An Asnean Odyssey: Bastien

Two

- “Sverker? What kind of person names their sword...?”

Randgris was still crying when they arrived at the city. Neither had spoken to the other on the journey, which had taken the remainder of the day. Randgris stopped suddenly outside the gates.

“Are you okay?” Bastien asked hesitantly. Randgris removed one of her gauntlets and wiped her face with the back of her hand until it was relatively dry.

“No,” her voice weak voice managed to find its way to the surface between quiet sobs. “What is a woman without her blade?”

Bastien said nothing. Randgris had placed Sverker’s shattered remains into her sheathe and they rattled when she walked. After a long silence, he finally replied. “Can’t you just get another one?”

“You don’t get it,” Randgris sternly stated, almost shouting. “Sverker is unique. One of two legendary twin swords, gifted to me by my father. Without Sverker...”

Randgris paused and placed her hand on Sverker’s hilt. “I’m incomplete without him.”

“Why don’t you use the other one until you fix Sverker?”

“You can’t fix Sverker!” Randgris shouted as she grabbed Bastien by the collar and yanked him off his feet. “He’s...he was supposed to be indestructible. There’s no such material that exists capable of fixing him...”

Randgris released her grip on Bastien and wiped away her freshly moistened face, then replaced her glove. Her tears had slowed, but still persisted. “What do we do now?”

“I need to report to Leinhardt. You can do what you wish.”

“I want to go with you. I mean, I don’t really have anywhere else to go.”

“If you come with me, you shall remain my prisoner. I’m offering you freedom.”

“Freedom to wander aimlessly until I die,” Bastien chuckled. “Very tempting.”

“Just because I’m unarmed doesn’t mean I can’t kill you,” Randgris eyes were gently smoldering. “Remember that.”

“I’ve seen you fight; I have an idea of what you’re capable of.”

Standing at the base of the gate, the enormous city spanned as far as Bastien could see in either direction. The wall itself rose high into the sky so that only the tips of the buildings could be seen. A seemingly endless stream of guards was patrolling the perimeter of the wall, bickering and teasing as they passed one another. On top of the wall, Bastien could see small metal helmets bobbing along, stopping every now and then to peer into the outside world. Two guards stood watch in front of the gate itself, which was almost as tall as the wall and made of wood. It looked like a dragon’s head was carved into each side of the door facing inward. There was a smaller door next to it with a simple iron handle that Bastien assumed held the mechanism that allowed access to the city. Randgris didn’t need to say a word. She simply placed her hand over her chest and the guards went to work opening the gate.

“Welcome to Asnea,” Randgris remarked sarcastically as she forced a smile. As soon as Bastien had set foot in the city, his nostrils were overwhelmed by the sickening smell of human waste that littered the gutters. The buildings themselves were boarded up and almost looked abandoned. Lights flickering in the windows and below the doors were the only way that he could tell the buildings had occupants. The streets were in disrepair and some of the buildings were collapsing from lack of maintenance. The only sounds that could be heard were the metallic clanging of the guard’s boots on the stone floors and the occasional scream.

“This is not what I expected,” Bastien announced as he followed Randgris through the streets. “Where is everyone? Isn’t this the capitol?”

“You remember the Cockroach King, correct? His disciples frequent the lower quarter. Robbing, pillaging, etcetera.”

“This is the lower quarter? The entrance to the city?”

“You’d have to be an idiot to think this was the only entrance to the city.”

“Then why are we coming through here?” Bastien asked. Randgris looked back at him. The embers in her eyes were cold and lifeless.

“I need to kill something.”

The pair wandered through the twisted streets until they came to another large gate. Countless mercenaries and guards were gathered around the gate this time. Randgris stopped and shoved Bastien toward the gate, which was identical to the first one.

“Wait,” Randgris stated bluntly. She wandered back into the lower quarter alone. Bastien tried to follow her, but a guard held him back. The guards all wore the same armor, which was a simple iron breastplate with an open-faced helmet and metal boots. The clothes beneath their armor were deep blue and looked like thick cotton.

“It’s best if you just stay here,” the guard said. “I’ve seen her like this before. It changed me, and not for the better.”

As soon as the guard had stopped speaking a bloodcurdling scream echoed through the city. The screaming didn’t stop.

“We used to challenge her to duels,” the guard tried to talk over the cries of agony. It was a different voice this time and it was begging for mercy. “The winner would be allowed to court Lady Randgris.”

Another guard chimed in. “Leinhardt shut that down right quick though, didn’t he?”

“‘Right quick’ would have been after the first death.”

