Part 1 – Ricardo’s point of view

Fine white mist starts to take over the place of the thinning gray smog as the rainstorm intensifies and subdues the manmade firestorm ignited by the vicious fight between our lad and his evil nemesis. Blown by the wind, it surrounds and obscures the vision of the old spearmaster and his foes. And heavy raindrops don’t help but compound his irritation as they fall slanting to the influence of wind and gravity, fragmenting into smaller droplets that bounce and scatter on his cheek, hitting him in the eye in scattershot. He would have closed his eyes if he could, but the danger is far greater a threat than the minor irritation he endures. He keeps his eyes peeled, watching every move that his foes make, and projects his confidence at them by showing them his usual bright smile.

A storm of throwing daggers flies and converges towards him, only repelled by a quick spin of his pole weapon. With a back step, he dodges an incoming foe and trips him face down in the mud, followed by a quick stab to the back of the neck. He stops another incoming foe by hitting him with the wooden pole to the face. With a kick to the gut, he sends him flying back, knocking a few more incoming foes in the mud, splattering dirt. With an economy of movement, the old spearmaster dances and slips through every attack that his foes throw at him even with their superior numbers.

“FULL SPIN CUT!” In a spin, Ricardo holds tightly to his pole weapon, dragging its edge in the air, leaving a circular trail of glowing golden light like that of a halo. Hit, blood ruptures and mixes with mud water after a few incoming foes have their bodily members severed, flying. But relentless, the assassins continue fighting the seemingly one-sided battle. They are objective about killing and capturing the boy that the old spearmaster protects. As battle-hardened professionals, they know that even the impressive skills of the old man have limits – his stamina.

Rainwater saturates Ricardo’s hair and runs down splitting into a network of veins that flow down on his face, his eyes, and some, into his open mouth, dripping and blown away by his heavy breathing. Looking exhausted, he may have already reached his limit. Even with the economy of movements, he can barely catch his breath as the enemies come at him in turns, nonstop. His vision shakes and blackens momentarily, and his movement becomes sluggish like that of a drunken man. Still he manages to fend off the enemies, until his fingers lose their grip on his pole arm – an enemy manages to blow the weapon off his hands by the swing of his sword to the shaft, disarming him.

Another foe jumps at him and swings his weapon from above, which surely should put an end to him if not interrupted suddenly.

“SHOCKWAVE!” The earth shakes and the misty air ripples, conjuring a whirlwind that parts the encirclement of foes and blows away the mud, vaporizing it, and throwing up in the air the unlucky foes that lie in its wake – the phenomenon stops only a few inches from Ricardo’s face, saving him. A few moments later, the unlucky foes fall and splatter to their deaths against the earth, followed by a fine rain of mud.

A silhouette of a lone man in the mist closes in, shouldering an object of titanic proportions. Shortly, a squad of horsemen follows his entrance. Ricardo cannot believe his eyes as an old rival shows up in the scene in the most critical time to save him. His old sparkly smile returns to his face, muttering “Julius… I know my luck is good!” The sudden entrance and encirclement of the squad of knights stupefy the assassins – their time has run out.

Julius brandishes his massive steel mace and points it at the assassins. “You better not think of escaping. Surrender and let your lives be spared. Drop your weapons!” Accompanied by a squad of mounted knights in their full plate armor, the pressure of his words sends chills to the bones of the assassins. They drop their weapons and raised their hands in the air as a gesture of surrender.

“Good!” remarks the man of mace.

Out of the blue, arrows rain down from the sky, injuring and killing some of the men who have just surrendered.

“Men, follow me, we’ll give the bastards a chase!” yells Elliot. Half of the squad of knights follow him to the woods in search of the snipers.

After scouring the woods for half a day, Elliot and his fellow knights still fail to find the snipers. The assassins, even those who are lightly injured, all have died. Upon closer inspection, the knights find out that the arrows used by the snipers are coated with a strong poison, an indication that someone desperately needs them silenced to avoid being identified. And inspecting the scene of the ambush, they discover that the same poisoned arrows are used to kill the victims – not even the horses are left alive. There is no motive to mug from the victims, there’s only the motive kill as the content of the wagons remains untouched.

Aria suspects it is Freddie’s fault, and frustrated by the lack of evidence to link him to the incident, she lashes out at Elliot, throwing rocks at him. She immediately quits the tantrum, knowing nothing good will come out of it. Instead, she shuts herself inside the carriage the knights recovered in the scene of ambush where Julius has brought the lad.

“Your highness, I leave him under your care. I have to meet the king in the south or he’ll be upset.” Itching to go, Julius says his goodbye. He can no longer delay his journey, and even if he could, he wouldn’t go any further than what he has done for his son today. He wishes him to grow stronger without relying on his help.

