Home  | Login  | Register  | Help  | Play 

Epic of the Qingslayer

 
Logged in as: Guest
  Printable Version
All Forums >> [Gaming Community] >> [Legends and Lore] >> Writers of Lore >> [The Bookshelves] >> Other Creative Prose >> Epic of the Qingslayer
Forum Login
Message << Older Topic   Newer Topic >>
9/10/2008 23:59:14   
Argeus the Paladin
Member

Prologue
The Qingslayer’s Exam


Every institution that the universe had known of would usually have its own way of informing those involved of a new day. The tenants and students of the Vladivoskovy Institute were acquainted to the tune of a fine, sharp and lengthy trumpet at exactly sunrise every day to mark that coming. While not very pleasant, and in fact, no alarm could ever be, the “Vlad bell” as people coined it had become a dominant trait of life in the Institute over its hundreds of years in existence.

Thomas Oldacre woke up to the bright sun of a new day with a large yawn, followed by a deep breath of nervousness. Looking around the place, the young man came to the realization that his other roommates were still habitually clinging to their warm blanket and pillow defiantly upon hearing the first round of trumpet. After all, classes would not begin before the end of the third round, so there was no visible incentive for them to get started yet. However, none of them were going to undergo what Thomas was expected to that day, effectively singling him out in his course of action. Thomas shook his head, as he jumped out of his dormitory bed, heading for the lavatory. It was time for a daily morning wash. Habitually, Thomas cupped a handful of water from the tap, throwing it over his face. As the clear water dripped off his drenched visage, it appeared in the mirror before him, half-cloaked away by the blanket of water over his pupils.

Compared to the so-handsome-that-they-appear effeminate-looking students in the Magic school, as well as to the hyper-muscular dudes taking up Bodybuilding classes, Thomas was absolutely average at best. As a greenhorn Knight Cadet, Thomas’ outer look sometimes even managed to betray him, especially the way his hair often came into other people’s judgement of him. The young man’s hair, having grown grey much before his time was due, seemed to have logically contradicted the fact that he was no older than twenty-two, and whose real-life battle experience was as good as non-existent. Not only did that fact deny him of any chance for female companionship, like his comrades, but it also ruined a great deal of anyone’s first impression of him, as everyone would be convinced that walking next to a young knight with hair almost as white as a retiree would more likely than not guarantee no implications of safety. Regardless, Thomas never had the intention to dye it black, for reasons he would rather keep to himself.

Thomas spent a good deal of time looking at the mirror, examining every corner of his innately average looking face, towel in hand so as to wipe, clean, and do away with any messy implication he could find with it. Needless to say, his white hair could not be helped with too much, and in the end, the Knight Cadet found himself cursing his aging hair a little. Normally, Thomas would care not about how he looked- a student who could attend class with an uncombed hair and unwashed face could very well go on for a good time without much grooming needed. But that day was special to Thomas- a day when his dream would start to be realized, at least in the first steps. It was not one of those days you would want your outer look to mess up everything. On that day, he was to overcome his final challenge in combat prowess before he could graduate from the Vladivoskovy School of Applied Warfare as a Knight of Actual Combat majoring in Single Fighting Tactics.

It took Thomas no time at all to get dressed in the Institute’s uniform- a military trench coat and steel helmet to match it with. That day, Thomas’ usual question of “Why must we wear this junk that has nothing to do with an armored Knight’s training” was unremarkably dropped from his agenda, as the Cadet grabbed his weapon of choice- a standard-issue one handed short sword and a wooden buckler- and zoomed out of the bedroom. Nervousness and eagerness had seized control of the cadet’s legs, and as a result, he unconsciously covered roughly half a mile from his dorm room to the examination venue on campus in less than five minutes, past the beautiful and well cared for garden of the Institute without even a glance back. As he ran, the Knight-to-be felt the air of specialness as well as anxiety rushing into his mind- as if the Gothic keeps and ancient buildings of the Institute were all following the footstep of another graduate. After all, how could he not feel the elitism in his every move, when only roughly twenty percent of those enrolled would ever make it through to the final examination round, and how could he not be anxious, as even fewer would pass the exam to become a full-fledged Knight? And that is not to mention that the School of Applied Warfare had the highest on-campus casualties rate and lowest pass rate of them all.

The venue of the exam was a huge colosseum in the middle of the campus, serving both as the heart of Vladivoskovy’s student life and the most brutal testing ground of the school. Last year’s exam resulted in four students suffering from permanently severed limbs, three enduring post-trauma amnesia, and five hospitalized due to internal organ damage, as well as around a couple of dozen other minor injuries. And every so often someone would end up losing his life, their graves still lining up along the southern entrance of the building. And yet, a promising future for those having survived with a degree would mean that the school would still attract students. Thomas couldn’t help but gasp a little at the sight of the graves of the worst of those having failed the final exam.

”I wouldn’t die before I can get his head on my platter,” Thomas calmed himself down, “A little challenge like this would never stop me. Ever.”

With those thoughts of self assurance, Thomas Oldacre proudly presented himself along the southern entrance of the stadium, his student ID ready in hand, ready for any challenge that would pose itself before him. A long, dimly lit corridor smelt of old moss and excess moisture was what confronted him next, a sight Thomas had been used to seeing, but also what was inevitably making his heart beat faster. Finally, after a walk that appeared to have lasted a century, Thomas ended up standing in front of his destination. A wooden door with a noteworthy engraving was perhaps the only thing between him and his fate by now.

“Room 2031, KSJ Colosseum,” Thomas read out aloud, “This must be it.”

“Come in,” a voice sounded beyond the door, to Thomas’ startling. Whoever was in the room must have heard his voice, as Thomas didn’t have a habit to speak softly when preoccupied with thoughts. Taking a deep breath as the mossy air entered his lungs, skyrocketing his psyche even further, Thomas reached for the door knob, turned it, and opened the very old oak door, before presenting himself inside the chamber.

What appeared before him was completely different from his impression of the corridor. The old-fashioned, antique gateway concealed behind it a room built with extremely advanced technology, under the influence of modern architecture and art. Gone was the mossy, dark and damp hallway, in this spacious room what hit Thomas first and foremost was a tough, heavy-duty mainframe with all sorts of machinery connected to it, bleeping and flaring on a secondly basis, apparently made for specialist purpose. It was rumored by the school’s students that the sort of machines in the testing center was able to even measure a living human’s heartbeat and brainwave wirelessly. The training dummy in the middle of the room could, if anything, help add the sense of post-modernity to the already high-tech environment, continuously switching its signal lights on and off, denoting each region on the human body accurately to the millimeter, allowing a perfect evaluation of the damage dealt and impact of a delivered hit. On the ceiling, light and heat-sensitive cameras were there, in order to deliver the best of technique evaluation to the examiner in charge. Though Thomas’ lecture and tutorial halls themselves enjoyed a good degree of high-tech equipment, they were nowhere close to the level available in the room. Once again, the cadet gasped, this time due to the sheer astonishment.

“Mr. Thomas H. Oldacre, Student ID Number U4692111, am I right?” the person sitting in front of the computer turned back, facing the examinee, with an official question in a friendly tone. The school official, nowhere older than forty, with a friendly smile, in contradiction to his rather stern look, an uniformly distributed attribute of all lecturers and tutors of the Vladivoskovy Institute, was obviously the one who would be overseeing his final exam and responsible for his testing procedures.

“Y…yes, sir. I am Thomas,” the cadet said anxiously, glancing at the official in charge.

“Good day, Cadet. I am Professor Bushodo Hikaru, your examiner,” the school official stated, “If I got myself correctly, you are the only cadet from the School of Applied Combat of ours to have passed the Single Combat Tactic exam with maximum score this year. I congratulate you on that result.”

“But that doesn’t guarantee that you would pass this exam safe and sound,” Professor Hikaru said, after a pause, “You know what happened to Jonas McDonald last year, don’t you?”

“He was the one who lost both arms in the exam…” Thomas shivered a little.

“…And yet he was not at all a bad learner. Having taught him for a semester I know that,” Professor Hikaru emphasized, “Do you know what that means?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll do my best!” Thomas nodded, trying to control his confidence.

“Now then, I believe you have got all your theories ready and waiting, don’t you?” Professor Hikaru smiled, walking slowly towards the mainframe as he spoke.

“I am ready, sir!” Thomas reassured.

“But then, still, you are the pride of our faculty this year, and none of the staff would like to see you fail,” said the helpful examiner, “So, I would like to give you a little revision on what you have learnt in the past years before we start. Let us try a small warm up first, shall we?”

With the computer keyboard just an arm’s reach from him, the examiner pressed a button, and before Thomas could realize what was happening, the background of the room turned black, and all the mechanical equipment, as well as the examiner, vanished from his sight, save for the training dummies. In due time, though, the dummies flashed brightly, and in a matter of seconds, before Thomas appeared a couple of seemingly hostile slimy gel monsters.

“You are now in virtual reality mode, Cadet Oldacre,” Thomas could hear the professor’s voice from beyond the background, “Sorry if the announcement sounded redundant, but this is the time for you to hone back your skills before the actual test. Make sure you are fine with your stats and weapon before you go on.”

“My stats…”

“As I can see from the monitor here, you are currently a Level 1 Knight with 10 Strength and 5 Intellect. Remarkable stats for someone of your skill level, as I say,” Professor Hikaru continued, “Do you remember the Hit Point and Mana Accumulation rule, as well as the Base and Weapon Damage Addition Rule?”

“Yes, sir!” Thomas answered confidently, remembering the various lessons he had spent on the topic, “My HP and MP are both exactly ten times my Strength and Intellect, respectively! My Strength and Intellect would also act as my primary stat modifier, officially called Base Damage Modifier for my attack damage! If I use a melee weapon, my BDM would be equal to my Strength, and similarly with magic weapon and Intellect!”

