The Forsaken

A NEW PAGE

Smoke rises through the air; it rises from the broken structures of Union. Broken but not destroyed. It has survived.

The streets are quiet for reasons all too understandable. Men with plague masks transverse the streets as they push small carts filled with the bodies of the deceased.

“Bring out your dead,” the masked man yells as he slowly passes with a cart full of corpses. Dead fester as flies find a welcoming home.

The newly-arrived army patrols the streets; there can be no stone left unturned or enemy left alive. The masked men converge at blue flaming pyres delivering the dead as they throw them in the shallowly dug earth.

Shaphas stands there as he mixes and matches different liquids.

“Will this be enough?” a man asks as he brings a full cart of liquids.

Shaphas looks around at the arriving dead.

“No,” Shaphas says as he sighs.

In the castle, Tyr sleeps completely covered in bandages. His white blade dimly shines near the bed.

“Tyr! Tyr!” a man calls.

“What?” Tyr asks as he looks at the approaching man in black armor with the number 47 on his helmet.

“You sleep too much. If you continue like this, you will sleep your way through life,” the black-armored man jests, “Come. We have to...,” he adds as the image fades.

Tyr tries to move but he cannot, his body is unnaturally heavy.

“Don’t! It is an ambush,” Tyr yells to the black knights in the distance as they continue to march on. The dream glitches back and forth. He finds himself on a small path marching with his companions.

“Isn’t it beautiful, Tyr?” the black-armored man asks as he looks at the large lake on their right.

“What is it called?” Tyr asks even though he knows the answer, he remembers its name.

“It is called Lake Menetrasi,” the black-armored man says. They continue their journey steadily, walking on the path. He cannot control his actions, he cannot speak, only move forward. Tyr always moves forward.

Opposite of the Lake lies a small cliff with high branches of grass dancing with the wind. In the first instance, beauty of nature and in the other a descending horde of armed men with murder in their eyes.

“AMBUSH!” Tyr yells as he wakes up.

Covered in sweat, panting. He looks outside the window... it is night.

The door opens; Tyr quickly grabs his sword as he manically turns his attention to the person who enters, battle-ready. A young woman gasps!

“Excuse me, I didn’t mean to intrude,” the woman nervously answers.

“Who are you?” Tyr asks as he tightly grips his sword.

“I am a servant. I’ve been told to bring you to the dining hall if you are willing and able,” the woman says as she shies from eye contact.

“I see,” Tyr says as he places the sword back near the bed.

“Will there be drinks?” Tyr asks.

The same dining hall that was filled with an overabundance of food, drinks, music, and dance stands this time with less food, fewer drinks, and no music or dance. Tyrr enters as he notices familiar faces.

“The warrior that slew the chieftain of the savages. Please have a seat,” Lord Belmon says as he signals Tyr to come over.

“I am glad to see you are doing better. For a moment there I thought you would have gone to meet Aion,” Shaphas says as he smiles.

“I’ve just woken up. Can you cut down on the religious talk?” Tyr responds as he shakes his head; Shaphas laughs.

The large table houses many familiar faces. Noname sits with Harry, Big Pete, Little Pete. Melione and Ulric look around bewildered as an animal seeing its own reflection. Captain Timus and some other high-ranking officials are talking to Prince Takon and some of his close entourage. There are few oddballs here and there amongst the more “civilized”.

“What is this?” Melione asks as she pokes a pile of jam-filled crepes with her fork.

“I don’t know,” Ulric says as he takes a knife and does the same.

“It is a dessert. You should try one, they are delicious,” Master Abacus says as he appears behind them; Melione and Ulric each take one as they almost swallow them whole.

“I like it!” Melione says with an ear-to-ear smile; Ulric nods in affirmation.

Noname, Harry, Little Pete, and Big Pete grab the nearest food with their hands as they chew the food relentlessly, making loud sounds.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Lord Belmon speaks as he stands.

The members of the city guard turn silent in a display of discipline, the others... less so. Melione and Ulric are devouring the desserts, Shaphas and Tyr are chugging the drinks, and Noname and her friends are loudly chewing.

Lord Belmon sighs as he notices the sore thumbs sticking out.

“I have made this small and humble feast for you all as a token of my thanks and as a reward for your accomplishments during this time of strife. I hope you will forgive the modesty,” Lord Belmon says as he raises his glass.

“Long live Union!” a couple of high-ranking officers yell as they raise their glasses to salute; Melione raises a crepe in her salute. This is her salute. Prince Takon looks at Noname with mixed feelings concerning her table manners.

“First a moment of silence for those that lost their lives to these savages. Duke Embro, Dutchess Emna, Lord Obul, Lord Mayro, and many others including the members of the city guard and the countless citizens of Union,” Lord Belmon says as he lowers his head in respectful silence.

“Dead like bunnies in the fields! Dead like bunnies in the fields!” Melione gently sings as her “outburst” catches the eye of Prince Takon.