The princess looks out from the carriage’s window and addresses the man. “Godspeed, Sir Daedalus. May the River God protect you in your journey. Have a safe trip.” Like a flash of lightning, the champion disappears and goes his way south, all alone.

In the carriage, Aria sits beside the lad, lends her lap as pillow, and caresses him on the forehead, watching him sleep intently. Her hand glows green as she uses her recovery power on him, making the fever subside. Exhausted from the trip and the treatment that she gave the lad, Aria falls asleep.

Done with all the inspection of the carriage and the wagons, the knights strap their horses to them and safely ride back to the Teleknights HQ under the guidance of the setting sun.

Part 2 – Linus’ point of view

Gentle summer sunlight pours from the open sliding windows, making its aluminum frame glimmer in gold. I find myself sitting up on a hospital bed with my hands and arms wrapped in white bandages and covered in stinging injuries. The bandages as well has infiltrated my body, they wrap around my chest like a corset, a little tight. And even my face and my forehead, the plastics and bandages have found their way there too, wrapping around my head and neck, constricting them like a snake does. If I could, I’d prefer they be a little loose. I find it hard to breathe.

“Are you awake, Mr. King? Here are the pictures you asked me of.” In her usual wrinkly and frilly blouse and gleaming spectacles, Ms. Rogers, a good student of mine, hands me a photo album. A gust of wind intrudes the room and brushes against her hair, making it flutter and whip her face and her eyes, ruining her look. While I inspect the album, she sits on the chair beside my bed, turns around and finds the time to look at a pocket mirror to fix her disheveled hair, combing them by hand, tying them up.

Is this for real? I thought all along, hmm… I can’t really remember. How did I end up here?

I hold tightly unto the album and browse through its pages. I find it odd that the only photos available on the album are of this one boy, wearing some rather uncomfortable thick and baggy clothes and shouldering a crossbow. He appears to have a great interest in theater arts and medieval films. If not, he must be into medieval history or archery. But weird, I can’t place him clearly in my memories. Even though I’m sure I haven’t met him even once, he looks awfully familiar.

“Dork!

“Sir Linus, what are Spartans?

“Wizzy!

“Don’t worry, we’ll find him.

“If it’s Sir Linus, I have high confidence.

“I’m tired. I wanna look for the old man!

“A journalist for those newpapers?

“IDIOT!

“..you really didn’t know?”

Familiar words echo in my head and recurring images of the boy flash before my eyes, smiling, laughing, yelling, crying, and even blushing shyly. The pain of arrows continuously shoots and stabs my head, aching and splitting like a trunk of dried wood as more images surge in my head nonstop like a stream of electric current, shooting and warping and distorting them images of the familiar boy into rainbowy streaks like what an activated degaussing circuit does to a cathode ray tube.

“ARRRRGGGHHH! JUST WHO, WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?” I grab tightly unto my aching head and for a reason unknown to me even, warm tears starts to pool in my eyes, blurring my vision. They then flow down on my cheeks and to my chin, dripping, soaking the white blanket covering my lower half – and they won’t just stop leaking, coupled with an imploding void in my chest, my heart sinks deeper and deeper with every second that counts, giving the strange feeling of being pulled and sucked into it. I never knew of such pain. What did I do to deserve this?

Ms. Rogers grabs my hand, warming them with hers. “Sir Linus, it’s alright.” Into an innocent smile, her face slowly transforms, resembling the boy in the picture.

In a sudden brainwave, I recall her name. “Nina! Is that you? I’m glad you’re okay!” Tears won’t stop leaking and my arms find themselves wrapping around her tiny shoulders. Ingesting salty tears, I can’t stop myself from sniffing, and sobbing.

“It’s okay… I know if it’s you, you can do it.” She smiles and her face glows radiant, blindingly white, blurring my vision, making it fade.

“Just how long will you hold unto my titties, you lecherous brat! Let go, it’s hot!” Suddenly, I find myself wresting against a blurred and pixilated image of an angry white dragon that sports a golden mane and a pair of emerald green eyes. Pushing hard on my forehead, the strange half-beast and half-human creature’s claws sink on my skin, giving me a sudden fright. I find myself immediately out of bed. My vision clears and I realize that all along, it was Aria. How frightening she looks when mad!

“You look healthy enough. You better start talking. Do you have any idea who attacked you?” Green eyed Goldilocks crosses her arms.

“Attack? What are you talking about? Call Nina, she keeps a record of everything. She probably knows more about it than I do.”