“Very good. Currently, you are using a Vladivoskovsky Standard Issue short sword, which adds 3 points to your attack. Not a bad choice, I see. Could you tell me why you chose this weapon?”

“Yes, sir! Though the sword has potentially the lowest Weapon Damage, it has the highest BDM bonus and suffers no other weapon penalty, unlike the Axe and the Lance!!”

“You memorized your lessons well. Yes, a Sword would give you 120% BDM, and thusly, your current damage is 10 x 120% + 3, equalling 15 points of damage. But having passed the tactics exam with such a high score, I understand that you would not underestimate the use of armors, shields and other defensive equipment! Please state why.”

“Because armors and shields are highly efficient to make sure we survive longer in the field, sir!” Thomas replied enthusiastically, “And surviving longer would mean having more to dish out in terms of damage!”

“Excellent. I hope that you haven’t forgotten the benefit of high stats, have you?”

“Never, sir! A high Strength would allow me to gain Stat armor, which mean making it harder for enemies to do me serious damage, and the formula is SA = Strength/10!”

“Perfect, Mr. Oldacre,” praised the examiner, “Therefore, with the Wooden Buckler that you are wielding, which gives an additional 1 armor, you now have a defense rating of 2! You know what that means, I insist?”

“That means all attacks directed at me, if they are physical, will deal 2 point less in terms of damage!” Thomas replied.

“Very well then. The slimes that I released before you each has 3 Strength and 0 Intellect, giving them 3 attack damage, 30 HP and zero armor,” Professor Hikaru said, “Well-prepared as you are, you should have little problem confronting them, do you? Go on ahead and demonstrate what you have got.”

“Yes, sir!” Thomas replied, and in a flash, the knight in training had already set upon what he thought fit. Six attacks went home as Thomas cut through each and every of his enemies, reducing them to a mess of gooey liquid, suffering minimal damage in the meantime. No sooner than the last foe had fallen than Thomas heard Professor Hikaru again.

“Congratulations, Mr. Oldacre,” Professor Hikaru said joyfully, “Let us do that again, but a little differently, alright?”

With those words heard, Thomas looked back to find the three enemies of his reviving themselves on the ground, as fit and healthy as ever, ready for another battle.

“Tell me, Mr. Oldacre,” Professor Hikaru questioned, “What is the Theory of Charged Assault like?”

“Yes, sir!” Thomas replied, “A Charged Assault occurs when and only when a warrior sacrifice a turn’s precious time in combat to focus in the weapon he wields. The resulting attack would not only do much more damage than two cumulative blows, but would render some extremely useful effects as well! This sword of mine, for example, when charged, will be able to deliver up to 250% Base and Weapon damage as well as totally negating enemy defense for the duration of the attack!”

“Therefore, when your blade is charged up, you shall do as much as 250% x 15 = 37.5, rounded to 38, points of damage, negating the opponent’s armor, at the price of one turn doing nothing. You know how this is used, right?”

“I can demonstrate, sir!” Thomas said confidently, as he brandished his blade and rushed into the fray. His charged tactic was more than effective this time: As Thomas neglected the onslaught of the slimy foes, his blade glowed with the collective power of concentration, and the resulting cleave looked as if it could cut through the toughest of hides. The resulting shockwave would slice through the enemies, dissecting each and every slime into two portions, bringing an even earlier victory than before. As on his behalf, Thomas suffered not even a visible injury.

“Very well, very well indeed, Mr. Oldacre. You are almost ready for the exam now.” The examiner’s voice sounded again, upon the death of the last foe.

“Almost, sir?”

“There is just one more thing I’d like to make known before you enter combat…”

“I am ready for anything now, sir!” Thomas twirled his blade defiantly - the white-haired Knight of Actual Combat had an unmistakable habit of doing so in any fit of excitement.

There was a brief pause, as Thomas supposed the professor was preparing his paperwork from the blackness beyond. After all, it was an important exam, and somehow Thomas got the feeling that what hint the professor was giving him was not completely legal.

“Pay attention, Thomas Oldacre, as this last hint is among the two only things that separate a graduate from a failer, or a fortunate failer who lives and one who isn’t quite so,” Professor Hikaru’s voice sounded solemnly at last, as ceremonial as Thomas could have expected, “We call that Combat Skills. If you truly deserved the record-high score that you have attained, you should be able to know what that means, don’t you?”

“I can never forget it, sir!” Thomas sighed in relief upon hearing the question. After all, he was the only cadet who got full score in the section concerning Combat Skills in the theoretical exam, giving him sole right to brag about the subject to his schoolmates.

“You shall need it in order to pass the final exam,” Professor Hikaru asserted from beyond the shadowy virtual reality “Tell me briefly what you know about Combat Skills and how to apply it.”

“Combat Skills are the core of battle for a Vladivoskovy Student as well as any other. It involves the use of our weapons, body and mind correlating with our specialty so as to create the optimum combat effect to our desire!” Thomas replied firmly- having read the book for hundreds of times, he now knew the definition almost by heart.

“That is exactly the definition as mentioned in Principles of Combat Skills, Book One, by Mikhail J. Kutuzov,” Professor Hikaru said, “Tell me further if you can. What is it that you know beyond the book?”

“My primary Combat Skill is the Critical Combo skill. It allows me to do 150% Base and 200% Weapon damage in one turn for either 5 MP or 5 HP, whichever still remains at the time of execution,” Thomas presented proudly.

“I see. No doubt, that is the signature skill of any Knight of Actual Combat,” Professor Hikaru replied coolly, “If you use it well, then you stand a high chance of passing the exam without a scratch.”

“I understand, but… Could I start the exam now, sir?” Thomas asked impatiently as he twisted the handle of his blade- the white-haired knight-to-be had never been too patient to begin with.

All of a sudden, Thomas felt an abnormal silence covering and overshadowing the entire space. For a couple of seconds, quietness reigned upon the virtual reality cyber space around the knight-to-be, so haunting that he could hear a pin drop. Naturally, Thomas felt that he had spoken something he shouldn’t have… or did he?

Fortunately, the silence didn’t last for too long, and so did the darkness. No more than half a minute since the instance, all the lights in the room was switched on, dispersing the darkness in its wake, and in Thomas’ eyes, objects in the real world started to visualize and materialize, respectively. From his experience with the virtual reality mode, Thomas quickly came to the realization that the cyber space “test”, “evaluation”, “hint”, or whatever it could be called, has come to an abrupt end. And there next to the computer, the figure of a both-serious-and-kind test giver was standing, with a smile of approval that Thomas was not yet able to fully comprehend.

“Cadet Thomas Han Oldacre, you have successfully passed the Oral section of the examination with full score. This means that you are now entitled to go on with the Combat Experience section of the exam,” Professor Hikaru said ceremoniously, to Thomas’ astonishment.

“What? There is… an Oral section to the final Exam?” Thomas Oldacre gasped in astonishment, “Why didn’t I know about this?”.

“The reason is simple, Cadet Oldacre,” Professor Hikaru’s explained, finally clearing up Thomas’ doubts “Due to the excessive number of casualties every year, many of which is caused by ignorance in terms of combat theory or lack of application know-how, this year, the Institute is carrying out a new policy. Each student, before taking the final exam, must overcome an Oral section. If he passes, he would proceed with the norm. If he fails, he automatically fails the exam. The point is, the student is not to know about his being given an oral test, for reasons too obvious. As you see, the Oral test was given to you without you realizing that you are being examined…”

“So…” Thomas said in an absence of other words to say.

“You had better get yourself ready now, Cadet Oldacre,” Professor Hikaru said, “Because your final exam is tough and, in a way, still dangerous even to one of your calibre. This is when your theory can help you no more. This is when the second difference between the passer and the failer comes into effect.”

“What is this… second difference?” Thomas asked blankly- probably it was his excitement and nervousness speaking.

“Use your head, Cadet Oldacre. You must know when to use what,” said Professor Hikaru, “Well, your exam venue is beyond the door over there at the end of this room.”

“I am ready, sir,” Thomas said, swinging his shield over his shoulder.

“I could only wish you best of luck now, Cadet Oldacre,” Professor Hikaru concluded in a friendly tone.

“Thank you, sir,” Thomas smiled confidently, “I will pass for sure.”

With those words, Thomas proceeded towards the door at the end of the chamber, knowing that behind the door lay his final challenge and the last barrier to his graduation. After the door opened with an electronic blip, the hallway that presented itself before him was treaded with brisk, wide steps of both haste and impatience. Excitement and nervousness, as well as a sizable degree of eagerness had turned the Cadet’s eyes from the normally remarkable corridor leading towards the final testing venue- a steel-built corridor with a considerably large amount of built-in electronic equipment that kept blipping and switching on and off in tandem with the cadet’s steps. In barely a minute, Thomas reached the end of the hallway, presenting himself before a huge, forbidding portcullis- or rather an electronically controlled door resembling one, for the sake of creating the atmosphere. A jolt of tingling shock was sent through Thomas’ body as he reached for the control unit next to the beautifully and realistically crafted gateway, as the cadet felt his heart beating faster than ever before, as anxiousness and a little fright started to enter his train of thoughts.

However, he was in no position to back off. Decisively, Thomas Oldacre stepped before the gateway while pressing the combination of buttons denoting his Student ID Number hastily. With a chime of confirmation from the control unit when the last key was entered, the magnificent steel structure before him started to rumble majestically, before opening up slowly but mightily, lifting its steel prongs off the ground with deafening noises. In due time, the portcullis was fully drawn, revealing whatever beyond it to the cadet. Thomas, confronted by what titanic happening before him, knew of just one thing. He had come all his way to Vladivoskovy to learn what he needed to achieve his dreams, had spent three tough and hard years to learns, and had worked hard and diligently enough in the past time to not back up now. Decisively, wringing up all the confidence he could muster at the moment, Thomas slowly and courageously stepped into the opening, and then continued the last few yards past the last stretch of hallway, before sunlight from the outdoors was able to blur his vision.