“First....death...?” Bastien puzzled.

“Lady Randgris is a cold-blooded killer,” the second guard smirked. “Swear she’s the spawn of the King himself!”

“Don’t speak that way of Lady Randgris, or I’ll clobber you something fierce!” the first guard shouted back. The second guard swatted at the air and laughed as he walked away. The screaming had stopped by now. “She doesn’t understand restraint, that’s all.”

Randgris returned to the gate with a fresh coat of blood. The guards had already started opening the enormous doors. She licked the fingers of her gloves as she grabbed Bastien by the arm and pulled him through the gate, leaving a bloody handprint on his arm. “Clean up my mess, I made sure there was a sewer nearby. You’ll receive a small bonus.”

“Are you...better?” Bastien asked hesitantly.

“Much, thank you,” Randgris allowed herself to smile briefly as they continued through the enormous city. The streets were completely packed with people hustling and bustling about their daily lives. Vendors sat at every street corner selling all sorts of treats and trinkets. The buildings were colorful and each one had some personal flavor added to the exterior by the owner, like flower arrangements or murals. Much to Bastien’s delight, the disgusting smell remained sealed behind the gate, his nostrils now being filled with mouthwatering scents from the stalls.

“Am I going to see Leinhardt, too?” Bastien asked as the thought crossed his mind.

“You may refer to him as Lord,” Randgris corrected. “And no.”

“What am I going to do, then?”

“You’re going to wait in a prison cell for me to retrieve you,” Bastien remained silent. Randgris’ apathetic expression was unfaltering. “That was a joke. You can wait outside the castle; I won’t be long.”

“Fantastic, I love waiting.”

They reached another gate, this one opened on sight, which led to an enormous courtyard filled with fountains, flowers, and foliage. The area seemed to be divided into five different sections, each with its own statue of a different person, striking a different pose. The walkways also changed color for each section, with the primary one leading to the castle being bright red. The castle itself towered over the already enormous city. It was a regal sight to behold, crimson roofing decorated with ivory statues of mythical creatures, the most prominent being the six dragons arranged three on each side of the main doors. Guard towers were speckled both on the castle and in the courtyard. The doors were enormous reliefs depicting a man taming dragons carved in ivory and lined with gold.

“Look after him, boys,” Randgris commanded as she quickly disappeared inside the castle. The two guards looked awkwardly at each other, then at Bastien. No one spoke. The three of them stood in silence for about an hour before Randgris returned.

“Leinhardt wishes to speak with you,” Randgris announced as she stepped outside. Her hair had been assembled into a bun again.

“What about?” Bastien asked as he walked through the doors.

“The Philosophers,” Randgris was about to follow Bastien, but he put his hand on her chest and stopped her.

“You can wait for me outside,” Bastien smiled. He could hear the metal scraping together as she clenched her fists. Her face was glowing as she turned around and crossed her arms. She didn’t say a word, but remained outside.

The interior of the castle was very similar to the outside, except the theme was much darker. Everything was cast in onyx and ebony, all with gold trim. A statue of what Bastien assumed was Leinhardt stood in the center of the entrance. All of the guards inside the castle wore armor that was very similar to Randgris’, save for the silver. Their chest pieces were engraved with the same dragon that was carved on the gates. At the far end of the foyer directly in front of Bastien was a pair of staircases that twisted up to a second floor, which were lined with red carpeting. Beneath the stairs was a plain wooden door. Multiple hallways branched out into rooms that couldn’t be seen. A crystalline chandelier hung from the ceiling, swaying gently back and forth as it provided light to the areas that were not lit by the windows that towered on the outer walls.

“I suppose one of us will have to show you the way, then,” one of the knights stated.

“Flip for it?” the other asked.

“Can’t you just let me go? You still owe me for buying you that ham.”

“If you had killed it yourself, maybe. Call it.”

“Heads. Because you’re an ass,” the knight smirked. The coin flew through the air and landed in the second knight’s hand. He opened it to reveal a crude wagon.

“I’ll remember that, Dave,” the knight called back as he guided Bastien up the stairs. His hand glided along the railing on his way to the top. They passed through a few open rooms with paintings of elegant figures, mostly male, and sculptures of various animals. Finally, they arrived in a large chamber with red curtains draped from the walls, although it appeared there were no windows. An enormous onyx chandelier hung from the ceiling, bathing the room in radiant light. The floor was covered in a square crimson carpet that left about a foot of space between itself and the walls. At the very back of the room sat a throne as black as midnight. It looked like it was carved from bone. Upon the throne sat a man that appeared to be in his late forties. He sat with a slouch, his chin resting on the back of his hand and his crown sitting angled on his head. The crown itself was made from the same material as the throne, but seemed to emit a golden light. His hair was long enough to rest on his shoulders where it sat sloppily. His clothes were black with carmine lining the seams and hugged his thin build tightly. He had a vermilion cloak slumped casually over his shoulders. A thick blade was resting upon the front of his throne slumbering within its sheathe. It shared the same material as the throne, and similar decorations as the king’s garments. The knight left the room and Bastien noticed, as he approached the throne, that there were splotches of discoloration on the carpet in various spots.

