oh…that’s a good point Spooks,” Roulette said ignoring the fallen mercenary not a few scant feet from him.

“Bruiser you put your money on yourself,” He said causally.

“Come on, you know that was a smart idea!” He challenged.

“As did half the mercenaries in Fort Caliban. You still failed miserably though. How many times did you punch Regal in the middle of a battle to try and rig the bet?”

“Five or six times,” He said in a small tone as Troy’s eyes widened in shock.

“In battle?” He asked in disbelief. Bruiser shrugged.

“Thought my odds would be better…” He mumbled.

“Let’s see here…I put my money on Justice, Spooks placed a bet on Justice…Justice put his money on…Noel?”

“I DID NOT!” Justice roared. “I placed it on the chorus of angels singing a song in my honor as I delivered the hammer of Justice to his face!” He cried out.

“No, No you idiot!” Roulette said waving him away like he was an annoying gnat. “Noel Spero put money on Troy knocking out Regal.” He looked up towards the girl, who’s face turned red as an apple. Mutters of shock filled the room as Noel stepped sheepishly forward. Troy gave her a confused look as he made room for her.

“But…” Roulette was looking for some kind of loophole to get her not to give her wages out. “You never placed any bets with me.”

“Well I couldn’t,” Noel explained. “I don’t have the time. I have the fort to tend to, then I have to plan the next defense strategy, then I have to visit Hazama, then I cook food for Troy, then I help Troy eat…” The list began to ramble on as she went into detail about what she did for Troy. In response he placed his hand on her shoulder to silence her. She felt an overwhelming urge come over her and she nuzzled his hand. This in turn made him quickly retract it.

“That doesn’t explain how you placed a bet with me!” Roulette shouted, getting angry at the notion he just lost a serious cache of money.

“Oh…right.” She looked down upon Regal with sad eyes. “I had Regal make the bet. If you notice, he put money down before my bet…” She pointed to the ledger nervously. Stitches looked over Roulette’s shoulder as he skimmed the lines.

“She’s right, it’s scribbled in his stupid handwriting too! He put ‘Noel Spero places her tiny titted money on that pansy of a man Troy Priam to knock me out, which we all know is just not going to happen, because you know, I am the Demon of Swords, and what is Troy? He’s not even known for anything. So I’ll place all her money on this bet.’ It scrolls off the line off the page and even loops back onto the other page. How the hell could you not have known that was there, Roulette?”

“I…I thought it was Regal’s bet…I didn’t….I didn’t KNOW!” He cried grabbing Stitches by the collar. “MY MONEY!” He shook him violently. “I WON’T LOSE MY MONEY TO A NO BREASTED TOM BOYISH HIGH SCHOOLER! I RIGGED EVERY BET TO MAKE THAT MONEY!” Stitches’ eyes went wide as he pushed Roulette off him.

“You what!?!?” Every mercenary shouted. Roulette felt his face go stalk white. Two mercenaries walked forward, a small chest in their hands as they grunted dropping it off in front of Noel. Roulette looked to her with a confused look as he watched his empire begin to crumble. He even ignored the fact mercenaries were already planning when to get him back for stealing their money.

“You, you know there is a fifty percent gambling fee,” He said walking forward lifting the key to the chest out of his shirt. Noel looked to him but before she took it Troy snatched the key and glared darkly at Roulette. “Okay, fine. The money’s yours,” He mumbled sourly.

Noel squealed with delight as she grabbed the key from Troy and pulled the chest. It didn’t budge. She pulled again, putting a little effort into it. It refused to move. “Jeeze Roulette, how much is in this chest?”

“A little over five thousand gold,” He said somberly as he looked behind his shoulder to see the ever growing pack of mercenaries.

Troy lowered his hand grabbing one side of the chest and Noel smiled proudly as she lifted the other and with a grunt of effort the two carried it back into her room.

~*~*~

Regal groaned loudly as he turned to his side, his nose running up against something soft. He lifted his hand to the object and learned it was a leg. It was a nice leg, not to muscular, not to flabby. He then felt something slap at his hand. Looking up he saw Stitches giving him a very odd look.

“AH, ICK!” He cried. He pulled himself up and felt all the blood in his head move down and he nearly fell over from the rush.

“You need to slow it down there. I’m checking for a concussion. You feel tired?” Stitches said pulling Regal back down. Regal broke free and Stitches grew irritated as he pointed to Regal with a sigh. Buttercups appeared from the shadows and grabbed Regal by his shoulders and slammed him down upon the bed, holding him.

“Oh my god, I knew this was how I would die. Surrounded by two men who want to rape me!” Regal shouted. Ten Thumbs poked his head over Buttercups shoulder. “OH GOD, WITH TEN THUMBS WATCHING? You two are cruel!”

“For the love of-” Stitches slammed a palm onto his forehead. “I’m just administering first-aid. Now calm yourself and answer my questions! The faster we do this, the faster we leave. This will benefit everyone involved!” Regal squirmed a bit, realizing Buttercups grip was impenetrable. He sighed as he relaxed.

“Are you tired?” Ten Thumbs asked.

“I was just knocked out, what the hell do you think?” Regal shot back.

“Feel nauseous?” Stitches asked next lifting one hand to his eyes and checking it.

“Nope, although I want to throw up,” Regal mentioned offhandedly. Stitches sighed as he moved his fingers towards the back of his head.

“Does it hurt when I touch you here?” Regal shook his head. “Hmmm, if anything you have a minor concussion. I suggest you stay away from booze and sleeping until morning,” Stitches said as he packed up his bag.

“You realize not a single person listens to your recommendations,” Regal pointed out. Stitches nodded once. Buttercups released him and after Stitches was done gathering his things he looked to Regal with a small look of admiration and curiosity. “What?” Regal asked when he realized Buttercups and Ten Thumbs looked at him the same way.

“How did you piss Troy off so much?” Stitches asked. “I’ve never seen him like that, and it seemed very out of character for him to strike at you.”

“Was it Tiny Tits?” Ten Thumbs said.

“First off watch your mouth young man!” Regal growled to Ten Thumbs. “I will not have you learning such foul language! Calling a woman Tiny Tits…” He snorted in mirth. “I had higher hopes for you.” Ten Thumbs grumbled his apologies. “Second off, yeah it was Tiny Tits.”

“Care to elaborate?” Buttercups asked softly.

“Well…Troy looked like he needed a night off, you know. He’s been working so hard to defend this dump that maybe some fun would be nice for a change. And not that watching Bruiser arm wrestle fun. I mean grabbing a woman, pulling her hair, riding her like she was a horse as she screamed for you to treat her like you hate her.”

“Go on…” Ten Thumbs breathed. Buttercups was the first to silence the child.

“So I set it up. Tiny Tits is the only person in all of Althanas who could love Troy. He’s a really depressing guy.” Regal shook his head. “I…I thought I was doing the right thing…” He mumbled like a child as he brought his legs up to his chest, resting his arms lazily out on his knees.

“You mean, you set that up for Troy?” Stitches asked. “You set it up not as a joke, but as a date?”

“Yup, that was the intent. I listened to her sobbing and whining and guided her towards the courage she needed to get with Troy.” Regal sighed again. “Guess I was wrong…again.”

“What do you mean by that?” Buttercups asked. Regal snarled as he turned to the side of the bed and placed his boots on. He was about to get up and leave, but he looked to each man in the room. At last he whispered in the lightest of tones.

“Do you guys know the difference between right and wrong?” They all nodded. “I don’t…” He said softly. “I never knew. Every choice I thought I made that was right was wrong, and the wrong choices were not good enough to pass for right. I just…I don’t know, I can’t tell when I’m doing something right or wrong.” Stitches gave him a sympathetic look. When Regal’s eyes met with the doctor’s a flash of red hinted in the Demon of Sword’s eyes.

“What the hell do you guys know!” Regal snapped getting up as he grabbed Tenacity. “I’ll kill Karel Raven, I’ll become the Saint of Swords. Then, with no more demon inside of me I’ll know the difference between right and wrong.”

With that said he turned down a hallway and walked away to be alone.

[Disillusioned]

"Tell me again why you have a stuffed panda?" Troy asked as he held up a tiny doll that fit within the palm of his hand. He had helped Noel carry her winnings to her room, and she was now stuffing the chest under her bed. Well, she was until he told her that the chest would never fit and that she would be better off finding another hiding spot.

"Mr. Snuffles? Oh, I've had that doll since I was a little girl. He's my favorite, isn't that right Mr. Snuffles?" Noel chirped as she stuffed the chest into her closet and began to play with the doll. Troy shook his head.

"As you like. Just don't let Regal say him," Troy advised.

"Why?" Noel gasped. "He wouldn't break Mr. Snuffles, would he?"

"No, but he would break you." He muttered as Noel nodded in agreement and tucked her stuffed panda under the covers of her bed. She then let out a sigh of relief and turned to Troy.

"So, can I ask you a question?" Noel asked sheepishly. Troy motioned for her to go ahead and ask. "What are my chances with you?"

"Noel..." Troy began. The young woman cut him off before he could finish.

"I'm being serious here Troy. I really do like you," She whispered softly as she tugged on his shirt. He just shook his head one more.

"Understand Noel, it is nothing personal. I am simply not the type to be loved," He said simply. Now Noel shook her head.

"I don't believe that at all. I bet you are quite capable of loving. Are you honestly going to tell me you don't love anyone at all?" She asked of him. Troy frowned said that he did in fact love someone.

"ARGH! I knew it! There's another woman, isn't there?" Noel moaned as she sank to her knees. "I bet she's really pretty too."

"She is indeed. But Noel-"

"Oh GOD! Do you really have to rub it in Troy? Bet she has big breasts too! Go on, tell me how big of breasts she has!"

"I was thinking of my sister."

Noel blinked once as she processed what Troy said. She eventually came to the conclusion that when Troy said he loved his sister, he meant in the brotherly kind of way and not in the romantic (and incestuous) way. She told him this by sheepishly saying "oh."

"You are right, I do love. I love my sister with all my heart. I'm looking for her actually," Troy began as he sat down on the edge of Noel's bed. She quickly sat down next to him.

"What happened? Did she run away?" Noel asked, eager to learn of his past.

"No. Actually, I'm the one that ran away. She's the one out to find me, or so I hear," Troy answered. This confused Noel, for Troy had just stated that he was looking for his sister. He smiled at her softly and patted her shoulder. "A sordid affair, I assure you. Suffice to say, when I ran, she ran too. I learned of this and, although I desire solitude, I will not have her searching for me endlessly. She deserves better than that."

He let out a small sigh. This wasn't working at all. He was suppose to tell the girl to go find someone else to have a crush on and leave him alone. Instead, here he was telling her about his past and his feelings. If that didn't qualify as mixed signals then Troy didn't know what would. He then shook his head and stood up.

"But this wasn't a discussion about whether or not I'm capable of love. It is a discussion of if I am the type to be loved. I am not that type Noel. Go spend your affections on more worthy men," Troy stated as he made to leave. Noel quickly grabbed him and stopped him in his tracks.

"But Troy! You're not being fair!" Noel complained as he shook her off. "In fact, your being a self-absorbed baby!"

That remark caught him a bit off guard. Noel took a step back as Troy coolly raised his eyebrows and glared at her.

"Um, what I mean to say is, that's really immature of you. I think if you just took a step back and looked in the mirror, you'd see that you really are a great guy!" Noel said, doing her best to recover. Unfortunately for her, the one thing Troy hated the most was to look at himself in the mirror. All he ever saw was his failures.

"And what is there to see Noel? Hmmm? Tell me what you see!" Troy demanded as he took a step forward that was a bit more menacing than he would have liked it to be. Noel instinctively took a step back.

"Okay. You're smart. Really smart. You went to an academy, right? I bet you did graduated with high marks!" Noel threw out.

"Indeed I did. They made me a Squad Captain, as I told you before. Gave me a squad of ten men to lead into battle. What I didn't tell you was what happened to my men. Dead. To the last one. I am the only survivor," Troy said softly as a pained look crossed his face. Noel instantly regretted her choice of words.

"I'm sorry Troy! I didn't know!" Noel exclaimed, truly sorry for what she had said. Troy just motioned for her to continue.

"What else? What else do you see in me?" He asked of her, determined to remove the wool from this girl's eyes and show her just type of man he really was.

"Well, you said you love your sister. I bet you have a nice family! You love them, don't you? So, you're a family man, right?" Noel asked timidly. Troy let out a sad, haunting laugh.

"Oh yes. I've a very loving family. My father is a fairly well-off merchant, which means a lot back where I'm from. You see, I'm from a place called Benzer, also known as the City of Merchants. Our merchants are like our nobility," Troy began. Before he could finish, Noel interrupted him.

"So that means you're like me! I'm a noble!" Noel said rather feebly in an attempt to find some common ground with Troy. "I don't get along with my parents too well, but I bet you do!"

"Quite so. Benzer is run by a guild of merchants, and my mother happened to be a relatively high-ranking officer in that guild. With my father's wealth and her position, we lived quite well. I suppose I was a bit spoiled in my youth, but I assure you I am nothing compared to my sister. Being the only daughter has its perks, one of which is being spoiled rotten."

"Do you not get along with her?"

"No, I have always gotten along with every member of my family, and I feel closer to my sister than I do with anyone else on this planet," Troy said as he let his voice fade out. He then waited a moment, and when he next spoke his voice was as cold as the dead.

"I never went back. After the battle, where all my men died, I just couldn't bring myself to go back home. I was so ashamed that I had lived and that they had died. My family thinks I'm dead Noel. I abandoned them, Noel Spero. I am sure my mother has cried endless tears because of my actions, and my father's heart beats a little slower everyday. As for my sister, who I cared for beyond all else, she would not accept the idea that I died. So she wanders, and does God only knows what, in order to find a man who should have died. So no Lieutenant Noel Spero, I am not a family man."

The look of pain on Troy's face as he spoke said more than his words ever could. He then made to leave, but she grabbed him, and held his hand with her's.

"Wait! You're good to your friends! Like Regal! Who else would take care of a man like that?" Noel exclaimed. Troy's face turned a ghastly white as he shoved her off of him as he took a deep breath. When next he spoke, it was with all the emotion he had kept pent inside until now.

"Good to my friends?" Troy howled at the young girl. "My best friend died to save me! He used his own body to stop the arrows that would have torn me to pieces! He died so I could live, and how have I repaid his sacrifice? By abandoning everything!" Troy shouted as he clenched his fist tightly. Noel, who had landed on the floor from his shove, now backed away in fear.

"Those I were suppose to protect and guide lay dead! My mother thinks her 'little boy' was torn to shreds by a hail of arrows, and my father thinks his oldest child lays buried in the ground! My sister can't imagine a life without me, so she left everything behind her! And Hector, my best, my dearest, my closest friend, is dead because of ME!"

Troy shrieked as he stormed about Noel's room. All the painful memories that he attempted to shove to the back of his mind on a daily basis flooded forth and overwhelmed him. It was too much for the young man, who was not even thirty years old yet, to bare. His memories consumed him; more than any other the sacrifice of his dear friend. Troy Priam? A good friend? Not a chance!

"Because of me, he'll never laugh again! He'll never race horses with me, he'll never lose at chess to me, he'll never joke about the way I talk or how I look, he'll never do anything ever again! He won't come to my birthday, or laugh as he tells me my mother's the 'hottest woman in all of Benzer!' He won't come home to his parents, and he won't take his little sister out for ice cream ever again!"

Troy shuddered violently as he sank into a chair. He hung his head in shame as he covered his eyes with his good hand so that Noel could not see his tears as he cried softly. "She so wanted to have her older brother take her out for ice cream when he got back."

Troy then felt a soft hand on his shoulder. He quickly wiped away a few tears and looked up to see Noel gently holding him. She smiled softly at him, like no one else ever did nowadays. Her green eyes met his blue eyes as she spoke.

"You save me. When I was going to die. I wouldn't be alive if it wasn't for you," She whispered to him.

"Come off it Noel! I only did that so I wouldn't die in this rotten fort!" Troy snapped at her. It took him about four seconds to realize what he had said before he reached towards her, but it was already to late. The damage was done, and Troy Priam had just broke another woman's heart.

"That wasn't what I meant. What I meant was-" Troy began, but had no time to finish. He stood up and offered his hand to Noel, who quickly turned her back on him.

"You can leave now Troy," Was all she said as she walked away from him; her voice crackled in agony.

"I'm sorry. Please, let me-"

"GET OUT TROY!"

Troy sighed sadly as his shoulders sagged. He walked out of Noel's room, as well as most likely her life. He turned and closed the door while he whispered a soft "I am truly sorry." He looked away in pain as he heard her cry through the thick oak door.

Troy then turned and walked down the hallway, very much alone.

[Unfulfilled]

Regal walked silently along the edges of the inner walls, looking upwards at the sky as he sighed deeply into his chest. He turned a corner and found Troy standing there, looking up at the stars as well. The Demon of Swords looked to his comrade figuring he was homesick and left him alone to his thoughts. He had already tried once to help and that backfired big time.

The solitude was nice for Regal. He enjoyed the rare moments where everything in the universe seemed to be a peaceful calm. Instead of the usual screams of battle, or the depressed lessons of Troy Priam he had a moment to just let himself think for himself. Regal had loved these moments, and usually they all ended with one conclusion.

“Yep, I’m bored,” Regal yawned patting his stomach. “And incredibly hungry…wonder if Tiny Tit’s has food for me.” He maneuvered his way back into the inner fort where he made way towards the bar to get access to the kitchen.

Mostly Emprean soliders ran the kitchens, and mercenaries were not allowed in there. The meager amounts of booze the Emprean soldiers left the mercenaries was probably the crap no sane soul would want either. The tender to the bar was a kind, elder fellow by the mercenary name of Psychiatrist. While a drunk talked and rambled on Psychiatrist would just nod his head, clean a glass, and then when all was said and done he’d say one or two sentences that summed up exactly why your life was just so bad.

He usually had two black eyes to go with his talks, and so he later adopted the name Raccoon.

Regal had rarely spoke with Raccoon mostly due to the fact he was always playing poker with the other mercenaries. He let the elder man be and figured he had enough problems to deal with on his own. That was because he had a deadly secret that most mercenaries wanted to kill for. Raccoon was also the only mercenary besides Ten Thumbs who could sneak into the kitchens to obtain real food.

Rounding the corner into the bar the Demon of Swords puffed his collar thinking it would make him look tougher, but to his surprise he found the bar was currently in silent awe as two people were going furiously at it with words. He heard one shouting about the Commander Troy, and the other shouting about the mercenary Troy. Why they both thought they were two different people was beyond Regal, but either way they were shouting about his friend…

Regal paused himself. Troy was not Regal’s friend. The Demon of Swords had no friends. Once he cleared that up he continued forward. After he pushed by the last mercenaries in his way he looked to find the oddest two in the fort to be fighting at all.

“You take that back, Brusier!” Noel shouted at the top of her lungs. Regal also noted her face was flushed red, not the red of anger or heat, but red with intoxication. He sniffed the air and nearly wretched. Somebody was boozing it badly.

“I will not ya no breasted pansy! So far the only line of defense we have is a paper thin wall thanks to your brainless one armed boyfriend!”

“He is not my boyfriend!” Noel cried back, though this time she did take a staggering step backwards as a bit of pain flashed in her eyes. Regal knew that look, it was the same look Tracy made when she found out Regal wasn’t a nice guy. He quickly summarized Troy told her the story of Hector. This immediately made Regal mad. Troy never told Regal about his horse named Hector.

“Besides, what the hell would you have done instead? Let Carthage run down the walls and shear us like sheep!” Noel said regaining confidence. Bruiser looked at her oddly before he took one step forward.

“Maybe I would take a preteen, tomboyish, cry baby; tie her up to a horse, and send her out with the Emprean soldiers with a note that says ‘BEST REGARDS SACKING EMPREA! LOVE BRUSIER!’ That’s what I would have done!” He shouted to emphasize his point as he turned to his other mercenaries who all shouted to her agreeing with his point.

Regal began to wonder just how the hell Noel would have started this conversation in the first place. Clearly she wasn’t looking for a fight, Bruiser was. Yet one look at Bruiser and he could tell the man was stone sober. He looked back at Noel and came to a sad realization that she probably started this fight. Regal sighed again. He started making his way over to Noel’s side of the bar.

“Well if you mercenaries were actually good at fighting instead of drinking and betting about my TITS,” She actually cracked her voice at that word. “Then you wouldn’t have had the first wall fall! It wouldn’t have had to happen!”

“Look at you! You’re shaking in your own damn boots! What the hell are you? A warrior or a coward, make up your damned mind! Troy does all the work, you take all the credit! Don’t even for a second think you got the right to tell us what the hell to do when it’s your own damn country that put us all up to this! They tricked us! Then when they dump us off they pick up and leave!” He turned to get mutters of agreement. “Six Heroes of Emprea MY ASS!” Bruiser took another challenging step forward, but Noel was to stupid to just back down as she stepped forward. Infuriated that she wasn’t catching the hint Bruiser let go of all his frustrations.

“You know how pathetic your country really is? You got six so called heroes, and one of them barks like a retarded dog! Another who thinks it’s more important to look in a damn mirror than think for once! Another who can’t make up his mind whether he wants to charge or retreat! Another who thinks he’s god’s gift to the world as an assassin! A woman who bellows orders with no authority and a Chief Adviser chick that’s uglier than dog crap and twice as stupid for thinking this piece of shit fort was worth saving!” This time the mercenaries cheered for Bruiser as Noel faltered a bit back, but then she resolutely stepped up again.

“You’re jealous,” Noel said plainly as she closed her eyes and smiled brightly. When she opened them again she nearly fell but kept to her spot. “You are so jealous of this country because you wanted to be a hero. Yet instead you became a mercenary. Nobody cares about mercenaries. Nobody cares if you defended a town because after you saved the town from bandits you rob them blind with your fee! Is that it, Bruiser? You jealous you’re just a stupid mercenary instead of a real hero?” Noel smiled again as she closed her eyes, which was for the best as Bruiser began to fume with rage.

“You have no idea what the hell it’s like to live on a rock, you spoiled brat! We mercenaries don’t get the luxury of mommy and daddy buying us pretty armor and weapons and sending us to school so we can be INCOMPETENT MORONS! You have no IDEA what the hell our lives are like! You want to play hero, tcch,” He waved at her. “Go ahead and dream then little girl.”

Now a smart person would have just left it at that. A smart person would have just given up, let Bruiser have his fun, and let him be on his way. A smart person would have realized he was beyond angry at that moment, and anything else may have set him off into a berserk rage. Also, the smart person would have known that there is but a handful of mercenaries in Fort Caliben that actually could stop Bruiser in a fight.

Noel Spero was not smart.

“So then it’s your mother,” She said sarcastically, her eyes fluttering as she rolled them and turning her body from him.

“My what?” Bruiser said, his voice cracking a fraction.

“You wanted to be a hero to impress your mother, make her happy and proud of her son. But instead you’re a mercenary, and she doesn’t approve. I’m guessing she never held you, Bruiser. That’s why you are so dumb. Always trying to get your mommy’s approval, but never quite good enough.” Noel smiled, a smile so cocky it demanded the taste be slapped right out of her mouth. Yet Bruiser didn’t get his name for slapping.

He lifted his hand way back as he sized her up. “That’s it, you opened your damn mouth one too many times!” He seethed as his fist flew forward. Noel shrieked in terror, covered herself, and awaited the inevitable. Her body felt an impact, but it was more of a soft push than an actual punch. A grunt of pain escaped one man’s lips and she looked up to see Regal standing over her, demonic grin and all as a bit of blood escaped his mouth.

Regal stood back up, pushing himself off of Noel as he softly turned to Bruiser, who’s face was contorted in anger and fear. “Well now, Bruiser, what did I say again?” Regal taunted in a low voice. “You get one punch, and then I’ll kick your ass if you don’t knock me out? Was that my exact words?”

“This doesn’t concern you, Burnswidth,” Bruiser said, his defiance faltering on the edge of cowardice.

“Now, if memory serves me right, and please, anyone stop me if I’m wrong,” Regal looked to the other mercenaries gathered with a challenging glare. “Tiny Tits is the only person who can lead the Emprean Soldiers. So just imagine if you had killed her, right there? Then what? Who would give all the orders? Not you, I assure.” Bruiser’s eyes narrowed on Regal’s.

“So if our wonderful commander was dead from your punch, which I think she would be, or at least a serious coma, then the Emprean Soldiers would have no choice but to lock us all up for mutiny. Now, how well do you fight with your arms tied behind your back, Bruiser?”

Not a mercenary made a peep.

“And lastly, if you didn’t like Troy’s style of command then why did you insist, upon penalty of breaking his last good arm, that he should be in command?” There was a soft mutter filling the air as Regal and Bruiser squared off. Regal turned back to Noel and checked on her. He noted she was looking at Regal with teary eyes. Awww crap, she’s gonna cry. Regal rolled his eyes before turning back to Bruiser.

“Hitting a girl,” He whispered so only the two men could hear it. “What would your mother think?” Bruiser’s eyes looked to Noel’s, and all his anger faded as he began to sniffle.

“Momma,” He whispered. “Momma I’m a good boy…I swear…” Regal wanted to puke so badly.

“Get lost, Bruiser,” Regal whispered into his ear. The mercenary gave Regal one confrontational look, but then turned as he snapped his fingers.

“Come on, lesson learned. That will be the last time that uppity dog barks at us.” Bruiser and the other mercenaries slowly filtered out of the room as Regal turned to Noel. When the door slammed shut his eyes narrowed upon her.

“You have either the courage of a Fallien Desert Lion, or enough alcohol to blur the lines of Stupidity and Bravery. I’m going for Booze as you reek of the stuff.”

“I just wanted to be alone…” Noel mumbled as she woozily got back on her bar stool. Raccoon appeared in front of them with a small fruity drink for Noel (as an Emprean solider, she could order anything she wanted) and a bitter warm ale for Regal. He took a few sips then after smacking his lips he downed the whole thing pointing to Noel and whispering to 'keep 'em coming.'

“So then, why?” Regal asked. He was really unsure why. He didn’t care about the girl. Far from it. Yet she was the only one in the bar that he could talk to and he’d be damned to get Raccoon to analyze him.

“Why did you save me?” Noel whispered back to him, ignoring his question. “Is it because if I died you’d be killed by the Emprean army for mutiny, or killed by Carthage without getting to fight?” She pouted a bit into her drink as she sipped it.

“I-I dunno,” Regal mumbled confusedly. “It, it seemed like the right thing to do I guess.” Noel laughed at him. It was a rather pathetic laugh, which seemed more forced than anything else.

“Well it was wrong!” She said, laughing as she went back to her drink. This in turn made Regal’s shoulders sag. Here he was, thinking he was doing the right thing, but instead he was told it wasn’t. With an angry fist he slammed it down upon the edge of the bar, breaking the wood.

“Wrong again…” He breathed as he willed his body to ignore the pain throbbing in his knuckles. Noel looked to him with her green eyes, and she gave him a once over.

“Well, thanks,” She continued to whispered. “I could have handled Bruiser on my own.”

“Your face for a punching bag isn’t a defense,” Regal muttered back to her. “Why the hell are you drunk as a Coronian skunk anyway?”

“Is there a difference in skunks? I would imagine they all smell really badly when they release their scent.”

“Not as bad as you in the garbage,” Regal commented with a sly grin. Noel playfully slapped him as she sipped her drink. Regal, unsure what the hell was going on, decided the best solution was to just get as drunk as she was. In order to accomplish that he had Noel order drinks for him, that way he could get the good stuff quicker.

Several hours later

Regal roared with laughter as Noel nodded her head stupidly. Noel was regaling Regal with the stories of her and Emprea’s six heroes.

“It’s true, I slammed my spear into David King’s foot! It was a total accident, but I nearly cut his artery!” She sipped more and giggled wildly. “The man of my dreams, the hero I loved more than any other in Emprea, David King, holding me. It was peaceful if he wasn’t cringing in agony and swearing under his breath as he demanded somebody go get a medic!”

“Ha! That’s amazing. You are a warrior at heart Noel, you just have to stop trying to fight!” Regal laughed with her as he slapped her on the back. This in turn slammed her face into her martini glass, shattering it. Regal looked to her, and she looked at the cup and then the two began laughing all the harder.

“It gets better…The night I nearly killed Rachel Leona with a bow? Remember that one?” Regal dumbly nodded. “Well I was so stressed out and tired, right, so I was trying to get a good night’s sleep. And what do you know it just HAPPENED to be a full moon!” Regal looked concerned as if this natural course in life was a rare thing that never happened. “Well every full moon Paul Donovan takes his elite unit of soldiers called Donovan’s Wolves and they train all night long. Well they also bark and yell at the top of their lungs, can’t do a damn thing without screaming it at the top of their lungs.”

“Well I just couldn’t take it. It was three in the morning and they kept barking wildly! So I open my window and I say…I say…’HEY, SHUT UP! SOME OF US ARE TRYING TO SLEEP!’ And that was that. Or so I thought…” Noel sipped some of Regal’s drink since her laid in pieces on the floor. “Paul Donovan was a big guy, very bulky and muscular. Always yells to, a very mean person. So imagine my surprise when I opened the door and he was standing there saluting me!”

“Oh my, the real legend himself! Standing there!” Regal whispered. “Paul Donovan at your door! Oh I bet he was pissed.”

“Yeah, he looked like he was. But it gets better! He stepped to the side, and called attention. Every member of Donovan’s Wolves were in the hallway and they all saluted me. Then he took me by the arm, he has a wonderful grip, and each wolf personally apologized to me! Then he apologized himself for keeping me up and promised to take their training further down the road. Then he offered to buy me a coffee. Sweet innocent soul. Wouldn’t hurt a lamb!” Noel said pleading for Regal to believe her.

“Coffee eh? I bet he liked you!” Regal nudged his elbow into her.

“Oh no, he has a thing for the Chief Adviser! He told me during the coffee. Did I mention he wouldn’t hurt a lamb?” Regal nodded. He then looked to see the clock, noting that it was well past four in the morning. With a gentle hand he helped Noel up.

“Come on, Tiny Tits, time for bed,” Regal said softly. The two drunkenly stumbled all through Fort Caliben, but Regal was the far swifter man to get his sea legs back as he soon began burning through the alcohol. He never knew the reasons why, but he knew for a fact he never stayed drunk for long. He also knew he healed small minor wounds incredibly fast as well.

“Hey Regal…” Noel whispered.

“What?” He said irritably as he had to adjust for her weight a third time.

“Do you think Troy likes me?” Regal looked to her and sighed.

“Who knows what the hell that man likes anymore. You gotta understand that Troy is of the opinion that he can’t have happiness. I think that’s utter bullshit, but hey, I’m not Troy. I didn’t live his life. Yet Troy didn’t live mine either. We don’t get each other at times, but we both know we got each others back in a fight.”

“So you guys are really good friends, then?” Regal dropped her then and there.

“NO!” He said defensively. Noel giggled as she rubbed her butt.

“I won’t tell anyone!” She continued.

“Hey remember when Bruiser was going to punch you, and I stopped him from doing so?” Noel nodded. “Who the hell do you think is going to stop me?” Noel thought about it, and then smiled as she lifted her hand up. Regal grudgingly took the hand and wrapped her over his neck as he continued to move with her.

“I like Troy…” Noel whispered.

“Kinda obvious, Tiny Tits.”

“I wish he would open up to me.”

“Some people prefer the curtain remains closed.” Regal said thinking of his own pain he hid from daily.

“I wish he could trust me.”

“Trust can easily be abused.” Regal whispered, though his words were further from Noel’s.

“I wish he would love me too,” She barely whispered.

“I wish Troy knew what he has…” Regal whispered just as soft. The two looked to each other for a moment. Then with all the passion a drunkard could muster Noel thrust her face forward, locking her lips onto Regal’s as the two kissed.

Passionate, it was not.

Regal tossed her to the ground, glaring daggers at her as she looked to him in confusion.

“I don’t understand!” She said, confused as her eyes pleaded for Regal to explain.

“You just kissed me!” Regal shouted. “You know how wrong that is?”

“It was right, it felt right…” Noel commented.

“No, it was WRONG! W-R-O-N-G!” Regal had to double check if he missed a few letters. “You’re groping around in the dark hoping to god it’s Troy! Well guess what Tiny Tits! I’m Regal Burnswidth, the Demon of Swords! Last I checked you hated me!”

“Well I do!” She admitted. “A lot, you make fun of me all the time!” She said defensively.

“So you kiss me?” Regal blurted.

“Oh my…” Noel thought about it. “EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!” She shrieked as she began to wipe at her mouth. Regal looked to her with a pathetic sigh as he stooped low and picked her up carrying her the rest of the way. “Ewww, Regal that’s wrong.”

“I’m a Demon of Swords, not a disease factory, knock it off.”

“Yeah, but it’s YOU!” She sighed. “I was just thinking it was Troy, stupid Noel, stupid Noel!” She beat at Regal’s chest. This in turn made him wonder what the hell Troy did to make her so drunk as to kiss him. At last when the two looked at each other again she sighed. “He told me the only reason he saved my life was so that he wouldn’t die in this miserable fort.”

“Troy’s kind of a dick,” Regal commented, a hint of pride his traveling companion was showing life. Noel nodded. “Shut your damn eyes, get some sleep. In the morning after your hangover I’m sure Troy will have a dozen roses ready to go for you with an apology so depressing that you’ll cry.” Noel gave him a wide eyed look of hope.

“Really?” Regal nodded.

“Sure, why the hell not?” She squeaked with delight before nuzzling into Regal’s arms as he carried her all the way back to her room. When he kicked open the door he looked around the room and found her cot.

“Bit late, isn’t it Regal?” A voice said from behind.