After the cadet had adjusted to the sunlight and took a good look around, what presented itself before him was shocking at least: The knight-to-be now was standing on a sunlit, circular and extremely spacious sandy ground, a Colosseum norm. But in the sky, an airship-shaped structure was circling around the perimeter, and from the looks of things, it was also rigged with electronic equipment built solely for the purpose of supervision and evaluation. Thomas Oldacre was supposed to fight someone in this arena, with the only audience being the electronic behemoth above him. But Thomas didn’t have too much time to question, as no sooner had he taken a firm footing in the arena than the airship began an announcement.

“Cadet Thomas Han Oldacre, Student ID 4692111, you are to fight the examiner codenamed Cyber Paladin for your final examination. You are only allowed to bring one primary arm and one secondary arm equipment into the exam arena. If you have brought in any excess, you can dispose of it now. Any sign of cheating or unethical behaviour in the examination arena will result in instant failure. Remember that you are marked primarily not on the basis of graceful and beautiful moves, but rather on how effectively you neutralize your enemy. Plan your attacks well based on this ground.”

“Cyber Paladin?” Thomas pondered, “Who is this…”

Before Thomas could finish his train of thought, the distinctive sound of someone teleporting into the middle of the arena was heard, and Thomas’ attention was immediately drawn towards this appearance. Now, before him stood a fully armored knight, with a heavy shield and large, imposing two-handed axe, which he wielded by just one hand. A heavy steel visor concealed the opponent’s face, while offering perfect protection to the face and upper neck. Greaves and heavy gauntlets dashed out Thomas’ last hopes in finding a way through the opponent’s limbs, to offer a final conclusion. From the first look, it appeared that there was no way for Thomas to emerge victorious in this battle. The second look, though, was even more depressing: The airship above the two fighters, by then, had finally finished the primary analysis of the test taker and the tester, and the stats of both competitors were now on display on the airship’s attached LCD, which read:

Thomas Han Oldacre, ID 4692111: Strength 10, Intellect 5, HP: 100, MP: 50
Equipment: Short Sword, Wooden Shield, BDM 12, Weapon Damage 3, Shield Defense 1, Total Damage 12+3, Total Defense 1+1

Cyber Paladin, Examiner: Strength 12, Intellect 0, HP: 120, MP: 0
Equipment: Two-handed Great Axe, Heavy Tower, Heavy Legging, Heavy Gloves, Heavy Visor, BDM 12-6, Weapon Damage 10, Armor Defense 5, Shield Defense 5, Helm Defense 3, Other Defense 3, Total Damage 12+4, Total Defense 1+5+5+3+3”

With that kind of awfully flawed stats, even a child would know that Thomas’ attacks could graze the enemy’s armor at best. Frustrated, the Cadet started to realize why so many casualties would take place at school every year- they were basically pitched against overwhelming enemies. For his case, Thomas, a fighter who relied on weapons and strength to do damage, was placed against a complete tank. For a second, Thomas wondered if the school administrators were in their right minds…

There was no time for questioning though, for the Cyber Paladin started his assault as soon as the starting signal was given out. In two charges, he was able to do major damage to the Cadet, while Thomas was doing one-HP-attacks every time. In his right mind, Thomas realized that in order to knock down his foe, he needed to strike a total of 118 more blows, in which time, the Cyber Paladin would be able to kill off a dozen Thomases with impunity. After all, was there any way for him to beat the monster? Not being able to answer, the third charge ended with Thomas taking another major hit, and still he hadn’t been able to do anything better. At that rate, Thomas was going to join the crowd at the cemetery sooner than he could dream of.

It was then that Thomas recollected Professor Hikaru’s words. Truly, if exams were that rigged and unbeatable, how could so many Knights, Mages and Combatants graduate every year, many of whom were able to establish major careers later on, as shown in the Institute Halls of Fame? And so, it made much sense that the battle was to be won by cleverly using one’s skills to outmaneuver the enemy, not by out-tanking or out-nuking them. Thinking so, Thomas quickly leaped up, avoiding the Cyber Paladin’s next blow, dashing a few yards from his threat, and, upon realization that the danger was no longer imminent, started planning his next move.

Analyzing his foe on the ground of the LCD stats display, Thomas realized that, stat-wise, the Cyber Paladin was not that great. He only beat Thomas by two points in strength, and had no intellect. Furthermore, his effort to wield a two-handed weapon with one hand while wearing super heavy armor and a shield to top it with basically reduced his BDM drastically, to the point that his direct attack was not so much of a big threat. The only strength that the Cyber Paladin possessed was an extremely durable armor. However, even that tank isn’t flawless. After all, Thomas DID have a move to overcome that imposing defense…

Straightening up his heavily beaten up trench coat and capsized helm, Thomas stood up, and, contrary to the Cyber Paladin’s expectation, stood still without doing anything. Quickly dismissing Thomas’ actions as giving up, the Cyber Paladin once again opened his charge, and his next, fourth blow managed to reduce Thomas’ HP to merely 44. In another four turns, Thomas would be finished for sure.

What the Cyber Paladin didn’t realize, though, was the eerie and dangerously mysterious green glow that started on the tip of Thomas’ weapon. The beam of green glow quickly covered the full length of the blade, and once the Cyber Paladin was able to tell the truth, it was already too late. Thomas raised his weapon to the air, causing the green glow to finalize into a full-blown lightning-shaped blade, and when it landed on the Cyber Paladin, resulted in a terrific crash. But unlike the last times, this time, Thomas’ blade sank right through the armor, delivering what appeared to be a critical blow, virtually knocking the Cyber Paladin back writhing in pain with a good hole in all his defensive equipment.

The wise Thomas, this time, had chosen to utilize a Charged Attack. Executing it simultaneously with the Critical Combo signature primary ability, Thomas was able to unleash an armor-cleaving blow that did (12 x 150% x 250%) + (3 x 200% x 250%) = 60 points of damage, effectively both negated the imposing, unbalanced armor that the Cyber Paladin placed much pride in, as well as shaving off half of his HP in just one blow. The price of the attack, though, was a measly 10 mana and a turn spent standing like a silly sitting duck.

The verdict was then simple, as the table is now completely turned: In another two turns, the Cyber Paladin would be defeated for sure, when the Cadet spent another turn charging up his blade and delivering another critical, to which the Cyber Paladin’s defense wouldn’t work. Due to his lack of Combat Skill and mana, the Cyber Paladin had exhausted all his options to do otherwise. Fight as he must, he would still lose in two turns to come, as there was no way for him to defeat Thomas in the little time he had left. And the school computer seemed to have calculated the outcome…

“The exam has ended decisively before time is due because of a foreseeable inevitable outcome!” boomed the airship’s vocal device, “To avoid further damage to all concerned party, we hereby conclude Cadet Thomas Han Oldacre’s Final Exam. Cadet Oldacre, Student ID 4692111, is now declared pass with perfect score!”

Thomas Oldacre stood still, frozen by the suddenness of the declaration, wondering if he had heard the right thing. He had won, after all. For a moment, the event appeared to Thomas both as something unbelievable and yet had to somehow come as a matter of course. With the Cyber Paladin downtrodden, his armor badly damaged and his flesh badly scarred by the charge, yielding to the might and intellect that the cadet could proudly announced as his own, Thomas stood victoriously in the center of the ring, his still flashing short sword waving triumphantly in the air.

"Mothers... Fathers... I have completed the inevitable in your names..." Thomas Oldacre almost wept with joy as the news came to him like an unbearable rejoicement, "I have finally attained the degree of a Knight of Actual Combat... After this day, Qianlong would wish he had never been born and crowned..."

For the rest of that day, Thomas Oldacre was in a state of mental ecstasy, being more excited and hyped than he had ever been before. For a couple of hours, the cadet failed to control his movement, and in the end, found himself doing a ten-round sprint around the entire campus in a skyhigh mood, laughing and shouting hysterically as his steps pounded rapidly on the cobbled road, disregarding the oblivious bystanders staring at him cluelessly. His attitude was so over the top that had it not been for the now common knowledge that he had passed the final exam with top score, everyone could have written his reaction down as mental disorder. Still, it was strange, as his reaction that day totally clashed with the normally mature and silent personality that Thomas always displayed throughout the academic adventure.

Though any graduate would always behave in such a manner when his adventure at a learning institution finally came to an end, Thomas' behavior was more than just a relief after the study-crazed period was finally all over. For in his eyes, an observant bystander could readily recognize something abnormal, something sinister, something inhuman- a crave for carnage and vengeance. Thomas' wild howl as he treaded the school ground was later on described as "savage and reeked of bloodlust". Without doubt, this man was to bring about the death of an entire empire- just by his own will.

*****




< Message edited by Argeus the Paladin -- 10/3/2008 4:33:44 >
DF  Post #: 1
9/11/2008 0:00:23   
Argeus the Paladin
Member

Chapter 1
Meeting in the Yard



For the rest of the week, the final exam went on, with mixed results. Like any other tests, the Vladivoskovy Final Examination had its own Distinctions, Honors, Credits as well as inevitable Fails. The only difference, however, was that those who didn’t come up to the standard often had to suffer terrible injuries during the ordeal. However, the new school policy seemed to have somehow worked for the students well- the death, serious injury and permanent maiming rate was reduced from 25% to only about 5%- as those who were deemed unprepared by means of the oral test were kicked out of the exam chamber before it could even begin.

For those who had somehow passed the challenge by any means and at any price, the remainder of the week was a period of unnecessarily prolonged anxiety and eagerness. Every passers- including those who incurred a Pyhrric Victory in the exam- looked forward to the end-of-year ball. Like all other institutions’ end-of-year proms, it was a time for students to gather round, have fun, have a good time, speak their mind, and say goodbye to their buddies. And unlike most others, Vladivoskovy’s prom was something greater and far more dominating in terms of importance.