“Do you mind?” Prince Takon angrily comments.

“Mind? Do I mind?” Melione asks herself as she looks up in the sky.

“Ugh... common folk. Isn’t that so?” Prince Takon asks as he turns to Noname.

“Lunch of worms! Lunch of worms!” Noname blurts out as her right eye twitches and her finger flips; the Prince dumbfounded by this sequence of events turns silent.

“We have endured. All that took part deserve our admiration and respect. But, like in all times, some distinguished themselves more during this time of peril. This warrior called Tyr single-handedly killed the Northmen’s chieftain in, what I’ve been told, a battle of the greatest skill and strength,” Lord Belmon says as he walks to Tyr as he salutes him with a glass.

“Here is a priest of Aion, as I am told, who helped in this fight and used his skills to help us with the bodies of the brave souls that died,” Lord Belmon says as he makes his way to Shaphas.

“Praise be to Aion!” Shaphas says as he makes a sign of an upside-down mirrored seven.

“Isn’t the sign supposed to be the other way?” an officer asks his colleague as he shushes him.

“The five were instrumental in killing not one but two of the dreaded mystics of the North. Most importantly, they’ve saved the life of my dear niece Princess Valima of Garniot,” Lord Belmon says as he moves to them.

“Whattcha he talkin’ bout? I’ve had a share in killing him,” Noname murmurs.

“Dat ya did, Noname. Dat ya did,” Harry adds.

“I would also like to express my deep gratitude to you officers who had led this defense and its armies in a magnificent defense,” Lord Belmon adds.

“Long live Union! Long live Lord Belmon and Princess Valima!” the officers yell; Lord Belmon calls for silence with a gesture of his hand.

“And last but not least. General Iro for arriving to our rescue at impeccable timing and even more impressive speed,” Lord Belmon says as he raises his glass toward the older man with long black hair, and

almond-shaped eyes.

“Lord Belmon, I appreciate the toast, but we have things we need to discuss,” General Iro adds.

“Very well. Everyone, we have prepared rooms for you all but before calling it a night I hope you will enjoy this small banquet,” Lord Belmon says as he excuses himself.

The once united table splits into two groups; the higher ranking officials and people of noble standings on one side and the more common riff-raff into the second. Captain Timus stays in the company of Tyr, Shaphas, Melione, Ulric, Harry, Little Pete, Big Pete, and an unknown quiet woman that was in his makeshift squad.

“I have to ask, how is it that the Princess of Union is acquainted with...” Shaphas asks as he doesn’t finish the sentence.

“Ya mean thieves?” Harry finishes his sentence as he takes a bite of a chicken leg.

“No shame in sayin’ wat we are,” Little Pete adds as Big Pete nods.

“Dere is somma shame,” Harry adds as the thieves laugh.

“We’ve known each other since we were little,” Noname adds while her right eye twitches.

“You’ve known each other since you were little?” Tyr blurts out with a puzzled look.

“Whattcha talkin’ so funny, Noname?” Harry asks as he turns his attention toward her.

“Shaddap ya twat!” Noname quickly fires back.

“She learned to be all propa’ and crap,” Little Pete adds as he laughs; Big Pete joins in with his quiet, fast-breathing-like laughter. He never was a man of many words.

“Funny story, dat. I was minding mah own business,” Noname says.

“Own business of stealing somma else’s business,” Harry adds with a smile.

“Den outtada blue. They say I am a long-lost Princess and my name is Garnut,” Noname says.

“Garniot!” Little Pete corrects.

“Whateva! So here I be,” Noname explains.

“Strange. But why should you care? You get money, servants, free food and drinks and a castle,” Tyr says as he chugs on an empty bottle. He takes another look to be sure he didn’t miss a drop.

“Meh! It is boring. It doesn’t feel right. Ya get me?” Noname says.

“Ya talk half propa half funny,” Harry adds.

“I will stab ya propa,” Noname retorts.

Prince Takon converses with the officers as he sneaks a look here and there at Noname’s direction; he knows about her history, but she still is pretty. Very pretty.

“What is your deal? How did you get yourself into this mess?” Shaphas asks as he turns his attention to Melione and Ulric.

“I’ve been ordered by the Moon,” Ulric responds.

“The Moon?” Shaphas blurts out.

“The Moon is the one that guides me. The Moon has tasked me to purify this world. It is my master, my companion, and my friend,” Ulric says.

“A madman! Some people and their ridiculous beliefs,” Shaphas says as he turns to Tyr shaking his head staring at him with disbelief.

“Moonman,” Noname says as she bestows a new nickname.

“What about you?” Shaphas asks as he looks at Melione.

“Hello. I am Melione,” Melione reponds.

“Um... hello, my name is Shaphas,” Shaphas awkwardly introduces himself at the unexpected response.

“Hello!” Melione adds again.

“How did you get here? What is your story?” Shaphas asks as she thinks for a moment.

“I followed my nose,” Melione says as she smiles.