“Yeah, well…had to protect our fearless leader.” Regal dumped Noel unceremoniously on her cot as he turned to look Troy in the eyes. His glacier like blue eyes stood out in the darkness and Regal felt that wave of depression exude from his comrade. “By the way, you’re a dick!” He said pointing his finger to him. Troy sighed deeply running his one good hand through his hair.

“Shut up and grab your sword.” Regal looked to Troy with anticipation.

“Any reason in particular?” Regal asked, unable to hide his excitement.

“It’s time we paid the spy a little visit.”

[Disillusioned]

Troy shook his head in an attempt to clear away a bit of a headache he had had since this morning. He hadn't been sleeping too well lately, and his recent "talk" with Noel hadn't exactly refreshed him. Still, there were matters that needed to be attended too, and the presence of a spy was one of those things that just couldn't wait until morning. Plus, given the late hour, it was a easier than usual to avoid Emprean soldiers as the two swordsmen made their way through the fort.

"So, who's the spy?' Regal asked as the two rounded a corner. Troy quickly halted, grabbed his companion by the coat, and pulled him into a room. Two Emprean soldiers walked by while Regal just growled at Troy. He simply shrugged at his companion and, as soon as the two Empreans were out of earshot, the two picked up their brisk walk.

"Take a guess."

"Buttercups."

"Is there any possible evidence you have against him, or was that just a random spouting of your usual nonsense?"

"Don't be mean to me just cause you broke Noel's heart!" Regal spat as Troy's cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Besides, have you seen how much the guy eats? Gotta be him."

Troy blinked once at Regal.

"You're serious, aren't you?" Troy asked as the two reached a door.

"Deadly so," Was Regal's stern response.

"I see. Well, I shall file that under the ‘possible, but not very likely’ scenarios,” Troy said as he motioned towards the door next to him. “In the mean time, what say we go with my hypothesis?”

“And that is?”

“Someone who had access to the officer’s meeting room, someone who has had multiple chances to view our strategies, and someone who has had far too much free time on their hands.”

“Are they sick too? Because we’re in the medical wing.”

“Indeed we are,” Troy said as he kicked open the door and marched inside. Regal followed him like a shadow, smirking at the man's most recent, violent action. Troy usually didn’t go for the over-the-top entrances.

“Good evening. Can I help you?” Zyke Hazama asked, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. The man still wore his white shirt, which was ruffled as if he had just been woken up from sleep. Troy eyed the man as he motioned for Regal to shut the door. Regal obliged.

“Hello. It’s Zyke isn’t it? Junior Lieutenant Zyke Hazama, correct?” Troy asked as his bloodshot eyes zeroed in on the man in the bed before him. Zyke just let out a yawn and stretched his arms.

“Yup. Although I must say, isn’t rather rude to break into someone’s room in the middle of the night without at least first introducing yourself?” Zyke asked as he slowly got up out of bed. The man’s clothes were the simple outfit of a patient in any number of hospitals on Althanas. A simple white shirt with simple white pants. Both were ruffled. Only Zyke’s hair was neatly combed.

“Apologies. Didn’t mean to wake you,” Troy said in a tone that was anything but polite. To tell the truth, the man was tired. Tired of this fort he had been forced to defend, tired of leading troops he had been forced to lead, and just plain tired from lack of sleep. Zyke’s calm, cool, and cocky demeanor only irritated him further. “I am Troy Priam. A mercenary.”

“Ah, I know you. You’re the one Noel has a crush on. How’s that going, by the way?” As Zyke asked his question, Troy’s face grimaced as his temper flared again. He checked his rage as best he could, attributing his lack of control to his lack of sleep. A good night’s sleep, and he would not have felt so angry at these words. Regal wasn’t helping either.

“Not too good. Troy went ahead and pulled a dick move, totally broke her heart. Points for ruthlessness though,” Regal said as he accompanied his remark with a slap on Troy’s back. This caused him to growl at his companion.

“I see. I hadn’t heard that part, but I’m sure Noel will be here eventually to tell me all about it. Not very nice of you Mr. Priam, using and then tossing aside an innocent little girl like that. Not very nice at all,” Hazama muttered as he gently fixed his hair.

“I’d like to talk to you about a problem we’ve been having lately,” Troy said, completely ignoring Zyke’s recent comment about his morals (or lack thereof). “There is talk of a spy being about.”

“Well, that is a problem. I’m afraid I don’t know too much about it, seeing as how I’ve been stuck here all the while, but I’ll look into it if you like. Anything for Noel’s ‘dreamy hunk.’ Well, at least that’s what she used to call you. Not sure what she’ll call you now.”

"Perhaps, if you are not too busy, I could run my theory by you? I have thought about it quite a bit, and I have some ideas," Troy asked in a tone that was less polite and more I'm-going-to-kill-you than anything else. Hazama just chuckled.

"Oh, me? Busy? Mr. Priam, I've nothing to do save put up with a rude little mercenary and his pet dog."

It was at this point that Regal chuckled, elbowed Troy in the ribs and said, "Heh. He called you a dog." The increasingly irritated Troy shoved Regal away.

"I thought as much. The man I am thinking of has had plenty of free time, as well as the ability to move around. Given his current condition, most people leave him alone. He can therefore act without being watched, giving him ample time to feed the enemy whatever plans Noel comes up with," Troy accompanied his statement with a step forward.

"A lot of good that did. Carthage still has yet to break the fort," Hazama said coolly as he tossed of his bed sheets and slowly stood out of bed.

"Well, Noel didn't exactly come up with all the plans. Or so I hear."

"Indeed. Apparently there is this mystical advisor offering her a guiding hand. I'm not a big fan of things hiding in the shadows myself. A tad too stalker-like for my sake."

The two stared at each for another moment. Troy’s body was hunched over a bit; black circles were under his eyes. His skin was whiter than usual, his hair was a bit of a mess. Hazama’s clothes were wrinkled, his body moved a bit slowly from his wounds. Troy squinted at him, and then stepped forward.

“Zyke Hazama, I-”

Zyke quickly held up his hands.

“I know! You don’t need to say it!” The man said as he walked over to Troy and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. This action surprised him, but Hazama’s next one caught him completely off-guard.

“You’re the spy. You’ve courage to admit this Troy, and you can be certain I’ll throw in a good word for you. Coming clean like this, well, really says something about your character. A spy's life isn’t for all Troy; deception and subterfuge takes its toll. That’s probably why you look like hell. You look like you haven’t slept a wink at all.”

Amused Troy was not.

“I’m not the spy! You are!” Troy spat at him. Regal, who had remained quite this entire time, gave Troy a hurt look.


“You coulda let me in on the scam Troy. I wouldn’t have squealed. If you wanna play for Carthage, that’s cool. I wouldn’t have judged you,” Regal pouted.

Troy ignored this remark and continued to glare at Hazama.

“But Troy, you gave the exact reasons it would be you! A mercenary has plenty of free time, they’re not expected to handle paperwork or do planning. Last I check most of them spent their time at the bar. And making bets if I recall correctly.”

Troy’s face grew red as his good hand became tightly clenched. Hazama continued on, unfazed.

“Now, most mercenaries aren’t given free roaming privileges, but let’s be honest here. Noel has a soft spot for you, and that grants you a few privileges. So cruel, Mr. Priam. Does love mean not a thing to you?” Hazama then smiled at Troy, while Regal just shook his head and muttered something along the lines of “so cruel Troy, so cruel.”

“Or it could be the one wounded officer, who has spent his entire time in the infirmary. The one who is never questioned, for he is not only the second highest ranking officer here, but he is in pain. No mercenaries can see him, and any soldier gives him a wide berth of comfort,” Troy quickly shot back.

Hazma made a face like he was hurt.

“Oh Mr. Priam! You’re hurting my feelings! To say I would go and betray my country like that is-”

“You planted the bombs that killed the officers!”

“And then I went ahead and stuck around for the explosion? Really now, something about that just doesn‘t seem quite right. I must be a pretty poor spy, Mr. Priam.”

“A fake wound, to trick the soldiers.”

“I can assure you, my ribs being broken by a piece of stone was anything but fake Mr. Priam. And then there‘s the matter of my shattered leg bone that-”

“You made it look worse than it was! While everyone thought you were in here, you were out and about! But no matter what plans you gave Carthage, it never worked because they were Noel’s plans! Not the real ones!”

“You know, I find this to be a simply enchanting story. Tell the dog to fetch us some snacks though. I’ve a bit of a craving for something sweet. Oh, and you‘re proof of my midnight expeditions is?”

“You’re hair,” Troy muttered as he pointed at Hazama’s well-kept hair. “If you had really been asleep when I arrived, it wouldn’t be so perfect.”

Hazama froze for a moment and thought to himself as he scratched his chin.

“Mother always did say I was a bit too vain for my own good,” Was his final remark. Troy then hesitated for but a moment, then immediately crossed the room in a single step, gripping the hilt of his sword as he did so. Sloppier than normal, Troy quickly drew and slashed in a single movement (with somewhat of a stumble from lack of sleep).

“Tch,” Hazama muttered as he dusted himself off. Off of instinct, he had dodged Troy’s attack with a quick roll to the side. The perfect position for a counter attack, but not the perfect position for someone who had a broken leg along with a few shattered ribs.

“What can I say? I’m a fast healer,” Hazama muttered as he made for the door. The man was quickly blocked by Regal, who had drawn his sword as well.

“But there’s one more reason I know it’s you Zyke,” Troy shot as he advanced towards the spy, who took a step back and frowned.

“You were the only one who was ever nice to Noel,” Troy said in a dead whisper. Hazama chuckled.

“Oh come on now. I’ll give you the medical condition, and the hair was a stroke of genius, but being nice? Mr. Priam, I can’t help it if your mother didn’t teach you manners, and the rest of you mercenaries consider betting on when a girl will cry sport, but to lump me in with that? Please Mr. Priam, give me some credit.”

“It’s not about manners. My parents taught me manners, but it is one thing to be polite and another thing to be nice,” Troy said as he flicked his blade and advanced towards Hazama. “Noel’s a nice girl, but she is not a soldier.”

“You’re not nice to a bad solider. You don’t show kindness to the weak in an army, because kindness will get you killed. Every other officer knew this. They knew Noel was a bad solider, and in the wrong place. One accident, one mistake on her part, and it could end someone’s life. You can’t be nice to that in an army. It is unacceptable to permit such behavior.”

Hazama slowly shook his head and frowned as Troy spoke.

“No one likes such a companion in war. She’ll get someone killed someday. That’s why,” Troy’s voice was barely above a whisper now. “That’s why no one who is actually fighting for Emprea would like Noel.”

Hazama let out a long sigh and held up his arms in defeat.

“Well, that’s that. Straight from the horse’s mouth, or I think that’s how the saying goes. I am truly sorry,” Hazama said with a smirk as the man did a graceful bow. “Noel Spero.”

Panicked, Troy turned quickly to see a horrorstruck Noel standing behind him.. The look of pain on the young girl’s face rooted him to the spot.

“Noel....I....” Troy began as the young soldier of Emprea clenched her fists tightly. She then punched Troy as hard as she could, which really wasn’t all that hard. However, given Troy’s current state, it was enough to knock him over.

“You really are a dick,” Regal finally said to Troy as he walked over to help the fallen knight up.

[Unfulfilled]

“I don’t know what you guys are doing in here, but this is off limits to you mercenaries!” Noel said with hurt pride as she pointed to the door. “As commander of Fort Caliben I order you both out of here, NOW!” She barked.

Regal, with a grunt, pulled Troy back to his feet and then turned looking Noel up and down. She was still a little buzzed from her drinking binge, but the earth shattering words Troy spoke not a few seconds earlier must have sobered her up quite a bit. Regal glanced sideways at Troy, who looked down upon his feet in shame before those cold, depressed blue eyes looked to him, a hint of tired beyond the first look.

“Sorry Tiny Tits, but we have a spy to kill,” Regal said turning back to her leveling his blade at Zyke. To his growing irritation, Noel stepped in front of the blade. “Who the hell do you think I am, Tiny Tits? Troy? Screw that!” Regal said heatedly. “Unlike him I won’t break your heart with words, I’ll use the damned edge of my blade! Scat!” He wiped his hand to the side to shoo her away, but she lifted her arms to either side of Zyke and shook her head.

“You both are already in big trouble,” Noel said with quiet intensity, determined to protect the only friend she had.

“So?” Regal said shrugging. “Nothing unusual for the Demon of Swords.” Zyke stood behind Noel, slowly stepping back towards his bed. Regal lifted the blade over Noel’s shoulder and poked towards the Junior Lieutenant. Noel ran forwards and shoved Regal back a few steps before retreating to Zyke’s side.

Regal looked to her with fire in his eyes as he shook his head. “He’s not your friend, Tiny Tits,” Regal said coolly despite the anger he was feeling at her. Noel didn’t even blink. Her emerald green eyes were showing a hostility that the Demon of Swords admired, but behind them, with a trained eye he had acquired only by traveling with Troy for nearly three years, saw something that told him what Noel really was feeling.

Noel’s heart was in so many pieces she was desperately clinging to anything that would make her feel whole. The man she loved had spurred her twice, her only friend in this dump was being accused as being a traitor, and her most hated foe was telling her she had small tits. For Noel Spero, this could have possibly been the worst day in her life. Sad how it was only thirty minutes into the start of it.

“Get out!” She repeated again.

“Noel,” Troy said softly. “Please listen to us!”

“I LISTENED ENOUGH TO YOU TROY!” She screamed, her verbal outburst pushing the fallen knight back a few steps. “Just…just get out and leave me alone, forever.”

“I’d do whatever she says, Mr. Priam,” Hazama chimed in.

“By the damned gods, can I just stab him already?” Regal inquired looking to Troy. Troy shook his head.

“Not yet. Not until Noel understands.” Regal growled his frustrations lowering his weapon. He looked over to Zyke’s table and saw the few goody baskets undoubtedly left by Noel. Some food plates, a few glasses from drinks. Two empty wine glasses and an empty bottle. His clothing, and his boots along with his Emprean uniform. Something seemed out of place.

“Look, Mr. Priam, I think you are the one with the need to understand,” Zyke said tiredly. “You come barging into the medical wing at the crack of dawn, accuse me of spying because of my hair and friendship with Noel and stand with a lunatic that has his weapon drawn on the two highest ranking Emprean officers in this fort.” He shrugged his shoulders looking at his messy table. “I think it’s time to understand you both are in serious trouble. Quit while you still can. I understand this fort has been under a lot of stress, so I can turn a blind eye to your transgressions.”

Regal continued to look at the table as he felt something begin to nag at the back of his mind. Noel glared at the both of them, making sure neither of the two mercenaries made a hostile move towards Zyke. He hated how he couldn’t think of what it was that was nagging him. It was like an itch on your back you couldn’t scratch. Without even realizing it Regal’s blade moved to his back where he scratched it gently.

“Troy, Regal, get out now!” Noel mustered up all the authority she could in those orders. “In the next few moments I’m going to scream far louder than any of you have ever heard, and the guards will come and arrest you.” Regal looked to Troy, who sagged his shoulders in defeat.

“Noel, please listen to me…” Troy whispered.

“No Troy, I’m done listening to you…” She said a little bit softer as her eyes betrayed the hurt in her emotions. With a deep sigh Troy turned pointing to Regal.

“Come on, we’re-” Regal stepped forward, pointing to the wine bottle.

“Where did you dig that up?” He asked. The room’s eyes turned to the table.

“What? The food? Noel was nice enough to bring it to me. Unlike Mr. Priam, I appreciate it to!”

“No,” Regal said angrily pointing at the wine bottle again. “Where did you get that!” Zyke lifted up the bottle.

“Oh, this?” He said casually. “Fine year, nicely aged. Like most normal places you get wine from, it came from the cellar.” Regal sighed in irritation.

“No, no, no!” He pointed to Hazama. “Where did you get that.” Zyke turned a fraction of an inch to Regal and narrowed his eyes.

“What? I answered that. The cellar. A soldier was kind enough to bring it to me.” Regal shook his head.

“Bull,” He said flatly. “That’s a spirit not served in this fort,” He said hastily. “When Noel and I went on our drinking binge I used her to get access to the good stuff.” Hazama laughed at Regal looking to Noel.

“Do all mercenaries use her?” Zyke turned to Troy with a soft smile of hostile intent. Noel sighed in irritation as she was about to speak, but Regal lifted his hand and began pacing as he talked on.

“Normally I just skip the wine section, but I do like to poke at it once in a while. As I wish to be the Saint of Swords one day I want to know what the best wine to have at the award party is going to be. You know, for the day I kill Karel Raven.” Zyke looked to the Demon of Swords like he was insane, and Troy sighed lifting his arm to grab Regal by the shoulder.

“Noel how many red wines does Fort Caliben serve?” Regal asked with his most serious tone. Troy’s hand hovered over Regal’s shoulder, but his blue eye’s glanced over to Noel. She looked at Regal like he was some stupid dog, but she lifted her hand and counted off.

“We got a Merlot, a Shiraz, and a Chianti. So three. Why the hell does that matter?” She asked. Zyke turned to his bottle of wine and back at Regal, his face full of amusement.

“Because spy boy has an empty bottle of a Bordeaux. Not something carried at Fort Caliben.” Troy stepped next to Regal as his hand hovered by the hilt of his blade. The Sword Demon lifted up his blade again to Zyke. “Wines in a military fort are mostly medium bodied, less likely to intoxicate the officers, but take the edge off a hard days work. Bordeaux’s are reserved for royal engagements, or promotion parties. Or in short to celebrate. Don’t think Emprea would be celebrating the coming of Carthage. Yet maybe a blood stained kingdom would have different rules on bringing wine to the battle field?”

“Wow, and I thought because my hair was combed was considered the worst type of evidence ever imagined,” Zyke sighed as he ran a hand through his hair leaning against the table. Troy and Regal both glanced at each other before nodding making a few steps towards Zyke.

“Zyke…” Noel whispered. “Zyke he’s right…There is no possible way you could have a wine like that…not unless…”

Before she could finish her sentence Zyke produced a small knife from the table, grabbed Noel by the throat and twirled her body into his chest where he held her placing the blade right against her cheek. Troy’s blade immediately came out as Regal held Tenacity firmly in both hands in a ready stance.

“Okay, detectives, play time is over. Drop your swords and she won’t die!” Zyke ordered.

“Like hell I care if you kill Tiny Tits.” Regal blurted.

“Zyke? Zyke what are you doing?”

“Being a spy, you moron!” He said angrily as he gripped her throat tighter. “Do you know how absolutely annoying it is to have to pretend to be your friend? I have to listen to all your stupid stories and all your constant whining! Dear GOD can you whine!”

“I know!” Regal added. “She’s terrible!”

Zyke looked to Regal and placed the blade deeper into Noel’s flesh, drawing a small thin line of blood and she yelped in pain. “I’ll cut her pretty face. And while you may not care Demon of Swords, Troy there does. Don’t you Troy?”

Regal laughed at his comment as he moved over to finish it off, but he heard soft shuffling from behind him. Before long he saw Troy’s blade slide on the ground in front of Regal as the fallen knight stepped forward.

“Stand down Regal,” Troy said in barely a whisper as his eyes focused on Noel.

With all the irritation he could muster he angrily lifted his scabbard and slammed Tenacity into the metal with a distinct thud, crossing his arms over his chest as he glared at Emprean Officer Junior Lieutenant Zyke Hazama, Carthage Spy.

[Disillusioned]

"First things first. Noel. You don't have a chance with Troy. I am truly sorry to be the one to tell you this, but quite frankly, he's just not that into you," Hazama muttered as he gently traced his knife around Noel's cheek. To say that she was terrified would be an understatement.

"Second things second. I really did get that wine from the cellar. Honest. There's a special stock for officer's that are liked," Hazama said with a grin. "It's a pretty exclusive list actually. Everyone but Noel."

Noel shot Hazama a dirty look, and the man responded by raising his eyebrow and gently flicking his blade across her skin. "Be nice Noel. You've so few good qualities, I'd hate to take one away from you."

"Don't worry Noel. We won't let him hurt you," Troy said softly as he raised a hand in an attempt to calm everyone down. The glare Noel shot Troy was actually worse than the one she had just given Hazama.

"What makes you think I need your help Troy? I'm in command here!" Noel spat at Troy, who recoiled at the girl's viciousness towards him. Hazama just chuckled.

"Please Noel. You haven't been in command since, oh, ever. Now if everyone will just be patient, I'm sure this will all sort itself out," Hazama said in a polite tone. Regal scoffed at such a remark, causing Hazama to look at the Sword Demon with a mischievous flicker in his eyes.

"I suppose if waiting quietly doesn't work for you, we can talk about why Noel and Troy just won't work. Want to do that?" Hazama asked far too politely.

"Not particularly," Troy muttered mostly to himself.

"I get enough of that already!" Noel whined.

"Better that than waiting here doing nothing!” Regal said off-handedly. This earned him a glare from both Noel and Troy.

"Well for starters, I'm pretty sure Troy's gay," Hazama said aloud and almost carelessly. Regal laughed, Troy fumed, and Noel screamed.

"HE IS NOT!" Noel shouted at the top of her lungs.

"Wait a sec, he may be on to something here. Go on," Regal said with a laugh.

"Regal. Shut up. Now!" Troy snapped at his companion, which was actually quite a rarity. Another sign that the man was more tired than he let on to be.

"Oh come on now, Mr. Priam. I am not the type to judge. Don't ask, don't tell; that's always been my policy," Hazama continued to blather on, gently playing with his knife as he danced it around Noel's face. "After all, two men, wandering around together, all across Althanas. Sounds like love to me."

Troy was irritated and tired, but he was not overtly phased by Hazama's taunts. Regal was being more annoying than usual (or so Troy thought), and Noel's glares at him weren't doing anything for his self-esteem, but the taunts he could deal with. Troy knew the taunts were nothing more than words, and so he ignored them.

Regal did not.

"I AM SO NOT GAY!" The Sword Demon screamed at the top of his lungs. Instantly Regal's sword was in his hands, and he had the blade pointed at Hazama, who quickly shielded himself behind the body of Noel. "YOU TAKE THAT BACK!"

"Regal, will you calm down and-" Troy could not finish his sentence.

"It all makes sense now," Regal said as he whipped around and shot his companion a wild look. "Why you wouldn't sleep with Noel! It's so clear to me. All the nights we didn't have enough money to buy separate rooms so we had to share one! All one big, giant, enormous LIE!"

"Damn you Regal! It's nothing more than a head game!" Troy snapped at his companion, causing Hazama to chuckle.

"And a surprisingly effective one at that. Far more so than it was meant to be. Adds a whole no meaning to the phrase 'he's not your type,' wouldn't you say?" Hazama asked Noel. She just looked up at him with her emerald eyes, now filled with embarrassment, pain, and heartache.

"How long?" She asked softly. "How long have you been lying to me?"

He twirled his knife once between his fingers before answering.

"Well, technically the first thing I said to you was 'Hello. My name is Zyke Hazama, nice to meet you,' so that would be since the beginning." The way Noel drooped her head in complete shame upon hearing these words is indescribable.

"Hey, chin up bucko!" Hazama laughed as he gently punched Noel on the chin while Regal wanted an in-depth analysis of about twenty-seven of Troy's past actions (Troy was doing his best to ignore Regal). "It's cause of you I got my transfer here! Wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you Noel!"

"And the time you helped me into bed because I was too drunk to stand! Did you really just help me into bed, or did you help me into bed? Cause I-" Regal continued to speak, but Troy shushed him.

"Damn you Regal! Shut up already! What did you mean by that last remark Zyke? No Regal, I DID NOT TOUCH YOU IN ANYWAY!" Troy screamed, his calm demeanor cracking all the more every second. Zyke shrugged his shoulders as he smirked at Troy.

"Oh, no one told you how I ended up with this assignment? Talk of the officers you know. Oh right. They're all dead. Must have slipped my mind," Hazama said with a cruel chuckle. "In any case, little Noel here was so afraid of going off to fight so far from home."

Hazama paused for a moment.

"Hey. Did you tell him about the time you ran away from the academy?" Noel's face instantly became a deep shade of red as Hazama spoke. "Found her hiding in her parent's closet. Swear to God. Honest truth."

"Just stop. Please!" Noel begged Hazama. He ignored her.

"Right, so you both know that Noel here is a noble. Not a petty one either. Her parent's actually have some pull with one of the 'Six Heroes Of Emprea.' The one who stays up all night barking at a full moon with his troops. How about that time Troy brushed up against you in the hallway, eh Regal?" Hazama threw out the last little bit with a smile.

"HEY! WHAT ABOUT THAT TIME?" Regal shouted as he turned his sword at Troy and glared at the tired knight. Troy just kept his eyes focused on Zyke and his hostage.

"Oh yes, the story. My deepest apologies. So Noel throws a fit, you've heard one before I take it? She is so worried about being so far from home with no friends and so on. Her parents, ever the spoilers, tell her that they'll get one of her friends transferred if she'll be a good little solider and stop whining."

The chuckle Hazama let out then and there was one of the most cruelest sounds Troy had ever heard. He knew what Hazama was about to say, but he was powerless to stop the man. This only enraged Troy further.

"And so I, the wolf amidst the sheep, entered Fort Caliben and began my master plan. All thanks to you Noel! Hey, ever think of joining Carthage? After all, without you, all those officers would still be alive, wouldn't they?" Hazama asked in a far too sincere voice. Troy turned his head away, for he could not bare look at Noel's emerald eyes anymore.

Noel was crying. But it wasn’t her usual pouting or whining. Noel Spero was now officially crying. Not the I-didn’t-get-what-I-want type of cry, or the I-just-broke-up-with-my-boyfriend-of-two-months type of cry, but the type of cry that sears the heart; what Troy had so recently predicted had come true. She had made a mistake, and it had cost people their lives. No wonder no one liked her. She had taken a Carthage spy right into the heart of the fort without even thinking, all because he was nice to her.

Noel Spero broke down into tears. She wept and sobbed, moaned and crumpled. Even Regal stopped his antics as Noel Spero literally lost all will to continue on. Then and there, Noel wanted nothing more than for Zyke to cut her throat. At least when she was dead, she couldn’t mess anything else up.

“Damn you Hazama!” Troy screamed as he snatched up his sword. “I’ve had it! Turn that blade in his direction Regal!”

Regal did as he was told, no longer questioning his relationship with Troy, at least for the moment. Troy advanced towards Hazama, who quickly ducked behind Noel.

“Now listen here-” The spy began.

“NO! You listen Hazama!” Troy screamed; the stress he had been holding had broken his calmness, among other things. “You will let her go this instant!”

“Actually, I think I’ll slit her throat if you take another step.”

In response to Hazama’s most recent comment, Noel gently pressed her neck against Zyke’s blade.

“You’ll do no such thing, because that girl is the only thing keeping me from ramming my sword down your throat!” Troy shouted with more emotion than anyone in the room had ever heard. Noel snapped back into focus, her death wish momentarily abated. Regal raised a curious eyebrow and continued to point his sword at Hazama, who tightened his grip on Noel.

“You kill her and you’re dead! You wait for someone to hear me screaming and your dead! I may not be able to convince anyone I’m right, but I’ll be damned if a soldier finding you with a knife pressed against Noel’s neck isn’t incriminating enough!” Troy stepped forward, his blade poised to strike.

“You’ve one chance. Let the girl go, and I’ll let you go. Or I swear, you’ll be dead before the day’s end!” Troy lied. He had every intention of killing Zyke Hazama regardless of whether or not he released Noel. As soon as Noel was safe, this spy was a dead man. A more sane Troy would have chastisd himself for lying, but the calm and collected Troy was no where to be found.

“Tch. Guess we can’t play anymore. I was having fun too,” Zyke said in off-handedly as he looked at the clock that ticked upon the wall. It was a fine clock, made of oak from Corone and supposedly hand-crafted by an apprentice to a master clockmaker as a gift to a former commander of Fort Caliben. Zyke had spent many nights staring at that clock, and he breathed a sigh of relief as it finally chimed and signaled that it was five in the morning. Zyke let out another cruel chuckle, and that infuriated Troy a bit more.

“You’ve no escape!” Troy shot at him. “There’s nothing you can do! Where are you going to run Zyke? There’s not a soul here who’ll save you!”

“Here? No, I think not. At least not in the fort, but outside is a different matter. You see,” Zyke said very softly. Then his voice turned quite high-pitched and playful. “I know something you don’t know!”

Troy would have asked him what that was, but Zyke didn’t give him time. Instead, the spy stepped forward and, with one hand still tightly around Noel, gave another low bow.

“Prince Lucifer Blight, one of the most ruthless men in all of Carthage, has arrived.” Zyke said majestically. He then waved his hand and spoke in a high, joking voice. “Bye-bye!”

It all happened so fast, Troy still wasn’t exactly sure what he did. All he knew was that the fort shook violently as a huge boulder crashed through the roof of the infirmary, narrowly missing Zyke and Noel. Cries of alarm were heard throughout the fort as Carthage began a massive offensive; the likes of which Troy had no plans prepared for. Troy stumbled and dropped his sword as Regal lurched forward; the steel of his blade shimmering in the now visible night sky.

Under the stars that shimmered in the night, a huge Carthage army began a full scale attack on Fort Caliben. When the reinforcements had arrived, no Emprean soldier could say for sure. All that mattered was that they were here, and they were laying waste to Fort Caliben like never before. Hazama laughed as Carthage descended upon the unsuspecting fort; victory achieved. He then looked at Noel, grinned cruelly, and kicked her atop of Regal’s exposed blade.

Noel screamed like she had never screamed before. She braced herself for the sharp pain that would no doubt herald her demise, but instead she felt a familiar arm catch her. She recognized it almost instantly; she had been clinging to that arm almost everyday.

Troy’s good arm snatched Noel and pulled her a bit to the side, just out of the blade’s deadly reach. Noel then felt Troy’s grip on her tighten as he took a harsh, raspy breath. The man’s shoulder’s sagged slightly; his head fell forward onto Noel’s shoulder.

“T-Troy?” Noel stuttered as she looked down.

She screamed.

“Said you were a bad soldier, not a bad person. Better to be like you, and be good person but a bad soldier, than to be a like me. A bad soldier,” Troy whispered softly into Noel’s ear. “And a bad person.”

The room shook again as another boulder struck Fort Caliben and sent Troy sprawling across the room.

An arc of blood followed Troy’s descent from where he had been impaled on Regal’s very own sword.

[Unfulfilled]

The screams of battle echoed down every hall as Caliben was in the final throws of the inevitable defeat. Wave after wave of fresh Carthage soldiers charged in and it was all the mercenaries and Emprean soliders could do to hold back the never ending tide. Most mercenaries stumbled on the field, retreating in a panic creating large gaps in the defense line. The captain’s of the Emprean soldiers tried to close those gaps, but the advantage Carthage had in numbers was just was to many.

Justice and Bruiser were holding their own as Buttercups carried a screaming Roulette and a sleeping Ten Thumbs. Stitches kept close to the larger mercenary as they slowly made their way over towards the last spot anyone had saw Troy and Regal: Noel’s office.

“We’re all going to die!” Roulette screamed like a child as tears ran down his face. He had quite the powerful set of lungs as his screaming never faltered once he saw the Carthage army advance.

“Five O’clock in the morning is seriously not Justice,” The paladin mercenary grumbled as he took his axe and sword and hacked away at two Carthage soldiers. Bruiser lifted up both hands shoving a larger Carthage knight down the hall smashing into the block of warriors trying to barge through. In response Justice charged down the hall, quickly ending soldiers before they could get up.

“Have at thee! Naïve!” Justice bellowed as he took his blade and thrust forward into the chest plate of the knight. To his surprise, and to nobody else, his blade was parried by the thick armor. “Uh, Buttercups?” Justice squeaked as he turned tail and ran back down the hall. Buttercups dropped Roulette and gently placed Ten Thumbs on the ground as he turned to the knight.

The knight was easily the girth of Buttercups, but two heads shorter giving the giant mercenary the advantage in height. Slowly Buttercups moved in on him, careful not to make a sudden move. The knight used his great sword as a prod, keeping the larger mercenary at bay. At last the knight made the first move, cleaving his blade in a wide arc. Buttercups stepped back as the blade passed his stomach giving it a small cut as his right arm followed the blade’s path in its wake. The sword hit the wall followed by Buttercups back hand knocking the weapon out of the Knight’s fingers.

Enraged he lost his weapon the knight charged forward ducking into a shoulder tackle. Buttercups widened his legs and lowered himself accepting the hit as his own arms linked around the metal chest plate. Using all his grace, which wasn’t much, he rolled with the momentum and threw the knight against the wall. The knight hit hard, sending spider like cracks down the wall as he fell and collapsed under the weight of his own armor. Unable to get up Bruiser and Justice both jumped the fallen knight, eventually double teaming him to get his helmet off where they could cut his throat.

Stitches immediately ran to Buttercups, checking the wound but the mercenary monk just swatted him away gently moving forward and picking up Ten Thumbs and Roulette, who had yet to stop screaming the entire fight.

They rounded the corner and were about to approach the door to Noel’s room when a thin arrow slammed into the wood. The usual green and teal feather’s of Spooks fetching put them at ease as Stitches reached his hand and grabbed the note.

Medical Wing

Stitches turned to them and motioned for them to follow. Another large boulder rolled through the fort smashing apart walls and the Emprean barracks before it came to a stop. Mercenaries and soldiers alike were fleeing and regrouping deeper and deeper into the base, but without any orchestrated plan in motion the forces of Emprea were far to scattered to hold against the numerically advanced Carthage warriors. The only hope to save the people in this fort lay in Troy.