It was the time for future prominent “employers”, kings and queens, lords and marquesses, or generals and marshals from all over the worlds to pay a visit to the so-called “omniversal barracks” to recruit their champions-to-be. The school would then gain a monthly commission based on the salary that the employers were willing to pay, until the student ceased service to the above master. This sum of earning was in fact the major revenue that the institution received, or so that was how it had been going on for hundreds of years. Commenting on that tradition, the well-known lecturer whose name was given to the main examination venue, Professor K.S. Jerome, was known to have said, “We are making a full profit by this ball, or so the Board of Directors said. Then I suppose raising students is just a production process to the school as weaving a shirt or casting a missile is to a military factory”. That profoundly established fact was sufficient to transform a supposedly student-centered on-campus festivity into a completely for-profit, marketing-centered institutional activity, effectively “marketing” their best students to the highest bidding liege lords.

However, naturally, most students were only too eager to be treated in that way. After all, what is the purpose of studying and enduring the rigor and hardship of a military academy, before risking your life in an impossibly insane exam, save for finding a great warlord to serve and make your name in their quests? Those who got the contract would have undoubtedly won big, some of whom eventually rose to fame, glory, their names carved straight into the eternal stream of history. Those who didn’t were not that fortunate, having to venture the lands on their own, or enlist in one of the lords’ armies as rank and file soldiers only to be commanded by those they once called schoolmates. However, that was where things often went awry. Besides a glance at the students’ academic record, the choices of those “employers” were usually completely random and self-interest-based. Over the ages, some of the potential “employers” were even shown to have almost no military knowledge whatsoever. Even to those who had, only a lucky few would get the honor- after all, the lords only had that much money to hire new knights and warriors every year. The randomness of the whole idea was enough to make even the most distinguished student tremble in worries.

In the melting pot of a host of different, conflicting emotions during the week, whereas the whole school was boiling from the hyped expectations and long-term anxiety, Thomas Oldacre stood from the crowd even than he had usually. Strangely enough, Thomas felt almost nothing about the upcoming events. It wouldn’t matter to him if no master would have him for a knight. It wouldn’t matter to him if his entire education would bring about no economic benefit. It wouldn’t even make a difference if he would not rise to fame and glory, in the constant wars that were forging the multitude of worlds and planes around. His goals were something greater, more comprehensive, and would involve an even much bigger war than the summation of all the conflicts about to take place in the next century…

After the wild celebration of the seemingly unbelievable one-hit perfect pass of his final exam, the newly graduate of the School of Applied Combat was found to be sitting in his private corner- his dormitory bed, without seeing anyone, saying a word, or even displaying any degree of anxiety at all. As the week slowly and passed, trying the patience and mental stability of his friends and mates, the white-haired warrior was still there, calm and collected, as silent as a statue sculptured by the very storm of sorrow and anxiety unlike any other beneath his skin. To think of it, his inner tempest of anguish, sorrow, hatred and vengeance was the primary factor that had, all those years, been shaping his personality as much as it had painted his hair to an almost lifelessly white color. The hatred directed towards a brutal, heartless and relentless human wearing a gold-gilded robe, on a golden throne in a golden palace, surrounded by golden chain-mailed elite guards and hell-bent on securing his throne just for his family for all eternity was what was driving him in the course all along.

“It was now the end of it all. I will repay a thousand times what you have done to those I loved. I will tear your prideful throne to shreds and make sure no one could ever fly your eight disgustingly colorful flag again. Not one” was the dominating, repetitive thought in Thomas’ mind. A maddening thought it was, and in fact, many people had been driven to insanity from just listening to that inner voice. Yet, having experienced that madness for almost a decade, the white haired knight had grown used to it- as if he was drinking the maniacal whisper in the bottom of his soul like a refreshing beverage.

“You hear me, Qianlong? You hear me? I shall be your end! Remember my name!” mentally exclaimed Thomas, whenever he reached the climax of his stormy self-reflection, “You should vanish from the face of this earth for all I can care!”

In such a cloud of unfathomable mystery and a state of turmoil, with dangerously violent and maddening thoughts in the inside, Thomas Oldacre sat there, motionlessly and emotionlessly for long hours, with a heart burning for a purpose no one could understand, as he awaited a history-changing course of action…

******


The much awaited day finally was about to commence as the week drew slowly and heavily to an end. Sooner than enough, the outlying motels around the school’s premises were getting packed with famous or influential personnel, from prestigious royal families, warlike bloodlines, great armies or mysterious mage guilds. In their wake came a corresponding number of gold-laden caravans, invariably planned to be used to make the necessary purchases. No doubt, what was going to happen in the following day would result in a massive transfer of cash and student assets to and from the school.

The seemingly peaceful environment around the school was still maintained, but in the same time, was somewhat similar to the calm before a great storm. Political opponents among the lot were, even before the “auction” could even begin, planning in the dire shadow of their own convoy on how to outsmart, outmaneuver and outpay their enemies. The same thing happened in another way within the walls of the campus, as people who were normally friends started to plot behind one anothers’ backs, in order to win a ticket to a position in any employer’s contingency of men in the event. As for the school, great efforts were being made so as to maintain security in and around the domain during and after the event. In the past, attempts had been made by bands of terrorists or enemies of those participating in the “auction”, and once every so often one or more lords would return home not on foot, on horseback, or by magical portal, but in a hastily built coffin. At that moment, no doubt a visitor to the school would be infected with the hype and eagerness hanging in the air in a blink of an eye.

Finally, the glorious, memorable and eventful ceremony was beginning. The fact that it was both a festivity and a warrior fair gave it a sensation of both- the multitude of decorations and the exclamations of joy as well as the shady calculations and sparkling gold coins seemed to have fully dominated the place outside and inside, respectively. To some of the participant, however, the event was only one of the two.

Undoubtedly, the politicians lining up outside the place weighing their coins and pondering which knight they would choose for their contingency cared next to nothing about the festivity sense of the prom. So were the power-hungry and high-hoping students who detached themselves from the rest of their classmates only to put up an act, a display of courage, wisdom or strength, in the hope of catching the attention and favor of an unsuspecting employer-to-be. The lords and generals themselves had their own way of prowling the ceremony, by carefully- in a sense- gazing all around the premise, with eagle-eyed keenness, with the single purpose of finding a diamond from the general pile of gravels. The calculating side of the festivity all knew too well that the end of the day might as well open up a great change in the fate of all those concerned.

However, a sizable population of students were not too interested by the various patrons scouring the campus, as they gathered around the front yard of the KSJ Colosseum with their friends-for-life, some chatting away merrily, some playing end-year hoaxes to their partners, trying to enjoy the last day of student life to the fullest. There were tears of both joy and regret, laments of both unilateral love and unfulfilled dreams, promises of both unbreakable friendship and endearing comradeship, as well as bright eyes of unfaltering faith and an unshakable belief in a promising future, in the last scenic meeting as a student. For a moment, the multitude of sounds of all pitches, tones and volumes seemd to be large and distracting enough to block out the loud music playing in the background. Those parting friends’ thought was simple: After all, they didn’t live, endure and undergo all the years and challenges in Vladivoskovy together just to say a plain good-bye to one another.

And among those who still considered the prom just a final time for a party before parting the school were Thomas Oldacre’s best friends, Iteru Hikaru and Misagi Ganyuta, both of whom now graduates of the School of Technical Combat Theory and Application majoring in Cybernetic Technology. Upholding a true sense of academic camaraderie and unfaltering care for their friends, it was no surprise that the duo quickly realized the absence of their best mate from the otherwise magnificent atmosphere. Thomas Han Oldacre was away from the place he ought to have been, and there were no other note regarding his disappearance.

“Did you see Thomas anywhere, Iteru?” Misagi’s intelligent, yet sharp, high pitched and inquiring voice seemed to have cut through the cloud of imposing noise around the garden, as the girl’s long, pinkish-red hair fluttered in the light breeze of late spring.

“Thomas? He systematically vanished from our sight for the duration of the last week, and not before scaring the living hell out of the whole school with the… wild celebration that he threw up,” Iteru replied, playfully rubbing his signature light blue bandana, lurking beneath the mass of slightly messy brown hair of the graduate, “I wonder what he is up to.”

“We all know too well that it is not like Thomas to plan any joke or prank at all,” Misagi shook her head, walking in circle rather difficultly in her uncomfortable white formal long dress, and a high-heeled pair of shoes that always got in the way, “Have you ever seen him taking anyone in for April’s Fool?”

“I agree that the opposite happens every year, but still…” Iteru said, his eyes flaring in a little disbelief, while displaying a corresponding degree of discomfort as he uttered every word- certainly the thick, tough, stiff and itchy black lounge suit his father had passed down to him was not his cup of tea, “Thomas is behaving rather oddly these days, don’t you think?”

“He is always odd, Iteru. Always being the key word,” Misagi’s voice turned sour and critical, “And in case you forgot, I am looking forward to his promise.”

“How could I? That was one of the main reasons why I really looked forward to this party,” Iteru brushed off coolly, “It is intriguing to hear the tale of his otherwise mysterious past… it rather sounds like the introduction clip of a film noir

“Harrumph!” Misagi ceremoniously cleared her throat, “That is NOT a good thing to say about our friend!”

“Well, you said he was odd in the first place,” teased Iteru, after which his voice abruptly returned to seriousness, “Back to business- I do believe that he is… planning something. For sure.”

“I surrender,” Misagi shook her head, “If he were a girl I’d have been able to guess.”

“You’d get old and grey guessing, Misa-kun,” Iteru smiled mischievously, “Anyway, the actual party wouldn’t commence for another hour. Why don’t we go check on him in the meantime?”