“They are weird,” Noname adds as her right eye twitches and her finger flips everyone in the room.

“So the two of you met by listening to the Moon and following your nose?” Shaphas asks with a skeptical look.

“The two of us and the other two. We’ve all met together. It was fun,” Melione says.

“Da two and da other two?” Harry asks from the side.

“Where be da other two?” Little Pete asks as Big Pete nods in curiosity to the answer.

“They are One and Two. They are here,” Melione says as she points at her head.

“I’m surprised you let this Moon talk go. Why not talk to him about Aion?” Tyr says as he smiles at Shaphas.

“Some people are far gone with their beliefs. There is nothing you can say or do to change their mind. It is kind of sad, when you think about it,” Shaphas says as he turns back to the table; Tyr, unintentionally, slaps his forehead.

“WINE!” Tyr yells.

Big Pete stands as he goes to the quiet woman; he brings a bottle as he offers to refill her drink. The silent woman smiles as she pushes him down to the chair next to her.

“Those two will hawta a lotta to talk bout’” Harry adds.

Noname sees a small silver ring on the table; it looks nice. She gazes left and right to see if anyone is looking. No one is. Noname steals the silver ring.

“An interesting selection of characters,” Captain Timus quietly says.

“These are my carrots! These are my carrots!” Noname blurts out.

“It feels good,” Little Pete adds, looking serious for, perhaps, the first time.

“Dat it does, dat it does,” Harry adds, nodding.

There is no need for further words; Noname knows this. She can see their expressions. Not starving, not having to constantly look over your shoulder in fear of being robbed or stabbed. This is the life they lived. The life of eat or be eaten. There are some benefits in all of this, she thinks to herself as looking at her comrades with a twitching right eye.

Lord Belmon retires to his office in the company of General Iro.

“A drink, General?” Lord Belmon asks, pulling out a dusty bottle of fine-aged wine and two cups, he blows the dust away.

The old General sits down, accepting the offer.

“There are some things we must discuss, but I believe you are aware of them,” General Iro says.

“I believe so, but still state the situation. For good measure,” Lord Belmon adds, taking a sip from the cup.

“The newly realized threat from the Northmen and the loss of certain high standing nobles to their invasion has instigated certain changes. I have received orders to make headquarters in Union since it is closest to the Withering Lands. We will bring large armies here before we march to the North in a retaliatory strike. We will have to make Union a military city like in days of the past. I’m sure you understand our position since you have lived in those times,” General Iro explains drinking the wine.

“I am aware and I believe it is the right course of action. We cannot allow the kingdom of Ferro to appear weak. The North is, sadly, not the only threat,” Lord Belmon adds as he pours more wine to both.

“There will be an influx of new arrivals to Union. Not only soldiers but all who seek gold and fame. I believe this will make Union a suitable target for merchants as things will become lively here,” General Iro says continuing to drink wine.

“This is all expected, yet there are two issues. The first being the financial state of Union and second about my role concerning the soldiers not from here,” Lord Belmon says with a cup lacking in wine.

“They have already made a consensus. We will send a large sum of financial help. This will help you stabilize the city. The soldiers that arrive will be under my command, but when I leave for the North the remaining ones shall be directly under your command. Is this acceptable?” General Iro asks partaking in more wine.

“Very well,” Lord Belmon says as he takes another sip of wine.

“You will receive more detailed documents, but this should be the gist of it. This wine is superb! Is there any more?” General Iro says with an empty cup.

“It should be I had it imported from the south. You know about south and wine?” Lord Belmon says as both of them slightly chuckle.

Lord Belmon takes the wine bottle, trying to pour more wine; it is empty.

“A shame, but such is life. Let us call it a night,” General Iro stands up as Lord Belmon stops him.

“One more thing! Can I ask you for a small favor?” Lord Belmon asks.

“Depends on the favor,” General Iro responds.

“When the army departs to the Withering Lands, can you bring Princess Valima with you?” Lord Belmon asks.

“For what reason?” General Iro asks, unsure of the request.

“I wish for her to gain experience if she is to one day take over the leading role of Union. What better opportunity than this? She doesn’t have to do anything being there is good enough,” Lord Belmon explains.

“I’m not sure if I agree, but this is your business. Don’t expect me to babysit her,” General Iro says.

“No need, General Iro. I shall arrange a personal guard for her,” Lord Belmon adds with a faint smile.

General Iro leaves the office, from the shadows, Rash-An emerges.

“The city is reborn. Exactly as she promised,” Rash-An says.

“No question! Everything went smoothly, and now Union shall rise from the ashes and be stronger than ever,” Lord Belmon says.

“Everything is as she foretold. She knows! All you have to do is ensure the successor rises to power. All shall unfold as she has divined. It always does. We write a new page. Make sure you do your part,” Rash-An says as he leaves the office.

“Not everything. The successor may not survive,” Lord Belmon says to himself with a small smile; he leaves his office as the empty wine bottle stands on the table.