They ran down a set of stairs, having to jump the final few steps that were destroyed as a dust fog twirled in the air from another rampaging boulder. Stitches had to cover his eyes to avoid getting the debris in his eyes as Roulette still continued to scream incoherently. Justice grabbed Stitches by the collar, shoving him forward as large bolts from bow fire nearly took him down. They all sprinted as fast they could, Buttercups getting hit several times in his arms and back. He didn’t seem to notice the pain, or he ignored it, Stitches wasn’t sure which. He did notice that Buttercups was muttering something that sounded like a mantra under his breath. Shaking those thoughts out of his head he continued his run, catching up with Bruiser.

They rounded the corner, looking to see somebody dragging Noel away by her hair with a knife to her neck as she screamed. Justice hastened his steps to save her but another boulder rolled in his path, stopping just upon the edge of the medical wing building.

Cursing they all ran around the boulder to help save Noel, but she was out of sight. Only her screams adding to the confusion of everyone else. Stitches heart raced as he turned to look inside the medical wing, a large hole made from a boulder that actually penetrated the stone walls. He noticed Regal was slowly getting up with large amounts of wall shards and dust falling from his shoulder’s, his eyes flashing with red as he looked hastily around for something. The mercenary cadre ran into the medical wing, Roulette being dumped on a table as Ten Thumbs was placed on the ground. The boy woke up, grabbed Tenacity, and handed it Regal.

“I don’t even want to begin how creepy it is you slept through a whole battle and woke up only to find my sword,” Regal snarled in anger. Turning to Stitches the Demon of Swords glared at the assembled team. “What the hell is going on?”

“The final wave. This is it for Fort Caliben. It’s falling today. A fresh wave of new troops entered this morning and the siege weapons began to fire non-stop. I’m not to adept at this battle assessment thing, but I would guess the advantage Carthage had went from three to one to a five to one advantage. I could be wrong,” Stitches said looking to Buttercups who was wincing in pain as he pulled arrows out of his body.

“The spy was the patient I take it?” Bruiser said as he and Justice turned beds over and pushed them against the hole in the wall to create a barrier. The sounds of rampaging feet and war cries began to get closer and closer.

“Yup, Troy knew, but the bastard used Noel as a hostage,” Regal said as he looked over the barrier. “Buttercups, cover the door, Justice and Bruiser help me hold this barrier.” He pointed to a charging force of Carthage warriors.

“What of our fearless leader?” Stitches asked as he wrapped up Buttercups wounds quickly. “Where is he?” Regal remained quiet as he turned his head and pointed towards the wall, his first real look at his traveling companion. Before the other mercenaries had a chance to glance Carthage was on the offensive.

[Disillusioned]

Troy's world was very blurry. All he could remember was a large boulder crashing down next to him. After that, there was nothing. He vaguely heard the sounds of battle, but they seemed to be so far away now, so distant. He felt about the ground with his good hand until he found the hilt of his sword. With a sigh he gripped the blade and lifted it up.

It felt heavy. So very heavy.

He attempted to rise, but lacked the strength. Instead, he managed to sit up and lean back against one of the overturned beds in the room. People were shouting and screaming, but he could barely hear them. He closed his eyes. It felt so nice. He longed for sleep to take him away.

There was a door up ahead. People had just run in through it. They looked like mercenaries. Must be Stitches and his friends. Everything was moving slowly for Troy, and he reasoned that the impact from the boulder coupled with lack of sleep may have dealt him some brain damage.

Carthage was coming, that much he remembered. He could not stand, but he lifted his sword as best he could in order to defend himself. Disillusioned, his faithful companion, named after how he felt about himself the day Hector died. A disappointment. That's what he was. One big, giant, disappointment. He could neither save his friend nor accept the blame for his failures. That was why he had ran, after all. He was too afraid to look Hector's family in the eye and tell them "I am the reason your son is dead. Forgive me."

His sword was heavier than it had ever been. The noise of battle hurt his head. He closed his eyes to shut out the noise and the battle. He was so tired. So sleepy. He just wanted to sleep, if only for a little while. He let the darkness wash over him and claim his mind.

And in the darkness, the nightmares always came.

The man was dressed in blue. It was his favorite color. It matched the man's blue eyes well. His hair was short and red, like a fire. He wore armor signifying that he was a member of the Benzer army. Strapped behind his back was a massive claymore, capable of slaying a man with but a single blow.

"Hector..." Troy mumbled in his sleep.

Hector's body was raked with wounds of battle. Arrow after arrow was impaled within his flesh; the man's blood had congealed around the wounds. Every now and then a long drop of blood would drip out from the wounds; a red tear that seemed to stretch on forever. The man was missing the lower half of his lip; it had been torn away by an arrow. Troy could see the bone and the bleeding gums there. A vision of his past; a summation of his failures.

"You let me down Troy," The specter of his friend breathed softly. "You let me down."

Troy tried to speak. He couldn't. His mouth formed the words, but nothing came out. He wanted to say he was sorry, sorry that he ruined everything. Sorry that he had failed his friend. Sorry about everything. But, just like in the past, Troy never did manage to say those words.

"I died for you buddy. I died so you could live. But you didn't live. Not really. All you did was survive," Hector spat on Troy; a mixture of saliva and blood. "Should've been you man. Should've been you."

The ghost of Hector vanished from his sight, dissipating into darkness. Troy drew a ragged and weary breath. He could still smell the blood from Hector's wounds; as fresh as the day they had claimed the man's life. Troy shuddered.

A new vision; a new nightmare. A young girl in a white dress stood before him. Her eyes matched Hector's; a deep shade of blue. The color of the night sky. Her hair matched Hector's as well; a bright fire. Her hair was done in a ponytail that hung just a bit past her neck. She appeared to be about nine or so.

Cassandra Vox. Hector's little sister.

"WHERE'S MY BROTHER? HE SAID HE WOULD COME BACK AND TAKE ME OUT FOR ICE CREAM!" She screamed as she glared at Troy. "I WANT MY BROTHER BACK!"

He wanted to tell her that he was so sorry. Her brother wasn't going to come back, and it was all his fault. He wanted to tell her that he would give anything to make up for it, and he would start by buying her the biggest ice cream he could find. He wanted, no, he needed to tell her that even if she hated him, he would always look out for her; it was what her brother would want. Even if she loathed him, even if she wanted to kill him, even if she did kill him, he would watch out for her until his dying breath.

Again he mouthed the words, once more no words came out. He hadn't said those words in real life either, why should it be different now? Just another disappointment atop the pile that was Troy's life.

"IT'S YOUR FAULT!" The little girl screamed at Troy as she tightened her small hands around his neck. "IT'S YOUR FAULT HE'S DEAD! IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!"

She was choking him; Troy couldn't breathe. His eyes watered up as the act of taking in air became harder and harder. The tiny hands wrapped around his neck squeezed tighter, but that was all right. Of all people, surely this young girl had a right to kill him. Besides, if he was dead, he wouldn't be tormented like this anymore, would he?

The girl faded away, leaving Troy to stew once more in the darkness. Even though she was gone, he could still feel her icy hands wrapped around his neck; the cold grip of death. Troy's good hand shook violently; he did his best to rest it against his chest and hold it with his damaged arm. He drew another ragged breath.

He saw a woman. She was his age, perhaps a bit younger? Yes, she was definitely a year or two younger. Her hair wasn't fiery red like the past two ghosts, nor were her eyes the same shade of blue as the previous visions. Her long hair was dark brown, like Troy's. Her eyes though, her eyes were the darkest of blue. A deep sea compared to the icy shade of Troy's own eyes.

"Rebecca..." Troy mumbled as he shifted about in his sleep.

The woman's clothes were worn. They had once been of a fine quality, meant for a nice dinner and the occasional social outing. They were torn in places now, patched up here and there. Her white skin was cut in places; rewards for a life spent wandering in search of someone. He noticed the wear and tear on her hands; small, white, dainty hands. Troy reached out to touch this phantom of his beloved sister

"Excuse me? I'm lost," Rebecca said to him, just out of the reach of his fingertips. "I'm trying to find my brother. He ran away, but I want him back. They say he died in battle, but I don't believe that. My brother wouldn't leave me alone like that."

"I didn't die!' Troy actually managed to say. The spirit heard his words and stared at him; his fingers ached to touch her just once more. "I love you! More than anything! I would never leave you alone!"

He had said those words. He remembered saying them, although he couldn't recall exactly when. A long time ago, when he had been worth something; when he had loved and been loved in return.

In the most haunting, the most agonizing, the most devastating voice Troy could have possibly conceived, the phantom answered back.

"You're not my brother," Rebecca said softly. "You left me."

Troy screamed as the vision of his sister faded into darkness. At least he wanted to scream. He wanted to yell as if his heart had been torn asunder, but he could not. His punishment for not saying what he should of said then; not being able to say what he wanted now.

With a sharp and painful breath Troy awoke from his sleep. His clothes were drenched in sweat, and his breathing was hard and painful. He still sat against an overturned bed, he still rested his head. Disillusioned was laying on the floor, clutched tightly by his right hand. He tugged at it. It would not budge; he was too tired to lift his own sword.

Was this his life now? Too tired to fight, too afraid to go back to sleep? What type of life was that? The phantoms of his past had been right. He wasn't a brother, it was all his fault, and it should have been him who died on that fateful day.

"Enough..." Troy whispered to himself as he leaned back and waited for Carthage to claim his life.

[Lucifer Blight]

Roughly a day ago...

"I am not happy Trabant. Not at all," A man muttered as he rode his horse through the dark night of Emprea. He wore a simple blackened chain mail, laced with trimmings of gold. Upon a horse as black as the night he rode through; a large bastard sword slept in a sheath at the man’s waist. The blade clinked against the man‘s armor as he road; a soft but menacing sound. A cape of th same color as the horse fluttered slightly behind him; it was a bit of a hassle, but it made him look more imposing. It paid to be imposing in the Carthage army.

He was Prince Lucifer Blight. One of the three "Great Generals" of Carthage, and he was not a happy man at all. Not only was he riding through the darkness (his horse stumbled through the night more often than not), but he wanted to be about one-hundred miles from here. But he had been tasked with dealing with a different problem.

Fort Caliben. Carthage spies had reported a massing of troops there and, as was only prudent, a detachment of the Carthage army had been sent to deal with the problem. After all, it would not do to be flanked during a siege. Not at all. Lucifer scoffed at his current situation. He shouldn’t have to deal with this problem, he should be with the rest of the main army. That’s where the real battle was, and that was where all the real glory would be found, for that was where the main force of Emprea was.

Under the supreme command of Prince Ares Victus, the highest ranking official in Carthage (save the king), the campaign against Emprea had gone off perfectly. Carthage had attacked viciously and without warning, destroying what feeble defense the border had offered, and plunging straight into the heart of Emprea. Emprea's plan of resistance was to make their stand inside their castle, which suited Lucifer just fine. Carthage excelled at siege warfare. Then again, Carthage pretty much excelled at warfare in general.

What did not suit Lucifer just fine was his current mission. Mopping up some failure of a general's blunder was not what he was suppose to be doing. What he was suppose to be doing was ending Emprea, but no, Ares had other missions for him.

Ares Victus. The Lord Of The Army. Oh, how Lucifer hated that man. As the bastard son of the former king, Lucifer Blight had been denied the royal birthright of the throne. In fact, the current king had made it clear that Lucifer could never ascend to the throne.

The fact that Lucifer had been adopted into the king's family irritated him to know end.

But, Carthage was Carthage, and even the lowliest of men could advance themselves if they were skilled in battle, and Lucifer was very skilled in battle. So he took the orders, followed the commands, stifled his pride, and plotted for that one day where he would rule all. But that was for later. Now he had something else to deal with.

"Your anger is understandable. The reports of failure has been...unsettling, to say the least," Another man said softly as he kept pace with Lucifer upon his own horse. This man wore no armor, instead he dressed himself in fine silks of blue. His long hair was slicked back, revealing his pale face clearly under what little moon shined. He was Trabant Magone, one of the premier strategists in Carthage. He was also one of the few people Lucifer could stomach.

Their orders were simple. Reinforce the soldiers at Fort Caliben, finish off the fort, and ride to reinforce the soldiers attacking the Castle Of Emprea.

Reinforce, reinforce, reinforce. It was his adopted brother’s way of letting Lucifer know just who was in control of the army. No matter. Lucifer would just finish off the fort and be back before the siege had started. That would show that pompous ass Ares just who knew how to wage war.

“Three to one odds, siege weaponry, a well placed spy, no possibility of enemy reinforcements. All things that should have guaranteed victory for our side,” Lucifer spat as he looked behind him. He had rested his troops up at a nearby town for an entire day to prepare them for this night march. “Perhaps they have some sort of prodigy general there, eh? Maybe one of those so-called Six Heroes?”

Lucifer hated marching his troops through the night. The story books always made it seem so easy; they never took into account the problems that came with not being able to see more than ten feet in front of you. A cart broke; two hours to fix since the engineer could barely see his own hands. An order of silence to hid the troop movement; men became lost and were never found again.

Given his current thoughts, one might think that Lucifer Blight was not as ruthless as Hazama made him out to be. This is untrue; the previous town Lucifer had “rested” at was now nothing more than plundered homes and a few fires. But Lucifer was a soldier first and foremost; a good soldier knew that well-rested and motivated men fight harder than tired and uncaring men. Perfect justification for allowing the men under his command to take whatever they wanted from whoever they beat.

Not that Lucifer really felt the need to justify his actions. He slept rather well at night actually.

“No sir. Reports confirm the presence of all Six Heroes at Castle Emprea,” Trabant responded coolly.

“...I was trying to help justify their ineptitude Trabant. Do you want me to strip the commander of rank and send him to the front line?” Lucifer grunted as he moved his horse to the side. A tree had fallen in the middle of the path; another half hour delay for his men. Lucifer himself had decided to ride on ahead with Trabant and a few guards to assess the situation at Fort Caliben.

“In a word; yes.”

Trabant’s answer was accompanied by a cruel smile. Like the prince, he had no use for those who couldn’t get the job done. Such was the Carthage creed. Fight well and gain victory; be rewarded. Fail and suffer the consequences. If the odds were against you, the consequences weren’t that harsh (Carthage did not become a premier military force be expecting the impossible). Fail when the odds were in your favor and, well, write a few letters while you had the time.

*~*~*~

“Well, so much for my first order of business,” Lucifer muttered as he took his seat at the command tent. He had just been informed that the commander had been killed during the first attack. Stupidly. Such failures often led to either complete loss of rank or execution; it was only fair. How many good men had that idiot of a commander gotten killed for his desire for glory?

Around him sat the remaining officers in the (severely damaged) Carthage army. Trabant stood by quietly, a few feet away from Lucifer. Torches had been lit to better view the large map of Fort Caliben that had been laid out; shadows danced across the men’s faces. Trabant in particular seemed to enjoy the shadows; he smiled as his face was obscured by the flames that flickered softly.

“After the loss of the commander, well, we were at a bit of a loss sir. We attempted a full-scale assault on the mercenary held side,” An officer began, but stopped the moment Lucifer held up his hand.

“Mercenary side?” Lucifer asked as his temper flared.

“Ah, yes sir. A portion of the Fort is being held by mercenaries,” The man managed to say. Lucifer balled his hands into a fists.

“The great Carthage army was repulsed by mercenaries?” The prince asked rather coolly. That was not a good sign. Lucifer had a range of emotions for anger; from screaming rage to deathly quiet. Deathly quiet was the worse. At that point, Lucifer was probably planning on killing you and your family, as well as your best friend. Plus the shopkeeper who gave you a discount the other day. The officers around Lucifer were very thankful that the prince was still talking.

“Er. Yes my prince,” The officer said quietly. Lucifer thought for a moment, then looked past the officer. That officer was only giving a report of the current situation, it wouldn’t do to punish him.

“You. Come here,” Lucifer spat as he pointed to the highest-ranked officer. Filled with fear, the man stood up and trembled as he walked over towards Lucifer. With a sneer, Lucifer grabbed the man’s sword and tossed it onto the dirt.

“You’re on front line duty as of now, as a spearman. Fight well and I’ll restore your rank. Fight poorly and don’t bother returning. Are we clear?’ Lucifer muttered sinisterly as the man nodded and scampered off. With a growl Lucifer sat down and looked at the blueprint of the fort. “What happened next?”

“Well, we held off a few days, then hit them full force during the night. We broke through the first wall,” The officer began again. Lucifer interrupted him. Again.

“Who’s plan was that?” Lucifer barked. Another man slowly stood up; this one with not as much fear as the last. Lucifer liked that.

“Mine sir.”

“How’d it go?”

“Not well. We stormed the first wall, but lost roughly one-half of our forces when the enemy detonated stashes of powder they had hid throughout outer courtyard. We were unable to break the second wall after that,” The man said quietly, his eyes never breaking from the prince’s own dark brown ones. Lucifer glared at the man.

“Seems like you messed up and cost a lot of men their lives,” Lucifer said softly. The man still didn’t back down.

“I could argue I only came up with the plan of a night attack. It was the commander who oversaw troop deployment and failed to send in reconnaissance,” Was the man’s soft response. Lucifer cocked and eyebrow and turned to Trabant. The strategist shrugged.

“He has a point, my prince.”

Lucifer chuckled and motioned for the man to sit back down. It wouldn’t do to crush possible potential before it even had a chance to grow. Lucifer was many things; an unfair master wasn‘t one of them. Actually, most people enjoyed being under his command. He was harsh and strict, but fair too. Plus, no other general gave his troops as much leeway when it came to looting as Lucifer did, and he had spent several days spreading rumors of what could be taken from Fort Caliben; greed made for good motivation.

“All right then. It seems to me that we’ve been just a step behind the enemy at every turn. Not only is their commander capable of taking advantage of a foolish move on our part, but he has the ability to think ahead too. On our second attack, we were repulsed by a hail of arrows, correct?’ Lucifer asked, he received silent nods in response.

“He probably knew we’d target the mercenary section rather than regular soldiers. Mercenaries not only break easier as they’re not defending what they hold dear, but a bought sword is never as good as one that came from the home it defends,” Lucifer slowly paced around the map, moving the little symbols that represent the Carthage forces as he did so.

“Then, knowing he’d never be able to hold the first wall indefinitely, he plans a failsafe. He has two walls, the inner one’s the important one. He gives up the first wall, making it as costly as possible for us,” Lucifer accompanied this statement with a fierce wave of his hand across the map. Half of the Carthage symbols flew into the air and landed on the dirt floor below.

“Well, the prodigy’s earned my respect. Who is he?” Lucifer grunted as he sat back down. The officers looked at each other nervously. This annoyed Lucifer. “Come on now! I know we’ve reports on all Emprean officers stationed at Fort Caliben! Where are they?”

Trabant, always the prepared one, quickly produced to stack of folders and handed them to Lucifer.

“I took the liberty of reviewing them when we first arrived,” Trabant whispered softly. “You won’t like what you find, my prince.”

“If I am not mistaken, the spy was suppose to kill off most of the officers in an explosion. He failed, I take it?” Lucifer asked as he flipped open the first folder. He tossed it aside as when he saw the words “KILLED” stamped across the top.

“In a sense, yes. He wasn’t able to kill them all,” Trabant responded as Lucifer tossed aside the report of another officer Hazama had killed in an explosion.

“I didn’t expect him to do all the work. Supposedly we’ve something around here that was suppose to do the heavy lifting. What was it again? Oh, I remember. AN ARMY!” Lucifer shouted as he tossed aside yet another folder. The folders were stacked in order of rank, with the highest ranking officer on top and the lowest on the bottom. Lucifer was now halfway through the stack, and all of those Emprean officers had been killed by the spy’s handiwork.

“May I?” Trabant asked as he held up his right hand. Lucifer blinked once, and then motioned for Trabant to continue. With a quick slap, the strategist sent all but the folder on the very bottom of the stack into the dirt. Lucifer growled angrily as the remaining officers casually pushed their seats away from the table in unison.

“Lieutenant Noel Spero,” Lucifer read the first few lines and then quickly slammed the report down. “Is anyone here illiterate?”

The officers just coughed and looked away.

“If you are, best speak up. It will probably benefit you,” Trabant threw out helpfully.

“I am a little tired from the ride here Trabant. Perhaps I misread the first line. Will you please read it for me?” Lucifer said softly as he held up the report. Trabant leaned over the prince’s shoulder and read Zyke Hazama’s evaluation of Noel Spero.

“Incompetent moron. Gained rank solely through parents, has no actual skill,” Trabant said as Lucifer flung the report on the table for all to see.

“INCOMPETENT MORON! Now, I understand that the spy may be wrong, but as he is the only person who has accomplished their task, I’M INCLINED TO BELIEVE HIM!” Lucifer roared. Trabant, ever the helpful one, pulled out a few pieces of paper from Noel’s folder.

“Her test scores from the academy are here too. If she pulled the wool over the eyes of our spy, she did so as well to her teachers. They’re not very high marks,” Trabant muttered as he flipped through Noel’s past. It was not kind to her, to say the least.

“All right then. My turn,” Lucifer growled as he turned to Trabant. “My soldiers. Have they arrived yet?”

“Yes my prince. Roughly ninety percent of our force is accounted for, with a few stragglers coming in every hour or so. Given our estimates of the current enemy forces, we outnumber the enemy again. Seven to one.”

Lucifer stood up and flung his cape of his shoulder. He glared at the officers around him, making sure that each and everyone knew just what the stakes were.

“We are Carthage. We are called the Blood-Stained kingdom for a reason, and it is not because we are known for bleeding all over ourselves! We make our enemies BLEED for US!” Lucifer shouted as he slammed his fist into the table; a few cracks appeared in the wood as a bit of the prince’s skin was scraped off. This gesture had its intended effect, and snapped the officers into focus.

“Who are we?” Lucifer shouted again as he pointed to the officer who had suggested the night attack.

“Carthage, the Blood-Stained kingdom,” The man said as he rose to his feet. “And we are MIGHTY!”

With the savagery that accompanied his every action, Lucifer yanked out his sword and slashed it down. The map of Fort Caliben was cut deeply.

“WHAT DO WE DO?” Lucifer bellowed as he raised his blade into the air; the map of Fort Caliben accompanied it.

“MAKE OUR ENEMIES BLEED!” The officers cried as one as they yanked out their own blades and slashed them through the air. Each blade was different, each blade unique. One was crusted with gold, another with silver. One was adorned with jewels, another as plain as an ordinary soldier’s. As one, the swords sliced through the air, and Fort Caliben fell to the ground in tatters. Lucifer let out a mad, but infectious, cackle.

“Now then, who‘s up for a bloodbath?” Lucifer asked as he hefted his blade and rested on his shoulder.

The resulting cheer from the Carthage army was terrifying.

[Unfulfilled]

“I have had...enough,” Troy said, his tone filled with exhaustion. Stitches ran to his side bringing his hands up to inspect Troy who sat against the wall next to Hazama’s bed, Disillusioned hanging limply in his hand. His face looked beat to hell, his eyes filled with a lack of care. They were jaded, and he was fading as well.

“What’s the plan then, boss?” Stitches asked quickly as he slapped Roulette across the cheek. The mercenary’s cries went from a loud pitch to a soft whimper.

“I do not know. You guys figure it out, I am just too tired,” Troy said lazily as he closed his eyes.

“Here they come!” Justice said as his sword and axe began to hack away at weapons. Regal’s blade sang behind Justice, moving in a tandem rhythm. As Justice knocked a weapon away, Tenacity took the owner’s life.

“Bruiser, knock some sense into him!” Regal shouted. The brute moved over to Troy and gave him a nasty glare. In response Troy just opened his eyes and looked to him.

“I’m gonna break your other arm if you don’t snap out of it and get us out of here.” Troy nodded a few times, a forced nod like he didn’t even register a word Bruiser said. Infuriated he was being ignored he pulled one of his fists back.

“I will kill you if you even so much as touch me,” Troy said solemnly. Bruiser’s fist dropped quickly as he coughed loudly backing away.

“Yep, didn’t work,” Bruiser said helping Justice and Regal.

“Ah shit, fine, Justice, go, I’ll handle this. Get Troy back to his senses.” Justice nodded once retreating as he ran towards Troy. He sized his commander up and then with all the gusto he could muster he stuck his chest out, placed one hand on his hip, and pointed to him with the other.

“Now see here, my brother! It is always the way of the unjust to give into their exhaustion, but TRUE JUSTICE never stops. You have to dig deep within your heart and-”

“Do you ever shut up, Justice?” Troy said calmly. “I would imagine even you must be tired of hearing your own voice after a while.”

Those words broke Justice as he laughed in a forced manner, turned and moved back to the barrier where he began to fight, far quieter than he ever fought before. Regal seethed in anger as he turned to Roulette.

“HEY, IDIOT! STOP SCREAMING AND GO HELP TROY!” Roulette blinked a few times, looked towards Troy, and then nodded jumping off the table and sitting next to Troy. In response Troy lazily turned his head to Roulette and looked him in the eyes.

“Look, I don’t wanna die! I really don’t! You have to save us! You’re the only one!” He pleaded.

“I am too tired. But you guys go ahead and save yourselves. I am sure if you all put your heads together you can formulate a plan.”

“Uh…Troy…did I mention I DIDN’T want to die?”

“Several times.”

“So…can you help us?”

“Nope. I am far too tired to help anyone,” Troy said turning away from the gambler. Roulette looked to Regal and began to cry.

“I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die in this piece of shit fort!” He began to mumble as he hid under the table.

“BY ALL THAT IS UNHOLY!” Regal screamed his frustrations as his blade claimed another life. “Dammit, dammit, dammit! Ten Thumbs, go!” The boy scurried over to Troy like a raccoon and perched himself in front of Troy on his haunches.

Troy met his gaze, his years of personal torment pouring out his ice blue eyes as the child mercenary looked to him with his own creepy gaze. After several moments of this Troy just sighed.

“Boo,” He whispered to the child.

“I’m out,” Ten Thumbs said retreating and hiding next to Roulette. “He’s creepier than I am!” He whined. Regal took time out of his fighting to slap himself in the face as he looked over to Buttercups. Moving quickly he pushed the mercenary out of the way, holding off the bottle-necked door.

“Go, go get Troy out his slump. Eat his depression or something, I don’t know!” Buttercups nodded once ignoring Regal’s weight joke as he jovially made his way to Troy. The fallen knight looked up at Buttercups and managed a rather forced smile.

“Hello, Buttercups.”

“Hello, Troy,” He replied. “Care to tell me what’s on your mind?”

“I am tired. I am tired and have no more energy to care anymore. The forts being run over, chances are we are going to die.”

“They took Noel,” Buttercups said softly. Troy shrugged.

“Another life that died because I was a bad soldier.”

“I don’t think you are a bad soldier Troy.” Buttercups lowered himself to meet Troy’s gaze.

“With all due respect, Buttercups. I am a terrible, horrible solider. Far worse than even Noel. She had the smarts to at least know she was not a soldier.” Buttercups looked to him before he moved back towards the door, punching a Carthage warrior in the face that attempted to stab Regal while grabbing the spear from one that was killed by Regal. He used to spear to push the tide back as he boxed Regal out of his hole.

Regal turned to Troy seeing Stitches talking to the man, but after a few moments Stitches sighed deeply as he went to the corner of the wall closing his own eyes. Regal looked over to Troy and felt all his ire at the man he traveled the last three years with give up. He stormed over to Troy, waited until the Fallen Knight looked him in the eyes and then let his hand glide across his comrade’s cheek.

Troy’s face turned into the blow, spit falling out his mouth as he doubled back looking at Regal with a furious face before it sagged and went back to utter exhaustion. Regal looked deeper behind those eyes and saw the years of pain, of agony, of suffering the sins he bared weigh him down. He felt pity for Troy.

“You hit like a girl,” Troy said.

Regal’s response was a closed fist into his nose. Troy’s head bounced against the back wall and he blacked out. Angrily Regal began to shake Troy as the mercenary slowly opened his eyes. Troy looked back up at his traveling companion. “Better.” He mused with a stupid smile.

“So…three years of traveling down the road only to give up now?” Regal said in a haughty way.

“Seems that way, Regal. I am-” Regal slammed his fist into Troy’s cheek. He rolled with the punch, turning back to Regal and spitting blood on the ground. He looked ready to pass out again but Regal shook him to keep him awake.

“I got the damn memo! You’re tired. What do you think I am, blind?” He motioned to the rest of the fort. “Do you think a single damn person here feels rested? Everyone’s tired Troy, so don’t give me that crap!”

“You do not understand just how tired I am, Regal.” Troy’s eyes looked deeply into the Sword Demon’s and the two stood off, Regal glaring at the man and Troy giving him an honest look. Finally Regal’s look faltered as he gave the man a truly, caring look. Troy’s eyebrow raised to see such caring emotion from a man who swore up and down he didn’t give a damn about the fallen knight.

“You survived this long, just to sit and wait for death?” He asked sadly.

“I died five years ago, Regal. My body was just too stupid to know better,” Troy responded with equal sadness. Regal’s face sagged a little more before he leaned in close to Troy so his mouth was right next to his ear. The words he spoke were soft and caring, a tone Troy never heard Regal use before, a tone Regal had only used for the one woman he loved.

“You can’t find your sister sitting down,” He whispered getting up slowly.

[Disillusioned]

He remembered. It was his twentieth birthday, four months before his friend Hector would givehis life to save Troy's. But at that time, battle was the furthest thing from Troy's mind. Instead, he had been racing around his parents' backyard atop his new horse.

It should be noted that the Priam's had a very, very large backyard.

He had leapt over one of the fences in the backyard for the twenty-eighth time when he spied his sister sitting on one of the lawn chairs that doted the yard. On a nearby table there was a glass of lemonade that Rebecca sipped at from time to time. She stared out at the horizon vacantly; she had broken up with her boyfriend of three years recently. All though the sun was shining and the grass had never been greener, Troy saw no one save his sister. His parents and the servants must be inside getting everything ready for his party.

With a grin, Troy silently lined up his horse with table that Rebecca sat next to. She still didn't see him; her mind was absorbed in her own thoughts. She had been like that for several days now. With a mischievous chuckle Troy kicked his horse into a full gallop.

The way his sister screamed as he jumped the table was quite memorable.

As soon as he had cleared the table, Troy leapt of his horse and landed (magnificently) in front of his sister, who had tumbled out of her chair and spilled lemonade all over herself. He grinned widely and held out his arms as if he expected an applause of some sort.

"TROY! YOU BIG JERK!" Rebecca screamed as she grabbed her glass and threw what little lemonade she had left in it onto Troy's face. Then, feeling as if there was too little lemonade to make up for Troy's action, she proceeded to slap him silly.

"You could have been hurt, you big moron!" Rebecca screamed as Troy playfully defended himself against his sister's assault. "What if you missed that jump?"

"I find it odd that you are more concerned with my safety than your's, as if I missed the jump I may have hit you," Troy chuckled as he grabbed his sister by the wrist and tugged her forward.

"All the more reason you're an idiot!" Rebecca said as she raised her free hand to deliver another slap. "What's the big idea?"

With the same speed Troy still used in his swordplay to this day, he grabbed his sister's other hand and pulled her close. Her face was red with anger, as well as wet and sticky from the lemonade. He laughed.

"Had to snap you out of your slump somehow. It's my birthday."

"Spoiled brat," Rebecca huffed as she picked up her chair and sat back down.

"Sulky little cry-baby," Troy shot back as he pulled over another chair and sat down next to his sister. He grabbed a nearby napkin and handed it to his sister. "All you do nowadays is mope around and mumble Gregory's name. It's over. Move on."

"Oh, you think it's that easy, do you? All hail Troy Priam, master of the art of love!" Rebecca snapped him. Troy just shrugged.

"I don't like to brag but-"

"Keep this up and I'll tell mom and dad about your late night outings with Cynthia!"

"You'd snitch on me, Rebecca?"

Rebecca squinted her eyes and glared at him. She balled her hands into fists as she huffed and puffed. Her dark blue eyes flared with rage. All Troy did was smile at her lovingly. It took about a minute, but she eventually relaxed her hands and her eyes.

"No," She said softly as she turned her gaze back out towards the horizon. Troy let out a soft sigh, stood up, and walked over next to his sister. He sat back down, this time on the same chair as her, and gently put his hand on her shoulder.

"You ready to talk about it?" He asked her ever so softly. Her lower lip quivered slightly, and when she turned to face her brother there were tears in her eyes.

"I really thought he was something special Troy! Gregory had everything I could ever want! He was funny, good-lucking, smart..."

Rebecca continued to go on about all the reasons she had loved Gregory. She spent a solid hour crying about how alone she felt now, and how she just couldn't understand why he had left her. She told her brother how everything felt so far away now, and how her dreams were plagued with Gregory coming back to her, and how she wished she could stay in sleep's sweet embrace forever. Through it all, Troy listened and gently hugged his sister whenever he felt she needed one. And he smiled. More than anything else, he smiled for her.

Rebecca never did tell him just how much that smile meant to her, but deep down inside, he knew.

"I'm sorry," Rebecca sniffled. "It's your birthday. We're suppose to be celebrating, and here I am crying. I'm really sorry Troy."

"It's no big deal. I'm your older brother, this is my job. Mom and Dad made me sign a contract when you were born, so I really don't have a choice. I think they still have it somewhere actually," Troy said as Rebecca gave him a playful shove.

"They did not!" She yelled at him. "You're just SO in love with me you can't help but worry about me. Oh Gods above, why did you make me into such the perfect sister? Can't you see how it tortures my poor, stupid, smelly brother?"

"I don't smell..." Troy chuckled as he playfully shoved his sister back. "And I notice you didn't say bad-looking."

His sister let out a bright laugh just for him.