******


The small courtyard in front of Thomas’ dormitory was almost empty at this time of the day- almost all students had gotten dressed and polished for the prom, and the evening breeze was supposedly alone to sing the tale of the end-year scenario. Yet, strangely enough, the place was not as quaint and undisturbed as it was supposed to be, as in a vast opening close to the entrance to the building still stood lone, shady, mysterious, yet otherwise extremely solemn figure. Under the faint moonlight of late spring, the ghastly and inhumanly white hair of the seemingly antagonistic figure would strike skepticism or even fear into the heart of any observer. Yet, compared to the rest of the scenario, his bleached hair was but a minor trace of weirdness. Before him, on a student table brought from a nearby classroom, lay a makeshift altar made from a student food tray, nonetheless formal and ritualistic from the new black layer of paint it wore. A bowl of uncooked rice with three lit incense sticks carefully placed in it was one striking feature of the altar, and an old, steel, yet discolored and badly scarred helmet next to it was the other.

The helmet itself was an endless source of inquiry- the design, decoration and even the alloy compound were foreign to most people in Vladivoskovy. Nevertheless, from its rich design and features, some of which including a curling dragon on the forehead and the twin turtles for the ear patch, it could be concluded that only the most highly decorated and honored generals, regardless of army or affiliation, could be entitled to such a treasure. How it ended up broken, scarred, and almost trashed like this was beyond comprehension. Regardless, to the figure standing there solemnly in military pose, the trashed helmet was like a sacred relic, or something even more than that. Now, before the mysterious figure, the helmet stood firmly, as if issuing an order of utmost priority to its subject. Just the sight of what was happening was sufficient to give an unaware passer-by the creep.

Then, all of a sudden, the white-haired figure slowly and ceremoniously came to his knees before the makeshift altar, before bending his back and head, so that his forehead touches the ground towards the altar, keeping himself in that seemingly uncomfortable pose for almost ten seconds, and then rose straight up again. He then repeated this extremely painstaking process not once, not twice, but nine times straight- sufficient to break a normal person’s back a couple of times over. When the figure finally completed the last of the bows, the scent of incense had already filled the early evening air, and the cloud of smoke from the red-hot end of the incense sticks surrounded him totally, virtually painting his entire figure in a blur, grayish, and solemn coat of lustrous air, effectively painting his whole body the color of his own hair. It was at this moment that he rose up to the standing position to begin speaking. As he spoke, his eyes started to moisten, not from the effect of the incense and his own sorrow.

“Father, mother,” he said, rather regretfully, in a tone best described as filled with anguish, “This infilial child has finally arrived to pay his tribute.”

Stopping for a moment, as he swallowed the lump of erupting emotions from his sorely dried throat, the figure finally continued.

“Father… mother… your painful deaths shall not pass unavenged. I have sworn to this cause, and it is now time for the verdict to be carried out. This sword,” he drew out the Vladivoskovy Standard Issue short sword from its scabbard as he spoke, “will slice through Qianlong’s entire army, driving them away in terror. Those who would choose to retain their loyalty to the fiend would suffer from the same fate. And with the destruction of his iron hand of terror, I would have his head off his neck.”

Unconsciously, the figure realized that at the moment, tears had been freely streaming from his usually emotionless eyes, signifying an uncontrollable outburst of the emotions he always kept hidden.

“Father! Mother! Give me the strength to kill each and every one of Qianlong’s loyalists! Their rotting corpses shall pave the way for your vengeance!” exclaimed the figure in great fury. It appeared that whatsoever sadness and anger he had contained in his seemingly soulless coat of flesh had finally erupted, and this time, that eruption carried his voice further than he would want, because just a dozen yards away, a male and a female student arriving in short notice had caught the message unintentionally.

“Was that… Thomas’ voice?” the female student asked in horror as she grabbed her friend’s hand tightly “Does it sound like he is trying to… murder someone?”

“Misagi, I am not sure, but… he sounds murderous enough,” the male student replied, sounding no less anxious, “No, something is wrong… it doesn’t sound like Thomas to actually plan to kill someone, does it?”

“Do you think we should report this to the headmaster, Iteru?” Misagi asked anxiously, as her hands trembled in fear, “He may actually do something bad…”

“Nonsense,” Iteru straightened himself up, “With my own life I trust Thomas. He wouldn’t do anything harmful to this school, loving it as he is.”

“But… but…”

“Now, Misagi…” coaxed Iteru, “If the principal knows about this, we can only expect terrible things to happen to Thomas, am I right? You know what is the school policy towards those who could pose significant threat to the institution, its premises and students, don’t you?”

“Then… what do you suggest?” Misagi asked nervously.

“Look, Thomas is our friend, and not a monster. Dropping by to say hi wouldn’t hurt, would it?” Iteru waved his palm.

Misagi had no time to suggest otherwise, for before another word could come out of her mouth, Iteru had pulled her into the dormitory’s archway, and then, still tugging at the girl’s wrist, the brown-haired graduate dragged her along the courtyard walkway, towards the direction of the exclamation, until finally they both caught a glipse of what they wanted to observe- there, next to a wall, their usually mysterious friend was finishing his ritual, as the cloud of incense smoke and the bitter, smoky texture of the ceremonial scent was still lingering in the air. On the altar, the old helmet’s imposing look, coupled with what solemn air the ceremony had caused, was enough to almost turn Misagi away in fear, and startling even the braver Iteru. Being able to brace themselves tightly before such a scene, it still took the duo another period of absolute silence before Iteru could draw enough breath and courage to ask.

“T…Tho…Thomas? Is that you?” were the only words that could escape Iteru’s lips.

The mysterious figure slowly turned back. No doubt it was Thomas Han Oldacre- his signature white hair was unmistakable. And yet in that very instance, Iteru and Misagi actually grew frightened by that person whom they call “best friend”. The fiery look in his eyes and the bloodthirsty expression on his face was almost vampiric, and for a split second, Misagi almost ran away for fear of being assaulted- having read enough Gothic fiction, she knew all too well that when a vampire struck first, the victim would have next to zero chance. So scared she was that when Thomas spoke, she was an inch from screaming.

“Misagi? Iteru? What on Earth are you doing here?” Thomas asked in astonishment, “I believe the prom is about to begin soon, isn’t it?”

“Thomas?” Misagi drew all her breath to ask, but that was all she could say. From her blank look, at once Thomas realized what had happened.

“You… have been watching me, haven’t you?” Thomas asked finally, “I suppose you have known my secret now…”

“You… are a vampire, aren’t you, Thomas?” drawing her breath deeply, Misagi asked, her whole body still somewhat trembling.

Thomas Oldacre remained silence for a couple of seconds, as if agreeing, and that would, if anything, make his two friends even more convinced. However, his next movement dashed everything out, as Thomas gave out a long laughter, as if he had just heard the biggest joke of the century, puzzling his comrades even further.

“I wish I were,” Thomas replied half-jokingly, after he had finished his exhausting laughter, “Had I been a lumbering vampire possessing as much power as Dracula or any of those mythical monsters, my parents wouldn’t have died such gruesome deaths…”

“Huh?” Misagi gasped, almost disappointedly, as if turned away by the anti-climactic sense of an incomplete novelty.

“But I was not, am not, and will never be one…” Thomas’ voice almost immediately sank low, “And what had happened, well, had happened.”

“So what was that you were… worshipping?” Iteru questioned, “From the look of things…”

“I see,” Thomas said sorrowfully, “No wonder you were intrigued.”

Saying so, he slowly stepped towards the altar, the incense flame on which had almost completely died down. Then, he clasped his hands together with the same degree of seriousness that he had displayed earlier, and bent his neck low. The rising and lowering of his head continued in the same uniform manner for exactly nine times- a ceremony far beyond Iteru and Misagi’s knowledge. When that was done, with utmost solemnity, Thomas slowly removed the broken helmet from the makeshift altar, holding it high in his hands.

“Thomas? What is this… artifact?” Misagi asked curiously.

“Believe it or not, this is not an artifact. It is just a normal helmet made of steel, with some decorations. In time, it had degenerated to this state,” Thomas replied sadly, “But to me, no artifacts in the entire universe would be as valuable as this. It is a memento of my dead foster father, ironically granted to him by the same butcher who murdered him and the rest of my family.”

“What?” Iteru and Misagi exclaimed in unison

“My friends, and that is the secret that I have had with me for all this while,” Thomas said, “And wait… am I not to tell you that today?”

“You did promise,” Misagi’s curiosity had taken over her fear by now, “And we’d thought we would have to pry your mouth open with a crowbar or something…”

“Did I say that I wouldn’t tell?” Thomas tried to smile, but in the state he was in at that time, his smile somewhat resembled a grimace of anguish, “I did promise I’d tell you the story in full today, and so I will. But isn’t the prom going on now?”

“Screw the prom,” Iteru replied excitedly, “We have wait how long? Four straight years for this day. There is no way you could postpone, Tommy-kun!”

Nodding hesitatingly, Thomas then looked around the place, scouring for anything he could offer his friends to sit on, but didn’t find any. Shrugging in disapproval, Thomas began.

“Do you guys know my full name to begin with?”

“Is that supposed to be rhetoric, Tommy-kun?” teased Misagi, “Of course this whole school knows that your full name is Thomas Horace Oldacre.”

“Wrong,” Thomas said sharply, knocking Misagi off her speech, “That is the name I use in class. My real full name, and also the name that goes into the school record, is Thomas Han Zhong Oldacre.”

“Eh?” Both Misagi and Iteru gasped, “What kind of a name is that?”

Thomas Oldacre is the name my real parents gave me. And Han Zhong is the name my foster parents called me,” explained Thomas “Combining both names, my real name, thusly, is Thomas Han Zhong Oldacre, and in the record, my middle name is shortened to just, Han. I am the foster son of General Han Xin, one of the Ten Great Generals of Emperor Qianlong of Tai Qing.”

