Ripley had a strange dream.

He dreamt he was part of a Blue Army squadron ten thousand strong. Behind him, Ten Behemoths that resembled knights in armor stood, arms crossed and holding a sword in each hand. Before him, a vast plain stretched as far as he could see, and a thick red line marked the boundary between land and sky. Wooden watchtowers can also be seen dotting the horizon line in intervals.

As he waited for the inevitable charge, his fellow soldiers readied their weapons and prayed. He could hear some of them mutter prayers for their family, for protection, and of course, for victory against their enemies. Not being as zealous as they are, the young smith simply watched on.

Meanwhile, the sea of red grass was starting to get closer, their war drums and battle cries echoing across the plain. In response, someone from behind Ripley sounded a horn. He looked back, and he could see a floating platform. It emitted a beam of light, which formed a human face.

The face said, "Soldiers of Bulwark, this is your captain speaking. Today marks a historic day. Even if you fall in battle, you have done your kingdom a great favor, by protecting its borders against the infidel, and in doing so, you have done whatever it is you have wished. Some of you may have joined us for your families, some of you might have joined for the thrill of battle. Today, we will have it. For the Goddess!"

Having finished its speech, the face disappeared, and the soldiers of the Blue Army rallied forth.

"Artillery, ready!" shouted one of the soldiers right next to Ripley, possibly someone of high-rank.

The ten Behemoths moved in response, sheathing their swords as they lumbered forward. A blue light emerged from their backs, collecting in a single place. The mass of light then shot itself forward, towards the red sea. However, the sea changed color as if in a wave. The mass of light made impact, and a crater was left in its wake.

As if to answer the attack, the sea changed color once more, returning to its red hue. After a series of undulations, the sky darkened, and without delay, the high-ranking soldier barked a new order.

"Barriers!"

And the entire Blue Army, Ripley included, raised their swords in unison, chanting a prayer of protection as they did. A layer of glass encapsulated just above their heads, defending against the shower of arrows that rained down upon them. However, some arrows were able to penetrate the barrier, hitting their marks as they did so.

Then, the barrier shattered. Upon seeing their first line of defense breached, the soldiers charged into battle. Ripley could finally see his enemy up close. What appeared as a red sea of grass was actually an assemblage of the Blue Army's enemy.

Thy call themselves the Shorin, and from what he had read about, they were nothing more than a primitive peoples who sully the name of the-Goddess-who-disappeared, and eradicating them from the face of the Earth was the Bulwark's primary goal.

The battlefield had already descended into chaos, as Bulwark and Shorin were locked in combat. But this was nothing compared to what Ripley saw in the next few minutes.

The sky darkened, but not because the Shorin let loose their arrows. It's as if the sky itself was ripped off, the white of clouds contrasting the dead of night. On the night side, Ripley could see two suns, and as one of them burned off, the night sky keeled over and descended on the battlefield, crashing straight on top of where he was standing.

That's when he woke up with a start.

"Good, you're finally awake," The first person to greet the young smith was a young mercenary. His leg had been bandaged, and he was lazing off in a hammock of his own making.

"W-who are you and whatare you doing here?!" Ripley was startled upon seeing him. "And where's Marlowe?"

"That's the first thing you'd ask? You hired me, remember? So it's natural for me to stay in my ward's room. Oh, and you're friend is out catching breakfast."

"Wait a sec, I don't remember hiring you! I don't even know your name!"

"Must be the aftereffects of aether. Often, those who take it lose their memory from a few hours to a few weeks, depending on the dose. I sure hope you're not a junkie. Anyway, name's Lou. Pleasure to meet you, boss."

"Yeah, uhh, I'm Ripley. Nice to meet you."

And the young man stretched out his hand to greet the bewildered smith.

"You did a number on my leg here. Made a hole so clean you can see through it. It's a miracle it missed a bone and some blood vessels."

"Yeah, umm, sorry about the leg," Ripley awkwardly apologized for something he couldn't remember.

"Don't be. I probably deserved it."

A youthful chuckle came out of the mercenary, clearly enjoying his time talking to the young smith.

After a few minutes of silence, the mercenary going by the name of Lou broke the ice once more.

"Not much of a talker, huh? Well, it can't be helped. Maybe you'd like to know what happened while you were out."

"I- I would, please."

"Never thought you'd ask. Now where do we begin?"

Lou recounted the events of the battle he had with the two boys. After Ripley fell on the desert floor, the effects of the aether getting to him according to Lou, he and Marlowe brought him inside the Palmetto, into Marlowe's room.

"I gotta tell you, your friend there was very worried about you. You had the first stages of aether sickness, after all. You were sweating buckets, and it also looked like you were having visions."

"Visions? Like the dream I had last night?"

"Maybe. But I'm not gonna ask you about it. It's not like you can remember all of it. It probably contains trivial things."

"But mine's not trivial. I dreamt of a war."

"Yeah, who doesn't dream of a large scale war in this forsaken place?"

Ripley stopped himself from complaining, seeing that the mercenary appeared to speak from experience.