"Well, you've got to have some redeeming qualities!" She said as she wiped the remaining tears away from her eyes. She then grabbed her brother by his shirt and pulled him close to her. She then gently rested her head on his chest. "Thanks Troy."

"Anytime Rebecca," Troy said as he softly stroked a bit of her hair.

"Who needs Gregory," Rebecca whispered softly. "I'll be fine as long as I have you."

"And I'll always be around. I love you. More than anything," Troy whispered softly. "I would never leave you alone."

The world then snapped back into focus.

"Regal," Troy said softly. "Let's get the hell out of here."

With a grin, Regal grabbed Troy by his shirt and hoisted him up. Troy snatched Disillusioned off of the floor; it was still heavy, but not as heavy as it had been earlier. He glanced about the room. Fort Caliben was doomed, but he'd be damned if he died here.

He would see his sister one last time, this he swore.

"Buttercups, fall back towards me and Regal. Bruiser, fall back towards the left. Justice, you go right," Troy ordered to the three mercenaries still holding off the Carthage soldiers at the door. Troy raised his sword as Regal did the same.

Several Carthage soldiers flooded into the room, but Troy and Regal were ready for them. With a cry Regal leapt into the enemy, with no more than a soft grunt Troy did the same. Seeing their opening, Bruiser and Justice charged back into the fray, one from each side. Buttercups did the same, backing Troy and Regal.

Ten-Thumbs leaned in close to Roulette, who was still crying like a baby, and held up a single finger.

"Shhh. Regal's fighting," The boy whispered softly. Roulette, officially freaked out by the young child, began to blabber gibberish under his breath.

“Well done Troy,” Stitches said as the mercenaries finished off the last of the Carthage soldiers. “Glad to have you back.”

All Troy did was nod and look outside of the medical ring, while a fierce debate began about who had the most kills. Naturally, the key characters in this debate were Justice, Bruiser, and Regal. As well as Ten-Thumbs (but all he did was agree with everything Regal said).

“We can make it,” Troy said softly. “We will escape.”

“Escape?” Roulette screamed as he dashed out from the table he hid under and grabbed Troy. “You gotta let me in on the plan Troy! How much do you want? Name your price!”

“Get off of me,” Troy said as he shooed Roulette away with a few pokes from his sword (it was the only hand Troy was capable of using). “We need to make it to the command post.”

“The smoking, wrecked, burned, completely destroyed command post?” Bruiser asked. “What the hell for?”

“There’s a tunnel there,” Troy said and then shook his head. “Well, there was the beginnings of a tunnel. I am fairly certain it was dug by Hazama so he could plant his explosives. All he had to do was wait for all the officers to gather, then detonate the bombs. He probably had a bit of magic or something to detonate the powder without fire.”

Troy scoffed at that last remark. He despised “parlor tricks” such as magic, although he was forced to admit that they could be very effective. He even had one of his own, but his pride as a swordsman demanded he only use it under the most dire of circumstances. Besides, it was only a small shockwave, unlikely to tip the scales of a major battle. But, sometimes it was just enough to do that one thing that mattered the most.

“Pardon me, but if there was a blast, wouldn’t that have wrecked the tunnel?” Stitches threw out. Instantly Roulette began screaming incoherently once more. Troy just shook his head.

“Indeed, but I had a few mercenaries re-dig it,” Troy said softly as he looked out across the battlefield. The medical wing was missing half a wall, giving him a rather complete view of the battlefield. “I told some of our more cowardly mercenaries about the tunnel, and told them if they could dig fast enough, we could get out of here. As I haven’t heard back from them, I can only pray they succeeded.”

“You had the cowards did the tunnel? Then why is he still here?” Regal asked as he jerked his towards Roulette. Troy frowned.

“All me to rephrase that sentence. I told the cowardly, but competent, mercenaries to dig the tunnel.” This remark earned a chorus of “ohhhhh” from the gathered mercenaries.

“It is not that far, and there is nothing of value there, so resistance should be light. If we stick together, and if Roulette shuts up, we can make it.” As soon as Troy had finished his sentence, Regal slammed the hilt of his sword into the back of the screaming Roulette’s head. The man passed out instantly.

“A solid plan,” Stitches said as he picked up his medical bag.

“Indeed. Let us go,” Buttercups said as he placed Ten-Thumbs onto his shoulder.

“I don’t suppose there’s anything else we need in this hell-hole anyhow,” Bruiser muttered as he cracked his knuckles. To that, Troy raised his eyebrows.

“Actually, there is one thing,” Troy said as he motioned towards Justice, who had remained quiet ever since Troy snapped at him. “I am curious to know, just what exactly is your best fighting style?”

“Beg pardon?” Justice said, the confusion clear on his face. “My best fighting style?”

“Yes,” Troy said softly with the faintest hints of a smile on his face. “Over the course of the siege, I have seen you use everything from a large sword, your bare hands, a single small sword, and now a small hand axe coupled with a small sword. I was just curious to know, what style is your best?”

Justice stroked his chin in deep contemplation.

“Justice is at his best,” The mercenary began as his usual gallant smile reappeared on his face. “In bed.”

The laughter that echoed throughout the medical wing was music to Troy’s ears.

[Unfulfilled]

“NOW SEE HERE, FOUL DEMON!” Justice roared as his blade cleaved through a Carthage soldier’s chest, spewing blood over his back as he rolled coming up in the roll with sword stabbing another spearman. “You couldn’t honestly expect me to lose to Bruiser in a kill competition, could you?” he asked.

“Sorry, Justice,” Regal said coolly as Tenacity glided along the neck of a Carthage knight just under his helmet. The knight’s death throws swiped furiously around, but he fell without taking any mercenaries life. “It’s just the way it is. You suck.” This caused Bruiser to point to the mercenary and laugh wildly.

Regal watched as the pocket of resistance thinned and he ran a bloodied hand through his matted hair. He hair was soaked to a point where it faintly died his white hair red, and his jacket was beyond a simple wash, needing a more professional touch to get all the stains out.

He looked at his reflection in the sheen of his blade, looking at his own grizzled looks with appreciation that only a blood crazed hound could enjoy. His blade tilted a bit and his eyes focused on Troy who walked up behind him and he lowered the blade, turning to look his traveling partner in the eyes with his grin all the wider.

“Enjoying yourself, Regal?” He mused as he looked around the corner motioning for the other mercenaries to follow. The fort was long trashed by Carthage, the last resistance of Emprean soldiers coming from inside within the barracks and buildings, holing up with the few remaining mercenaries to try and survive. They were lucky that Troy’s plan was correct on the assumption that the soldier’s resistance would be light.

“Couldn’t be happier,” Regal smiled. Then he frowned and wiped the blood off his face. “Well, I could be happier if I was stabbing a certain someone!” He thought to his destined fight with the fabled Saint of Swords, Karel Raven and his heart began to fade to the useless unfulfilled feeling.

“Let’s try to escape this fort so that may become reality one day.” Troy looked around at the gathering mercenaries and motioned for everyone to move onwards. They ran towards the center of the exploded building and Troy motioned to buttercups who gently put down Ten Thumbs and began to lift debris and other trash off the hole. As Troy had thought, the tunnel had been dug out again, and those mercenaries who did were probably long gone.

Regal and Justice went in first followed by Troy and Stitches who helped down Roulette (who’s screams had at last finally died out to a mere mumble.) and Ten Thumbs. The last to enter was Buttercups, but a glaring flaw in the tunnel plan made manifest as the tree like mercenary tired to fit in. The group looked to Buttercups, who sighed as he pushed himself out the hole and then entered face first as he began to crawl into the tunnel. This immediately caused Regal and Bruiser to point and laugh while Stitches, Justice, and Troy gave them a dirty look.

“Oh come off it,” Regal started before the disapproving men could speak.

“This is gold!” Bruiser finished slapping his knee in mirth. They turned down the hallway and made way as they moved swiftly in the darkness. The sound of the shuffling echoed gently through the dirt hole as they moved further along. A large boulder on the surface slammed down upon the ground, causing dirt to fall down like a foggy veil as they moved at Buttercups pace. The mercenary struggled, pushing himself further along as they traveled further into the darkness.

“How much longer?” Ten Thumbs whined. Regal instantly turned on the boy, swiped his hand like he were to hit the boy, and instead accidentally hit Roulette in the mouth.

“Ow, you idiot!” He shouted rubbing his jaw. Regal chuckled at his pain. “Let’s see if you like it!” He swiped the air and hit Stitches in the nose.

“Sigh,” He groaned rubbing his nose. “Aim better, Roulette,” He whispered as he moved along.

“Don’t give me that!” Roulette cried. “It’s Regal’s fault!” The Demon of Swords laughed at that walking along the path, and Regal was positive he could hear Troy’s almost inaudible sigh he usually heard when Regal did something so spectacular it made the man jealous. The truth was far, far from that.

“Wait!” Troy whispered loudly. The party stopped moving. “Do you guys hear that?” They all strained to listen and Regal could hear the soft noise of shuffling. His eyes, barely attuned to the darkness, looked past Buttercups and he saw something glinting in the back.

“Crap, we were followed in!” Regal cursed as he turned. “We gotta move, since tubby is in the way of the soldiers.” Buttercups sighed, a low, whimpering sigh of someone who wished to speak up and say something, but knew deep down that Regal was right.

“We are not going to leave Buttercups behind,” Troy stated firmly. “Come on, the exit has to be close…” Troy looked past the group, noticing that his eyes were adjusting far faster than before. Like Regal before him he looked past the group of Mercenaries and noticed a light at the end of the curve getting closer and closer. “Well, company has arrived.” Roulette immediately began to whimper to himself. “Stop that!” Regal’s fist flew out in the darkness to shut Roulette up, but instead he hit another jaw.

“Regal,” Troy said, his irritation reaching new heights. “I would greatly appreciate it if you would NOT,” He seethed. “Hit me.” Regal mumbled his apologies. Ten Thumbs began to breath heavier as the lanterns got closer before the soldiers turned the corners and found the group. Light shined on them as they held their weapons at the ready.

“Found the fleeing rats!” A solider cried out. Within moments they were covered from the rear and front by spearmen. The numbers advantage as well as close quarters fighting put Carthage in complete control. “Surrender now, Emprean pigs!”

“We aren’t even from this piece of shit country,” Roulette whimpered. “I’m gonna die in this piece of shit fort!” The group gave him a dirty look before focusing back at the trouble they had before them.

“Drop your weapons!” The commander of the Carthage soldiers ordered. Troy looked at the others as they all looked to him, and he gave them a sad shake of his head. Regal’s grip intensified on his blade. His blood began to sing at the prospect of battle, but even he, the mighty Demon of Swords, was a bit terrified at the thought that they would all die in this tunnel. At least he would die fighting.

“I said drop your weapons!” The Carthage soldiers lifted their weapons up higher, preparing for a fatal charge. Justice stepped forward into the tight knit mercenary group as Bruiser cracked his knuckles pulling out two brass knuckles with spikes attached to the end. Troy held Disillusioned at the ready as Roulette, Stitches and Ten Thumbs stood in front of Buttercups, who despite being unable to turn around and most certainly would be killed in a humiliating fashion used his big body to keep the rear guard back as long as he could.

Regal stepped forwards, creating the first line of defense with Justice. It was all the room they could afford and even that was pushing it. Justice stooped low in front of Regal, and the two created a two man fighting team as Bruiser stood before Troy as the next line of defense. Behind him was Troy, the last line of defense to the non-fighting mercenaries.

“You have until the count of three!” The commander shouted again. “One!”

“Ah shove it up your asshole, Carthage prick!” Regal shouted sticking his tongue out in defiance. “It is foolish for you morons to stand before the Demon of Swords and expect him to comply with your idiot demands!” As confident as he felt, his heart still raced.

“Before a Demon stands the flower of Justice!” The mercenary shouted. “The forces of good and evil combine to create the ultimate fighting team all for the name of JUSTICE!” He roared, actually phasing a few soldiers as they uncomfortably shifted backwards. “By our breaths, we shall hold you all back!”

The commander laughed, a sinister laugh of someone who felt in complete control. Shortly he began to clap, a bravado coming from him as he softly ended in a light chuckle.

“You got to be kidding me,” He took in a deep breath before he chuckled again. “Two mercenaries think they can defeat the mighty blood stained kingdom? Boys, show these, Heroes, what the might of Carthage means!” The soldiers cheered as one, lifting their weapons ready to charge, causing Roulette to scream at the top of his lungs again. Buttercups merely closed his eyes as he braced for the worst and Regal’s grip tightened so hard his knuckles began to crack as a thin stream of blood ran down the middle of his fingers.

“WAIT!” A tiny bellow came from the middle of the group of mercenaries. “WAIT, WAIT, WAIT, WAIT!” He continued pushing his way past Troy and Bruiser before stepping in front of Justice and Regal. He turned, looked to them with those creepy eyes, and smiled. This in itself repulsed both men as they shivered from his creepy vibe. Ten Thumbs turned back to the commander.

“What does the little runt-ling have to say?” The commander said, his hands firmly pressed behind his back in mock interest. “This little performance is becoming quite the show and I am tickled to see what you of all people are going to say to threaten me. Do you have a cute mercenary name? Jellybean, Peanut, Sandbox?” He laughed looking to his men to chuckle with him, which they did finding sport in the slaughter that was inevitable.

“I do have a name, and it’s a funny story if you don’t mind me telling it,” The boy said softly. The commander, feeling overly confident nodded. Ten Thumbs took in a deep breath and then spoke with a soft confidence. “Three years ago my mum was diagnosed with a really rare disease. My brother and I were already maxing out our available money on the farm and so we couldn’t afford the medicine. Well our farm was attacked by bandits and the local town had hired mercenaries to come and stop them. My brother took the family sword, something that belonged to our grampy, and followed around the mercenaries looking to make money and help us out.

“Well, time marched on and for the first five months we got mail sent with the gold he had been making. We were able to afford the medicine and I was able to bring in a decent crop to fund the farm. Yet shortly the money stopped coming so frequently. My mum didn’t mind if he didn’t give us money, she was doing better anyway. She just wanted to know my brother was okay. Yet his letters just stopped. My brother loved my family more than anything in the world and I knew something was up.

“So I took the last of our funds, hired a farm hand to do the work and went out looking for my brother. I took a mercenary name that I knew he would immediately recognize if he heard it, and come looking for me. See when we were really little I kept dropping the milk buckets, the eggs, the wheelbarrow, everything. I think I ruined a lot of crops and made it really financially hard a few months because I ruined so much good farm food. Yet my brother and mum never once scolded me, or made me feel unloved for my behavior. They just said I had Ten Thumbs, which is a rare gift. So I took that to be my mercenaries name.” The boy smiled as he remembered those fond memories.

“Wow, that’s a fantastic story. Really touching,” The commander said in a bored tone. “Kill him,” He ordered.

“Wait!” Ten Thumbs exclaimed. “I haven’t gotten to the good part!” The commander smiled as he held his hand to hold back the Carthage soldiers. “Well the good part is that I figure if we were all going to die we might as well all go as one happy family. Every mercenary in one glorious finish. Cause that is what Regal would want,” He said looking back at the Demon of Swords.

Regal looked back and cracked the kid a sinister grin as he gave him a thumbs up. Ten Thumbs returned the gesture as he reached into his shirt carefully fiddling around trying to grab at something. “I like Regal, a lot. He reminds me of my brother. His face and everything looks almost exactly like my brother. Even some of his crazy outbursts make me feel like I am standing next to my brother again...

“But I promised you a funny story. So here it is,” He said producing a small bomb with a fuse as his fingers held a butane lighter in his other hand. With a quick strike of his thumb the light flickered on and the tension in the room immediately raised as the soldiers began to holler and point out the boy had a bomb in his hand. “Like I promised you. How funny would it be if we all died like one big happy family?” The boy cracked a grin, which was so dark with his eyeliner in the shadows it seemed like the devil itself was smiling for him.

“WHAT ARE YOU, INSANE?” The commander had lost all his confidence immediately as he scampered backwards, tripping on the soldiers.

“HOLY CRAP! I’M NOT GOING TO DIE IN THIS PIECE OF SHIT FORT, I’M GOING TO EXPLODE IN THIS PIECE OF SHIT TUNNEL IN THIS PIECE OF SHIT FORT IN THIS PIECE OF SHIT COUNTRY!” Roulette was beside himself as Stitches covered his ears. Bruiser was looking to the boy with a horrified look as he hid behind Troy, using the depressed knight as a shield like it would stop him from dying. Even Justice was lost for words as he took a few steps away from the boy, but it was Regal who was laughing widely, his face alight with insanity as he slapped his knee and pointed his blade to the boy.

“ATTA CREEP!” He bellowed in a mighty roar. The boy just continued to grin.

“I am not insane, mister!” Ten Thumbs said loudly. “It would be insane not to try and protect the people who became my family while I searched for my brother! We got nothing to lose. Either way we die. The difference is do you want to die today?”

The commander looked back to his men, who all shook their heads choosing life over some stupid fleeing mercenaries and he looked back to the boy before he called off his men. “Hmmph, there was no glory to be found in killing rats in a barrel anyway. Go ahead, you’ll be lucky to escape the country before we sack it.”

“Don’t care about staying in this country,” Stitches said as the mercenaries and Carthage soldiers exchanged places, being careful as they squeezed around Buttercups, even crawling between his legs to get to the other side. The entire time Ten Thumbs just held the bomb and lighter, his face never dropping that face splitting grin. Regal stood behind him like a proud brother, his own face showing a mask of demonic amusement.

The soldiers and the mercenaries all turned to look at each other (except for poor Buttercups) before Ten Thumbs looked to Regal, who shrugged and nodded. The boy turned, tripped on one foot and the bomb and lighter fell.

In the span of two seconds the fuse was lit, and both sides were moving as fast as they could to run away.

[Disillusioned]

"Ten-Thumbs, where did you get that bomb?" Troy asked as he and Stitches dragged Buttercup out of the hole. The group had emerged a good fifty-feet or so away from Fort Caliben, and although the war-torn fort could be seen clearly in the distance, peace reigned supreme for the group at the moment.

“I found it when I was stealing Regal food from the kitchen.” Regal gave a nod of approval at that remark. “It was on a table next to another pile of bombs. I didn’t think we’d miss just one!”

“No, we wouldn’t,” Troy muttered as Buttercups said a few words of thanks. “Especially as it was a dud.”

The tunnel had opened up in the middle of a forest; the area was an excellent spot to rest. It was an open area of the forest, and although susceptible to a surprise attack, Troy was confident none would occur. The battle was a ways away.

The stress of the moment had dissipated. Stitches was calmly attending to everyone’s wounds (he had done a quick field dressing for Troy first), Bruiser was sitting on a rock, Justice was posing heroically on a different rock, and the rest stood in a circle. Except for Roulette. He was kissing Troy’s feet.

“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! I owe you my life Troy! Here’s all my money, take it! I insist! One-hundred gold coins!” Roulette shouted as he shoved a bag of gold into Troy’s hand.

“You’re life is only worth a hundred-gold? You’re not worth much, are ya?” Bruiser chuckled. “And how do you know the bomb’s a dud Troy?”

“Keep your money Roulette, just stop slobbering over my boots,” Troy muttered as he shooed the ever-grateful gambler away (the man was still weeping words of sincere gratitude, however). “And to answer your question Bruiser, why do you think that bomb was off by itself? We were having a bit of a problem with some of the powder being wet from someone spilling juice all over it. Besides that, there was no explosion. I would think that rather obvious.”

Troy did not add that it was Noel who had spilled juice all over the place.

“In any case, it bought us the time we needed. Well done child,” Buttercups said as he gently patted Ten-Thumbs on the shoulder. The boy’s face had turned sullen when he realized the bomb hadn’t really done anything.

“Indeed, we wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for you. You are a true hero,” Troy threw in as he favored Ten-Thumbs with a smile. Troy then kicked Regal in the shins and motioned for him to thank Ten-Thumbs.

“Oh, yeah. Good job kid. Couldn’t have done better myself.” Ten-Thumbs beamed at Regal’s praise. Regal than almost threw in that he was lying, and that could have done better, but another kick from Troy solved that problem.

“Now then, you had best be going,” Troy said as he gently touched his side. His wound from Regal’s sword was deep, but Stitches had done enough for Troy’s purposes. “There is a town about twenty miles east. According to the reports I read, it is a small town with no tactical value. There isn’t even a garrison there. It ought to be safe enough at the moment.”

All the mercenaries let out a cheer at those words. They were finally free of Fort Caliben, and in a few days they would be free of Emprea as well. All were thrilled at such a prospect; only Stitches eyed Troy carefully.

“What do you mean by ‘you had best be going’ Troy? Aren’t you coming with us?” Stitches asked softly. Troy shook his head and smiled sadly.

“No. I have other matters I must attend to, but I wish you well. Try not to spend all your poker winnings in one place, Ten-Thumbs.” The boy nodded vigorously at Troy’s advice.

“You’re not trying to cheat us, are ya Troy?” Bruiser spat. “You’re not sending us to another piece of shit fort as you fly to safety, right?”

“No Bruiser, I assure you I have no such intentions. Quite the opposite actually,” Troy said as he gazed at Fort Caliben. He remembered the words he said to her, as clear as the moment he had said them.

I won’t leave you.

And he wouldn’t. Not this time. He had given his word, and this time he was going to keep it. He would not abandon another person who depended on him as long as he lived. Troy gave Disillusioned a tug; it had gotten even lighter. Just hold on Noel. I’m on my way.

“Uh, Troy? That way lies death. You remember the spears and swords that were stabbing us? They’re back that way. Safety is in the other direction!” Roulette explained as Troy headed back towards the tunnel.

“Did you forget something? I can spot ya a couple of coins if you forgot your toothbrush,” Bruiser added, proud of his graciousness.

“You’re in no condition to do what you’re thinking,” Stitches advised. He alone recognized that look in Troy’s eyes.

“I appreciate the concern, but this isn’t a matter of whether I can or cannot. I will not leave her behind,” Troy stated softly. Everyone just stared at him as if he had completely lost his mind. Troy actually let out a small chuckle.

“You’re going back for Noel?” Regal asked softly.

“Indeed. Don’t worry, I won’t ask any of you to come with me. That is why I led you here, so you could escape. Don’t waste my gift,” Troy responded. Regal just let out a laugh.

“Escape? Gift? Troy, you’re gift to me is going back! Did you really think I’d let you have all the fun? Oh no, I’m in the lead in kills and I’ll not be outscored by you. I wonder if I can kill me a general...”

Regal continued to rant. All Troy did was bow his head and whisper “thank you” to Regal.

“Ahem. If I may,” Roulette said as he straightened his shirt and put an arm around Troy. “I’d like to say a word or two. Troy, there are more fish in the sea.”

Troy blinked at Roulette.

“Seriously Troy. She’s not that great. Yeah, I know you two had a thing going, but she’s not worth getting killed over. She’s whiny, annoying, sulky, a brat, not very good looking, and as flat a the palm of your hand. Right guys?”

The was a chorus of agreement from the rest of the mercenaries.

“It’s not about that Roulette. I would still be doing this if she was the perfect woman,” Troy responded.

“Which she clearly isn’t,” Regal chimed in.

“Regal, will you...never mind.” Troy shook his head. “Whether I live or die, this is something I have to do. Farewell Roulette. It has been...fun.”

Regal nearly choked on the twig he had been chewing on when Troy uttered that word.

“But Troy!” Roulette shouted. “She wouldn’t do this for you!”

“Actually, I think she just might.”

“But...but...IN GOD’S NAME WHY?” Roulette shouted, unable to wrap his mind around the man's decision. Troy just smiled and shrugged (as best as a man with one arm in a sling could).

“She made me chicken and mashed potatoes,” Troy stated softly. “Spiced with just a bit of cilantro. My favorite.”

“Fear not!” Justice shouted as he leapt off of his much-loved rock. “For Justice shall be with you until the end.”

“Justice...” Troy began. The mercenary just shook his head.

“A damsel? In distress? Why, what type of a hero would I be if I didn’t help?” Justice said as he puffed out his chest.

“Hey dummy! You’re not a hero! You’re a mercenary!” Bruiser shouted as he threw a pebble at Justice’s head. Justice’s voice became very soft then, hardly above a whisper.

“Perhaps, but if I don’t go, then I’ll always be a mercenary, won’t I?”

It was perhaps the first time Justice had not yelled when he spoke. When he spoke, it was in a soft, almost pitiable voice. And yet, at the same time, it was if he was offering up his dream towards the heavens. In a way, Justice made it seem that every choice he had ever made, every road he had ever chosen, was to bring him here to this very spot.

Troy smiled, and gently patted Justice on the shoulder. Words could not express his gratitude.

“Troy...” Stitches began. The man was standing in front of the tunnel, blocking Troy’s path. “You don’t have the strength for this. You’ve lost a lot of blood, you may make it there, but you won’t make it back. You’re just not strong enough.”

“Perhaps,” Troy sighed as he spoke. “But Stitches, have you ever had a moment in life where two choices were laid in front of you? Two choices, one of which is clearly the right one, but for some reason you chose the other?”

Stitches cast his eyes to the ground and nodded. He had been there.

“After that choice, after that pivotal moment, nothing else seems to matter that much anymore, does it?”

“The world becomes just a bit more gray, just a tad less colorful.” Stitches eyes were filled with hurt; a clear reflection of a past failure.

“What if you had another chance? Not a chance at redemption per se, but another choice. Another choice to make, same as the last one. It won’t change the past, but maybe, just maybe, it will shape the future. What would you do?”

The two men locked eyes. Neither spoke for a moment, each reflected on their past; pasts filled with failures and regrets. Eventually, Stitches held out his hand.

“Gavin. Gavin Eri.”

“Beg pardon?”

“My name. It’s Gavin Eri. It means ‘Little Falcon Who Protects,’ or so they tell me.”

Troy shook the man’s hand as Gavin took hold of Troy’s shoulder.

“You’re a good man Troy Priam.”

“No, I’m not. But, perhaps someday, I will be.”

[Unfulfilled]

Regal’s fingers gripped the hilt of Tenacity with excitement. He couldn’t get over the rush of walking right into the lion’s mouth yet again. This whole time he had been chafing at the idea of running from the fight with the Carthage army and now that Troy had a reason to go back he felt his blood begin to rush all around him.

Albeit, the reason was rather flimsy in his mind. Couldn’t really understand why Troy digged Noel so much, but he did and it was just passable to get back to the fight. His mood lightened dramatically until Justice volunteered once again to join them, with or without their consent. Regal had to put a stop to this insanity, he had to be a floodgate if Troy wouldn’t be.

“If Justice comes he can’t talk!” Regal whined like a spoiled brat. Troy only sighed as he usually did when dealing with Regal’s child like demeanor before he marched forward towards the fort.

“Only if you agree to follow that rule as well!” Regal’s jaw dropped at the shock of it all. He was nowhere near as offensive as Justice when it came to talking. He was a perfect gentlemen dammit! He grunted his response which Troy took as a 'never mind' and Justice stepped forward proudly pounding his chest before pointing towards the fort.

“COME MY BROTHER’S,” He shouted right in Regal’s ear making the Demon of Swords flinch. “WE RIDE INTO BATTLE!” Troy shook his head as he moved forward and Justice and Regal followed suit.

“We aren’t going to be riding anywhere, Justice. We’re going to go back through the tunnel.”

“Ah, then we shall crawl through the dirt and mud, caked in filth as we make our way into the enemy camp. For though we are dirty the VIRTUE OF JUSTICE SHALL CLEANSE US!”

“Dear god,” Regal said irritably, bunching his fists up in rage. “You are the biggest moron I ever met. That last sentence didn’t even make sense!” He made a motion to slap Justice upside the head, but the mercenary timidly avoided it.

“Well if you think about it, it does,” Justice mumbled. “Justice will bathe us in it’s magnificent light and we will be clean of our filth.” Regal only shook his head as he turned back to the other mercenaries. He noticed something was missing from them and he sighed before he turned around looking down upon Ten Thumbs.

“What?” Regal muttered.

Without any warning the boy charged him, hands held wide as he gripped the Demon of Swords around the waist. Regal was thoroughly confused, his eyes opening wide as he looked down to the child mercenary. They stood there like that for a long time, Troy giving Regal a look of urgency as Regal pointed to him with confusion. With all the grace he could muster he shoved Ten Thumbs away gently.

“Don’t die!” He pleaded with tears streaming down his face. To this Regal grew more confused as he was never anything but rude to the boy. Completely out of his element he did what he did best.

“WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN DON’T DIE!” He shouted at him, full of anger and rage. “What kind of bad ju-ju karma you pulling on me! If anything in this world with you has taught me it’s that usually the exact OPPOSITE of what you want will happen! Don’t jinx me you, you…” Regal was lost for words. He just stood stupidly looking a the boy, who smiled at him through his rant. “You rascal,” He said running a hand through the boy’s hair. Ten Thumbs only nodded as Regal walked towards Troy looking at Bruiser as the two eyed each other.

“If I ever hear the Demon of Swords faces the Saint of Swords I’ll be sure to put my money on the other guy,” Bruiser said wiping his thumb under his nose and holding it out to Regal. In return Regal punched Bruiser square in the face, right under the nose in the upper lip, and down he went screaming for the grey swordsman to give him an explanation.

“I told you that you only get one hit to knock me out, fool,” Regal muttered walking forward. Buttercups and Roulette both waved him goodbye and he just gave them an impassive nod as Stitches ran to check on Bruiser.

“All wrapped up?” Troy asked as they made there way into the tunnel.

“Yes, you sure you don’t need to go cry?” Justice added. “I won’t judge,” He added as he raised his hands up defensively to Regal’s baleful eye.

The first hurdle in the tunnel was passed in utter silence, Justice and Regal leading the way while Troy kept pace as the rear guard. The fighting could be heard through the dirt in the ground as bits of debris still fell from the ceiling. The Carthage siege weapons were still laying waste to Fort Caliben as the troops ran amuck through the buildings. It was all really unnecessary overkill in Regal's mind.

Regal began to wonder what kind of game plan they were going to employ when they hit the other side. Which way would they go, where was Noel being held, should they grab some enemy uniforms to blend in? Questions ran through his mind as he focused his thoughts on his blade and his craft with that blade, pondering what he could do if let loose, and also pondering what the Saint of Swords would do.

He surmised that Karel Raven would use his golden swords to stab the weaklings while he used his insane skill with the blade to carve up the commanders. He would then summon a dragon and ride it into the enemy base and decapitate the enemy prince, Hennifer Flight or something or other, he didn’t really pay attention to Hazama. Regardless, the prince would be killed by Karel and then he would jump off the dragon and slay all the pirates with one move. The vampires would turn to ash at his radiance and the country of Emprea would be saved.

Yup, that’s exactly how Karel would have done it.

His thoughts were interrupted when they heard the chatter of guards up ahead. Troy’s hand firmly gripped Regal’s as he held him back, and the Demon of Swords merely spat in anticipation for the fight they inevitably would have to engage in. A nodding appreciation for the destruction they would soon cause gave his blood reason to rise as he thought about how many enemies there were.

“I see four, no fifteen, no-”

“There’s four, Regal,” Troy whispered. “Shut up and let’s try to get as close as possible before rushing in." They crept forward and Regal felt something rub against the back of his ankle. Turning swiftly around he found Justice giving him the universal 'I’m sorry it was Troy’s fault' look. Regal than turned to Troy who only shook his head as he pointed to the Carthage soldiers.

“Don’t blame them!” Regal whispered loudly. “They are all the way over there and you are right here!” Troy lifted a finger to his lips, the universal sign for 'silence' which Justice mimicked, complete with loud Ssshing sounds. This in turn caused Troy to glare at the mercenary as he mumbled "sorry" rather loudly. Now Regal lifted his finger to his lips, shushing Justice rather loudly. Troy’s eyes shot wide open as he covered Regal’s mouth with his one good hand. Angry he was being touched by Troy in such an aggressive manner he pushed Troy’s hand away which just so happened to slap Justice across the face.

“Now see here!” He whispered, but it was more like a fake whisper in how loud he spoke it. Both Troy and Regal clamped their hands over his mouth as he lifted his hands up in apology for the second time today.

“Is all of Emprea this stupid?” A Carthage soldier asked.

“It must be,” Another replied as they shined a lantern upon them. Regal turned to them, lifted up his finger to his lips and at the same time Justice stood right next to him, both men doing the same thing at the same time.

“SHSHHH!”

By pure dumbfounded confusion and luck the Carthage soldiers obeyed. Then they looked to each other and shrugged in more confusion. Who the hell was really in charge? Why did everyone have to be so quiet? Was whispering allowed? Could they exchange notes? Did somebody bring a pen? Maybe if they rose their hands?

Troy slapped his hand over his face rather hard making it echo in the tunnel before he pointed his blade up at them.

“Just kill them, Regal!” He begged. Justice and Regal fell upon them like hungry wolves as they made short work of the Carthage Soldiers.

Both men were sure to be quiet about it as they shouted their own battle cries.

[Disillusioned]

"Zyke! Let me go! I have to see if Troy is okay!" Noel screamed as Zyke dragged her through the halls of Fort Caliben. It was a far harder task then it should have been, as the fort was being rocked with siege weapons. Not to mention the fact that if an Emprean soldier saw Zyke, he'd be in a bit of hot water. Still, he thought it better to have a hostage should the need arise.

"Oh, just drop it already Noel! He's probably already dead!" Zyke muttered as he kicked open a nearby door. With a grunt, for he was not use to strenuous labor, he flung Noel inside the room. He quickly entered and slammed the door after him with a sigh of relief. This should be safe enough for now.

It was one of the mess halls, although this one had been for off-duty officers. It was of higher quality than most rooms; a fire place decorated the center. Zyke smiled as he saw that there was still some unused wood in the fire place. It was getting a bit chilly in here.