“Wait… that sounds familiar… where have I read about this?” Iteru racked his brain.

“The empire of Tai Qing, or Great Qing, is a world-based empire a long way from here…” Misagi said, having been able to remember the fact, “It’s a nation founded by Mandarin-speaking humans, exercising extremely strict autarky. Only in the most exquisite explorer journals is information about this world recorded. And whatever there is quite little in its own rights.”

“Your knowledge sure is vast, Misagi, but that is not all,” Thomas said, “It is a world filled with mystery, and what lies beyond the surface… could turn away but the bravest.”

“So… what was there?” Iteru asked hastily, “Monsters? Demons?”

“We call that power-mongering, friends. The planet itself was divided into a multitude of smaller states in the beginning of recorded history. Yet, the impossible was on the way, as by the time I was born, the emperor Yongzheng had completed the pacification of the whole planet, bringing the ten billion odd people under his rule. Aided by the loyal Ten Great Generals and Ten Great Ministers, his army was unbeatable.”

“Well, that is not a bad thing, wasn’t it?” Iteru said, “A divided nation is a weak one, after all…”

“Yes, except for the fact that as soon as pacification and unification was completed, the emperor Yongzheng started turning against his own loyalists who had fought for him. Slowly, one by one, he executed all of his most loyal ministers and commanders… in a couple of years, all the Ten Great Ministers had been executed, followed by their entire families. No one bearing their bloodlines was allowed to survive, even a newborn baby.”

“That is genocide! Mindless purging!” exclaimed Misagi, “But why didn’t the books say this? And why didn’t outer powers intervene?”

“You said the word autarky, Misa-chan,” said Iteru, “That might be the reason.”

“Precisely,” replied Thomas, “With no one stopping him, the generals being too loyal, and the common people being too… afraid, before his death, the emperor had completed half of the purge. Now only the Ten Great Generals remained. He would have done away with them as well, had a nameless assassin not infiltrated his Forbidden City at night and murdered him before the eyes of his guards.”

“So he died before he completed the whole thing?” Iteru said amusedly, “Serves him right!”

“It seemed so. Yet, his son was much worse than that,” Thomas gritted his teeth as he spoke, “His full name is Aixin-Jueluo Hongli, and his reign name is Qianlong- both of which I would soon grow to hate.”

“Even now, many people view him as the most brilliant ruler that Tai Qing had ever seen. Not only is he warlike and a genius war commander, but also a more than perfect monarch with flawless political maneuverability and management. However, he inherited all of his father’s brutality, if not even more than that, and under his reign, blood would continue to flow,” Thomas spoke, after a long, meaningful pause, as he wiped away his tears, “And my foster parents were the first victims. Issuing a false case of treason, he ordered my whole family killed. I was the sole survivor of the purge that had befallen my foster family. My father, mother, two brothers, my young sister and my baby cousin… had all fallen to the blade of the royal “Panther Guards” of the emperor.”

After Thomas uttered the last word difficultly, the white-haired Knight of Actual Combat came to the realization that he was not the only one crying. The brave and usually cool Iteru had had his eyes thoroughly moistened, his teeth clenched together as if devouring the world’s most infamous butcher, and next to him, Misagi’s reaction was even worse: she was basically sobbing as Thomas spoke. The tragedy that was being told to them was, after all, nothing like the civilized world had ever known, or seen.

“That… is… barbaric!” Iteru finally braced himself for the verdict, “But then, still, how could you have survived? And how did you end up here in Vladivoskovy??”

“My fathers’ guards, for some reasons, devoted themselves to saving me instead of their master and mistress, by my foster father’s command,” Thomas said difficultly, choked by emotional eruption, “All of them died in the fight, but at least I am still alive. Even now I cannot explain why my father did so. Had it not been for saving me, he could have fought his way through the crowd of royal guards, killing every single one of them… after all, he was General Han Xin, one of the Ten Great Generals of Emperor Yongzheng.”

“You may not believe this…” another pause was issued by the white-haired knight as he cleared his throat, “but it was the very person who you fear the most now that saved me- Principal Finley Dedman of the Institute of Vladivoskovy. I was unconscious then… so I don’t remember anything else.”

There was another pause, but this time, on behalf of Iteru, the computing expert who was known to be able to brainstorm in a matter of seconds. Abruptly the silence was ended when the Cybernetics graduate grabbed his friend’s wrist violently.

“Then what are you staying here for, Tommy-kun?” Iteru virtually roared, something he rarely demonstrated, “You know what day today is?”

“The prom… I have no interest in any festivity now. All I want is to be discharged from school quickly so that I can go back to where I could lay claim to the foul butcher’s head.”

“Tommy, you idiot!” Iteru exclaimed violently, “Today is the day when the lords and masters from outlying realms would come to our school to hire knights for their kingdoms! Had it not been for your tale, you could do what the hell you want to, but now that you have such a mission at hand, YOU MUST GO! If chosen by a great lord, later on you may actually borrow his army to fund your vengeance!”

“It’s useless,” Thomas shook his head, “Qianlong holds under his hand hundreds of millions of soldiers. No lords around here have even a percent of that number.”

“And yourself is worth a hundred millionth of Qianlong’s army,” snapped Iteru, “He would crush you more easily than killing a bug if you come back to Tai Qing in this shape.”

“Iteru, you still don’t understand my purpose of getting into this institute, do you?” Thomas said angrily, “All I was after is the Level Stone. That is the sole purpose that I have been lingering on, until the beginning of this week.”

“The stone given to every graduate as a degree, each holding the power allowing the graduate to gain levels as he fights, you mean?” Misagi, having now regained her calmness, spoke up.

“Yes. If well used, I could gain infinite power! At that point, I could kill all of Qianlong’s army, and then him, with just this sword!” Thomas exclaimed, in a roar-like manner, as he unsheathed his blade.

“Bah, and you think his men would just stand there as you slay them?” smirked Iteru, “They would turn you into a pile of bloody mincemeat pretty much before you could even kill one millionth of a guy, with such a kind of completely and perfectly hacked ratio.”

”Still, if a liege lord binds me to his cause, there is no way I could break free on my own will and even the scale!” Thomas said, tugging at the hilt of his blade, “It would be worse than dying!”

“As friends, I would advise you to stop this folly at once,” Iteru raised his voice, “I would hate seeing you dead as much as the principal or your fallen father would. Your father gave his life to save yours not for you to mindlessly toss it away like that!”

“Listen to us, Thomas…” Misagi said softly, “Living means maintaining hope. Once you die, it’s all over. As long as you keep living, you could one day complete your dream, one way or another.”

“You are right, but…” Thomas difficultly sheathed his blade, but hardly had he finalized that action when the trio heard the whizzing, ear-shredding sound of an arrow fired at long range with deadly accuracy in the vicinity, followed almost immediately by the sound of metal entering flesh and the painful cry of the victim. In was within seconds that they all knew something was not right, and the thought was confirmed the moment after, with a cry of “Assassin!” in the background. It was clear that something sinister had happened while the discussion was going on.

“Damn,” Iteru blurted “Something is wrong.”

“On the day of our prom?” Misagi gasped

“There is but one way to find out…” Thomas said firmly, grabbing his blade and dashed out, mapping the school and mentally marking the possible location of the victim as he moved.

“Hey, wait for us!” Iteru cried as he ran after Thomas, again dragging Misagi behind him.

******




< Message edited by Argeus the Paladin -- 10/3/2008 4:23:51 >
DF  Post #: 2
9/12/2008 3:03:08   
Argeus the Paladin
Member

Chapter 2
Fate's Crossroads


The Vladivoskovy Institute itself was an architectural wonder. Covering an area of almost a hundred square miles, the school campus was in some way even more self-contained than a full-fledged city, with an assortment of different services and departments extremely well planned and laid out. However, the downside to this wonder was that the campus was more or less maze-like for those unfamiliar with the locale, and sometimes even those native to the academy would find themselves lost. Fortunately, this time, Thomas Oldacre and his friends were treading on familiar ground, and in a matter of minutes, the trio had been able to cover well over a hundred yards of the various corridors, pathways and walks towards the crime scene.

It was only now that the taggers-along realized where they were standing- a courtyard surrounded by three building blocks and one solid wall. Tall trees lined up the walled section, making it almost impossible to climb over it without getting stuck in the boughs. The three buildings all appeared to have been locked, and the fact that the windows were even blacker than the moonlit sky could only mean that electricity was out where they stood. They had now been almost desolated in the Actual Combat experimental block, with only one archway to the northwest leading outside, besides the dark sidewalk they had taken to get there.

Meanwhile, the scene that presented itself before the trio was direr than it looked. In the far corner of the yard stood two people, blades in hand, surrounded by almost half a platoon of masked fighters dressed in black, slowly closing in. Apparently the swordsman in front was trying his best to cover the person behind, though in his current condition it was obvious that he couldn’t do much more than that- at just a glance one could tell from the fletched steel shaft sticking out of his right shoulder that he was the victim of the sniper just now. The pale shadow of the night sky as well as the mass of blond hair covering up half of his visage could do little to conceal his agony. Yet he still stood firm with a tightly locked guard position, and even Thomas was awed by that stalwartness.

The person behind the victim appeared to be someone important, or even a member of the nobility, judging from the ceremonial robe he wore and the drawn rapier- the signature weapon of the greater aristocracy- that he was wielding. The silver crown on his forehead reflected the moonlight perfectly, as if showing off the neatly combed crimson hair beneath it. In a quick blink of an eye, the lord had already raised his rapier so that the edge of the blade ran parallel to the bridge of his nose, between his wide opened eyes, taking aim, readying for the next blow.