“I heard you saved Randgris,” Leinhardt’s voice was deep and powerful. “You have my thanks.”

“I’m not really sure how I managed it, myself, but you’re welcome,” Bastien responded nervously.

“It’s hard to imagine a woman like her needing to be rescued,” Leinhardt chuckled to himself. “She’s like a daughter to me, you see. If anything were to befall her, I would be devastated. I practically raised her. Her father was my best knight, but bearing such a responsibility often caused him to be away for months at a time. I took it upon myself to watch over her in his stead. When she got old enough, she joined the knights and fought by his side until his tragic demise, where she took his place. Ahaha, I’ve started rambling again, Randgris filled me in on what happened. Who would have thought chimeras still existed!”

“Yeah, it’s really uh, something...”

“I have a request for you,” Leinhardt’s tone became stern.

“This isn’t something I can refuse, is it?”

“No.”

“I’d like to request something in return, then.”

“Who do you think you’re speaking to?” Leinhardt allowed himself to smile briefly at such a ridiculous statement.

“Sverker shattered. I want to fix it, but Randgris said it’s not possible,” Bastien ignored the king’s statement. Leinhardt’s eyebrows furrowed and his hand started stroking his bare chin.

“This is puzzling. Randgris failed to inform me of this. I’m afraid I can’t help you with this, Sverker was supposedly unbreakable.”

“That’s fine, I guess,” Bastien sighed. “What do you want me to do?”

“I’m told a demon has made its lair near the city,” Leinhardt spat the words with disgust. “It’s probably just some ruffian, but I’d like you to handle it.”

“Why?”

“You’ve shown you’ve got mettle. If you can handle this, I may have more work for you.”

“What happens if I don’t want to work for you?” Bastien asked hesitantly.

“I am your king now. It doesn’t matter what you want,” Leinhardt replaced his chin on the back of his hand and beckoned Bastien away with the other. “Leave now.”

Bastien spun around and walked out of the room. He could feel Leinhardt’s eyes following his footsteps, piercing through him as he left. The knight was waiting outside to guide him back to the entrance. Randgris was waiting outside, as expected.

“He’s kind of an asshole,” Bastien commented. Randgris responded with a firm slap. “I probably deserved that.”

“Yes, you did. We’ll leave tomorrow.”

“What?”

“The demon,” Randgris made air quotes with her fingers as she spoke.

“I thought I was supposed to slay it.”

“Do you really think he would send a novice like yourself alone? Even if it’s not one of the King’s disciples, someone’s got to keep an eye on you.”

“I hadn’t really thought about it at all, to be quite honest. It’s kind of weird he would even want me to go at all.”

“You did fell one of the Philosopher’s heads.”

“I suppose so.

“Yes, now hurry up,” Randgris grabbed Bastien’s hand and pulled him to the right of the doors along a verdigris stone path towards a tower built into the wall. He hadn’t noticed how dark it had gotten until now.

“Where are we going?”

“My haven.”

“When you say it like that, it actually makes me think it’s going to be nice.”

“I hope you aren’t implying what I think you are.”

“That I imagine you live in a cave and sleep in a bed of straw? Yes.”

“I’d hit you, but I don’t want to spill blood in the courtyard. You’ll just have to settle for being pleasantly surprised,” Randgris’ voice was softer than Bastien was expecting and her glare was less angry than usual. The pair had arrived at the tower. The door was similar to the one for the main castle, but had a coat of arms on it: A fist crushing two swords. Randgris produced a small key from her armor and stuck it in the door, twisting it with a soft click. She pushed the door open and stood to the side. “After you.”