"You don't know that!" Noel shouted back as she quickly fought against the ropes that held her hands behind her back. Her skin chaffed as she fought, but the bonds held tight. Zyke, meanwhile, chided himself for not having tied her mouth shut as well.

"Okay, so I don't know for sure. But, let's look at the facts here Noel," Zyke said as he lit a match and tossed it atop the fire. "If he's not dead, then he's probably dying. If he's not dying, then he'll probably be killed by Carthage, or perhaps Emprea, as he tries to escape. If they don't kill him, well, then he's already long gone. Regardless, no need to fret over the guy."

Zyke ended his comment with an uncaring shrug. Noel glared at him as hard as she could, as if she could in some way cause the man pain if she tried hard enough.

"Zyke. I HATE YOU!" Noel screamed at the top of her lungs.

"Oh dear me, whatever will I do? Guess that means you won't be brining me dinner in bed anymore? Shoot, I enjoyed your cooking."

Noel screamed in rage and charged Zyke (as best one could with their hands tied behind their back). All she managed to do was miss completely as Zyke stepped to the side, stuck out his foot, and tripped her to the floor.

"Stop being such a baby. Not like I got him killed. That was you. Again. I'd best be careful, people around you don't seem to live very long, do they?"

He ignored Noel as she sobbed. He really couldn't care less what was on the girl's mind. All that mattered to him was getting the hell out of Fort Caliben. With a careful eye he surveyed the area; an open room with a bit of furniture. Three entrances. One at the front, another at each side. Not the best spot for a rendezvous, but not the worst either.

As if someone up above had read his mind, one of the side doors opened. Zyke tensed up immediately; if they were Emprean this would be bad. But he soon recognized Carthage colors and let out a chuckle. He was almost home free.

"Ah, gentlemen," Zyke began. "Now I may not look familiar to you, but I...er, Commander Griswald?"

Every Carthage spy had a pass code to identify themselves as a friendly to their forces, and although the codes were rarely needed, in paid to have them at times. Zyke was certain that this would be one of those times, for he did not expect grunts to recognize him. But one of them certainly would. The former commander of the Carthage forces.

Griswald was a large man by anyone's standards. Easily weighing over two hundred pounds, and standing a bit over six feet in height, most men would be intimidated by his presence. In an officer’s uniform, Griswald had reeked of authority. At the moment, however, he made for a rather large and imposing spearman.

"Not any more," The giant of a man spat as he eyed Zyke. "Prince Blight had me stripped of my rank, and made a foot soldier."

"Ah, I am sorry to hear that," Zyke muttered as he nervously adjusted his collar. The last thing he needed was to be blamed for that particular failure. After all, it wasn't his fault that the former commander was a buffoon.

"Yes, well, if someone gave me better information then I wouldn't be in this fix, would I?" The man spat at Zyke. If he was a good judge of character (and Zyke Hazama was good at many things), he would have to say that the man before him wanted someone to blame.

No problem.

"Ah. Well, perhaps this will brighten your day?" Noel let out a scream as Zyke grabbed her by the hair and tossed her to former commander. "May I present to you Noel Spero, leader of Fort Caliben!"

"This? This is what beat ME?" The man screamed as he caught Noel, who was scared speechless at this point.

"Afraid so. She got lucky more than anything, if that makes you feel any better," Zyke said off-handedly as he took out his knife. He began to play with it as Noel summoned up some courage.

"Ummm.....Excuse me? If I could just-" Without any hesitation, the former commander punched Noel in the face. The young girl was too shocked to cry out as her little body careened across the floor.

"Careful what you say Noel. He's testy," Zyke whispered, not the least bit concerned about what was happening before his eyes.

Despite all her training (which really wasn’t that much to begin with), Noel Spero had never really gotten use to combat. In fact, she wasn’t anywhere near use to it. What little experience she had mostly involved a bit of sparring with other Emprean soldiers (she lost often). Her actual battle experience was limited to her brief stint at Fort Caliben, and she had always had Troy to look out for her. Even if he regretted it, even if he sighed while doing it, even if he would rather have just left her behind, she had always had him to count on. That was why she had so desperately wanted him to love her, or at the very least like her. She had so dearly wanted someone she could count on.

Now, amidst the turmoil that was battle, she was so scared. Too scared to cry, too scared to run. She wished she was anywhere but here. She wished to be somewhere far away from the calls of battle and the hell that always ensued. A peaceful place, one where she could just be a simple cook, nothing more.

She let out a scream as Griswald yanked her up by her hair.

“Not really sure what to do with you,” Griswald muttered as he balled his hand into a fist. “Kill you?”

He punched her in the stomach. Noel gagged in pain.

“Beat you?” Another punch. She begged him to stop.

“Rape you?” Her body went limp as another punch rocked her.

“Mutilate you?” Strands of her blond hair were left in Griswald’s hand as his last punch sent her to the ground.

“Choke you?” Griswald placed his foot onto Noel’s tiny neck and pressed down. She gasped for air.

“Burn you?” Griswald removed his foot from Noel’s neck. She coughed violently as Griswald reached out his hand and took hold of the fireplace‘s poker.

“What did I ever do to deserve this?’ Noel managed to whimper. Zyke, who had been busy playing with his knife, looked over to her.

“I’m pretty sure I can name a couple of reasons, if you like.”

Griswald held the poker over the flames; Noel tried to crawl away.

“Please...please don’t!” She begged, true fear in her eyes. Griswald held the heated metal before him.

“For starters, you allowed me to kill off all the other officers,” Zyke said as Griswald advance.

“You’ve never really accomplished anything. Mommy and Daddy always had to push you along.” Noel found her back against a wall.

“I never wanted to be a soldier! I never wanted any of this!” Noel screamed as Griswald waved the hot iron before her face.

“If you had listened to Troy, you might have stopped me.” The iron danced in front of her.

“Someone help me!” Noel screamed once more.

“If you had listened to Troy, you might have saved a few more lives.” Griswald moved the poker towards her right eye.

“Anyone!” Noel was so afraid.

“If you listened to Troy, he might have saved you.” Griswald traced the metal across her face to her left eye. It was no more than an inch away from her.

“PLEASE!”

“If you listened to Troy, you might have been happy.”

“Oh god, please don’t burn me!” Griswald sneered, he had chosen his target.

“If you listened to Troy...” Noel was crying.

“Please don’t please don’t PLEASE DON‘T.” Griswald pulled the poker back.

“He might still be alive.” Zyke smiled cruelly.

Noel screamed as the metal moved towards her. Griswald didn’t just plunge it into her. No, he wanted to take his time. He wanted this young girl to suffer, for Griswald had suffered greatly. He had lost his rank, he had lost his title, he had lost everything that mattered to him, and he wanted someone to pay. Anyone would do. Zyke Hazama. Lucifer Blight. Noel Spero. Yes. Noel Spero would suffer. She would suffer immensely.

“I’m going to turn you into a one-eyed Carthage whore, bitch.”

A small wave of gray energy raced across the floor of the mess hall. It followed its path flawlessly, never once did the small wave stray. Across the room it went; the sound of a strong wind seemed to accompany it. It did not grow in power, it did not rend the floor apart as it raced. It simply traveled its path, much as the rain does.

“I am not dead yet Zyke,” Troy breathed softly, his body was hunched over from exhaustion. Gray wisps of energy danced around his sword for a moment longer, then they departed. “But you are.”

Troy’s shockwave crashed into Griswald before he could burn out Noel’s eye. The wave was not lethal, far from it. It was merely a trick Troy had learned from a time long gone by. Back when he had been a proud soldier, back when his head had been held high with pride.

Griswald felt his body fly through the air as Troy’s attack parted him from the ground; much in the way a fierce shove would have done. His hand lost its grip; the poker sailed through the room. The man tumbled to the floor as Zyke’s eyes went wide.

“Told you I would kill you if you didn’t let her go,” Troy whispered darkly as he forced himself to stand tall. Regal and Justice were by his side, awaiting his orders. All were bloody. All were tired. And yet, all of them seemed to shine with a unworldly radiance. There, for that single moment, the three men knew no equals.

“Save Noel,” Troy ordered as Griswald stumbled to his feet and grabbed his spear. Regal and Justice let out a battle cry as they charged the few Carthage soldiers Griswald had with him.

Zyke Hazama fell to his knees; the iron poker lodged in his chest. Before his strength gave out, Zyke managed to gaze into Troy‘s cold eyes. They seemed different now. Despite how tired he looked, despite how pale his face was, Troy seemed more vibrant and alive than ever been before. Zyke managed to figure out why just before he drew his last breath.

It was because of a young girl, no more than eighteen years old. She had blond hair and green eyes. She was a tiny thing, perhaps a little more than five and a half feet tall. She whined a lot, and when she wasn’t whining she was often crying. Her tiny breasts were the cause of many a joke, but her cooking was the cause of many an apology. Her Emprean uniform was a mess, her body was horribly bruised. She was staring at Troy, and he was staring back at her.

Zyke Hazama died then, his dreams incomplete. He died alone in Fort Caliben. He died amidst a war, amidst the shouts and cries of battle. He died, and Noel didn’t even notice. All she saw was Troy, and the soft smile he favored her with.

[Unfulfilled]

“I call dibs on the fat one!” Regal shouted as he elbowed Justice to the side Tenacity thrust forwards to the enemies side. In return the boisterous mercenary darted off to the side and let axe and sword cleave through the stupefied soldiers all standing around.

What had for a mere few seconds been the happiest moment of life for Noel Spero, it became the worst moments for everyone else in the room as the fighting suddenly became close and bloody. Justice had spun on his heels keeping many spears away from his vulnerable chest as Regal found it hard to stab someone in full plate. Troy’s one good hand worked overtime as he fought with Griswald and two of his retainers who tried to flank the wounded knight.

“Seven, nine, twelve,” Regal panted in exhaustion as the Sword Demon’s arm began to feel weak and tired. Even he was loathe to admit that taking on an entire army was grueling stuff. He back pedaled as another spear thrust from the armored behemoth, trying to claim his life. In the brief break he turned to see Justice who’s face told the same story. He didn’t even have to think twice about the conditions Troy was in, pure will power alone sustaining his fallen comrade.

They were tired, and they were going to die if something didn’t happen soon.

As if a sign from the gods the doors blasted open as a huge body ripped through it. A few people ran by and Regal turned to see what had come from the divine favor. Yet his heart seemed to squelch further as more Carthage soldiers joined the fray. He gulped once and gritted his teeth as he ducked under the spear thrust letting the shaft travel along his blade bringing his weapon up and stabbing his opponent in the visor as he fell down to the ground screaming, blood flooding over Regal as he turned to support Justice.

“It’s not going well, is it brother?” Justice muttered as his axe took out the wooden shaft of a spear while he parried another blade off to the side with his own.

“Shut up and fight,” Regal muttered back as his weapon darted around Justice’s neck and into the shoulder of an unfortunate Carthage soldier. Troy managed to dodge a sword strike only to roll his weapon over the over extended warrior’s arm and stab him through his throat before bringing Disillusioned back to begin avoiding the next soldier’s attack who replaced the fallen one.

Regal began to feel his agitation for the situation fuel his hatred. Each swing of his blade became heavier and his movements more precise as he fought side by side with Justice. The mercenary let his weapons finish off another foe and they had only a brief moment as Justice kicked the body off his blade and leaned in close to Regal.

“If I am going to die by anyone’s side I am proud to say it’s by my brothers in arms,” Justice said with sincere intent. Regal snorted his anger as he elbowed the man in the side to engage the next flow of warriors.

“Shut up and fight,” Was Regal’s only reply.

~*~*~

Elsewhere

Deep within the tunnel crawled one large warrior and three lithe fighters who all ran as fast as they could through the network that they became intimate with not a hour prior. They moved in a hushed silence, each had a face of contemplation as they thought deeply about what they were about to do. After a long silence of running and breathing one in the group spoke his concerns.

“I can’t believe we are doing this!” Roulette shouted. “We can’t all be crazy at once can we? I heard that stupidity isn’t contagious!”

“Roulette,” Stitches said smiling before his eyes narrowed on the gambler. “Shut up.” Roulette lifted his hands in confusion as he obliged, looking down to see Ten Thumbs running next to Bruiser who had his own face of confusion.

“We must all be on board to save the lives of our dear friends,” Buttercups said solemnly as he crawled through the tunnel behind them all. “If we do not stand together like the roots of a tree, we do not stand at all.”

“I just don’t see why we are actually going back!” Roulette whimpered. “I don’t want to die in a piece of shit fort in this piece of shit country.”

“Do you know you complain a lot?” Ten Thumbs asked through steady breaths. Roulette glared to the boy, but it was Bruiser who gave his friend a polite shove to keep him running.

“He’s right ya know. All you do is whine and bitch.” Bruiser ran past Roulette knocking him to the side as he passed Stitches lifting his hands up and punching forward. A Carthage solider rounding a turn was struck right across his lower jaw and twirled into the wall where he became Bruiser’s personal punching bag.

He turned down the hallway and looked pointing up to the sunlight that was peering through the mouth of the tunnel exit back into Fort Caliben. They all rounded the corner and looked as one at the portal, its meaning more than just the exit. It was the doorway to a commitment to save their friends who had saved them multiple times. It was the commitment to be a hero for once, and not just a cowardly mercenary.

Ten Thumbs was the first to scamper down the hall in a full run, his tiny frame masking a more prideful stride than they ever recalled seeing in the boy. Following suit was Stitches who clutched his bag tightly to his chest as he ran after him. Bruiser looked to Roulette once and then to the light.

“Momma,” He whispered running after them. “I’ll make you proud.”

All that was left was Buttercups and Roulette. The two looked to each other and Roulette at last caved in, tears streaming his face.

“It’s not that I don’t want to help them!” He cried, a sobbing that put Noel to shame. “It’s that I don’t want to die! You don’t get it! You just don’t! My dad died pulling off a stupid stunt like this!” Buttercups lowered his head to man’s shoulder which the gambler gripped and held tightly as he cried into Buttercup's shoulder. “He was the hero, he was the one who had to go back into the fire! I would have a dad today if he wasn’t a stupid hero! He promised he'd come back, but...but...” Roulette choked and Buttercups increased his grip on the mercenary.

“So you lied then, earlier at poker table,” Buttercups said softly. Roulette sniffled as he nodded. With as much grace as he could muster Buttercups placed his giant hand on Roulette’s back and softly stroked it. “We must all face our fears one day.”

“But does it have to be in such a piece of shit fort in such a piece of shit country in a piece of shit tunnel?” He whimpered. Buttercups chuckled, a deep vibration that put Roulette at ease for whatever reason he couldn’t explain. He wiped his eyes on his own shirt and looked to the taller mercenary.

“It does,” Buttercups said honestly. “Only when the toughest choices in our life are laid before us will we show the mettle of our soul. You have gambled a long time, Roulette. It’s time to put away the silly games and make your father proud.”

“Can’t it happen in a game of Lavinya Hold ‘em?” He asked. Buttercups shook his head.

“No, Karma is a piece of shit like that,” He said politely with a straight face smiling. Roulette blinked a few times to the giant of a man, and then with a soft chuckle and smile he patted the man on the shoulder before he turned running down the hallway.

“I’m going to die in this piece of shit fort!” He shouted. “And I still don’t want to do this!” Buttercups chased after him with his crawling bulk.

“Then why are you going to the entrance?” Roulette turned and pointed to Buttercups.

“You were in the way, and you weren’t going to let me go no matter what.”

“You are quite right!” Buttercups laughed as he reached the mouth of the tunnel. Both men crawled out and they saw Bruiser holding off a few soldier’s with determined eyes. Yet as he fought more and more Carthage soldiers started to pour in. With a deep breath Buttercups slammed his fist together, the sound of thunder erupting from the impact, and he bowed in silent prayer.

“Uh, what are you doing?” Roulette asked.

“Re-entering the karmic cycle!” Buttercups answered angrily as he tore his shirt off, revealing his scarred and muscled chest. Each arm was littered in tattoos and upon his back was one huge tattoo of a tree. His massive body moved forwards in large bounds and when he reached Bruiser he pushed the mercenary aside forcefully, letting his fists loose like unfed wolves. Carthage soldiers dropped left and right with each swing of his massive fists as the behemoth let out a bellow of spite and rage.

The mercenaries stood dumbstruck at the terror of Buttercups as he beat into the forces of Carthage. When a spear impaled him he snarled like a corned animal and ripped the weapon out and used it to stab the warrior in the gut and running with the impaled body into a grouping of other soldiers. He roared in challenge as he turned facing another heavily armored Carthage commander who stood defiantly against Buttercups.

The knight lifted up his sword and charged forward, Buttercups just lowering himself into a tighter fighting stance as they collided. The sword cut into his upper shoulder and the giant cursed loudly in an Akashiman dialect. Using his opening he pushed the warrior onto his back and mounted him, his fists punching into the helmet denting it inwards. Soon there was only a crater where the face once was, blood pouring all over his fists as he breathed heavily.

“Whoa…” Ten Thumbs whispered in awe.

Buttercups looked to them and he got up motioning for them to follow him, ripping the impaled sword out as if it were a minor irritant. They all ran towards him as they looked for Regal, Troy, and Justice as one. It was Bruiser who broke the awkward tension.

“How long have you known how to beat the shit out of a guy?”

“A long, long time, Bruiser. I became a monk so I can center my being and stop being so outwardly aggressive. I owe a great debt to my sensei. In respect to that man I promised him I wouldn’t use my fists to harm another soul again until I learned my place in the celestial order.”

“So did you?” Ten Thumbs asked as they ran. Buttercups remained silent for a moment as they ran, Stitches looking to the man with deep respect out of the corner of his eye. Buttercups nodded to the doctor as they ran and at last he gave his answer.

“Technically no,” He admitted. “But I think I got the gist of it.”

[Disillusioned]

"Troy!" Noel shouted as she curled up into a ball. She did her best not to get into Troy's way, for at the moment, he appeared to have his hands full.

"One moment!" Troy shouted back. A quick parry to block the foe to the right, a feint to distract the one on the left. An attack aimed for Griswald. The attack missed, and Griswald charged. Troy quickly stepped to the side, doing his best to shield Noel from the fighting.

"But Troy..."

"Just a little longer!"

Troy slashed at the back of Griswald, causing the man to stumble to the floor. Troy felt his side sear for a moment, and he quickly jerked his back so that the spear he had been pierced with would not go any deeper. He then quickly stepped in close to the spearman so that the man's long weapon was useless. Disillusioned ended that man's life.

"I just wanted to say..."

"Another minute!"

Troy met his last opponent, a swordsman much like himself, head-on. The two blades danced back and forth; sparks their only foot prints. Eventually, Troy made another feint and caused the man to stumble. Being as the man was in plate armor, he had no choice but to forsake all precision and simply shove the man's head as hard as he could into the nearby wall. The Carthage soldier slumped over unconscious as Troy took a deep, and very unsteady, breath.

"Are you all right?" Troy gasped as he cut away the ropes that held her. His sword arm was shaking fiercely; he would not be able to stand much longer.

"Yes, well, I'm pretty sore actually, but that's not important," Noel sniffled as she spoke. "What's important is-"

"I'm sorry."

Noel blinked once as her mind registered Troy's words as well as the look on his face. He looked so sad.

"I should never have said what I did. I was a fool, a damned fool Noel. I do not expect your forgiveness, but I do apologize with all my heart.”

Despite the battle, despite the chaos all around, Noel heard his words ring as clear as a bell. She took a deep breath, steadied herself as best as she could, and then did what she often did under stressful circumstances. Cry.

“Troy! I’m really really sorry! I screwed everything up and nearly got you killed and didn’t listen when I should have and-”

“Noel...”

“I didn’t know he was a spy Troy! I was just so alone and so afraid that no one would like me-”

“Noel!”

“I am so sorry Troy! I...I...I...”

Tears were flowing in buckets from Noel, but she didn’t care. Regal could make fun of her all he wanted; she needed to apologize. She needed to tell Troy how much he meant to her, and how thankful she was that he had come back for her. She needed to tell him so many things, but she grew silent as he covered her as best he could with his cape.

“I was worried about you Noel. I am really, really glad you are all right.” Not the most romantic of remarks, but for a man who showed very little emotions under the most stressful circumstances, it may as well have been a passionate five-minute long speech.

“Troy...I think I really do love you,” Noel whispered so that no one else could hear.

“I know,” Troy said softly. He looked as if he was about to say something else, but instead his eyes grew wide as he quickly shoved Noel away. He raised his sword just in time to stop a deathblow from Griswald, but the far larger man simply charged forward and knocked him to the ground.

“Not the best time to be kissing boy!” Griswald spat as he leapt down and kneed Troy in the chest. Troy gasped for air as Griswald drove his spear downwards; he barely managed to deflect it.

“Ah! Troy!” Noel shouted as she made to help him. Still using one hand to press his attack on Troy, Griswald knocked her aside with a swift backhand.

“I’ll get to you in a moment! Wait your turn!” He snapped as the tip of his spear inched closer to Troy’s face; Disillusioned shook fiercely, barley managing to hold the weapon at bay.

“Ah! Someone help him!” Noel shouted as she looked around. Regal was busy holding off numerous other foes, and too far away to make it in time. She turned to Justice, he was closer. He was also facing down three armored soldiers.

“Justice!” Noel screamed. The mercenary twirled his axe around and glanced over at Noel.

“Young lady who‘s heart yearns for love‘s sweet embrace!” Justice shouted back as his opponents pinned him to the wall with their weapons. He stabbed one in the stomach, took a blow to the side from another, and head butted the last one (not the most effective tactic as the man was wearing a helmet).

“If you have something worth fighting for, then you must fight for it with all your heart!” The man yelled, ignoring the blood that trickled from his forehead.

She looked over to Troy, who was pinned to the ground by Griswald’s massive weight. With one arm in a sling, he could not hope to repel the spear; it was a small miracle he had held out as long as he had. In five seconds or so, Troy Priam would die.

Noel screamed louder than she ever had in her life. Louder than she had ever whined, louder than she had ever cried. Her scream pierced the ears of all around her, even Griswald stumbled slightly. The heavens themselves seemed to respond to her scream in the form of a bright light that coalesced around Noel’s hands.

But it wasn’t the heavens that responded. As the glorious white light shifted and gathered, it grew more and more distinct. It began to take shape; swirling and dancing about Noel as it did so.

“Gaé Bolg!” Noel screamed as the Spero family heirloom materialized for her. That shining spear, that glorious spear that she had shown Troy days ago, hovered in the air before her. She gripped it tightly; the weapon matched her perfectly. “GO!”

She flung the spear with all the might her tiny body could summon. Every ounce of passion, every piece of strength she could possibly muster, went into that single throw. The spear flew across the room; a silver bolt of lighting.

Former Commander Griswald was not able to so much as scream before he fell dead; Noel’s spear pierced his heart.

“Holy shit Tiny-Tits!” Regal shouted as Troy shoved Griswald’s corpse away.

“Ah, the sweet power of love!” Justice echoed. “Like a peach amidst the summer rain!”

“You and Regal are more alike than either of you are willing to admit. Neither of you make any sense at all,” Troy muttered as he yanked Noel’s spear out of Griswald. Not a drop of blood stained the blade; the weapon’s magical nature obvious. “Noel. You just saved my life.”

For a moment she said nothing. Then she pointed her finger at Troy and smiled.

“HA! Now you have to love me!” She said with a grin.

“I am not certain that is how love works Noel,” Troy chuckled as he handed the spear back to her. His previous comments about her being inexperienced no longer applied.

“Oh drat,” Noel muttered dejected. She then perked up. “A date then! Saving your life has got to be worth at least one date! Right?”

“I’m pretty certain that’s a rule Troy!” Regal chimed in as he finished off another foe. “Actually, I think it’s in the Lover’s Handbook. Give me a sec, I’m sure Justice has a copy in his bag...”

Troy let out a laugh.

“I suppose, as I would be dead if not for you, should we survive this I can take you out on a date. If you like.”

“Should we survive?” Noel shouted. She gripped her spear tightly. “Hell with that! I’m living!”

The four chuckled as they formed ranks. A tired Troy, a young Noel, a crazed Regal, and a proud Justice stood fast against the remaining Carthage soldiers. Despite the numbers being in their favor, the Carthage soldiers hesitated; a cruel chuckle crept through the room.

“Oh, don’t stop,” A dark voice laughed. “You were getting to the best part.”

The man who spoke wore black chain mail laced with gold. A dark cape shrouded his body; his black hair glistened due to the flames from the nearby fireplace. At his waist was a large bastard sword. His brown eyes were hateful; his smile sinister.

Lucifer Blight let out another laugh.

“So you killed Griswald huh? Good. I couldn’t stand that guy,” Lucifer grinned as he drew his blade. The steel of the sword shined as he advanced forward, several guards flanked him. Not ordinary guards either. They were dressed in silver plate mail, and kept a tight formation around Lucifer. As Zyke had said that Lucifer Blight was a prince, Troy would have to guess that those guards were royal guards. That wasn’t good.

Troy quickly took stock of the situation. His strength was all but spent, and Noel was certainly not in a much better state. Regal and Justice were both showing fatigue; they had done most of the fighting on the way here due to Troy’s condition. Only one option.

“Run!” Troy shouted. “All of you! Go!”

Lucifer raised an eyebrow as everyone began to protest. Noel whined, Justice began a speech, and Regal, well, did what Regal always did.

“Oh no! I see myself a dragon and I aim to kill it!” The Sword Demon shouted as he advanced forward. “You and me Hennifer -what’s-your-name! Let’s go!”

“Kill him,” Lucifer said coldly. His guards advanced.

“Oh, I get it! Gotta take out the minions first,” Regal said coolly. “Guess that makes sense, can’t just skip to the boss fight. Yeah, the Saint Of Swords would never do that. My bad everyone, my bad.”

“Regal,” Troy said softly. “By your last count you are at fifty-three kills. I am at an even ninety. Should you kill all thirty of them, you will still be losing to me.”

Regal’s face turned red.

“Fortunately, there are fifty more behind us. Best you hurry.” Regal retreated (or rather in his mind advanced) immediately. Lucifer halted his men out of curiosity.

“Justice, take Noel and go! I’ll buy you as much time as I can!” Troy said as he stepped forward to meet Lucifer. Noel squealed.

“What? NO WAY! You can’t!”

Troy just shook his head.

“This was my plan, I should be the one to see it through. Get going! NOW!” Even as Troy shouted, Justice stroked his own chin. The mercenary then quietly stepped in front of him.

“No. I shall be the one to hold them,” The man stated softly. “You will retreat.”

“Damn you Justice! I will not tell you again! GO!” Troy demanded. All Justice did was advance another step.

“This is my chance. MY chance,” The man checked his weapons. He still had his axe and sword; he grabbed two more swords from the ground. “Go Master Priam! Save the one you care for! Flee this land, make for a tavern! Buy a round of drinks, talk of good men and heroic deeds! I shall join you there!”

“Justice, for God’s sake I-” Troy stopped as Noel clutched him tightly. She wouldn’t dare speak, but she could look, and that look told him everything.

“Justice. I’m sorry!” Troy literally cried as he dashed of with Noel. Lucifer chuckled.

“I’m not one for heroics myself, but I figured as you all fought so hard I may as well let you have your moment. Ready?” Lucifer said as he motioned for his men to move forward. “Let’s see how much time you can buy with your life, hero.”

Justice took a deep breath and twirled his weapons.

“Where there is light there is shadow,” The man began. “In the shadows, villainy may think it moves freely, but I...I...”

Justice exploded with emotion as he dashed forward.

“I shall bring justice to those who lurk in the dark!” He screamed as he met the first guard. Justice stunned him with a sword strike and moved on.

“Upon the wings of angels I fly!” He flung a sword at the next foe who tried to stop him.

“The people will hear my name!” He tossed his other sword at another foe. He grew closer to Lucifer.

“They shall know my strength!” He drew his sword and axe as a guard stabbed him. Still he charged forward.

“For I am-” Lucifer raised his blade in order to meet his foe.

“THE HAMMER OF JUSTICE!” The mercenary screamed as he leapt the last few feet towards Lucifer.

“Haven’t you heard?” Lucifer screamed as he grabbed Justice by his collar and flung him against the wall. He then drove his blade forward, and impaled Justice to the wall.

“JUSTICE IS DEAD IN EMPREA!”

[Unfulfilled]

Fatigue racked the brain of the Sword Demon as he pushed another swordsman off his blade with a vicious kick, his back aching and his muscles sore. He swung outwards with a horizontal that took another man’s right eye, his screams adding to the confusion of the battle raging throughout the fort. He looked back to see Troy and Noel running and he felt a twinge in his heart to see them both. He also took note that Justice hadn’t arrived with them.

“We must break for the tunnel. That is our only prayer out of this place,” Troy said as Noel fearfully looked around clutching her spear to her chest. Regal turned and stabbed Tenacity through the throat of the wounded soldier before he could get up and stepped forwards assessing the battle field.

“It’s not going to be so easy going back, that bastard prince must have brought in the finishing touches to end Fort Caliben. Anything the Empreans do now is just to stall them.” He shook his head and felt the rush of blood as his exhausted limbs begged for him to sit and rest. He knew that to obey his body’s whim was only going to get him killed. Once down, Regal wouldn't get up.

“We don’t have any other options, Regal,” Troy whispered forcefully, his own tired eyes looking to him with pleading for the Demon to understand. Eyes that wished for Regal to just accept the truth of the matter. With a grudging nod the Sword Demon lifted Tenacity to his shoulder.

“Way I see it, we have two options.” He lifted up his hand pointing two fingers to the sky. “Cut through the center, running through the heat of battle but in the process making the shortest distance, using the rubble to hide ourselves in, or we can dart around the edges. Less likely to draw attention, but it would take longer and if we were spotted we have no place to hide.” Lowering his hand he looked to Troy. The knight sighed, his usual sigh of contemplation, as he looked out to the fighting. Then both men softly turned to Noel.

She looked back at them, her emerald eyes shimmering as the fire danced upon them in the distance. Her worry was clear as day and she clearly couldn’t perform another stunt like she had with Griswald. If things got heavy it would be just Regal and Troy, which in reality meant it was just Regal because Troy’s broken arm wouldn’t do them any good.

“I, I,” Noel stammered trying to be brave despite how afraid she really was. Regal stood before her. Their eyes met and he gave her a concerned look which put her a little at ease.

“You are a cry baby,” He blurted. Troy lifted his hand and slapped Regal across the arm, but the grey swordsman didn’t flinch. Tears swelled up in the girls eyes, but for once she didn’t give into her emotions and refused to cry.

“I know that,” She said softly, choking on her own sobs she tried to hide. “But I will not be a burden again. I won’t be the reason people die.” Regal looked to her and then shrugged turning to Troy.

“She may have grown a spine,” He said coolly. His eyes darted out before he saw a gap coming up in the rushing tide of soldiers. “But that still doesn’t mean I approve of you two.” With a wild smile he turned to the throng of incoming soldiers. “When I distract them you run for cover. Take good cover, hide yourselves as best you can and be ready to run.”

“Regal, don’t!” Troy warned him as pain covered his face, his feet moving to restrain the Demon of Swords.

“I’m not Hector and I ain’t no hero!” Regal spat to Troy, far more forcefully than he intended to. This shook Troy a little as he took a step back. “I’m not an idiot, and I know what I’m doing. Trust me, Troy,” Regal said as his eyes softly burned red under the iris. “I still have Karel Raven to fight for the title of Saint of Swords. It would hardly due the Sword Demon any good to die here.” Troy gave him a worried look, but nodded once.

Gripping the hilt of Tenacity tightly he stood forward stepping into the path of a group of six warriors. His eyes hungrily watched each movement, their bodies moving slowly in time as he studied each muscle that moved on his prey. He twirled Tenacity in his hand twice before bringing both hands to the hilt, holding the weapon before him in a low crouch as he readied himself. His boots made lines in the sand as he inched his way forward.

“Another mercenary!” A soldier shouted. “Surround him, he looks like a feral animal!” In quick military precision they advanced upon Regal, making a wide circle around him as they warily looked to each other for support.

“Fools,” Regal spoke, his tone dark and heavy. “Do you not know who I am?” He asked curtly, spitting upon the ground as he brought his weapon up to his stomach and turned quickly to blockade the advancement of the soldiers behind him.

“Another stupid mercenary who’s about to be a bloodstain for the Carthage Kingdom,” A soldier answered. Regal’s blood pounded in his ears and he felt every instinct to launch himself at the man who threatened him, but he knew it would cost him his life should he have. This had to be a calculated fight, not a blood fest, not an artsy display of showmanship. A brutal, thought out fight.

I need only to take out two of them, then I can retreat to where Noel and Troy have hid. They can ambush the other four and the rest will be mine. Patience, Regal. Karel Raven would do the same thing. He thought as he focused himself.

One of the spearmen behind him made the first move. With a half twirl he avoided the thrust and Tenacity ran along the shaft hitting the lightly armored warrior in the stomach. He sliced deeply, disemboweling the warrior who slumped over dead with a moan on his lips.

ONE! Regal thought triumphantly. The fifteen of these guys will never stand a chance! Yet his excitement was his downfall as two men from behind double rushed, their tower shields blocking the katana and pushing the Sword Demon over. He tumbled upon the ground before the feet of another warrior who began to kick at Regal with furious rage. He noticed that Troy and Noel had slipped by unnoticed and he smiled for his comrade as he held her hand. Good for Troy, and good for Noel, they would live.

Angrily he swiped Tenacity for shins, clipping one solider who retreated but they kept him pinned down. He rolled away as far as he could but they hovered around him like a swarm of bees. He couldn’t break through anymore, and he was running out of energy to continue to fight.