The view of the aristocrat, especially his somewhat collected calmness, as well as the sight of the loyal warrior about to give up his own life to protect his liege lord, appeared to have demonstrated the complete romantic notion of a warrior lord’s last stand before his enemies. However, it was one of the rare cases when romance equals folly, as even from a distance, the trio knew all too well that the defenders wouldn’t stand a chance in that state. And Thomas Oldacre, for his own reasons, did not take the idea of a last stand too kindly.

“Assassins out there on our prom date? Going around wounding people as if they owned the place?” Iteru smirked, “It’s time to teach those black-masked dudes who own this school!

“I have sworn that I would see no tragedy like that of Xiang Yu going on before my eyes as long as I still draw breath,” Thomas said sharply, nodding in agreement, “Those gangers-up are more dead than they could ever imagine...”

“Well, I am in as well… though…” Misagi finally said, somewhat anxiously, and for good reason, as she, in her right mind, realized that fighting a group of trained assassins outnumbering them three-to-one before even leaving school was not too wise of an idea. Yet Thomas and Iteru were already too eager to do battle to realize that reasonable anxiety. Before the girl could say anything else, Thomas had already dashed forward at such speed that before any of the foes managed to realize his and his friends’ existence, he had charged his blade so that it flared with a threateningly dangerous green shade, and driven it straight through the back of the assassin closest to them. A critical charged attack by Thomas at that stage was already able to do damage beyond the sustainability of most people, and straight 60 points of devastating damage went home as the unfortunate sellsword cried in pain, before falling face-down on the ground, instantly killed. The surprise attack basically stunned the whole group of attackers as they turned back to see for themselves what happened- apparently they had expected no such thing as reinforcements before their business had been done.

“I have said this once, and I’ll say it again. No one could make a Xiang Yu out of anyone else before my eyes for as long as I am alive,” Thomas said, recovering the blade still lodged in the spine of the victim, before wiping it against the deceased’s pitch black garment, “You have asked for it.”

There was a brief moment of silence in both the attackers and the defenders, trying to make out what was happening there, and realization came upon the leader of the group of hired thugs with a loud laughter of spitefulness.

“Brothers, they are not the reinforcement we fear! They are not the kind of professional soldiers that this foolish marquess has left at home! Just a band of disorganized and meddling youngsters they are, and it is our duty to leave witnesses, isn’t it?” declared the leader, and a solid nod of approval from the other sellswords could only mean that they were all ready for the kill. A cold chill ran down Misagi’s spine as the group of attackers began to make their turn, switching their primary targets from the red-haired aristocrat to themselves. As she finished counting their number, the girl began to shiver a bit as well- there were twenty-five attackers, poised to kill just the three of them. Even Iteru, heroically brave as he usually was, seemed to be somewhat daunted by the extreme odd. Strangely enough, Thomas Oldacre still stood there, stalwartly and firmly, not even backing off an inch.

“If I cannot deal with just the scattering band of petty assassins these guys are, how could I ever think about annihilating Qianlong’s vast armies?” Thomas gritted his teeth, as he braced himself for an order, “Misagi, Iteru, we’d have to split up! Being ganged up in this case equals utter defeat!”

“Can’t agree more,” Iteru’s voice sounded, seemingly calmer, now that Thomas had had his say, “And I happen to have the perfect means of destruction in this case.”

Quickly digging his hand into his jacket pocket, Iteru then produced a small, palm-sized electronic control unit that, at first glance, resembled a mobile phone with a silver casing, and held it high up in the air. Seeing that, Thomas smiled triumphantly- the artifact Iteru possessed was the proof of the academic prowess of a Cybernetic Technology graduate, the Portable Cybernetic Entity Pod (PCEP), the primary object used to call forth powerful Cybernetic Entities into battle. Though the development of Cybens was still on the way and incomplete at most stages, what entities the school had developed were still powerful enough to turn the tide of small and medium skirmishes with impunity.

“Megina, it’s time to get this started!” Iteru exclaimed, as he pressed a particular combination of buttons on the object, and then raising it to the sky again, “Combat variables set! Cyben operation commence!

Before the much awed assassins, the control unit on Iteru’s arm began to flare up, and in a matter of seconds, in the space between the Cybernetic graduate and the bloodthirsty attackers, the air turned into a thick halogen-like state, with ethereal curls of fully charged air twirling around a particular position. In due time, as smoke, charged air and dust were thrown up into the surrounding area, at the set location materialized a mechanical soldier, in a distinctive dark blue lightweight armor and a light blue visorless helmet to go with it. As the ethereal air around the cyber warrior died down with the completion of his real-life manifestation, the Cyben opened his eyes, revealing a visage that, surprisingly, was more than ninety percent similar to that of his operator. As he finally gained mobility and majestically walked out of the fading cloud of smoke, and electrically charged materials, his two weapons- a curved, double-ended, razor-sharp yet heavy cleaver that he held one-handed with ease, and a bulging arm cannon built into his other hand- showed themselves up before both foes and allies, displaying the obvious sign of a powerful comrade and a formidable enemy.

“Megina the Magekiller, at your service,” the Cyben said, with a heavily mechanized accent, yet still retaining a good deal of humanity in the way he spoke.

“So this is you Cyben, Iteru,” smiled Thomas as he glanced at the new ally, “No wonder you passed all your exams with ease…”

“15 Strength, 5 Intellect, 3 Defense, a primary arm cannon with 25 weapon damage and a secondary blade dealing 15 weapon damage, not to mention a trigger against any enemy who would like to show off their intellect…” Iteru smiled proudly “This is what you call an absolute advantage in grinding weak-minded cowards.”

“My turn as well,” Misagi said softly, and then smartly whipped out her own version of PCEP, this one with a girlish pink shade for the outer case. Pressing another combination of buttons on the object, Misagi shouted, “Aera Thunderroll, we need your assistance! Combat variables set! Cyben operation commence!

The same aerial turbulence that Iteru had stirred up was repeated as Misagi raised her own unit to the sky, and as the second wave of charged matter engulfed the place, giving the assassins the creeps of their lives, the same kind of out-of-this-world manifestation reappeared. The only difference was that, this time, after everything had settled down and the enemies had taken yet another serious blow to their morale, from the fading cloud of smoke emerged an angelic, girlish mech knight, with a waist-length mass of golden hair that glittered under the moonlight and a light pink full light plate offering all the defense she might need. However, it appeared that whoever had designed this mechanical beauty had forgotten her designated gender, and issued her with a huge hammer the size of her torso, and a big, thick, comprehensive book resembling a Britannica Encyclopedia volume bigger than her head chained to her side.

“Aera Thunderroll the Omnimaiden, awaiting your command,” Aera’s dynamic female voice sounded just like that of a real human, as she dragged her set of equipment back to her summoner somewhat difficultly. At that sight, Thomas slightly shook his head.

”She could have been a professional weightlifter rather than a combat support specialist,” Han Zhong thought.

“Err… I still don’t think that this… great siege hammer is suitable for her Strength rating of 7…” Misagi smiled shyly, “But I still think that her 11 Intellect and a Tome of Healing magic could help, too!”

“Now we are all set,” Thomas said, glancing at the team of blissfully frightened assassins, “Shall we begin?”

“We shall leave this place with the Marquess’ head, as well as your own!” the assassin head roared, “Onward, my brothers! Those meddling whelps must fall!”

Thomas Oldacre took a glance at his wristwatch. The signature Vladivoskovy student’s wristwatch not only acted as a time-telling contraption, but also doubled as a tool for recording and reporting battle statistics of both friends and foes before a battle. As a legendary military strategist once said “Know thyself and thy enemy, thou shalt fight hundreds of battle without a single defeat”, this tool was irreplaceable as it would provide most of what a fighter would need before combat. This time, a glance at the watch told Thomas that all but one of the bloodthirsty killers before him were no better than a Vladivoskovy freshman: 5 Strength, 2 Intellect, zero base defense, zero armor defense and each armed with only a scimitar with 3 weapon damage modifier, with no special abilities to top it with.

“I’m afraid this is your end, cowardly night stalkers…” Thomas smirked, before charging his blade again. A Critical Charge Combo, in this case, could do well to instantly kill any of the assassins before him. And that was not all that his comrade could put up, as before the assassins could even get close to their position, Megina had already taught them a lifetime’s lesson with his oversize arm cannon. Six perfectly aimed shots went home as they systematically tore through the unfortunate six recipients’ arms, doing forty points of damage each, and their persistence in trying to get a piece of the Vladivoskovy graduate ended up with their being completely victimized by Megina’s double-ended cleaver as soon as they got close, resulting in a gruesome 20 points of overkill in each case. Every time that happened, a cleanly severed head would slip from the base of the neck, along Megina’s blade, before rolling down on the cobbled ground, paining a trail of blood in its path.

However, Megina’s limited body armor resulted in his taking up a good deal of damage in the onslaught that the six crippled assassins managed to put up, equaling (5 + 4 + 3 + 2 + 1) * (5 + 3 - 3) = 75 points of damage. Detecting the gap in the Magekiller’s defense, the rest of the assassins flushed towards the injured Cyben, hoping for a final blow. Yet, they managed to forget an important fact- Aera was there. Ceremonially raising her oversize hammer to the sky, and reciting some mystical incantations, Aera Thunderroll ended up dropping a huge column of pure, golden light as if descending straight from the higher heaven down on the injured Magekiller. The stalk of light seemed to have done more than just healing, as immediately after Megina had been basked in the purest of healing light, the beam of light shattered into shards of elemental aura, spreading out in all direction, buffeting and impaling anyone who was their enemy. Forty points of damage, this time, was both restored to Megina, as well as pounded back at the unknowing dozen of attackers trying to get the kill. In a couple of moment after that, Megina’s cleaver and Aera’s oversize hammer did all what they could to make sure that their share of enemies could never see the grace of dawn again.