Bastien stepped inside and removed his shoes. Randgris followed him, stepping to the left of him. She produced a small green stone from her pouch and struck it against her gauntlet. The stone sputtered a few times and burst into a small emerald flame. Randgris used the flame to light a torch beside the door. She then flicked her wrist, putting out the flame, and placed the stone back into her pouch. After removing the torch from its sconce, she casually wandered around the room, lighting various other torches. She ascended a set of stairs that spiraled around the room to another floor, then leaned over the railing and lit a brass chandelier. She returned to the door and replaced the torch. The room had a small fireplace that had a blanket and a few soft pink pillows in front of it. Across from that, directly beneath the chandelier, was a small wooden table that looked like it could seat about four people. Beneath the table was a wooden hatch large enough for a person to fit through. A few battered swords and axes hung from the wall, obviously used for practice. A set of armor identical to Randgris’ current set, except deep black with gold trim, was assembled on a dummy beneath the stairs.

“This is exactly what I expected.”

“At least it’s not a damned cave!” Randgris angrily replied as she approached the table. She rested her foot against it and pushed suddenly. The table slid violently across the floor and slammed into the wall, shaking the hanging weapons. She bent down and lifted the hatch, then disappeared below. Bastien hopped down after her. The room was dimly lit from the ceiling by a crystal that was emitting a rose-colored light. There was a dresser against the wall immediately to the left of where Bastien had landed. To the left of the dresser in the corner of the room was an empty dummy, and to the right, resting against the wall was a large sword in a sheathe that matched the black armor upstairs. Behind him was a heart-shaped standing mirror. The right wall was all shelving filled with trinkets and figurines. There was also a section dedicated to literature. Her bed was centered against the far wall. It was large enough to easily fit at least six people, spanning almost wall to wall. It had a canopy that enclosed the bed in silk curtains. The sheets were pristine white tinted pink by the light. Upon the head of the bed was an army of various pillows, most of which were hearts and flowers, as well as a multitude of stuffed animals. Randgris began to strip her armor and carefully place it on the dummy, starting with her gauntlets, then her chest plate and leggings. Bastien’s eyes quickly drifted to her breasts, which were much larger than he had expected even though they were wrapped tightly in bandages. He walked beside her and reached for the top drawer to see what was inside. He had pulled it open just a crack when Randgris grabbed his hand and slammed the drawer shut. Her face was flushed.

“If you open that drawer, I will kill you. Your blood will forever paint the walls of my sanctuary,” her voice was calm and smooth. Bastien could feel her crushing his wrist. “Why did you come down here?”

“I-I thought you were g-giving me a tour or something,” Bastien stuttered as he tried to get away. Randgris released her grip causing him to fall backwards.

“Leave.”

Bastien wasted no time hoisting himself out of the hole. He rushed to the table and sat on top of it with his feet resting on the bench. He waited patiently for Randgris to emerge from her room. After a few minutes, he got up and walked over to the armor in the corner. He traced his finger along the intricate golden design, which was warm to the touch. Finally, Randgris climbed out of the basement and lit the fireplace. She had changed into pink shorts, but chosen to leave her upper half exposed, covered only by the bandages she kept herself wrapped in. Her body was very well toned, but what surprised Bastien was that it was covered with scars of varying sizes. The only spot that wasn’t marred was her face.

“You already know my secret,” Randgris sighed. “There’s no point trying to hide it.”

“What secret?”

“My sanctuary,” Randgris turned and looked at him. Her eyes reflected the heat of the flames.

“That was not what I expected,” Bastien commented as he approached Randgris, who was dragging the table back to its original spot above her hatch.

“This is the only place we will speak about my little secret,” Randgris flexed her right arm and placed her other hand on her bulging bicep. “I can still kick your ass.”

“Your armor really hides your size well,” Bastien remarked. Randgris disappeared up the stairs while Bastien remained on the ground floor. “You’re a lot thinner than I expected. Well, in most spots.”

“Metal doesn’t hug your curves the same way cloth does,” Randgris called down. He could hear her searching for something. “The armor was a gift, and it’s not really something I would risk altering.”

“That makes sense.”

Randgris returned with a skillet and two thick slices of meat. She placed them both in the pan before rolling up the blanket and kicking it, along with the pillows, out of the way. Removing one of the bloody slabs of meat, she held the skillet in the fire while she ate the raw flesh of one of the steaks, licking up the blood that dripped down her chin.

“How can you do that?” Bastien asked, half of him disgusted, the other half genuinely curious.

“Do what?”

“Drink...blood...” The words fell out of his mouth like stones.

“How can you...” Randgris thought for a second. “Do you remember anything? Anything at all?”

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Bastien asked.

“I’m trying to think of a comparison, but that’s kind of hard considering I have nothing to compare it to.”

“No, no I don’t.”

“That’s kind of shitty.”

“I think it’s actually kind of convenient, honestly. If I know how to do something, I don’t need to explain why or how. I can just blame it on my amnesia!” Bastien smiled.