"Anyways," Lou continued. "Your friend told me to cure the sickness you have. He was all 'you have to cure him. You're a magician. Do something' and I was all 'I know the sickness, but I'm no doctor. Hell, if doctors knew of a cure-all spell, then the world would be a better place now, ain't it? But that's not really the case.' He was fuming, and he stormed off someplace."

The best Ripley could do was nod.

"So tell me, Ripley, was it? Do you regularly sniff aether?"

Faced with that sudden question, Ripley was shocked.

"What?! No, why?"

"How did you even get a whiff of the stuff, anyway?" Lou leaned over, eager to listen to Ripley's side of the story.

"Well, my father gave me a box with a magic seal on it, and I used a mana potion to overload the circuit."

"Ooh, ingenious. Must have cost you a fortune to buy a single vial, eh?"

"No, Marlowe gave me one. He has a lot of them on him. Sometimes, he would give me some so that I could practice magic."

"You practice magic?" the mercenary almost jumped from shock. "That's very strange. Normally, you only hear of aspiring magicians in the Capital, but from the edge of the desert basin? Whoa. It's no wonder you know a lot about magic seals and whatnot."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, for starters, magic's rare. It's not really something you can teach to anyone. The Capital does checks on children to see if they harbor any potential, and those that do are carried off to the Goddess' temple, where they'll train for at least 10 years. When they reach adolescence, the chosen ones are asked to pick their magical discipline. Some go for the development of new spells, but most choose to use their magic in service of the Goddess. Then again, those that do end up serving Her go outside and join the Blue Army."

"Using magic in service of the Goddess? How do you even do that? She's disappeared after giving this skill to the human race." Ripley voiced his doubts. "I mean, don't get me wrong. It's not that I don't believe in Her, but are they really expecting Her return? Isn't just using Her gift to us enough to honor Her?"

"I have no idea either, but don't take it too personally, kid. It's not like everyone in the Capital is as devout as the Head Priests, and you're beginning to sound like them. You should probably join them sometime, give them a heads up."

"Ah- No, I can't." The young smith shook his head and panicked. "I still have a lot to learn about the Goddess. I only know as much as what my father told me about the history of magic."

"Aren't you being too humble? Come on, let me see what you can do. Show me your magic."

The mercenary pushed him on, and Ripley stood up from the bed. He made sure there were no obstructions around the room, and when he was done checking, he stood at the center. Lou simply watched from the side, curious about the potential magician from the edge of the desert.

The young smith closed his eyes and concentrated, clearing his mind. It's the first step in casting a magic spell, since the mind is the key tool in the manipulation of mana, the basic element of magic. As his father puts it, 'the clearer the mind, the more effective the spell,' and a stray thought would simply impede the casting process.

Then, the surrounding air swirled, and Ripley was emitting a faint, blue glow around him. This indicated that he had attuned his mana signature to the surroundings, and now, he was ready to cast. He stretched out his hand, and silently chanted a prayer.

"Oh Goddess of the Earth who hath blessed this land, may you shield me from my enemies and protect me from harm's way."

A luminous, square sheet appeared from Ripley's outstretched palm, growing in diameter as the seconds passed by. Once it reached a certain size, a second square appeared inside it. This continued on until the sheet encompassed the entire room, and a series of concentric squares were visible on it, forming a rose-like pattern.

"Not bad," Lou clapped at the spectacle. "It took you about 20 seconds to make that six-layered barrier. Honestly, I think you could do better than that."

And he hopped down from his hammock, stood beside Ripley and mimicked his pose, an as soon as he did, the same barrier formed on the mercenary's hand. What shocked the young smith was that his barrier, also a six-layered one, formed the very instant Lou stretched out his hand. This shocked him so much that his own barrier broke, and the feedback knocked him off balance.

"Don't feel bad," the mercenary reassured Ripley and picked him up. "You still have a lot of room to make up for. You're still young, after all."

"Were you just trying to show off your superior skill?" he answered back with a tinge of jealousy.

"You got me there," Lou laughed. "I can admit, though. You can't reach my level of casting. But if you'd like I can help you cast faster. Maybe have your friend join."

"Thanks, but Marlowe can't cast magic for some reason."

"Are you guys talking about me?" Marlowe entered the room, mealtray on hand. As soon as he saw Ripley up and about, he set down the tray and rushed to and asked a barrage of questions about his health.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm fine. Geez, Marlowe. You sound like a mother." Ripley furrowed his eyebrows.

"Good," Lou stretched out his back. "Now that we're all here, what say we finish breakfast and head back to where I found this sword?"

"Like right now?" Marlowe exclaimed.

"Yeah. You know, the sooner, the better. We might even come across the Blue Army before they even get to the Capital."

"But why?" Ripley questioned the mercenary. "Why would go this far to help me? I'm not even sure if I did the things you said I did."

"You don't have to think about it, kid. You hired me to rescue your dad, and that's all that matters right now. And you want to see for yourself, don't you? What happened to your house?"

With that said, Lou grabbed a plate from the mealtray, picked up the Nightjar sword sitting at the corner of the room, and headed outside.

"That guy sure is strange," Marlowe remarked. "His leg's not even fully healed yet. What were you two doing?"