“LEAVE MY BROTHER ALONE!” A shout echoed in the back of the brawl. Soldier’s looked up and one was knocked unceremoniously to his butt as a tiny boy stood before them, a little knife held in his hands. Regal watched the rest of the soldiers fan out in a formation as they held their positions to assess this new threat. Regal looked to his savior and groaned as he saw the scrubby dirty clothing that could only belong to one creepy boy named Ten Thumbs.

“That little shit cut me!” The soldier spat getting up and picking up his sword as he carefully eyed his stomach.

“I’ll do worse if you continue to harass my brother!” He threatened, his tone deadly serious. The soldiers looked to each other before laughing, one turning his weapon to the blunt end of his spear and knocking the wind out of the boy. Regal watched him with horrified eyes as he went down, his little voice coughing up bile as the attack hit him far harder than a mere tap. He collapsed onto his knees and then fell to his side hunched over, crying in anger and pain as his feet kicked into the air. The soldiers advanced upon him, kicking him in the shoulder and in the back, stomping him on his wrists and his face.

Regal felt his jaw tingle with agony as he was kicked in the side of the mouth, another boot continuing to beat him, but his pain was nothing compared to the little boys. Ten Thumbs was getting the tar kicked out of him and his clothing was ripping and tearing. He cried out in pain, cursing when he barely had the breath to. One soldier bent over and picked the child mercenary up by the face only to punch him in the nose sending blood flying in the air in a glittering arc before it sprayed over Regal’s face.

Like a wet towel snapping in his face the blood that was shed on him sent Regal into a trance. His right forearm blocked a kick and his left shot out twisting the ankle and tripping the trapped Carthage spearman into the other solider that surrounded him. His eyes glossed over in red as he snarled and spat, his teeth gnashing at whatever stood between him and his sword. When he felt the grip of the handle a primal energy built up within him and grey wisps of power washed over him like a fire.

He turned upon the Carthage soldiers who touched the boy and his anger manifested in the swirling grey fire like energy that wrapped around the hilt of his sword. “Leave the boy alone!” He shouted, the energy blasting outwards behind him from the hilt of his sword like a backlash of pent up flames. The soldiers looked to Regal like he was insane and they turned tail to run. One look at the beaten boy was all Regal needed to sentence them to death as he picked the blade up and swung outwards, the energy coursing within him escaping out the tip of the blade as he slashed vertically towards them.

A large shockwave erupted upon the ground, this one, unlike Troy's, was chewing up the floor as it made a tiny crevice upon the earth eating it up and spewing it out the sides as it traveled after the Carthage soldiers. They all screamed in terror, but it was silenced by the overwhelming power of Regals pent up energy as the shockwave engulfed the warriors shooting them forwards at high speeds into the wall or tumbling upon the ground at such rapid speeds their body broke upon contact. Int he sky their was the faintest echo of a demonic silhouette, a leering face, and the sound of soft chuckling echoed in the area.

Regal heaved as all the energy in his body was spent, his body unable to support itself as he stabbed Tenacity into the ground to keep himself standing. The red in his eyes dyed out softly but the color remained as a tint on the bottom of his iris. Ten Thumbs sobbed as he looked up to Regal and back to the carnage behind him. When he looked back to Regal he raced to the Sword Demon and hugged him tightly.

Regal let his hand fall to the child mercenary’s head, patting him softly as he urged the boy onwards. They moved quickly, Regal using Ten Thumbs as a crutch to move into the shattered remnants of a barracks. The two breathed heavily as Regal tried to regain his strength, coming to a conclusion it wouldn’t any time soon.

“You stupid?” Regal managed to mutter to the boy. Ten Thumbs remained quiet as Regal placed a hand on the child mercenary's shoulder, gripping it tightly in a brotherly way. “I’m not your real brother, Ten Thumbs.”

“I know,” He whispered. His eyes looked up to him, his black mascara running down his cheeks making him look even creepier than usual, but for the first time Regal had noticed he had a beautiful set of amber colored eyes. “For once, I just wanted to pretend that I did. If even for a little while. It was nice to feel like I had a brother again.” His voice barely made a sound as he spoke. The Sword Demon patted him on the head gently, groaning as he pushed himself off the wall.

“Fine, think whatever you want. But don’t get yourself killed for it.” He limped away from the mercenary who just smiled behind the grey swordsman’s back. “Come on, I know the other mercenaries wouldn’t let you go alone. Take me to the others.”

“What about Troy and Noel?” The boy asked. Regal looked behind him to the outside as he saw Carthage soldiers pouring in. Orders were being made to begin search parties as they stumbled upon the six dead Carthage warriors. With a sad shake of his head he moved onwards, pushing Ten Thumbs in front of him.

“If Troy was as smart as I think he is, he would have known I was lying about coming back and went to save himself. Hurry up, they will be here shortly looking for who caused that mess.” Silently the two mercenaries moved onwards towards the others, Regal’s mind praying to the Saint of Swords, to the gods, to anyone who would care that Troy and Noel would be okay.

[Disillusioned]

Troy was not as smart as Regal thought he was. The man had simply passed out from a combination of pain, exhaustion, and simple lack of superhero fortitude. Noel, panic stricken, had decided to move Troy away from the battle and towards a safer area. It was in a little hole in the wall (literally, a Carthage catapult had shattered this portion of the fort) that the two lay close to one another.

"Wake up! Wake up!" Noel shook Troy violently. She then immediately stopped shaking the man and dove onto his chest (she figured Troy would forgive her) as a few Carthage soldiers passed by. She held her breath and prayed they wouldn't discover her.

"Ugh," Troy moaned as his eyes fluttered open. He tried to speak, but Noel instantly shushed him by placing a hand over his mouth. Whether it was the Gods, the Saint Of Swords, or some other mystical force watching over the two, the Carthage soldiers passed without noticing them.

"I thought you died..." Noel whimpered as she clung to his chest. Despite himself, Troy ended up gently stroking her hair to calm her down. She practically purred in content.

"I'm fine. Just tired. Where's Regal?" Noel made a sad face. Troy just shook his head. "No need to worry about the man, he can take care of himself. Let us do the same."

He then checked his equipment, namely his sword. Noel had sheathed it for him when he had passed out, after cleaning the blood off the blade. She was such a good girl.

With a weary sigh, he did his best to stand. He failed rather miserably, and soon found that he had collapsed back onto the ground, breathing heavily. Noel quickly grabbed him and held him tight.

"Hey! You can't stress yourself! You don't have much strength left," Noel whispered softly. Troy muttered a few complaints as he pulled himself back up and leaned against a piece of rubble.

"It seems so. All right, listen to me Noel. If you head back to the wreckage of the officer's command post, you'll find a tunnel. You'll need to be quick, but-"

Noel slapped Troy across the face.

"What was that for?" The man snapped, after rebalancing the world (he was kind enough not to point out that hitting a man in his condition was a rather terrible idea).

"You were going to tell me to leave you behind!"

"...Perhaps."

"Well I won't do it!" Noel shot as she did her best to carry Troy. All her little body could manage was to give the man a shoulder for support. "We're going to make it Troy! Together!"

"Noel..."

"NO!" She screamed; Troy quickly scanned the area. Thankfully, no Carthage soldier were in earshot.

Noel's face turned red as she clutched her fists tightly; her mannerisms childlike in nature. She clutched him tightly, more for herself than him. Her voice was frightened; her body shivered as she inched across the battlefield, praying to anyone that would listen that the Carthage army would not find them.

"So many..." She whispered as she dragged Troy across the wreckage of the fort. "I've gotten so many killed."

"Don't blame yourself Noel. It's not your fault," He barely managed to say. He doubted he would be conscious for much longer.

"No, it's all right. I know what I've done," She whispered softly. "Because I wasn't strong enough, because I wasn't smart enough, a lot of people got killed."

Troy noticed that drops of water were sprinkling the ground for some reason. He looked to the sky; it wasn't raining. He then realized that Noel was crying as she carried Troy, but she was doing best not to make a scene. He wondered how long she had been crying. Since he woke up? When he passed out? Even longer?

"But it's okay Troy, cause if I save you, that'll make it okay, right? Cause I'll have saved your life, so my life isn't a waste. Cause if I wasn't here, you'd be dead, right Troy? Right?"

He could have said that if she wasn't here, he wouldn't have even bothered coming back to this accursed fort. He could have said that if it wasn't for her, his body wouldn't have sustained the injuries it had. He could have said many things, but all he did was put a bit more weight on her; his legs were rather feeble at the moment.

"Then don't let me die Noel," He whispered softly into her ear. "I still have much to do."

She clutched him even tighter; he needed physical support, she needed moral support. Together, at least for the moment, they completed one another.

"HALT!" A coarse voice screamed. Noel turned, her tears dried up instantly. Two Carthage soldiers, both in light armor, approached them. Each readied a spear as they drew close to the two. As gently as she could, she laid Troy down and held out her hand.

"Gaé Bolg," She said softly. She had left her spear lying on the ground when Troy had passed out. It didn't matter though, she could summon it at will now. She had figured out the trick to it.

All she had to do was think of Troy.

Bright light gathered around her once more; the Carthage soldiers slowed their advance. Once more, her shining silver spear appeared in her outstreched hands. She gripped it tightly and held it at the ready. "I'll do it. I can beat them, right Troy?"

No response. She looked to her side; Troy's eyes were closed. He had passed out once more. Noel huffed as she tightened her grip on her spear. "You could at least be awake when I save you!"

"Gaé Bolg! Let's do it!" She screamed as she ran; two spears were made ready for her. She batted aside one, then dove to the side to dodge the other. She then had no choice but to roll across the ground as the soldiers stabbed at her again and again.

"Got to win!" She muttered as she stood up, swinging wildly as she did so. "I’VE GOT TO WIN!"

"Hector..." Troy moaned once more as he tossed about in his sleep.

Once more his dreams visited him, but this time it was different. The world was white, not black. And Hector, he was different as well. He still wore his Benzer uniform, his giant claymore was still strapped to his back. His hair was still red, his eyes still blue. But that was where the similarities ended. As Troy lay on his chest in his world of dreams, he took a good look at Hector.

No wounds. That was what the man was missing. No arrows raked the man's body, no blood dripped from his skin. The man's face was whole, and more than that, it was smiling. With the same smile that Hector had in life, he turned to face his friend.

"You look like shit," The man said with a gigantic laugh. With a large grin, Hector stretched out his arms; he often did that while laughing. "What happened to ya?"

"I was in a battle," Troy began. "Did I die, or is this another nightmare? Or, perhaps, is this a dream of some sort?"

"How should I know?" Hector said with another boisterous laugh. The man turned to look out at the horizon; the white horizon of Troy's dream. "Is that your girl?"

He had to strain his eyes to see, but sure enough, off in the white distance he saw Noel. The young girl was fighting hard, she was fighting valiantly, she was fighting with everything she possessed. It wasn't enough; she was losing.

Troy summoned up the last of his strength and demanded his body to rise. It did not obey; his well of strength was all but spent. Still, even if his body wouldn't obey him, he had to do something. He stretched out his one good hand, and clawed about for something to pull himself forward with.

"I don't get it," Hector mumbled as he scratched his head. "You always a total babe at your side. What's the deal with her? You lower your standards or something? She looks like a little boy."

"Shut up," Troy actually found himself saying. "You wouldn't understand."

"And just why is that Troy?" Hector turned to face his friend who crawled across nothingness to reach Noel. "Just why wouldn't I understand?"

"Cause you were never good..." Troy gasped as he continued to crawl forward. Nothing mattered to him now. Neither his current life nor his past life. All that mattered was that he save Noel, nothing else. Perhaps that was why he spoke to Hector not as a broken man, but rather as the equal he had once been. "...with women."

"Well, excuse me for not having Mommy and Daddy to help me out!" Hector shouted at Troy. "I couldn't exactly afford to take my dates horseback riding all across the country side!"

"Bullshit," Troy actually swore as he moved another inch. "My horse, as well as my money, was always at your disposal."

"Yeah, but I only took advantage of it once! Just with Sally!"

"You only used my horse with Sally, and only because your's was sick. My money you used all the time."

"And boy, did it help! Oh man, the time I bought Samantha front row tickets to that Zidane Cecil play-"

"With my money."

"Details, details! Oh man, you should have seen what we did later! I got to-"

"You gave me the play-by-play the very next day."

Hector scratched his head as he frowned.

"Guess I did. But you though, never less that an eight out of ten for you! Troy 'The Lady-Killer' was the envy of the academy! 'Cept when you took Emilia to that ball. What was the deal with that anyway?"

"Emilia?"

"Don't play dumb! It was one of those big fancy balls you were always going to!"

Troy thought for a moment as he crawled another inch. He was but six inches away from Hector now, far further from Noel.

"Those dances the guild threw? I didn't have a choice, our whole family had to attend. Had to make our mother look good, after all. It was important that officers of the guild show just how well off they were in life, both in a finical sense and in a family sense. Not that I minded."

Hector sat down next to Troy.

"So? Why'd you take Emilia anyway? Not only was she average looking at best, but the daughter of a waitress? You never did less than a merchant's daughter."

Troy chuckled at that remark. In Benzer, merchants were practically the nobility. At least, a good merchant was.

"None of your business," Troy responded.

"That's what you said the last time. Come on, I wanna know. Why'd you take Emilia? Moreover, how did she afford it? I went to one once, for guard duty. I saw the stuff the ladies wore, must've cost a fortune. How'd a serving girl afford one of those dresses?"

"Are you mad man?" Troy muttered as he looked up at Hector. His friend was smiling at him. "Her dress alone would have cost more than six months of wages! She could never have afford such a thing."

"I take it you paid for her dress then?"

"And her shoes, and her make-up, and her hair. Everything has to be the latest fashion at those things. I paid for everything."

"Quite a pretty penny you spent on her. Was she that good in bed?"

"Very funny."

"I'll take that as a yes, as it came from you, and you always evade that question if she was good. Well then, if not for the sex, why'd you take her?"

Troy grunted. Noel just took a harsh blow to her stomach, and had doubled over in pain. Still, the young girl fought on. She was a brave girl, he had to give her that.

"Because one day, when I was walking home from the academy, I chanced upon her in the streets. She was drawing," Troy muttered. As much as he wanted to help Noel, he could no more stop talking to Hector than he could save Noel on his strength alone. So, he continued to talk. "She was also talking to a cat."

"A cat?"

"Yes, a cat. She was drawing herself, dancing away at a huge ball. She was telling the cat that her dream was to one day be a princess. Not forever, just for a day. Just once, she wanted to feel special. Just once in her life, she wished to sparkle."

"So you took her to the dance?"

"I did."

"Because it was her dream?"

"Yes."

"You spent over a five-hundred gold on a serving girl, just because you happened to walk by her as she talked to a cat?"

"I did."

"I hope you got something out of it."

"I got to see her sparkle."

"Beg pardon?"

"Have you ever seen someone fulfill their dream?" Hector shook his head; no, he hadn't. "The way she looked as I walked her into that ballroom was breathtaking. What's a pile of gold to a rich man's son, compared to a dream fulfilled? I'll never forget the way she looked at me as we danced Hector. The way she smiled, the way she walked. If only for a night, I held a princess."

"Shit," Hector swore as he stood back up. "You always were a softy. Same reason you like this one?"

"Something along those lines."

"Well, she's not much to look at," Hector muttered as he gripped his claymore. "But I do like her attitude."

"Me too."

"Then what are ya waiting for?" Hector asked as he unsheathed his sword and took a few practice swings. "Ought you not be saving her? What's the hold up? Want some help?"

"Yes."

"All right then!" Hector let out a long laugh, just as he had in life. "Let's go man! It's hero time! Noel, your steaming hunk of love, and his best friend, are on their way! LET'S GO BUDDY!"

Troy opened his eyes. He found himself standing straight up, sword in hand. Noel was on the floor, moaning in pain. She had had broken one of the soldier's spears, but the other had slammed the shaft of his spear into her head. Troy ran as fast as he could. He cleared the distance in no time.

Disillusioned arced through the air; the blade was lighter than it had ever been. He took one solider by surprise; the man fell dead instantly, his neck severed. The other turned to face Troy, stabbing as he did so. Troy's legs were weak, he couldn't dodge in time. Instead, he moved his broken arm in front of his chest. The spear pierced that arm well, it may have even struck bone. Oddly enough, he felt no pain at all. The only thing Troy felt was, if he felt anything at all, was light.

Yes, he felt very light for some reason. It was as if he weighed nothing at all.

The Carthage soldier slumped over dead, Troy slew him instantly. Woozily, Noel stood up, using her spear for support.

"Ha. Guess I can't save you after all!" She smiled as she spoke, but the tears in her eyes were as large as lakes. "I just can't do anything right, huh?"

"Noel," Troy began. He was going to tell her that it was all right, but something entirely different came out. "You were listening to Regal, weren't you?"

"Wha?"

"That time, when you kissed me, or rather tried your best to do so. You were following Regal's advice, right?"

Noel instantly turned red. She kicked the dirt, sheepishly put her hands behind her back, and hung her head in embarrassment. "Yeah..."

As he had but one good hand, Troy dropped Disillusioned so he could caress the girl's face.

"Next time, just be yourself. Just be Noel. That's who I like. Okay?" Troy told her as his fingers stroked her cheek. Noel nodded energetically.

"Good. Oh, and Noel?"

"Yes?"

"This is how you kiss someone."

It was a bit cliché, not too mention extremely stupid, kissing during a battle. But, as the two locked their lips together (much to Noel's shock), everything just seemed to stop. Perhaps such a thing was impossible, but Troy was relatively certain that him being able to simply stand was a miracle in and of itself, he might as well make the most of it. Besides, just look at Noel. She sparkled more than a hundred diamonds adorning a crown of solid gold laced with emeralds. She sparkled more than the sun's rays reflecting off the sea. She simply sparkled, more than any other woman he had ever seen.

And, with that last act, Troy closed his eyes and collapsed. This time, no matter how hard Noel tried, he would not wake up. But, as he fell into her arms and moved no more, the smile etched on his face never left him. Not even for a moment.

[Lucifer Blight]

"Like I said before," Lucifer spat as a few drops of blood dripped from Justice's lower lip. "There is no justice left in Emprea."

With a cruel chuckle Lucifer removed his blade from Justice's stomach. With a groan, the man collapsed to the floor; a red pool quickly began to stain his clothes and mix with the fresh blood already on the ground. All that had been keeping him up was Lucifer's sword; it had pinned him to the wall. With that crutch removed, Justice found himself at the prince's feet.

"Bah. One minute. You bought them one minute," Lucifer muttered as he cleaned his blade. His guards were already rising, most of them hadn't been injured in any way. "Not enough time I'm afraid. Looks like I get to hunt down your friends after all."

The prince motioned for his men, who were not very high in his current opinion at the moment, to form ranks around him. They did this without a word. Justice let out a groan as he coddled his wound; Lucifer shook his head. Without another word, the prince made to leave the room.

"Good sir!" Justice spoke, his voice faint and hoarse. "Do you think I became a hero?"

"Are you joking?" Lucifer snapped as he turned to look at the dying man. "I am not good, and I think you wasted your entire life. You're nothing. No, you're worse than nothing. You're a nothing pretending to be something."

He let his words seep in. He wanted this mercenary, whoever he was, to realize just how useless his last few minutes of life had been. Lucifer got a bit of pleasure out of that; it always felt good to see confident enemies fall. Much to his surprise, Justice showed no signs of remorse.

"If I am not yet a hero," Justice began as he slowly rose to his feet. He picked his sword and axe up from the ground; Lucifer raised an eyebrow. "Then I cannot yet shuffle off this mortal coil!"

"Got a bit more bite left in you?" Lucifer muttered as he stepped forward and raised his bastard sword. "Or is it all bark?"

The two charged at one another; Lucifer didn't even bother to give any orders to his guards. They really hadn't done anything to the man to begin with, no point in asking for their help now. Besides, Justice was bleeding badly now; the prince was confident he could finish the man by himself. As the two passed one another, Justice's shoulder sprayed blood. Lucifer's blade had found its mark, whereas Justice's weapons had cleaved nothing but air.

Gotcha!

Justice stumbled, but did not fall. One of Lucifer's guards made to finish the wounded man off, but with a yell accompanied by a fierce swing of his axe, Justice forced the man back. Another moved in, this time swinging his sword as he moved. The mercenary barely managed to parry in time. His counterattack did no damage, but it did manage to beat that guard back as well.

"Might as well back off!" Lucifer laughed as he rested his heavy blade on his shoulders. "You lot certainly aren't a match for a hero!"

"No," Justice whispered softly. "No, they are nnot!"

Once more the two crossed their blades. Justice represented all that was right with the world. Sacrifice, bravery, friendship. Yes, more than anything, Justice represented friendship. Lucifer was his polar opposite. He represented raw power, gathered through hatred and deception. In his world, the strong did not defend the weak; the weak were merely food for the strong. There were no such things as friends, only temporary allies on the path to sole dominion.

The outcome was clear. Without a word or cause for concern, Lucifer moved his heavy blade about far faster than most would expect. Justice might not have been able to block it in perfect condition, he had no chance in his current condition. Lucifer's sword, Resentment, cleaved into the man's side. Justice let out a shriek of pain as he fell to the ground. This time Lucifer kicked both of the man's weapons away.

"Might as well just give it up. You don't have a chance," Lucifer advised as he pointed his sword at Justice. Much to the prince's surprise, Justice grabbed the blade with his bare hands. Taken aback, Lucifer did not have enough time to recover before he was head butted in the face.

"Why you little..." Lucifer cursed as Justice rolled and grabbed his axe (leaving a trail of blood as he did so).

"As long as the people still need him, a hero shall never truly die!" Justice screamed as he twirled his axe about.

"Care to make a bet on that?" The prince shouted as he readied himself. His guards made to help him; he shoved them away. "Back off! This one's mine!"

With all his might, the prince swung his blade; the force was too much for the wounded Justice to handle. His axe went flying across the room as Lucifer pierced him with his sword. Another wound appeared on Justice as he let out a cruel laugh.

"What did I tell you? Useless!" Lucifer's eyes went wide as Justice snatched a sword from the ground. The prince jerked backwards to avoid the blow; his armor deflected what he was unable to avoid. "Piece of trash! Back off!"

He drove his blade into Justice. Charging forward, Lucifer grabbed the mercenary's limp body with his free hand. With a snarl, he tossed the man across the room as he yanked out Resentment. Blood arced through the air, but Justice didn't even make the slightest sign that it bothered him. He rolled to his feet, grabbing a sword from the floor as he did so.

"Impossible!" Lucifer swore as he batted away the incoming sword; Justice had flung it at him from across the room. "That was a clean hit! You should be on the floor, possibly whimpering about how pathetic you are!"

"It seems you underestimate the power of...JUSTICE!" The mercenary shouted as he snatched another blade off of the floor. Using the opening he had bought from tossing the sword, Justice aimed a blow at Lucifer's side. The prince twisted his body so that the blade would only hit his armor. Once more his armor stopped the blade, but his face was quite exposed. Justice proceeded to punch him squarely in the jaw.

Lucifer's head jerked to the side from the force of the blow; he momentarily lost sight of his foe. Justice was on him in the blink of an eye, swinging away as best he could with his sword. With a snarl, Lucifer blocked a blow to his side. He then shoulder tackled his foe, and followed up with a quick swipe that left a cut on Justice's chest.

But that cut mattered about as much as the previous one's Lucifer had made. No matter how much blood he lost, no matter the pain he was in, Justice just kept on coming. No matter how many times he stabbed him, no matter how many times he cut, Lucifer could not stop Justice.

"This is ridiculous! Die already!" Lucifer shouted as he put all his might into one blow. Justice's sword shattered into pieces, but not even that was not enough to stop the man. He simply charged forward, all the while ignoring the shards of steel that scattered before his eyes, and grabbed Lucifer by his throat. The prince had no time to do anything but scream in bloodcurdling rage as Justice flung him across the room.

"Justice can never die, not as long as it is needed. And, my foe, let me tell you a secret. Justice is always needed," The calmly mercenary stated as Lucifer rose to his feet. With a sneer, the prince wiped a bit of blood from his cheek and advanced forward, shoving his guards out of the way as he did so.

"You piss me off!" The two traded a quick series of blows. Justice managed to cut the prince once on his leg; Lucifer landed two solid blows, one on each side of Justice. The mercenary wasn't even phased.

"Who are you?" Lucifer was forced to ask in wonderment. By all rights, the man before him should be dead. His body was bleeding badly, he was cut in numerous places. Still, Justice stood tall.

"I am he who defends the weak! I am he who defends the innocent! The people call me the divine lightning of JUSTICE!" He stroke a pose. "And that, evildoer, is my name. Justice! And I am a HERO!"

Snarling with rage, Lucifer attacked again and again. He lost his temper, he lost his cool, he lost his patience. Perhaps that was what allowed Justice to land a solid strike; Lucifer choked a bit as he stumbled. It wasn't a deathblow, it was merely a small wound on his hand, but it was enough to make Lucifer drop his sword. Ever the gracious warrior, Justice bowed low and motioned for the prince to pick up his weapon.

"Who are you?" Lucifer asked again, this time his voice was filled with complete wonder.

"Justice."

"I didn't ask for your stupid nickname, I asked for your real name."

"Justice."

"ARGH!"

The prince went in low and fast. Justice spun about, snatching two more blades from the floor as he did so. It didn't seem to matter what he fought with, any weapon was enough. No matter what he held, even if it was nothing at all, it was always enough to repel Lucifer. Even as he stabbed the mercenary, Lucifer was forced back towards his guards. The blood on his blade was a sign of a sure hit, but Justice's body never showed any sign of it affecting him.

"It's impossible..." Lucifer muttered under his breath.

"Nothing is impossible for a hero," Justice responded. This time, when the two crossed blades, it was Lucifer who stumbled back wounded. Unlike Justice, who seemed to be empowered with some sort of unnatural energy, Lucifer felt his wound. He gently touched the spot on his chest where blood began to trickle down from.

Instantly his guards surrounded him, they completely blocked Justice from advancing. Yet the mercenary did not advance, he simply stood there and waited. The long red scarf that adorned his neck fluttered a bit, and Lucifer clutched his wound tightly.

"I don't understand. I know I cut him, I know I hit him," Lucifer whispered under his breath. "Was it not enough? No, I've felled dozens of men with the same blows. So then why, why does he still stand? Why can't I kill him?"

"My lord!" Trabant shouted as he stormed into the room with more men. They were Carthage longbow men to be precise, and each drew back their bows. Justice soon found himself surrounded and facing down a volley of arrows, but he did no more than take a deep breath and ready himself.

"Are you going to block them all?" Lucifer asked softly. Justice did not respond.

"I said, are you going to block them all?" Lucifer now shouted. He stormed through his men so he could look Justice in the eyes. The mercenary just drew another breath.

"If I must," Was his quite response.

On the one hand, Lucifer was certain the mercenary was bluffing. There was no way one man could block so many arrows coming from each direction. And yet, as he stared at the man before him, it almost seemed as if he could do it. It wasn't possible, but the mercenary made it seem like it was. Lucifer shook his head as he raised his hand. The archers tensed up, one word was all that was needed. And yet, Lucifer still shook his head.

"Stand down," He ordered softly. "Stand down, and let him have his moment."

The archers looked at one another with confusion, but they were Carthage soldiers. They knew how to follow an order, even when it was strange. They lowered their weapons; Justice grinned.

"My lord?" Trabant asked softly. Lucifer just looked across the room.

"Even if we kill him, it won’t matter. He has already accomplished his goal, he has bought enough time. Well done, hero."

Lucifer accompanied his remark not with sarcasm, but with a slight nod of respect. The prince of Carthage may have been many things, but he respected power when he saw it. The man before him wasn't like Griswald, grasping at the coattails of power for self-gratification. No, the man before him was truly powerful, and that earned the prince’s respect.

"I am a hero?" Justice asked in a serious tone. It was a soft tone, much like the tone a child would take when asking for a parent's approval. "You think I am a hero?"

Lucifer gave a curt nod.

The hero dropped his weapons; they clanged against the ground. He sunk to his knees, his eyes welled with tears. His long red scarf fluttered to the floor as he looked up. A bit of the roof had caved in; the sky could be seen clearly.

The sun was rising, and Justice basked in its warm glory. Lucifer clucked his tongue in annoyance as he instinctively moved towards the shadows, he found comfort in those dark blankets.

“At last. I’m a hero,” Justice whispered to himself as the rays of the sun caressed his cheek. Tired as he was, Justice felt as light as a feather. He closed his eyes as tears trickled down his cheeks. “My dream, nurtured since youth, can it really be so? Accomplished at last, my sole desire?”

He fell backwards then; the sun danced around him, illuminating his body for all in the room to see. The golden light gave the dying man a mystical quality, the type of quality one can only find in the story books. His body grew less tense, his muscles finally relaxed.

No one really knew just why Justice was so hell-bent on becoming a hero. Did he swear an oath on a loved one’s grave? Perhaps. Did he read one too many fairy tales? It’s certainly possible. Did he see people in need, and have an uncontrollable urge to help them? Maybe. He never told anyone why he so desperately wanted to be a hero, all he did was seek to be one. It took him years, and cost him his life to achieve, but it mattered not. One could tell simply by looking at his face that it was worth it.

His valor acknowledge, by his enemy no less, he stopped moving. His mission accomplished, he stopped breathing. His dream fulfilled, he smiled once more. And, with golden rays of light shinning down from the heavens, he felt at peace.

“Hey,” The hero managed to whisper. He spoke not to the prince now, nor did he speak to anyone in the room. Who he spoke to, none could say, for whoever Justice saw now was between him and that unseen entity was. Who could it have been? A member of his family? A friend? A lover? An enemy? No one knew who Justice addressed with his last words, but it was clear he saw someone. He asked the final judge of character one last question before he parted Althanas.

“Do you think I became a hero?”

[Disillusioned]

"Just slap some stuff on it and let me back in there Stitches!" Bruiser screamed as his friend did his best to patch up a wound on his side. As many attempts at heroism often went, this particular one had devolved into a rather bad situation.

The only two mercenaries capable of really doing any damage were Bruiser and the (now very violent) Buttercups. Roulette mostly screamed and ran around in circles (he did make it a point to occasionally toss a rock at someone), while Ten-Thumbs mostly sat around. Occasionally the boy did distract an enemy though, which gave the fighters an opening.

Speaking of Ten-Thumbs, the boy had managed to return with Regal in tow. Upon his arrival, the Sword Demon had passed out rather majestically. He was now drooling on himself in a corner.

Stitches simply did his best to keep everyone in fighting condition.

"You're good," Stitches muttered as he finished his work. Bruiser grinned, and then charged straight back into battle. Buttercups was in a fierce fight with an armored soldier, until Ten-Thumbs sprung into action. The young boy leapt up, twisted the man's helmet about so the soldier couldn't see, and then jumped away. Buttercups finished the man off as the young boy rolled over to Stitches and politely held out his thumb.

There was a small cut there, about half an inch long. Stitches smiled, and wrapped it in a small bit of cloth.

"We're gonna die man! We're all gonna die!" Roulette screamed as he fled from a soldier. Stitches cursed as he snatched up helmet that had fallen off a Carthage solider. As Roulette passed him, Stitches slammed his make-shift weapon into the soldiers head. The soldier jerked slightly and stumbled backwards, Ten-Thumbs quickly flung his own body behind the man; the soldier tripped over the young boy. Bruiser dealt the finishing blow.

"More of them!" Buttercups warned as more Carthage soldiers appeared. The group found themselves a few feet from the hole they had used as an entrance, and what had become a search for friends had turned into a desperate attempt to hold the exit.

Stitches felt the wind leave him as a heavy blow struck his chest; a soldier had shoved Bruiser into him. As his body offered little resistance to Bruiser's mass, he found himself tumbling across the battlefield. He lost sight of his friends, for when he looked up he was flanked by two Carthage soldiers. He clucked his tongue and tightened his fists on his medical bag, his only possession save the clothes on his back.

The soldiers fell dead, a small crossbow bolt in each of their necks. Recognizing the familiar green and teal fletching, Stitches nodded his head in thanks to his unseen guardian.

"I was wondering if you were still with us," He mumbled softly. Of course, Spooks did not respond. The person never did. "Still, this looks like it. I suppose there are worse ways to die."

His friends faced down no less than fifteen soldiers. Or was it twenty? Either way, death was imminent. As he was several feet away from the fight, he could perhaps run. But that wouldn't do. He was not about to leave his friends behind.

"I don't suppose you could show me your face?" No response. "No? We're about to die Spooks, you could at least let me know who you are."

He heard something fall behind him. The mercenary turned, expecting to see the silent figure of Spooks. Instead, he gazed upon a rapier of the finest quality. The hilt was made of gold, the fine metal was wrought in spirals around the hilt. The end of the hilt itself was shaped in a falcon's head, golden wings were painted down the black wood of the sheath.

"The penny drops," Stitches said softly, his face the color of the whitest snow. "You are neither a friend nor a guardian. If you were, you would not have that sword."

As always, silence was his reward.

"I see. Troy was right; a stalker from my past. That's what you are. Show yourself."

Nothing.

"I demand it. How do you have that sword? Tell me."

Still nothing.

"I know what you would ask of me, but do you know it? That accursed blade is the symbol of all I hate, and for you to give it to me is...unforgivable..."

He thought he heard a movement behind him; he spun about. Just a wall. He clenched his fists tightly in anger as he dropped his medical bag.

"Foul specter! If you're going to haunt me, at least give me the decency of seeing your face!"

It was maddening. To be watched at all hours, to be seen and heard, but to never have a response. He could bare it before, but knowing that Spooks carried this blade, that was unbearable. He angrily snatched up the blade; it fit his hand perfectly.