She turns her eyes on her guardian knight, Elliot, and establishes eye contact. The old knight nods as if to communicate something. With a serious look in her face, she opens her mouth. “It must be hard for you, but eventually you’ll find out anyway. You and Ricardo are the only two people who survived the ambush. Nina is no more…”

My knees weaken, bend, and hit the floor, and my stomach churns and explodes, pumping stuff up my throat and out of my mouth. Even with all the stuff thrown on the floor, my stomach continues to contract painfully still, ejecting nothing but slimy and sour spit, while acid stings and burns my throat and my mouth. For once I fear that my eyes might just pop out of my head due to pressure. Even my groin hurts.

nina… nina… what have I done?

Fingers on her brow, Goldilocks gently shakes her head. “I’ve expected this much. Go get some rest and give us your answer later. We’ll find who did this and make them pay.” Followed by Elliot, she walks out of the room and shuts the door.

On the dinner table, we’ve got everyone, and I keep my mouth shut even though I know full well who’s responsible. Although embers of resentment still smolder in my heart, I’ve got no good reason to talk about the incident. For the second time and for sure, I have seen with my own eyes how the villain gets caught in the explosion, and I have no good reason to doubt it – the alternative is just too hard to accept. What, am I fighting a phantom? One that cannot be killed by sword or by fire? Even with the existence of the supernatural in this world, the power of the explosives stands unparalleled and… nothing… nothing can bring my friend back.

Across the table, Aria stabs the steak with her fork, cuts it, and puts it in her mouth, and a moment later after ingesting the piece, she speaks in a low tone. “Our time is wasting, Linus. The more you delay, the more the likelihood that the culprit will escape.” She sighs, stabbing and slicing the slab of meat. “Alright… I know it must be hard for you to lose a friend.”

“must be easy for you to speak since you’re not invested in it...” My thoughts leak out by accident.

Stabbing the slab of meat forcefully, her eyes widen and her lips curl down. She points her knife at me, expressing her offense. “If it weren’t for me, you’re dead. Consider yourself lucky that I knew much about the plot.” She drops her fork and covers her mouth with the free hand, surprised.

“What plot?” Once more, my inner voice leaks out of my mouth.

Hanging her head down, the young lady uses her slender fingers to rub the wrinkles that manifest on her forehead. She looks at my eyes and opens her mouth. “I suspect Freddie is behind the ambush. By the looks of it, the assassins were well prepared. They even had quick acting poisoned arrows, which mere bandits would not have in their possession. But we didn’t catch any of them alive, so I don’t have evidence. That’s why I’m asking you, you may know something.”

“poison?” Recalling the incident, I grab unto my aching head – my flesh trembles at the mere thought that there’s something more foreboding about those reptilian eyes – could it his venom caused Nina to succumb to her fate? The weakening embers in my chest reignite and burn in a towering fit of rage. My mouth starts to leak my thoughts inarticulately, muttering “no evidence? I think you got it completely wrong… I know who did it… he was someone who had a strong grudge against me… but there’s no point… the dead don’t… the dead don’t… come back..”

Aria forcefully lays down her hands on the table, giving me an aggressive look. “Who was it then?”

“…” Consumed by the running thoughts in my head, my brain keeps on thinking on circles, looping livid recollections of the incidents over and over again, frozen, unable to respond.

“My boy, don’t waste her highness’ good will. She came all the way here and gathered a battalion of knights just to rescue you. I suggest you speak up.” As usual, Master Kong takes a sip of his tea after giving the advice. His calm words break the chain of thoughts that shackle me frozen. But he called her ‘her highness’? Goldilocks, a real princess? Not with that kind of attitude. I don’t buy that idea.

“why bother? he’s dead… our plans are ruined… I wanna go home.”

“Wait, kid. I think you’re the one who got it all wrong. Who was it? If we’re thinking of the same person, then he must be alive and well.” Ricardo enters the conversation.

“CRIMSON! He’s still alive?” Making a serious face, Ricardo nods. The name of the villain stokes the fire in my heart to burn rather intensely. Never have I thought that he could survive the hell that I have given him nor have I doubted the strength of the explosion, they were perfect, unless he has the survivability rate of a cockroach. I bet he’ll survive a post-nuclear apocalyptic world even.

“Who is that?” The princess inquires.

“The villain of Exteris. He does look a little different. He calls himself now by a different name too, ‘Knight Scarlet’ he says.”

Aria and Elliot look and nod at each other as if they have come to a conclusion with mere eye contact and gestures alone. She looks at me and says, “Then it’s nothing too big to worry about. I’ll have Elliot handle the matters. Meanwhile, we’ll continue dragon hunting.”