“I don’t think that’ll happen,” Randgris responded with a sigh. “Let’s say you like to fish.”

“Okay.”

“It’s very similar to that,” Randgris flicked the pan, causing the meat to launch into the air and land back in the pan upside down. “I love the smell, the taste, the texture, everything. When I taste it, I can feel the fear of its owner course through me, and it just fills me with...with...passion? Joy? Warmth?”

Bastien remained silent, as that seemed like the correct response. Randgris flipped the steak once more before removing the skillet from the fire and placing it in front of Bastien. “What kind of meat is this?”

“Beef,” Randgris replied bluntly. Bastien sat staring at the sizzling hunk of meat. “What? You don’t like meat?”

“How am I supposed to eat it?”

“Oh, hold on,” Randgris dashed up the stairs again and quickly returned with a fork and knife. She handed them to Bastien, who began to cut into and consume his meal. It was barely cooked, but he didn’t complain.

“Do you have anything to drink?” Bastien asked. Randgris rushed once again up the stairs, then returned with two cups of clear fluid. Her face was slightly reddened as she handed one to Bastien and took a sip out of the other one. Bastien looked at it for a second, then smelled the contents of the glass.

“It’s water.”

“How am I supposed to know that?” Bastien replied, then took a quick drink. “I’m still your prisoner, right?”

“Depending on your performance on this next task, I may revise your rank,” Randgris winked.

“That makes me feel much better.”

“Doesn’t it?” Randgris finished her drink and slammed her cup on the table.

“Am I sleeping here?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“The floor.”

“You don’t have a spare bed or anything?”

“No. Why, is that not good enough for you?” Randgris glared.

“It doesn’t seem very comfortable, that’s all.”

“I sleep on the floor quite frequently. I can’t fall asleep if I have a pillow under my head.”

“Why do you have so many on your bed, then?”

“I spoon them.”

“That’s cute,” Bastien smirked.

“Do I need to remind you that these conversations remain within these walls?” Randgris clenched her fists.

“No, no. I remember.”

“Good,” Randgris approached the wall and removed a sword and an ax, tossing the sword to Bastien who had just finished his last bite. The sword clattered to the ground beside him. Bastien looked up at Randgris with confused eyes. “We’re going to fight.”

“Is this where I die?” Randgris allowed herself to chuckle at Bastien’s question.

“I want to assess your combat abilities. I can give you some pointers, as well, so that I don’t have to watch out for you as much.”

“If you remember, I saved you,” Bastien remarked.

“I didn’t need saving,” Randgris shouted as she spun her body, putting her weight into a full on cleave with her ax Bastien slid off the bench and with one quick motion, grabbed the sword from the ground and placed the tip against Randgris’ bellybutton. The ax slammed into the ground while Bastien remained crouched beneath her. She relaxed her stance, lifted the ax, and let it rest on her shoulder. “That was unexpected. Perhaps you were a blade master before you had amnesia.”

“I didn’t think you were going to attack me so suddenly!” Bastien shouted worriedly. “What if you had actually hit me?”

“You’d have a few broken bones. Nothing I can’t fix,” Randgris grabbed the sword which was still held against her gut and squeezed it in her hand. “None of these are sharp.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you about that, too!” Bastien exclaimed as he collapsed on the floor. “You healed my wounds earlier, right?”

“Yes. It’s a special ability of mine. I can heal any wound, as long as it’s not fatal, but the drawback is that I experience any pain and scarring that the person would have had to endure,” Randgris replaced the ax on the wall and removed a sword, then pointed to her face. “That’s why I don’t have any scars on my face.”

“The more I get to know you, the stranger you get.”

“Says mister I don’t know who I am,” Randgris replied mockingly as she readied her stance. “I’m going to tell you this before I forget. If you can’t cut something, stab it. If you can’t stab something, crush it. If you can’t crush something, run. Prepare yourself, this time’s the real deal.”

Randgris and Bastien fought for hours, their blades and bodies dancing and twirling around each other. Randgris beat Bastien in raw power and skill, yet somehow every match Bastien managed to avoid her strikes and gain the upper hand. Finally, Bastien lacked the energy to continue and collapsed on the floor.

“How can you fight like that?” Randgris asked between gasps of air.

“I don’t know, it just felt right. Like my body knew what to do.”

“Sounds like muscle memory. You must have been a blade master”

“Yeah, may-” Bastien fell asleep mid-sentence. Randgris carried him to the fireplace and lay him down. She put the pillow under his head and pulled the blanket over him before disappearing beneath the hatch.