"So be it. Breaking an oath is an unspeakable act, but better to live in shame than watch your friends die. If you really are from my past, I hope you enjoy what you are about to see, for it will give me a thousand sleepless nights."

Ten-Thumbs squealed as a soldier kicked him to the ground and raised his sword. Buttercups snarled, but was too busy fighting off three men to help the child. As Bruiser was too far away, Roulette did his best to help the child. He earned a slash across his chest as a reward, but he dove forward and tackled the guard to the ground. The soldier quickly gained the upper hand and pinned him to the ground.

"I knew this was a bad idea! I can't believe I'm going to die in this piece of shit fort by this piece of shit soldier!" He figured he may as well go with gusto, it was the least he could do. Perhaps it would make his dad proud.

The soldier slumped to the ground, his throat was slit perfectly. Roulette blinked once, and turned to his side. Sword in hand, Stitches stood quietly. Drops of crimson rolled down the fine steel of his blade, they formed into red tears as they fell to the earth. The mercenaries regrouped around him and Carthage closed in.

"Is there...any chance you would all consider withdrawing?" Stitches asked politely. He heard a few chuckles from the Carthage ranks. "You do not understand. If I swing this sword, your deaths are assured. Do you not have something worth living for?"

His tone was not spoken in arrogance or confidence. It was small, humble, and meek. It likened more to a plea than an offer. The mercenaries took a few steps back from the encroaching horde, only Stitches stood his ground.

"A lover? Aren't any of you in love?" Stitches said softly. "Even if you don't think I can kill you all, surely I'll take some of you with me. I see wedding rings on some of you, do you really wish to make your wife a widow?"

They came closer.

"What of your parents? I wouldn't know for sure, but I am told that the worst experience in all of humankind is the burying of one's own child. Why make your parents suffer such pain?"

They came closer still. He tightened the grip on his sword.

"What of children?" His voice cracked as he spoke, he clearly feared the prospect of battle. "There is nothing worse than a child's tears."

Only a few feet away now.

"Damn you!" Stitches shrieked. "Will you not listen to me?"

Two Carthage soldiers came at him, one from each side. In the short span of three seconds, both lay dead. His strikes were perfect, the young men did not even have time to scream.

"Whoa, Stitches..." Bruiser said softly. Stitches turned to the mercenary, and looked at him with sorrow-filled eyes.

"Ah yes. Stitches. A simple doctor who stitched up wounds and healed injuries. So simple, so sweet." He faced down the rest of Carthage alone. "What I wouldn't give to be Stitches for just a bit longer; anything for another day. Another hour. Another minute."

He leapt forward, his sword in one hand, and his sheath in the other. Carthage gave a shout of battle and ran to meet him. The mercenaries ran to help, but Stitches had slain the closest ones before he had landed.

They surrounded him. Two more soldiers fell as he spun about. He ducked low, dodged a spear, twisted about, tossed his sheath into a man's head, caught it as it rebounded back, and pierced his rapier into the heart of another man. The blade was out and parrying another blow before the man hit the ground.

"STAY BACK!" He screamed. The mercenaries froze. "DON'T COME ANY CLOSER!"

He wasn't good. He wasn't great. He was amazing. The way the man moved amidst the battle was indescribable. Nothing could touch him, not a single weapon cut his skin. He was untouched, save for the blood of his those he killed.

He was three moves ahead of Carthage. By the time one soldier attacked, two more were already dead. He would then parry the attack, and whoever had attacked him would instantly join the departed.

The mercenaries couldn't move. His sword skill was unbelievable; it was more a dance than a fight. The way he twisted about was beautiful. His art was sublime, his blade was unchallenged. The more he moved, the more he amazing he became. But it wasn't just amazing, it wasn't just beautiful. It was something else.

It was horrible.

Men were dying in blinks at a time. Life was being ended at an unspeakable rate, and for the first time the mercenaries really saw who they were fighting. As the bloodied blade claimed another life, they wondered just who was that blond-haired man who had fallen?

These weren't faceless, nameless soldiers. These were people! They had hopes and dreams, friends and family. Children were waiting for their fathers to come home, parents for their sons, wives for their husbands, and each second that passed was another dreamed dashed amongst blood and stone.

For the first time, the horrors of war were apparent to everyone.

The most haunting thing to be seen was his face. He was crying. As he moved, as he killed, tears began to form. They mixed with the bloodstains, and the more he killed the more they fell. It wasn't long at all before he was crying rivers of tears as he continued to slay. He spoke too. Enchanted by the horror, the mercenaries leaned in to hear his words.

"Please stop," He pleaded. But they didn't stop coming. Carthage continued their advance, regardless of what he asked. After all, the last man he had slain was the brother of the man next to him, and that man was the best friend of the man three feet away.

He was going to be the best man at his wedding.

"Stop...stop..." He cried. He pleaded. He begged. Another fell dead, the necklace his daughter had made for him out of beads and paper turned red from the cut on his throat. "Stop! Stop! STOP!"

Drenched in blood, the last Carthage soldier fell. A grizzled old war vet, the man managed to crawl two feet and bury his old face in another soldier's chest. A screamed of anguish erupted from his killer's lips as the old soldier begged forgiveness from the dead body of his son, slain before his eyes mere moments ago.

The scream died with the last soldier of Carthage. Battle still raged, but not here. Purchased by the blood of many, and funded by a hundred lost dreams; here there was naught but silence.

"Let me tell you a story," He said with a deep breath as the mercenaries turned to look at him. His fine sword was drenched red, the precious gold of the hilt could not be seen. Tears of blood dripped from the falcon's eyes. "Let me tell you a story about a man who aspired to be the Saint Of Swords."

"He grew up in a town, a town hundreds of miles from here. As a boy, he read stories of heroes, most of all the Saint Of Swords. He decided one day, that he would be a hero too. No, he wouldn't just be any hero. He would be the Saint Of Swords, the greatest hero ever."

His voice was soft, his face was hung in shame. They couldn't tell if it was blood or tears that fell from his face now, there was so much of both.

"He practiced everyday. He didn't have a real sword, but for his eighth birthday his parents had gotten him a practice one. They were afraid he would hurt someone if he had a real one, but the practice sword suited him just fine. It was just like a real sword, only dull."

The blade hung loosely in his grip.

"He carried it everywhere, practiced every chance he had. He was made fun of at first, but soon enough, no one joked about his skill. The town held an annual sword tournament. For fun more than anything else. He only entered it once. He won."

He shook his head in sadness.

"As he continued to train, he continued to grow. He entered any tournament he could. He didn't win them all his first year, but he beat everyone next year. His skill was limitless, his talent infinite. Suffice to say, everyone wanted to be his friend. To be the friend of this man practically guaranteed a hassle free day at school. No one bullied the friend of a man who could beat you senseless in under five seconds."

He chuckled sadly.

"There was this girl you see, his neighbor. Two years younger than him. She would always follow him around. She'd wait at his door so they could walk to school together, she'd wait after class so they could walk home together."

He buried his face in his free hand.

"She was annoying. Always following him around, always knocking on his door to see if he could play. He didn't really like her, but his parents insisted that he spend time with her. She had a hereditary disease, you see. Nothing fatal, but it left her hair white and eyes red."

He sniffled as he wiped away a bit of blood.

"Time goes by, and children are cruel. You can imagine how often she was picked on at school. At ten years old, her hair was whiter than a grandmother. He didn't care. Sometimes he stomached her, sometimes he avoided her. All that mattered to him was his sword, and how much could he improve it. What consequence was an annoying little girl who followed him around so bullies would think they were friends? He looked into sword schools, but at the age of thirteen, he had already mastered all they could teach him."

"He cut school one day in order to enter a sword tournament. His parents would be furious, but it didn't matter to him. He had taken first place; he was so proud. As he walked home, carrying his trophy, he chanced upon the girl who always followed him around. She was being bullied by three teenagers; they had offered to fix her hair by plunging her head into some mud."

He looked up at the sky. Dawn was breaking.

"He was furious, this was the first time he had actually seen her being picked on. He tossed aside his beloved trophy, grabbed his practice sword, and charged forward. Three seconds."

He held up three fingers.

"Three seconds, and those teenagers were begging for forgivness. She looked up at him, her face covered in mud. Not having anything else, he took off his shirt and wiped her face clean. 'Stick with me' he said. 'Stick with me, and I'll be your protector.' If her smile was the reward for being a hero, then it only made him want to be one more."

He sheathed the sword in his hand; he didn't bother to clean it.

"She still waited for him everyday, but now he never avoided her. When he went off to a sword tournament, he always made sure to tell her in advance. When he got back, he always asked around to see if she had been picked on. If she had, his wrath was fierce and harsh. He broke one boy's shoulder, and another boy's wrist, still another's ribs. His parents would scold him in public, but in private, his dad always took him aside and patted him on the back. 'You keep on protecting her' he would tell the boy. And the boy did."

He let out as sigh.

"Days turned to weeks, weeks to months, months to years. His skill became incredible, he never lost a duel. His parents were very proud of him. And that girl, who started off as an annoyance who only followed him around to avoid bullies, became a friend. That friend became a lover, and that lover became a fiancé. He was very happy."

He looked around, he thought he heard a sob. Must've been his imagination.

"On his twentieth birthday, his parents gifted him with a real sword. It was magnificent. His father worked a second job for an entire year to afford it." He held the sword out for all to see. "'Keep on protecting Little Falcon' his father told him. 'Keep on protecting.'"

"Two weeks later, while he was out practicing with his new sword, a young boy challenged him to a duel. Just for fun. He obliged, it wouldn't be hard. The young boy, no more than ten, just wanted to play really. He held his sword ready, determined to just tap the young child on the shoulder."

He let out a long sob.

"When the boy fell to the ground, stone dead, the swordsman was horrified. It was an accident, he didn't mean it. He meant to hold back," He turned to face his companions. "Then something terrible dawned on the swordsman. Something that horrified him, something that shook him to his core."

"He didn't know how to hold back. All his life, he had always fought with everything he had. The concept of fighting with less than that was foreign to him. Because of that, he had killed the brother of the woman he loved."

If a stare could do damage, his stare would have turned the sword in his hand to dust.

"He ran as fast he could to a nearby river. He flung his sword into that river, and swore never to touch another one as long as he lived. He swore to only use his life to help other people, and never again would he take another life. He did not go back home. He took off down the road, too ashamed to say good-bye."

His voice died down.

"He couldn't protect anyone. All he could do was hurt." His face became dark. "And that is the story of the dog that is Gavin Eri!"

With all his might, with all his rage, he tossed the sword as far as he could.

"ARE YOU HAPPY?" He screamed at the unseen Spooks, who was surely enjoying his misery. "ARE YOU HAPPY? DOES THE BLOOD ON MY HANDS SATE YOU?"

He fell to his knees and punched the ground.

"Accursed shadow of my past, damn you. Damn you!" He fell to the floor. "And damn me! Damn me..."

The mercenaries stood silently, words failed them all, except for Ten-Thumbs. After what seemed like an eternity, the boy walked over to the man who sobbed softly.

He looked up at the young boy. In one hand, Ten-Thumbs held the medical bag. The boy held out his other hand, and sheepishly motioned towards his thumb.

"I cut it again," He breathed softly. "Can you stitch it up?"

He blinked once, and slowly accepted the offered bad.

"And while you're at it, I got this nasty cut on my side," Bruiser grunted as he pulled up his shirt so all could see his battle scar. "Patch it up, will ya?"

"I must admit, I've a few wounds myself. I place myself next in line, good doctor," Buttercups said as he patted him on the back while motioning to a nasty wound on his own large frame.

"I think...I think..." Roulette stammered. "I think I'm going to die of a piece of shit heart attack in this piece of shit fort! You got anything for that Stitches?"

He smiled, and reached inside his bag.

[Unfulfilled]

Regal’s eyes fluttered open, his body unwilling to move for a few moments as he felt drool fall from his cheek. Somebody was getting crazy out there, screaming and shouting about ending the madness or another, but Regal didn’t pay it much attention. Last thing the Sword Demon knew was that he was protesting with Stitches who demanded the grey swordsman sit out the next fight. He argued, bitched, moaned, and then when he sat down he got steadily quieter and quieter until eventually he passed out, his body caving into the rest he so richly deserved.

Now that he was awake his eyes scanned around for signs of life, but not a single Carthage soldier seemed to be in the immediate area. When he stood up he felt pain run along his back, limping forwards and coughing softly as he turned the corner. What he saw made his eyes light up, the inner demon within him stirring as he felt a nauseating feeling wash into his stomach and try to make him throw up.

To say a blood bath occurred was an absolute understatement.

Stitches was aiding the wounded mercenaries, tears in his eyes. Regal stumbled forward, using Tenacity as a crutch until Ten Thumbs saw him and rushed over to lend his support. The Sword Demon looked towards the bodies and then pointed an accusing finger at the other mercenaries.

“Who, who did this?” All eyes looked around nervously, Roulette rubbing the back of his head, Stitches merely looking down upon his medical bag. Bruiser started whistling like an idiot, and Buttercups just looked to the Sword Demon with a soft, pained smile.

“It was a collection of mostly Bruiser and myself,” He lied, but Regal wouldn’t have known that. To help the largest mercenary out Roulette softly elbowed his brutish companion, pushing Bruiser forwards as he nodded his head.

“Yep, beat the crap out of them,” Brusier said awkwardly. Regal’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, feeling a primal call to challenge whoever did this massacre, but looking at Bruiser and he could tell it wasn’t him. Buttercups was an animal when set loose, but these weren’t done by hands, this was done by a sword. Only person with a sword was…nobody. Regal looked around the area, seeing nothing around him as he searched for the weapon that caused so many deaths. He glanced at Stitches, and the doctor merely kept his head down, not looking the Demon of Swords in the eye.

Before he could inquire further a soft grunt escaped a pair of lips behind them. All turned as one and it was Regal who moved first, seeing Noel lurch Troy forwards on her shoulders, the fallen knight's boots dragging along the dirt and debris. She was cut up in a few places, her face was a wreck from when she cried her eyes out, but she seemed for the most part divinely happy with a soft loving smile.

She clutched Troy tightly, making sure to keep him always with her, and even fought with Regal as the Sword Demon attempted to pick him up. Giving into her insane demands to hold him, the grey swordsman helped carry her burden.

“What happened to him, Tiny Tits?” Regal asked. Noel let out a soft sigh, a sigh of someone who was in love and was about to go into disgusting detail the most perfect romantic moment of their lives. As she beamed and turned her head Regal lifted one finger to her lips. “I’ll take the abridged version, if you don’t mind.”

Pouting the girl looked back to Stitches. “Well when you ran off to distract the enemy, Troy and I scurried into the debris, hiding in a hole for what felt like centuries. Eventually we hit a spot where we couldn’t hide anymore, and I fought with three Carthage soldiers while Troy passed out. When he came too he was moving around and killing the enemy soldiers- WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED HERE?” She shouted her shock at the top of her lungs, seeing the host of dead bodies that were now leaking a wading pool’s worth of blood over the ground. Buttercups and Roulette stepped forwards to her, dragging her away as Stitches shook his head while Ten Thumbs merely gripped the troubled man’s hand.

“People died, thought that wouldn’t be to big a thing to grasp. Get on with it, why is Troy like this?” Regal said to her, hurrying her along. He glanced back to Stitches, who looked back to Regal with a guilty expression turning away.

“Well after he dispatched the enemy soldiers, he kinda uh…well he erm…he looked to me…and he um…” Her face was turning beat red with embarrassment, but she looked to Troy and smiled. “He kissed me,” she whispered.

Regal dropped Troy.

This inadvertently dropped to much weight on Noel’s shoulders and she fell too.

“No way!” Regal said in a stupor. “That emotionless git kissed you?” Noel looked to the Sword Demon irritably, but nodded as she thanked Roulette who helped lift Troy up. As Troy was back on his feet, still unconscious, Buttercups walked over and picked the man up, carrying him by himself, much to Noel’s ire.

“It’s true,” Noel said to Regal as if it was rude of him to even think otherwise. “On the lips, long and passionately. Told me this is how you kiss someone!”

“And then he passed out?” Regal said.

“Well…yeah… I suppose-” Regal lifted his hand to silence her.

“So if you kissed him…and he passed out…OH MY GOD, YOU GOT THE KISS OF DEATH!” Regal’s voice reached a fever pitch as he jogged away from her, pointing an accusing finger like she were a witch. “I kissed you! I kissed the woman who kills men with her lips! I’m gonna die! Holy shit I’m gonna die with Roulette in a piece of Shit fort, killed by a piece of shit kiss of death!”

“Don’t forget the piece of shit country,” Roulette added.

“I do not have the kiss of death! He just…sorta clonked out…” Noel whispered bashfully. Stitches stepped forwards behind the girl, patting her on the back while looking to Regal.

“As a doctor, I can assure you Regal that you will not be dying from a kiss of a death. Noel kissed you ages ago, which I didn’t even know she did till just now, but still, my point remains.”

“What about Troy?” Regal asked. “Did she kill him?” Roulette sighed in the very same fashion Troy did, looking up to the sky before speaking in a forced calm.

“Troy’s wounds caused him to pass out, he’s been running on empty. Wasn’t it your blade that he fell upon?”

Regal scratched his head in thought. He recalled the events in the medical wing, and nodded slowly as he remembered the memory in full detail. “Oh yeah, my bad.”

“My bad,” Stitches said in wonder. “His excuse for stabbing his friend.” Regal grabbed the medic by the shoulder.

“Troy is not my friend,” He said determinedly. The venom in his tone put Stitches off balance, and he nodded softly getting the hint as he willed Regal to drop his hostility.

“I want to leave now!” Roulette shouted to them as he was entering the tunnel. Next to go in was Ten Thumbs, who called for Regal to catch up, then Bruiser who waved goodbye to the fort and muttered crude words about whore houses and writing a letter to his mother. Buttercups merely stepped into the tunnel, bending over and crawling in as he held Troy in one hand. Stitches and Regal jogged to catch up as they ran, but before the Sword Demon entered he stopped looking behind him. Noel was looking back at the fort, her stance full of regret and shame. Unknowingly she clenched one of her fists, her green eyes scanning over the destruction wrought by Carthage. Immediately Regal knew what she was thinking, and ran over to her, stopping a few respectful paces from her.

“It’s my fault so many people got killed,” She whispered as if she knew Regal was standing there. “If I was just a bit stronger, maybe even a fraction of a bit more confident,” She rambled on and on as Regal softly took a few steps forwards. He gently lifted his hand and placed it on her shoulder.

“What’s the point of this?” Regal asked her. “Moping and being a cry baby, muttering about how you wish you were this and that? What good does it do you? All it does is make you weaker and more of a cry baby,” He said sagely. She remained quiet for a moment, thinking to herself.

“My first assignment. Fort Caliben. Now it’s a shattered husk of its former glory. With this defeat the Carthage soldiers will link up at the castle, and Emprea will be gone forever. My mom, dad, Captain Donovan and King…all of them will probably be facing the battle of their lives and maybe even die because I failed here.” She took in a deep breath, and Regal thought she was going to cry, but instead she smiled. It was a forced smile, one that somebody put on their face because they had to. She really grew up, Regal thought to himself.

“But I saved Troy. And if I saved him, then I’m not a complete failure. Come on, let’s go,” She said walking past the grey swordsman. Regal looked to the fort, feeling some strange twinge in his heart to be leaving it for good, but this time he was okay with it. He turned and followed Noel into the hole, and they made haste to catch up to the other mercenaries.

The trip was silent, everyone just focused on leaving. The ground shook as the last boulders came crashing down, but after nearly an hour’s worth of movement they had left the surrounding area of Fort Caliben, nothing to interrupt them. As they reached sunlight at the end of the tunnel Roulette let out an ear piercing scream of joy, skipping outwards and jumping excitedly into the air as he grabbed Ten Thumbs and jumped in a circle with the boy, screaming at the top of his lungs how happy he was to be alive.

Buttercups pointed towards a large carriage, one used to carry a large number of soldiers around with six horses attached to the cart and grazing. They looked for soldiers, but found none. It was Stitches who found the green and teal fletched arrow with the message scrawled all over it. Irritably he tore the note off the cart, passing it off to Bruiser who skimmed it before speaking loudly.

“Consider my promises kept, Ms. Spero. As you instructed me, I have left you one cart to escape with, plus your other valuables under the driver’s seat. Spooks.” Bruiser and the rest looked to Noel.

“You planned this?” Regal asked, his face full of shock.

“Well, I had a brief moment to speak before I was kidnapped to talk with Spooks. I gave an order to prepare an escape cart in exchange for half my winnings from the gambling pool.”

This in turn caused everyone to bear down on her as they all began flooding her with questions.

“What does Spooks look like?”

“Did Spooks talk about me?”

“Did Spooks have a killers body and eyes that could pierce your soul apart?”

“Did he speak in a foreign tongue?”

“He?” Noel said loudly. The group became quiet. “Spooks is a girl. She’s very polite.” They all looked to her, before Roulette shrugged.

“Kind of a let down now that I know that,” He muttered getting in the cart. Regal nodded as he did the same. Buttercups gently placed Troy into his seat, while Stitch’s went to work. He was annoyed, but equally happy to note that Spooks left them a medical kit with surgical tools. Bruiser took the reigns as Regal sat shotgun. Ten Thumbs crawled in to the back, looking out over the forest with a curious eye, Buttercups sitting taking up most of the room. Noel took her place at Troy’s head, her hands lifting out and gently caressing the man as she leaned in and whispered things only he could hear. Once everyone was inside the cart, Bruiser slashed at the reigns and they were off.

The Sword Demon watched Stitches work on Troy, the doctor muttering about how it was a miracle the man was still breathing. Whenever Stitches looked beat he’d glance to Regal, seeing the man continuously look back to Troy with concern out of the corner of his eyes, trying to act like he didn’t care, but failing. He kept looking to Troy, his feelings for the man unable to be hidden. Seeing his face made Stitches redouble his efforts to make sure Troy pulled through.

Fort Caliben loomed behind them, smoke lifting into the air like a talon claw of a dying giant, each Mercenary looking behind them. There was a map with an X leading to a town about twenty miles off. With the horses they could push it and be there late at night. Roulette was in a jovial mood, switching places with Regal as the man sat in the back near Ten Thumbs. The boy looked to Regal, who kept his attention on Troy while Noel softly stroked the man’s hair.

Without noticing the boy leaned downwards into Regal’s lap, resting his eyes as he fell asleep. Regal’s hand rested on the boy’s arm, and softly he followed suit.

[Disillusioned]

Once again, he was in the white world. He sat upon a bench, he knew not where it came from nor how long it had been there. Across from him, on a similar bench, sat a young girl in a white dress. Her red hair was in a pony tail, her dark blue eyes burned with hatred. Her knuckles were white with rage as she glared at Troy.

"Cassandra," Troy whispered softly.

"I HATE YOU!" The child screamed. "I'LL NEVER FORGIVE YOU!"

Troy smiled sadly at the young girl.

"IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT! ALL YOUR FAULT! I HOPE YOU DIE!"

"I am sorry, but I cannot die yet. There is still much I must do."

The young girl, her eyes filled with hatred and loss, faded away. Never once did her gaze break from Troy, never once did he cease to feel the loss that emanated from her. He turned when he felt a heavy hand pat him on the shoulder.

"Ya know," Hector laughed as he sat down next to Troy. "She always was a bit of a brat."

"But a lovely angel nonetheless," Troy said as he turned to face his friend. "Hector..."

"Are you about to get all mushy on me? Cause that's not really like you."

"I just wanted to say thank you. For saving me. Back then."

"Aw hell," Hector blushed as he ran a hand through his red hair. "You don't need to say that. Making me feel all awkward. Just do me a one favor?"

"Name it."

"Live!" Hector shouted as he gave his dear friend a rather hard punch on the shoulder. "Oh, and if it's not too much trouble, visit my sister sometime! Er, bring ice cream. Lots of ice cream."

"Of course."

"Oh! And say hi to your mom and dad for me! Tell 'em thanks for letting me eat all their food!"

"Naturally."

"And tell me how good Noel is in the sack, cause frankly buddy, I'm still wondering why you're into her."

"Not a chance."

"Always keeping the good ones to yourself," Hector laughed as he shook his head. "I still say she looks like a little boy. But, at least she has a good attitude."

"Indeed she does," Troy said softly as he watched his dear friend fade into the white void that encompassed them. "Indeed she does."

Troy's eyes slowly opened. Gone was the white world; the pleasant scent of flowers tickled his nostrils instead. He turned to find himself lying in a bed, his body bandaged and his wounds stitched up. His eyes spied a small vase filled with flowers; a small stack of paper rested there. He slowly rose up, his body complained only slightly. Everything functioned well enough, save for his broken arm which remained in a sling.

"I suppose we made it after all," He said to himself as he took a short walk around the room. It was comfortable enough, certainly better than his accommodations had been at Fort Caliben. It was a small room, and judging by his size, he surmised that he was in an inn of some sort. A fresh breeze blew from a nearby window, and Troy took a deep breath. He let out a relaxed sigh as he picked up the top of the small stack of papers that accompanied the flowers and skimmed through the messy writing there.

Hey dude! Stitches said you're not going to kick the bucket, which believe me is a relief. Not for me, but for Noel. Tiny-Tits has done nothing but cry, and when she's not crying she's hanging over your body, breathing in the same creepy way Ten-Thumbs does. Oh, and when she's not doing that she's pestering me about how much you mean to her and how unfair it would be if you died. But I guess she can't do that anymore cause you're not going to die, which is cool cause that means she stopped moaning about you dying.

Troy flipped over the page.

Guess that means you not dying is actually a relief for me, cause now I don't have to listen to her whine and bitch. So, I guess I should say thanks for not dying after all, cause I really didn't want to hear Noel cry anymore. It's annoying. Oh, so you've probably noticed you're in different clothes then you left the fort in.

Troy let out a chuckle. The word "not" was written in a different colored ink than the rest of the page, and was written in smaller letters as if it had been added in after the rest had been written. Regal had actually proofread his work. The world may be in jeopardy. He then looked down to find himself in a rather nice pair of sweats and a comfortable long sleeved shirt. Well, that was thoughtful of someone. His eyes went back to the paper in his hand.

You're probably thinking, who changed my clothes? Well, Noel really wanted to do it, but I was like, 'no way Tiny-Tits,' but she was all like 'yes way,' so we did the only thing Roulette could think of and decided to hold a contest which involved...

Troy did not bother to finish the page. Not only were there several more pages that detailed the events of the contest, but he was fairly certain that ignorance was bliss when he spied the word "donkey." He made to head down stairs, for he was certain he could hear Bruiser's loud voice, but a sudden idea struck him. Instead of taking the stairs, he decided to exit via the window.

Five minutes after he had removed the dirt from his face, he quickly took in his surroundings. Several guests milled about the area, which contained not a single soldier of any sort. Instead, the sun shined, and the green grass shifted about gently with the breeze. If Emprea was still at war, which it very much was, then this place showed no signs of it. He removed what dirt he could from his clothes (he had fallen face first) and approached the nearest person.

"Spooks?" Troy asked softly. The man turned towards him and gave him a wary look. Troy turned red in embarrassment. He muttered a quick apology and headed towards the next person. That one muttered something about his Troy's head "not being quite right" and moved away. This process repeated itself until Troy chanced upon a rather small and skinny person at the front of the inn.

It was a girl, as far as Troy could tell. The outfit made it difficult; her clothing was a size or two too big for her. Her black coat was wrapped around her loosely, her burgundy-colored,button-up shirt hung over her chest, and over a good portion of her pants as well. Her black slacks were baggy, but Troy could just make out a belt that kept them in place. It was as if the woman was doing her best to hide her feminine aspects; her black hair was cut short in a manner that seemed just a little too long for a boy, but not long enough for any woman with a sense of fashion. Still, Troy was fairly certain he stood before a lady, as her chest had the hints of certain things Noel lacked (namely, breasts).

"Spooks?" Troy hazard again. The woman turned and gazed upon him with brilliant blue eyes that seemed to be unreal in their color.

"How did you know?" The woman answered in a voice that was surely too high-pitched to be a man's. In fact, it was far too sweet to be a man's as well. Yes, this had to be a woman doing her best to hide that aspect.

"I guessed," Troy muttered, leaving out his previously failed attempts at finding her. "Something you fancy in the window?"

Before she could stop him, he took a quick peak inside the inn. He nodded in satisfaction; all he could see was the table Stitches sat at. He turned to face Spooks, who gazed upon him with an uncaring nature that was almost good enough to hide the concern in her eyes.

"No. Not any more," The woman said under her breath. Painfully she tore herself away from the window, her blue eyes downcast as they gazed upon the earth at her feet. She stuck her hands in her pockets as she slowly began to walk away; each step seemed to be more unbearable to her than the last.

"Oh? You are leaving? Why not at least join us for a drink before you go?' Troy asked as he gently opened the door to the inn. The woman eyed the entrance eagerly, but then shook her head.

"No. It would be wrong," She muttered as she kicked a bit of dirt with her shoe. Her voice was cool and composed; it betrayed only the faintest hints of emotion, but it did betray nonetheless. "I've done enough."

"Beg pardon?"

"You missed his speech."

"Care to retell it for me?"

"No."

"That is not very nice of you."

"I'm not a very nice person, haven't you heard?" Those words were in a different tone than before, a tone one would take when complete devastation had been visited upon them. Troy imagined he had sounded much like that after that day. He narrowed his eyes.

"If you do not tell me, I swear to you I will march in there and tell everyone who will listen that Spooks is right outside this door." The girl gently brushed a few strands of hair out of her eyes as a small smile crept up on her face.

"I didn't know you had a mean streak Troy," Spooks said with a soft giggle. "As you like."

He took in Stitches tale of woe, as well as his massacre of the Carthage troops, without batting an eye. Spooks, on the other hand, seemed to grow worse and worse as the story unfolded. At the end, it was as if a completely different person stood before him.

"So you see...so you see," Spooks pressed a hand against her head as she spoke. No longer was her voice calm and composed, it quivered and shook. Strands of her dark black hair fell foward as she hunched over, as if in great pain. "Even if I wanted to...I couldn't...I could never..."

She turned away from Troy.

"I lost all rights to see him when I returned that sword," She said in a whisper. "I've lost everything."

"I lost everything once," Troy threw out. "At least, I thought I did. It turned out that I had instead, lost something very dear. I then made the mistake of throwing everything else away."

The look the girl gave him was one of complete and utter sadness.

"I firmly believe that every person reaches a point in their life where two choices are placed before them. One of those choices is clearly the correct choice, but for some reason some people choose the other. From that point on, life just seems to not matter as much anymore. As Stitches put it, the world becomes a little more gray. I chose wrong. Stitches chose wrong. Will you?"

Troy walked towards the open door.

"Do as you like, but I promise you, if you walk away from those you care about, you will regret it for the rest of your life."

Troy soon found himself leaning against a wall as Spooks stood before Stitches and Noel.

"Have we met?" Stitches asked in his usual polite tone as he raised his eyebrows. "I can't help but think you look familiar."

Spooks shook as she felt his eyes upon her.

"Oh! I know her!" Noel shouted as she stood up. "It's Spooks!"

"Spooks!" Stitches spat in a harsh voice as he shot up, knocking over his chair as he did so.

"I know you," Stitches said coldly as he walked over to Spooks. "There is something about you that is familiar, but what it is I cannot say."

He rubbed his head as he dug through his memories. He racked his brain to put a name to this face, but before he could connect the dots, Spooks spoke in a soft voice. It was the tinniest voice Troy had ever heard, a feeble and helpless voice.

"Once upon a time," Spooks began. "Once upon a time there was this girl."

Stitches took an immediate step back as Spooks reached into her coat and pulled out a small bottle of clear liquid.

"She grew up in a town hundreds of miles from here. She was born with white hair and red eyes. Because of this, she was tormented endlessly as a child. The very act of walking to school terrified her; she was the most picked on child in the entire village. She had no friends."

His face pale and his body shaking, Stitches grasped the edge of the table for support.

"The boy next door was strong. Very strong. Stronger than anyone. One day she thought to herself, 'if I make this man my friend, no one will pick on me anymore!' That's the only reason she wanted to be his friend. She didn't care about his dreams or his personality. She didn't care about anything except how strong he was."

As she spoke, she hung her head in shame.

"So she set out to make this boy her friend. She followed him everywhere, she waited for him before and after school. She asked him to play constantly, and she watched him practice whenever he would let her. She did everything she could to make him like her, everything except like him for who he was, not for what he could do for her."

When she lifted her head, a tear trickled from her eye. It danced down her cheek as Stitches clutched his heart as if he was in pain.

"Not a day goes by that she doesn't regret being so selfish. She never told him this, but she hopes he won't hold it against her, and she begs his forgiveness."

Stitches muttered something under his breath, Spooks picked up some nearby napkins and doused them with the contents of the bottle in her tiny hands.

"One day she was walking home from school without him, she had waited for two hours only to find out that he had cut class to go to a sword tournament. On her way home, she ran into three teenagers. She passed them by without a word, and was almost safe when something struck her head."

Stitches stumbled to one knee.

"It was a ball of mud. She fell over when it hit her. The boys laughed at her as they grabbed her. She tried to struggle, but she was too weak to fight them off. They told her not to worry, that they would fix her hair problem. They dragged her over to a pool of mud...and...and...."

"It cannot be!" Stitches gasped in horror. "Be anyone else! Be my mother! Be the boy I killed! Be a soldier screaming for revenge, be a daughter who's father's life I took! Be an angry widow or a vengeful sister! Be the very incarnation of my sins! Be anyone in the world, but please don't be HER!"