“Ah yes, dragon hunting, wait! Who decided that?”

“Me! You’ll have the support of my knights. Cheesecake, should you throw yourself to me and lick my toes tonight, I’ll convince Papa to add more men. Hohohohoho!” Aria covers her mouth in shrill laughter, and her mood and attitude swings the other direction completely like she is a different person – she gives me goose bumps. Who says she can address me that way? And Elliot, he as well gives me some bad looks. His eyes glow bright red and his shoulders leak thick and dark miasma with enough power to choke a hundred horses.

“Don’t decide the terms on your own! I’m leaving.” Leaving the meal unfinished, I stand up from my seat, and out of the blue, Aria throws her fork at me, hitting and dirtying my vest. Dropping, its impact on the stone floor rings resoundingly.

“Coward! Ingrate!” Like a toy dog, Aria keeps on barking insults, calling me names in an irritatingly shrill voice as I walk away covering my ears. Even if she insults me that way, I haven’t thought enough of the situation, and I take great offense on someone making decisions for my own. Being of royalty, if she truly is, she must be used to having things done this way, much like how his father made a deal with my idiotic father. Still, I have an unfinished business to deal with.

I enter Nina’s room, hoping to find her, but there isn’t anyone but her empty bed. I lie down on the bed, grappling her blanket, sniffing what little scent of her is left and soaking it wet with my salty tears – had I not been sick that day, things would have been different. Darn it, just how much time have passed since the incident?

Gentle footsteps resound and the door shuts close. The master sits down on the bed next to me, sighing. “My boy, look, don’t blame yourself. I’m partly responsible for not seeing through the trap.” He pats my shoulder. “I hope you can forgive the princess. She means well.”

He continues, “I sympathize with her as I myself is in the same situation. I am a little disappointed seeing how disheartened you are with a little trouble, but I understand how painful the tragedy must be for you. Nevertheless, you mustn’t make decisions based on the fickle swing of your emotions. It isn’t like you. Young Nina didn’t pass away for nothing.” The old wise man leaves the room.

Breakfast, the princess doesn’t show up on the table, probably still offended of how I have acted last night. I knock at her door, but haven’t received any kind of response. “Aria… I’m sorry about what happened last night. I was hoping…” The door opens, and all of the sudden, the princess squeezes my hands and drags me to her bed and jumps me on top. She looks at me seductively with her glittering emerald eyes, saying “You’re mine, hick!”

“Uhmm…” Before I can utter another word, the princess passionately shoves her mouth to mine’s and forces her tongue inside, clutching the back of my neck with her slender fingers. Using my superior strength, I shove her away and escape in a corner. Her face is flushed rather she looks intoxicated and dangerous, like a wild animal. I take a step back, trips, and falls down on something. Bottles of liquor lie down on the floor. The princess is completely drunk. “What’s wrong little.. hick… bunny? Scared? hick!”

“Forgive me.” Elliot intrudes and cleans up the empty bottles of liquor lying down the floor, while taking her abuse. Yelling insults, she throws at him anything she puts her hands on, breaking them and complicating his work. As soon as the princess runs out of ammo, Elliot serves her water. “Ahh… I feel sick.” She slams her palm on her forehead, making it glow ghostly green. “Feels better, hah!” She continues, “Brat, how’s your first kiss? Hahahaha!” All my bodily hairs stand up, tingling. “That’s an unfair reaction. That was my first too. Cheer up a little.” My stereotype image of a tame, sheltered, and proper little princess all flies out of the window. I sigh.

“I’d like to apologize last night. I made up my mind. I’d like to continue my quest.”

She jumps on me, giving me a tight, tight hug, rubbing her warm and smooth skin with mine, cheek to cheek. “I’m glad!” She whispers on my ear, “Cheesecake, suck on my toes.” An electrifying sensation crawls my skin. I sigh, muttering “what a perv”. She rolls on the floor and laughs out loud, filling the void palace with her shrillness.

Part 3

Three days have passed since the incident. The polished surface of the figure of a bronze sword that stands strong in the middle of the Teleknights’ estate weakly mirrors the funeral pyre’s flames of amber that dance, crackle, and pop to the movement of the chilling night winds that blows up and to the west the slanting graying white pillar of smoke that gently rises up and vanishes in the obscurity of the dim, cloudy, and moonless night sky. The earthly bodies of the ones who have fallen may have turn into ashes, but not their memories – they will always be a part of me in my heart. I remind myself of the thought as I transfer the remains of my precious companion in a box.

It is hard, and probably even more so when I face his father, Gordon. I don’t know what to say that I lost her daughter to… ugh… With the expedition on the way, it isn’t probably the right time to think and to compound my misery by remembering the bitter memories and the terrifying outcomes this single incident has spelled for me. And it’s far worse to go home crying and defeated. As much as I suffer and would like to recover from the torment of loss, the dragons, I have to slay them and present their heads to the people of Scientia in hopes to atone for my incompetence as a leader.

The next day, I took the master with me to audit the weapons we prepared for the journey. Due to the harshness of weather, some of the chemicals have gotten wet and have not survived the journey back in the palace. I’m glad that I made the inspection; otherwise, having these ineffective tools will spell disaster in our fight against our prey. I send Ricardo out with a list of materials to procure from Faye, and a letter of apology about the incident. I owe her some responsibility for the deaths of her drivers.

Ricardo returns, bringing the needed materials back and a message from Faye that she sympathizes for our losses as much as for hers. Relieved, I sigh knowing that the incident didn’t upset me, but funnily, my invoice seems to have some additional items listed on it. So much for the sympathies, she charges me for the damages. Of course, the shrewd merchant minds the issue of money more than anything else. I’ll probably argue it with her later on.

Using the materials, we upgrade our armament in the simplest way imaginable with a little help from my historical knowledge.

Knowing the knights’ expertise in the use of lance, we ordered some throwing javelins. I figure that strapping lead filled explosives to the shaft of the spear will make the deadly weapon deadlier even for the dragons. Historically, the ancient Empire of the East called these weapons fire spears, which were known to have wreaked havoc in the battlefields of that day. For its production, I commission a few of Aria’s most trusted knights to help us with the work and as soon as the sun set, we’re done, including the additional kegs of powder needed for the traps. Since the secret is out, I have the knights test it on their target practice. Their jaws drop seeing their first explosive in action.

In addition, I make minor modifications to the pocket grenade. First, I put some lead shrapnel in it, making it deadlier. Second, I attach it to a stick, which allows for a longer throwing distance. With my strength, it could possibly land a hit on a dragon in the sky. And this isn’t an original idea either. Historically, the fascist Empire of the Fourth Arch in the west has used the technology in their tenacious fight against the Coalition of Nations. The coalition might have won the war due to their superior numbers, but have suffered heavy losses due to the shrewdness of the Fourth Arch’s battle tactics and their superior technology.

All packed, Aria leads the way back to the central hills, leaving his knight guardian Elliot behind with Master Kong, which gives me the suspicion that they are in cahoots in something. And to avoid being ambushed, the princess dispatches some of her knights early to scout the area. The flare rockets we once used find purpose in their hands – they send back signals to us from afar using the implements. Not only that, the clap of thunder that the explosives create scares the hell out of the wild animals and monsters, repelling them a distance. Thus, encounters with them are meager.

Within the next day, we reach the wide Central Plains. As its name implies, the region is flat, and has no distinctive feature but the hectares and hectares of farmland that span the majority of region. Passing by Silo, Goldilocks goes on a shopping spree, packing as much liquor as she can load in our tiny carriage. Even though under-aged, she offers me a drink, to which I decline due to fears of it stunting my development. Nevertheless, she has gotten her way by forcing a bottle in my mouth, which blurs much of my recollection of the events that happened next.

The next morning, I find myself on her bed as I wake up with her soft and warm sole resting against my cheek. Cut inside, my mouth stings much, which may prevent me from having a pleasant breakfast. Shame, she might have kicked me in the cheek while I was asleep. Has the pervert gotten her wish while I was out? Not that I care more than the devils do as they poke her defenselessly, caressing her smooth and silky skin. Brushed away by the sleepy swing of her arm, the devils go poof and vanish into thin air.

We continue the commute and with the absence of obstacles in the plains, we have reached the border to north in less than a day. The Northern Rocklands’ terrain as it name describes is craggy. The contents of our carriage won’t stop shaking from the awful ride that the terrain affords us, which also slows our trip considerably. By sunset, we find ourselves in the abandoned town of Breccia, whose quiet streets and premises are devoid of people.

Fortunately, the town is in a good shape, seemingly untouched by the claws of the wretched dragons. In the wealth of empty housing, finding an accommodation isn’t a problem. I specifically choose the town hall because of its size and robust structure. The place is built like a fort from ground up with stone. The rest of the knights choose the adjacent buildings, and some have station themselves on the towers to watch guard. Given that we’re already on location, I spend the rest of the night talking to the senior knights about traps and battle tactics.

In the dead of night, the village’s bamboo chimes ring, sounding an alarm, and cries from the towers are heard. “DRAGONS! THE DRAGONS ARE COMING!”