"They held her hands and feet as they shoved her head into the mud!" Spooks was in hysterics now, her face was red and her voice passionate. "She begged for mercy, she cried for help! All they did was laugh and hold her head down! She thought they were going to drown her! She was so afraid, but then he came!"

Her voice grew very quiet and very soft.

"Not only did he save her on that day, but he did so much more. He took off his own shirt and wiped the mud from her face. As she lay there, sniveling and sobbing, he held her in his arms and told her something. He said 'Stick with me. Stick with me, and I'll be your protector.' Words cannot express how she felt at that moment."

Spooks closed her eyes then, and she allowed herself to be momentarily whisked away to that very day so long ago. She smiled, and when she did, Stitches let out a long sob. She then opened her eyes and ran the napkins through her hair.

"Not only did she have a protector, but she had something much more important. She had a friend! Someone she could count on, someone who actually liked her! For this, for this one thing, she would have dealt with bullies everyday, if only to have a friend!"

Spooks let the blackened napkin fall. Her hair was now as white as the snow.

"But he was as good as his word. He protected her from everything. He got in trouble, but he never let that stop him. And she still followed him everywhere, not because he could protect her, but because she liked him! She would sneak him food when he was in detention! She would sneak into his house when he stayed home school!"

Spooks let out a sad chuckle.

"She became very good at sneaking."

Stitches was on his knees now. He clutched his head in agony as he gazed upon her. He mouthed the name "Miaka."

"And he liked her too! And then one day, as they sat in a tree together watching the sunset, he pulled her close and whispered that he loved her." Spooks was in tears now. "And she whispered that she loved him too. No matter what, she will never forget that day. It is engraved on her heart as the best day of her life."

Spooks rubbed her eyes.

"The day he ran away was the worst day of her life. Not because her brother died. No, it was the worst day of her life because he ran away. It's terrible, and she's the worst sister in the world, but all she could think about was him. She chased after him, and she arrived just in time to see him throw his sword into a river."

When she removed her hands from her eyes, she let the contacts she wore fall to the floor. Her eyes were now the darkest shade of red.

"He did not see her. He did not see her fish the sword out of the water, he did not see her follow him down the road. And she has been following him ever since."

Stitches took a deep breath as he stood up. His face was white, his legs feeble. She quickly grabbed him.

"Gavin!" Tears streamed from her blood-red eyes. "Don't tell me to go away! Don't tell me you never want to see me again! Please Gavin! I...I..."

Her voice became the softest, humblest whisper imaginable.

"I want my protector back..."

Stitches was silent for a moment. Then, to her horror, he gently shoved Spooks away.

"I cannot protect anyone. All I can do is hurt."

"Please Gavin! I've gotten a lot stronger!" Spooks shouted as she brushed aside her coat. Stitches hissed as she brought forth his golden sword. But, much to his surprise, she threw the sword aside. "I can protect you now! I'll protect you from bullies and bandits! But protect me...protect me..."

"Protect you from what?" Stitches breathed.

"PROTECT ME FROM BEING ALONE!" Spooks screamed; she sobbed uncontrollably as she broke down. She fell to her knees crying, her hands clung to his shirt. Unsure of what to do, Stitches glanced about for help. Troy calmly picked up the sword and walked over to him.

"For my part, a father's gift should not be cast away without careful thought," Troy said as he tapped his own saber. "You may still find use for it."

Troy placed the sword on the table. He then turned and faced Noel, who had not seen him from where she sat until now. He favored her with a smile.

"Hello Noel. I am glad to see you are all right."

Noel ran over, sobbing much like Spooks, and hugged Troy with all her might. And, as he hugged her back, he whispered a few more words to Stitches.

"I have found my second chance. And you?"

"I..." Stitches said softly as Spooks raised her head. Ever so gently, he caressed her cheek. "I ran once..."

He embraced Spooks tightly.

"I will never run again."

"GAVIN!" Spooks shrieked. "I-I-I!"

"Stick with me," He whispered into her ear. "Stick with me, and I'll be your protector. Stick with me, and you will never be alone. I promise"

A bit of color returned to the two men's world.

[Unfulfilled]

Regal watched the scene unfold before him like a mini play. The other mercenaries all held their breaths to watch the reunion of Stitches and his fiancé, as well as Troy and Noel’s little love escapade. When they all embraced and Stitches made that conscious effort not to run, forgiving the girl the table erupted into cheers and a vivacious roar of clapping. Well not everyone clapped or cheered. One person was going against the grain, taking a more serious path than the rest.

Bruiser was crying his eyes out.

“That’s just so….beautiful…” He grabbed the table cloth and blew his nose on it. This made Buttercups and Ten Thumbs scoot their chairs further away from the babbling brawler. “Oh god, I wish I had something like that…”

“Your worse than Tiny Tits man!” Regal cursed as he sipped his ale.

Ten Thumbs looked to Regal, seeing the Demon of Sword’s eyes softly shimmer with that flash of red, but they receded back to his normal color as he looked to Troy and Noel. He pondered what he just witnessed, feeling somehow that Regal may be indeed a demon, but pushed it aside. He was his brother, and Ten Thumbs was happy with that.

Roulette lifted his black book out suddenly, as if a bet he had long ago forgotten was just called on. He thumbed the pages, each one a faded brown of age. At last he stopped, reading aloud as he laughed wildly, dropping it on the table.

“Four years ago Bruiser, Stitches and I made a bet about what Spooks was! Bruiser bet it was an ugly, grizzled veteran who was secretly gay for Stitches.” They all laughed as the Troy and Stitches led Spooks and Noel to the table where everyone moved to make room for them all.

“I think we were all pretty drunk when we made these bets,” Stitches said to Spooks as he gripped her hand tightly. She smiled, leaning on his shoulder. Noel attempted the same with Troy, only to illicit a yelp of pain. Once again, she had completely forgotten the man’s arm was still broken. Regal shook his head to her in disappointment, but she merely stuck her tongue out to the Sword Demon, both smiling.

“I said it was a ghost,” Roulette rubbed the back of his head. “Yep, must have been drunk. Reading that now I feel really silly.” He looked over to Stitches.

“You said it was some girl that had a crush on you. Ha!” Roulette pulled out his coin purse dropping five gold in front of him. “Who knew,” He muttered loudly as Stitches jiggled the coins dropping them next to him on the table.

They all talked jovially as each told embarrassing stories they had experienced in life. Buttercups explained how in training one day he fell, knocked over one of the cherry blossom trees, which ripped a wall through the dojo. Ten Thumbs had explained how he caused a four oxen cart pile up on his farm when his full family came to visit. Roulette spoke about his dad and the stories he would tell of the heroes the man knew. Regal and Troy regaled them with the story of how they went to Black Isle, only to be rescued by a jerk of a man who put them into an Asylum.

And Bruiser just cried.

Overall it was a scene that the local townspeople took in with admiration. Here they all were, talking, drinking, remembering good old times and having a moment that would never fade from their memory forever. Some people became envious of them, wishing they could have exotic stories of traveling and adventure to tell. Others just became peaceful and content that their normal lives weren’t destroyed and embraced the mediocre style of life they had. Nobody in town tried to interrupt them, the bartender even waiving some of their drinks passing it off as them being on the house. Without a doubt everyone knew that these people had just been through a terrible ordeal, and this was a time they desperately needed.

Regal excused himself as he stood up, walking over the tender of the bar they stayed in. It was a quarter pass midnight, and everyone had lost track of how long they had stayed. Noel had already paid for everyone’s rooms using her large amounts of money, and Spooks used her earnings from Noel to pay for all the food and drink, yet this one thing Regal did on his own as he ordered several shot glasses and one shot glass full of milk.

To fill the others he ordered what was called the Fu-Rin-Ka-Za, a drink he had no idea would taste like, but heard a rumor about it once from the bartender at Fort Caliben. He gave the recipe verbally to the bar tender, and as she made it she was careful to make sure every ounce was correct, every glass perfect. For her troubles Regal paid a little extra for her tip, but she shoved the gold back to him with a gentle smile. He pocketed his money, took the serving tray and stepped up to the table.

“Hey,” Regal said loudly over everyone’s laughter. “We got something we need to do,” He said solemnly as he lowered the drinks on the table. He passed them out to everyone with a reverence nobody had seen from the Demon of Swords, and each held the glass in their hand with care. It was as if they spilled even a single drop the world would end. Regal was the last to pick up a shot glass and everyone looked to him.

“I erm…well that is to say…” Regal spoke, which was very uncomfortable for him. “Shut up and remember good times!” He said irritably. They all smiled to him. “When uh…when we all went back in, somebody didn’t come out. As you all know, a member of our little group is missing…” Troy lowered his head as Noel’s eyes watered. Bruiser’s face looked right at the table and even Roulette stiffened his back a little. Stitches and Spooks both got up, making sure they were ready for this moment.

“Justice was…a pain in the ass,” Regal said after straining to find the words. A soft chuckle filled the table. “But what he lacked in brains, he uh, made up for in tenacity.” He swiveled the drink in his hand, looking to it for support. “I’ve, uh, never met a man who I could say had more tenacity than me, and he left us, doing a great sacrifice, so that we could all be here.” Regal’s arms shook and he wasn’t sure why as something in his eyes made them water up.

“If uh, we could take a moment to remember the man, I’m sure he’d appreciate it…” Regal mumbled under his breath, just loud enough for them all to hear. There was a moment of silence, and everyone at the table looked down.

Tears streamed down Noel’s face as she remembered the way he stood before Troy, blocking off the Carthage Prince and forcing the man she loved to go away and save his own life.

Roulette saw in his own tears the man who had on several occasions rushed forward to save his life, all the while talking about heroes and greatness like they were some intangible object that he wished to one day emulate just a fraction of.

Buttercups reflected on the conversation of harmony and Justice, both men debating how Justice can be done with the fist, or without the fist, his odd logic humoring the giant of a man.

Bruiser thought to the time Justice killed a Carthage commander, saving his life, and then turned saying the brute could have the kill, if only to shut Regal up in the kill counts.

Stitches saw a man resplendent in all his glory, knocking Regal on the ground as he shouted about moving forwards as a band of brothers to fight the first wave of incoming Carthage soldiers, then turning and stepping on the Sword Demon as he ran off to fight.

Ten Thumbs saw a man who was beaten to death, tired and wanting rest lurch himself upwards to stand next to Troy, not batting an eye as he knew going back into Fort Caliben meant his death.

Spooks remembered the man who unknowingly met her, giving her the rope she needed so she could steal the medicine supplies from Troy’s office to heal her wounds.

Regal lifted his head up, as did everyone else. He looked over to Troy, seeing the haunting forms of pain from a memory that only Troy would know. It maybe had something to do with Hector, and the fact that Troy was alive while Justice wasn’t. But instead of feeling down about it, the depressed knight gripped his cup all the tighter for it.

“To a man who sacrificed his life in the name of love!” Troy said firmly.

“To a man who chose the path less taken to save a friend!” Noel said next.

“To a man who knew the values of honesty!” Roulette spoke after her, lifting his glass up.

“To a man who knew the responsibilities of a being a hero!” Stitches said proudly.

“To a man who fought for what he believed in!” Buttercups spoke up.

“To a guy who knows how to fight with conviction in his heart!” Bruiser said firmly.

“To an inspiration of how good men are in the world!” Spooks said. They all turned to Regal as one. He lifted his glass up.

“To a man who knew what justice was, and embodied it. Who fought with every ounce of his being to achieve that ideal, the ideal of a hero for protects the weak and never turns away from those responsibilities.” Regal lifted his glass higher, holding it tightly. “TO JUSTICE!” He said forcefully. Everyone screamed back to Justice, as they titled the glasses back and drank the Fu-Rin-Ka-Za, Justice’s favored drink of heroes. They slammed the drink down on the table, all looking to their glass as they remembered Justice one last time. Some had cried for the loss of their friend, others merely remained stoic. Everyone said their own silent prayer, a prayer that they would never tell another soul as they looked upon the table.

“To Justice…” Regal repeated solemnly.

There was a moment of silence. Nobody said anything until at last Regal wretched. “The only god damn fool with a palette that is deaf, dumb, and blind!” They all laughed as they nodded. “WHAT THE HELL IS THIS THING?” He shouted looking to his cup like it were diseased.

“Ya know,” Troy said eying the cup. “He’d probably mumble something about how only a hero could appreciate it’s fine tastes.”

“That those with a sense of Justice can feel the way it empowers you through your blood stream,” Roulette added.

“And that puking sensation means that your body is tingling with power to fight crime…” Stitches mumbled rubbing his stomach. They all laughed as Regal sat back down.

“Yeah,” The Sword Demon chuckled to himself as he saw Justice standing over the table with an approving nod. “He’d probably then mention how that made sense…” He said as they all talked through the night.

~*~

The next day Regal awoke with a groan, lifting the blankets over his head as he mumbled about the curse of the gods. He was hungover and he felt like wanting to die as his brain pounded to escape his skull. When the birds continued to chirp despite his best attempts to hate them enough so they’d fly away he took the omen and stood up, getting into the shower and performing his morning duties. After he was done he walked downstairs to find the gang all assembled and ready to depart. He waved to a few of them, let Ten Thumbs run and hug him, and looked back to notice Noel giggling at Troy, who looked rather annoyed at the moment.

“I guess this means we are off,” Roulette said looking to everyone. “It’s been fun guys, really has, but let’s uh…let’s not ever do this again, shall we?”

“If I am not mistaken, Roulette,” Troy said with a hint of a smile, “It was your bad hand at luck that got us all thrown into this mess.” Roulette nodded as everyone laughed. The gambler stepped up to Regal and Troy.

“We are all heading to Salvar, got a gig that should pay well protecting some border lands for a few months. Bandits just don’t seem so scary after Carthage soldiers. Spooks, Stitches, Bruiser and I are all going. You want in?” Troy solemnly shook his head.

“We must decline,” Troy said softly. “My sister is still out in the world looking for me, and I must find her.”

“Yeah, and Karel is out in the world with my title, so forget it!” Regal added.

“Suit yourselves,” Roulette said putting his hand out. “Thank you guys, for everything. For saving my life, for protecting me, for organizing all the troops. I really can’t thank you enough for saving me from-”

“A piece of shit fort in a piece of shit country!” Everyone said in high spirits as Roulette’s cheeks flushed red.

“Guess I did whine a tad bit too much…” He rubbed the back of his head. “Take care ‘gents,” He said softly.

“I’m going with Buttercups,” Ten Thumbs said happily to Regal. “He said he will train me to be a monk while we search for my brother!” Regal grinned to the boy, running his hand through his hair. The boy lifted his arms around Regal, holding him tightly.

“Don’t break anything,” Regal said forcefully. “Mind your manners, and no curse words! You do what Buttercups tells you to do, and always where clean underwear and clothes, alright?” Ten Thumbs looked up to Regal with tear filled eyes as the other mercenaries laughed.

“You got it, bro…” He whispered letting go as he ran off to stand by Buttercups. The man bowed lowly to both of them.

“I do hope the celestial order grants you guys the peace you are seeking. Both of you. Thank you for your efforts gentlemen.” Buttercups bowed low again and Troy returned the gesture with a soft military bow. Regal merely lifted his head once, snapping it back down. With that said, Buttercups and Ten Thumbs left.

“There are things in the world that is more important than a title,” Stitches said to Regal as he gripped Spooks tightly. He approached Troy and Regal, talking lowly to Troy before extending his arm out to the grey swordsman. Regal in turn brushed the man off, shaking his hand but ignoring his advice as they all left.

A part of Regal felt sad to see them all go, feeling like something good had just ended, but he didn’t know what to do or say. They had their own paths in life to walk, and Regal had his own. Karel Raven had the title Saint of Swords, and Regal just couldn’t let that slide. The Demon of Swords vowed to fight the man, and he would make good on that vow.

Reaffirming his convictions he watched them go as he turned to Troy. What he saw made him want to vomit, something that was unnatural and just not right.

Noel was linking her arms with Troy, dressed like she was ready to travel.

“Oh hell no,” Regal said wiping his hand in front of her. “NO!” Troy just shrugged as he walked forwards, and Regal turned.

“TROY,” Regal shouted. “TROY THIS ISN’T FUNNY!” He whined.

[Disillusioned]

Troy finished buttoning the last button of his shirt, he had gotten rather good at doing it with just one hand. He glanced one last time at the mirror and, satisfied that everything was where it should be, he walked over towards the bed.

Wrapped in layers of sheets, Noel gently rubbed her face against Troy's hand as he traced a finger across her cheek; her eyes were closed in dream's delight. He shook his head; Regal would never let him hear the end of this.

Last Night...

"Excuse me, sir?" A pretty waitress caught Troy as he was about to head off to his room. Everyone else had gone to bed, he had opted to stay out and look at the stars a bit longer. The inn had a nice porch where he could sit and stargaze, not to mention wash out the awful taste that the Fu-Rin-Ka-Zan had left in his mouth. If that was what Justice tasted like, then he would sooner take up a career in crime than have another one of those drinks. "Is she with you?"

Troy turned to find Noel all alone in a little corner of the bar with no less than five empty glasses on her table. Her head was in her arms as she rested both on the table, and every few seconds a violent hiccup escaped from her.

"Oh. Ah. Yes, she is," He muttered. "What's wrong with her?"

"Nothing. Well, nothing except that she's probably more drunk than half of Althanas. But, we're closing the bar so..."

"I see. I shall take her to her room."

"Thanks hon!"

"Time to go Noel," Troy said as he walked over and gave Noel a gentle shove. She looked up, hiccupped, apologized, burped in Troy's face, apologized again, and then promptly allowed her head to hit the table. Troy frowned, as well as waved away the air in front of him with his good hand.

"What is wrong Noel?" He asked as he shook her awake again.

"Nothing. I was just...thinking..." Noel mumbled. Her cheeks were flushed red, and she slurred every other word.. He suppressed a chuckle.

"About Fort Caliben I take it?" Noel nodded. "I am sure you have been told this already, but do not blame yourself Noel. There was nothing you could do."

"Nu-uh!" The young girl yelled as she shot up. "I could have led the troops better, then everyone would still be alive! I was in charge! I messed it all up!"

Troy smiled sadly.

"No Noel, I was." Noel blinked once. "I planned the defense, I led the army, you know this. Everyone told you so, I imagine. So you...you did not get anyone killed. I did."

He let out a long sigh.

"I suppose I should congratulate myself. Last time everyone under my command died. This time I managed to save eight people. I have improved, yes?" He let out a soft chuckle as he reached over. Noel allowed herself to be picked up and carried to her room (no easy feat as Troy only had one arm). After he had set her down on her bed, he gently stroked her cheek; she cooed in response.

"You are a very good girl Noel. Do not let anyone tell you otherwise. In a few words, I think that you are a simply wonderful person," Troy said softly as he tucked her in. He did not say just how much he envied her innocence, nor how much better she was than him. He only smiled and made to leave the room.

Far quicker than Troy had thought her capable of, she lunged out of bed and wrapped her arms around Troy's neck. She gave him a hard tug, which not only caused him to sit down next to her, but choked him as well (Noel did not notice the latter).

"You're a nice man Troy," She slurred in his ears. "A nice, handsome man."

"No, I am a mean old man," Troy said softly as he patted her hand. "A mean old man, who is cranky and rude. Now, please let me go."

"Like this right?" Noel whispered as she tightened her grip on him.

"No Noel," He said calmly as he turned to face her. "In order to let someone go you must first release your grip-"

As soon as the two were face to face, the young girl took a deep breath and lunged herself forward. She pressed her lips together and, just like Troy had taught her, kissed the man she loved. He was startled at first, but as the kiss ended and she drew away sparkling, he smiled. Not his usual sad smile; he smiled as he once had. He gently caressed her cheek with his good hand, and leaned forward.

"Guess I took good notes," Noel said as she grinned sheepishly.

Present Day...

"Stitches!" Troy shouted as he walked over to his friend. The good doctor sat on a log; the man stared out at the lake in front of him. Stitches smiled and motioned for Troy to take a seat; Spooks was nowhere to be seen.

"I have been thinking about what you said," Stitches said softly as he reached down and picked up his sword. He raised it before him; the golden falcon on the hilt glimmered in the daylight. "That this sword might still serve a purpose."

"And?"

"And I feel the same as I did before. This sword has brought nothing but pain to the ones I love." Troy nodded slowly as Stitches stood up. "So, once more, I confine it to the deep!"

With all his might Stitches flung the sword. The sun's rays sparkled off the blade as it traveled; a year of his father's wages sunk into the blue waters before the two. With a contented sigh, Stitches sat back down.

"That is certainly a valid option," Troy said as he patted the man on his back.

"I'm glad you think so. This sword, on the other hand." He revealed to Troy a much older and simpler sword, no fine decorations adorned the tarnished steel of this blade's old hilt. "This sword has done the exact opposite. It has brought the people I care about nothing but happiness."

"Is this your old training sword?" Troy asked as he was handed the blade. Stitches nodded.

"Yes. I abandoned both of them, she found both of them."

"I see."

The two stood up and looked to one another. A fresh breeze blew across the lake at that moment, fluttering both men's clothes about. The two smiled at one another as Troy passed the sword back into the doctor's hands.

"I can't say I enjoyed my experience at Fort Caliben," Stitches began.

"Me either."

"But, I am happy to have found a kindred spirit in you Troy. If I hadn't met you, I may not have realized, well, what mattered the most."

"And if it wasn't for you, I would have left Fort Caliben the moment I was able to. I would be a poorer man if I had done that."

The two shook hands and smiled at one another.

"We're quite alike, you and I," Stitches said with a smile.

"Indeed. We are both very stupid," Troy joked.

"Quite. We also both seem to be fond of shy women who prefer to hid behind a tree and spy on us rather than come out and say hi," Stitches said as both Noel and Spooks sheepishly walked out from behind a nearby tree. Both of their faces were redder than rubies.

"We didn't want to interrupt!" Noel whined as she ran over to Troy. Spooks did the same to Stitches as the doctor looked to the sword in his hand.

"Well, we best be going, I believe everyone is waiting to say their good-byes. Come Stitches, or should I call you Gavin?" Troy asked politely. His friend looked across the lake, smiled, and then passed his sword to Spooks.

"You decide," He whispered to her. "Without that sword, I am Stitches. A humble doctor who simply wishes to help people. He cannot fight or defend himself, but he has someone he loves to do that for him."

Spooks blushed as she wrapped her arms around Stitches. It was obvious to all just how happy the girl was.

"However, if you ever feel overwhelmed, simply return that sword to me. If you do so, I will be Gavin once more. Either way, I will be your protector. Now and forever."

Troy and Noel blushed slightly and turned their heads as the two kissed each other passionately.

"Well, Stitches, Spooks-" Noel attempted to say when the two were done. Spooks quickly shook her head.

"I changed my name. It's not Spooks anymore."

"Oh?" Troy raised his eyebrows.

"Yes. It's Stickers now."

"Ah. I see," Troy managed to stifled his laugh. "And just...why is that exactly?"

"Spooks was always in the shadows," The white-haired girl smiled as she leaned back against Stitches, who held her tightly. "Stickers will stick by his side, no matter what!"

"...You mercenaries and your blasted nicknames!" Troy shot as the group laughed and headed off to their friends. When all was assembled and all good-byes were said, Stitches glanced about.

"You know Troy, when you shouted about our nicknames, that reminded me of something. We all took our nicknames because that was what we wanted to be. I became Stitches because I wanted to stitch up wounds. Roulette became Roulette because he liked to gamble."

"I took my name cause I wanted everyone to remember me for the bruises I gave them," Bruiser said with his chest puffed out proudly. Stitches grunted softly in agreement.

"But, well, Justice didn't. Justice didn't become Justice because he wanted to be, he took that name because that was what he was. Justice," Stitches looked around nervously. "I just thought I should say that.

And with that, the group separated. Ten-Thumbs went with Buttercups to look for his brother and become a monk. Bruiser, Stitches, Roulette, and Stickers all headed off to defend a village. That left Troy, Noel, and a very upset Regal.

"TROY THIS ISN'T FUNNY!" Regal whined.

"Ah, yes. Been meaning to talk to you about this Regal. Well, you see. Here's the thing..." Troy began with an embarrassed look on his face.

"What THING? Emprea is that way!" Regal shouted as he pointed his finger in a random direction of his choosing.

"Actually, it is the opposite direction, but that is not important. You see, Noel has no desire to be a soldier, never has. So, last night I offered her, if she would like, to...not be a soldier anymore. I mean, technically it is desertion but I believe-"

Troy would have gone on in his awkward speech, but Noel elbowed him in the ribs to cut him off.

"He means I'm coming with you! HA!" Noel shouted as she pulled Troy (who was gasping for breath) close to her.

"Give me one good reason I shouldn't draw my sword and run you out of here!" Regal snapped as he reached for his blade.

"I have already talked her into doing all of the cooking," Troy managed to say. Regal's hand froze the second he heard those words, and then slowly drifted away from Tenacity.

"That...is a good reason. Okay, let's go!" Regal shouted as he nodded in satisfaction. No more burnt rabbit for him. "Then again, I'll probably have to put up with your booty-calls. Could be distracting. HEY!"

Regal instantly snapped his fingers as he pulled Troy away from Noel. Suffice to say, the young girl did not approve.

"So? How was she? You can't even blame me this time! Come on, I want all the dirty details!" Regal questioned as he shook Troy violently. "Didja smack that ass? Didja pull her hair? Didja bend her over and tell her to...sheath your sword?"

"That is none of your business Regal," Troy muttered as he shoved the Sword Demon away. Regal just shrugged.

"That good huh? Figures."

"I beg your pardon?" He gave the man a curious look.

"I was good? He said I was good Troy! Wait, I was good, right?" Noel shouted as bounced up and down. Her face then turned sickly. "Wait. Regal, how did you know how good I was?"

"Well, see Noel, that night when you were drunk..." Regal began. He quickly did nothing but cover his ears as Noel screamed at him.

"By the Gods she has a set of lungs! It was a joke damn it! I knew you were good because of that guy!" Regal shouted as he jerked his thumb towards Troy, who shook his head.

"I never said anything to you," Troy muttered softly as he rubbed his forehead. He had been the closest to Noel, and his head had just paid the penalty for Regal's joke.

"Yeah, that's why I know she's good," Regal grinned proudly. "You always keep the good one's to yourself."

"What did you just say?" Troy asked in shock.

"I said you always keep the good ones to yourself. See, I figured you out about a year ago when..."

Regal droned on about some adventure the two had been on. Noel listened intently, but Troy heard not a word. All he did was look at Regal; the man was certainly of the “lower” class. He was rude and crude, he lacked the "noble" upbringing that Troy had. Where Troy was tactful and polite, Regal simply blurted out whatever came to mind. He did it with a grin, and with a hearty laugh as well.

Just like a former friend had.

"Uh. Troy?" Regal said as he poked at the man.

"What's wrong Troy?" Noel asked.

He was laughing. He was laughing harder than he had in years. Troy was doubled over in laughter. His face was bright red, he struggled just to stay standing. Neither Noel nor Regal had ever seen him laugh this hard, so they did nothing but simply stare as he laughed. He laughed so hard, tears rolled out of his eyes.

"Well that's...new. In any case, even if you are cooking, you still have to pull your weight Tiny-Tits," Regal muttered as he turned to face Noel, who bristled slightly at the comment. "See, I do all the fighting and Troy does all the thinking. It's a system and it works. We're not changing it."

"Ummm, then what should I do?" Noel asked timidly. Regal just grinned.

"Carry the bags," Regal said as he dumped all of his luggage onto Noel. Troy had yet to recover from his fit of laughter, so the Sword Demon just grabbed that man’s luggage as well and tossed it atop Noel. The girl wavered under the weight.

"I guess this is fair..." She said under her breath as Regal began to walk away. She struggled to keep up, but failed until Troy took her arm.

"Here," Troy said; he had finally calmed himself. "I shall help you. Oh, and Noel..."

With a careful glance to make sure Regal wasn't looking (he wasn't, the man was off muttering about how bored he was), Troy reached into his pockets. He produced a small item from there and handed it to Noel.

"MR. SNUFFLES!" Noel screamed as she dropped all the luggage and snatched up the snuffed panda. "Oh, I thought I'd never see you again! I can't believe you saved him Troy! I swear, you're such a wonderful person! Not only did you save my life but you saved the life of my favorite doll and you're letting me travel with you even though I can't do anything right and-"

The girl continued to ramble. Regal turned and glared at the two, causing Troy to cough and hang his head. He made to walk over to Regal, for the two always walked side by side, but instead he found Noel fastened to his waist.

"Ah. Noel, could you..." He tried to shove her away. No good, she had him in a death grip. He turned to the Sword Demon, who let out a long sigh. "Regal?"

"What would you do without me?" The man muttered as he walked over and gave Noel a tug. She didn't budge. Regal tugged even harder. Nothing. He stuck his hands in-between the two and did his best to push them apart. It was a complete failure.

He then took out his sword and (with the blade still in the sheath) did his best to pry Noel off of Troy. He managed to move the girl about an inch before he lost control of his sword. Grumbling to himself, he picked up his sword and glared at Troy once more.

"I will, ah, work on this," Troy said sheepishly.

"Troy," Regal said softly. "Do you remember the time you punched me?"

"Now Regal, let us not open up old wounds."

The Sword Demon moved in close.

"I got us all out of that fort alive! That counts for something!"

Regal was whispering something in Noel's ear.

"You stabbed me Regal! You stabbed me in the side!"

Noel was grinning sinisterly as she looked at Troy. He heard her whisper the words "he does?" Regal nodded with a sick smile; Troy was afraid. Very afraid.

"Oh Troy..." Noel said softly as she licked her lips. She ran her hand up the inside of his leg. “I’ve got an idea...”

"Regal!" Troy shouted as the Sword Demon patted him on the back. Noel ran her tongue up Troy‘s neck, causing him to shiver. "REGAL! HELP!”

Regal just let out a laugh.

"Ah love! T’is bittersweet!"

[Taskmienster]

A Rhapsody Of Bittersweet Memories :: This thread was massive, and took me a long time to judge. For that I am sorry. However, working 55 hours a week kept me away from judging a bit. :p Any comments or questions can be sent to me via PM, of course.



Continuity 5

:: The opening posts set up who you were rather well. However, the drafting thing made no sense to me. I understand it was the means that you used in order to continue into the story itself, but from a realistic and logical standpoint I was a bit lost. Just reminded me of a poorly done version of the British Empire’s drafting policy. They used prisoners to fight, which made the leaders have to be extremely strict, and the soldiers all but useless unless there was a man with power to watch them. In this thread, though, you have maybe less than 3 dozen mercenaries being forced into combat. They would have to watch the mercenaries and make sure they didn’t desert as well as fight, which seems a bit more troublesome for only 30+ people than it’s worth in the long run. Mainly, in my head at least, because the mercenaries (unlike prisoners for the British) have no debt to repay who they are being forced to fight for.

Setting 4

There was almost no setting at all…

Pacing 5

The pace of the thread flowed continuously, though it was extremely long winded and slow. Almost too much action explained in the posts, coupled with so much dialogue in the middle of fights that it threw the thread off.

Dialogue 6

:: The opening dialogue was a good way to set up the persona of the characters, however it felt like there was probably way too much of it for something that was supposed to be a battle between the final two people left in the competition. It’s one thing to throw out a little persona and character with a few witty comments and some banter. But two full posts of not fighting and just going back and forth is quite a lot.

“The crowd began to stamp their feet, tired of the swordplay discussion and anxious to see who would triumph.” :: In the writing itself it’s mentioned, and that’s exactly what I as the reader was feeling.

:: Post 4 was really confusing. Not a clue who was talking when. Furthermore, you made everyone talk in the exact same way that the main characters would, which makes it strange since you’re not from the country… shouldn’t the people from the country at least have some different inflection and diction?

:: Almost every sentence in dialogue is ended with a question or an exclamation. You can use the narrative to compensate for the exclamations, which would make it better… seeing as, from a readers standpoint, I feel like everyone is always yelling.

Action 5

:: The battle with the commander was incredibly unrealistic. If you had a shattered arm, it would be near impossibly to maneuver without an amazing amount of pain lancing through your entire body. The arm shattered, with the nerves all mangled in the mess of bones, would have caused the rest of your body to be in pain as well. I’ve broken my arm before; there is almost nothing you can do without everything else being in extreme pain.

Persona 6

:: Noel’s personality is… I don’t really know a specific word for it. I understand she’s a bit of a cry-baby and inexperienced, but you made her go from a bumbling klutz, to a sobbing and terrible commander, to a 5 year old. The persona shift for the NPC was so abrupt and thoroughly unexplained that it made me wonder what exactly was going on. It was obnoxiously written in dialogue as well as persona for Noel.

Technique 3

There wasn’t any… 3 is me being gracious.

Mechanics 6

Missing comma’s here and there, as well as some general run-on’s and other small things here and there. “All right”, almost every time it was used which was a lot of times, should have been “alright”.

Clarity 4

Missing words, or words used that weren’t the correct ones. It happened a few times, but not too much. The biggest problem I had with clarity was not being able to follow who was speaking when, and not having enough insight into the NPC’s themselves to get a firm grasp on following what they said, why, or when.

Wild Card 3

:: I dropped the wild card so low because, the more I read this, the more it turned out to be a whole lot of dialogue and some persona (I say some because every PC and NPC spoke and acted almost identical throughout), mixed in with a superfluous amount of words to describe a very simplistic plot line, and the cherry on top was the almost anime-cliché boring way everything was trying to be tied together.

Score: 47


Rewards:
Disillusioned :: 1300 exp | 100 gold

Unfulfilled :: 1500 exp | 100 gold

[Taskmienster]

Exp and GP added.