At the meantime, Thomas was working his way through the remaining five attackers. His powerful, 60-point Critical Charge was able to claim the lives of all but one of them- at that moment, his 50-point mana pool had ran dry. The situation for the Knight of Actual Combat was not too bright then: He had taken (4 + 3 + 2 + 1) * (5 + 3 - 2) = 60 points of damage, and now one enemy still remained, and that was not to mention the leader of the band of assassins, who was yet to join battle. Thomas’ breath was beginning to grow unstable from the lack of power- having used all what he could utilize to cut down the first batch of enemies, the last one could pose great, if not fatal threat, to him. And he wasn’t the only one to realize that weakness.

“Tired, huh?” the last assassin sneered, “Even if you cut me down, our Commander will make mincemeat of you!”

“Shoot… this time he is right,” Thomas shook his head, “If that leader come down to pick on me, I’d be finished for sure…”

The leader of the gang of thugs, as what Thomas had read off his wristwatch, had 20 Strength and a katana that could do an extra of 10 weapon damage. If Thomas managed to kill the last enemy, their ringleader would have both the advantage of higher stats and the chance to strike first. With the battered state Thomas was in now, the culprit could pluck his head with absolute impunity. And that explained why all this while, the vile dog was sitting around watching the fight go on.

“Damn…” the Knight of Actual Combat swore. The situation didn’t seem too good… or was it? A solid gunshot that sounded almost like the roaring thunderous noise of a rocket shot at point-blank range was the next thing Thomas heard, and turning back, he was more than amazed to see his last opponent’s cranium blasted to nothingness, and the poor assassin collapsed of the ground, headless. There, just a couple of yards away, was Iteru, blowing a clump of smoke off the mouth of his pistol- a technological wonder the size of a Walkman carrying the destructive power of a mechanized antitank missile launcher.

“Well, where did you throw us to, Thomas?” Iteru replied smartly, “Taking up all the fighting wasn’t really kind of you, was it?”

“Nor was that too nice of Megina or Aera. We’d have to teach them a lesson after today,” smirked Misagi.

“Ha, looks like we all got too anxious on nothing today,” wiping the blood smeared on his face, Thomas replied coolly, “Those assassins weren’t that tough, after all.”

“You forgot one,” the threatening, spiteful roar of a familiar voice just right behind Thomas immediately reminded him that he had forgotten something- too late. A heavy katana blade had already sunken into his shoulder before he could even turn back to guard position, doing massive damage to him, before knocking him a couple of yards away, splattering his blood all over the path. Thomas had made the fatal mistake of forgetting about the assassins’ leader that he was worrying about just a couple of seconds before. And now, the dark, hooded figure of the stealth assassin had already presented itself before his two friends, who were at most defenseless with their Cybens still a good distance away. Threateningly, the enraged killer marched towards the duo, now backing up nervously at the edge of the blade.

“You killed my brothers. You spoiled our reputations. You stole our prey from us,” the assassin leader said menacingly with each step, as the moonlight glaring on his edge added further on to his murderous look, “You shall all pay for that!”

The only thing Iteru and Misagi could do was to brace themselves for the attack, and even that wouldn’t help, as in that case, the katana could nicely cut both of them into halves at the same time.

The assassin clearly thought so, until the distinctive sound of metal entering flesh at close range entered his ear. It was not the sound made my his kill, and to his astonishment and horror, the murderer realized that the sharp, pointed edge of a silver rapier had shredded through his back, pierced all the way through his torso, and exited his body through the spot where his heart was supposed to be. A fatal blow of a skilled swordsman he had received without even knowing it. The bloodlust quickly died down and the mind-tearing pain started to be felt, as well as the stream of blood- his own blood, a strange notion, as he had never shed blood before throughout the countless operations he had carried out in his life- flowing out of the wound and soaking his garment, the assassin collapsed on his knees. Turning around, the assassin still had enough time to realize that the person who had just killed him was ironically the very person he was going to kill, the red-haired lord, a prideful swordsman that he had thought to have been his prey for that instance.

“Marquess… Elbert, you… coward…” he said with extreme rage, before losing his strength and fell into an eternal slumber.

“Maybe ordering a full contingent to waylay a couple of unprepared knights and pulling in a sniper to get the kill was nobler…” the lord smirked sarcastically, before sheathing his rapier. Under the moonlight, the proud aristocrat revealed his face now, a mustached, middle-aged lord, whose kind eyes and stern expression showed the potential of both a loyal friend and a born leader.

Then, the warrior-lord stood straight up, and then went towards Thomas. At this moment, having recovered from the shock of what had happened, the two Cybernetic experts as well as their Cybens drew in to their injured friend as well. Thomas would, at that time, need all the help he could get, in the bad shape he was in- a couple of cuts and bruises caused by his tumbling and rolling along the cobbled ground was nothing compared to the deep gash that he had on his left shoulder, the kind of wound that could even kill an untrained man. Thomas’ being a graduate knight couldn’t help too much, as the trainings he had gotten in the past years could barely to keep him alive and conscious.

“Everybody… looks like I pushed myself too hard this time,” Thomas said, difficultly trying to produce a smile, as he attempted to push himself up from his lying posture without success, as blood kept flowing, leaving him rather weak.

“Thomas!” Iteru exclaimed, before turning to Misagi, “This doesn’t look good… failure to stop blood flow is the WORST thing to happen to a wounded man. We must get him to the infirmary at once!”

“But… in this state, would he make it?” Misagi replied, looking as if she was going to cry.

“Everyone, stay back,” the warrior lord waved both Misagi and Iteru out of the way, as he himself pulled towards the wounded knight. Kneeling down to bring himself closer to observe the wounded’s status, after having a close look, on the face of the lord spread a visible smile of relief, as he pulled out a small scroll from his cloak and held it above Thomas’ downed figure.

“Looks like young Eliwood would never have the chance to get this scroll for himself,” the lord spoke to himself while rolling the scroll out, “But he’d be equally happy to see that it could save a life.”

The miracle started as soon as the scroll was fully unraveled, as a bolt to healing magic flew out of the scroll, homing into Thomas’ injury as the lord cited his incantation, followed by a host of similar, bluish-white rays of light that rained down on Thomas’ bleeding wound, until his shoulder section appeared to have been completely bandaged by the cloak of healing magic, binding the wound and stopping blood loss. In just a short moment, Thomas could feel his pain fading quickly, and the strength the blood drainage had ripped from him was being given back. In a matter of minutes, Thomas Oldacre was alive and kicking, and the knight stood up in the preferable knightly posture as if he had never been injured. As the last of the pain-relieving, wound-curing bolt of light faded away from his sight, Thomas was already up and even ready for further action if need be.

“You shouldn’t have too much problem now, young man,” the lord who had just saved his life said as soon as Thomas rose to his feet, “Although you may have a little difficulty in using your weapons with your injured limb for a couple of days, but that would fade away quickly.”

“Thank you, sir…” Thomas said gratefully, before taking a look at the corner where the lord was supposed to be standing a couple of minutes before, “Wait… what about your kn…”

“Ah, you must mean Harken. His injuries was light, and just a dose of vulnerary while you were keeping the assassins at bay was sufficient to have him back in good shape,” the lord smiled, “I had expected less from this man though. We have known for less than three hours, and already he was attempting to give his own life up to save mine…”

“That is what a knight should do to protect his sworn liege lord, Lord Elbert,” a familiar voice sounded behind the group, as the valiant bodyguard of the marquess showed up, his shoulder still limping from the damage. All too well, Thomas Oldacre realized his acquaintance…

“Hey, do I know you? You were that dude in the ACTU 6011 class who…” Thomas’ chance to speak was too well taken off by a much more vibrant and attentive Iteru, who then jumped into his throat.

“…first volunteered to fight a Mountain Troll with bare hands,” Harken laughed heartily as he simultaneously recognized his schoolmates, “And you three are well known all over school for your unfathomably insane academic record, right, Thomas, Misagi, Iteru? Looks like I owed you three a big one this time.”

Then, Harken immediately stepped aside politely, as he bowed to his liege lord and declared solemnly.

“The person the three of you have saved together with humble me is Lord Elbert, a marquess from a land far, far away, famed for his fair and just rule as well as peerless swordplay and unmatched nobility,” Harken said proudly, “Prior to the beginning of the ball, he had chosen me to join his rank of knights, and right now it is my mission to see him home safely.”

“Lord Elbert, I don’t know how we could thank you…” Misagi bowed down solemnly, “for saving our friend…”

“There is no need for thanks,” smiled Lord Elbert, “Had it not been for you, I would doubt my chance to fight them all alone and return home to tell the tale…”

At the moment, the sound of horses galloping at full speed in the vicinity basically interrupted Lord Elbert’s speech, and as everyone turned back, a full unit of cavaliers in full battle armor and decorations had already assembled in the archway joining the building in the north and west of the courtyard. In front of the rank stood a mounted cavalier with even heavier armor and more distinguished decorations with a silver cavalry lance firm in his grips, who then immediately dismounted, and before everyone could make a reaction, ran briskly towards lord Elbert, dropped his lance on the ground, and knelt down apologetically,

“My lord, I have arrived late,” the cavalier spoke ceremoniously, “We have gotten lost and… It is my fault that you have undergone this dire danger!”

“Well, you have done the best that you could, Marcus, my loyal paladin, I know all too well that this school is less of an academy than it is a maze” Lord Elbert said gently as he signaled the paladin to stand up, “And after all, who could have expected them to strike in this kind of a situation?”

“My lord, I would advise that we leave this land immediately!” the paladin said as he rose to his feet, “Our reconnaissance unit has detected and promptly executed all the enemy snipers taking position in the nearby buildings, but there is no telling how many are left! Your life is in danger if we…”

“And that explained why that was the only arrow we have received. Had it not been for you, all of us may not have survived,” Lord Elbert replied kindly, “Still, leaving in secrecy is not an option. You know too well that they are out there, just waiting for the least sign of implied cowardice on my behalf to denounce me.”

After that, Lord Elbert turned back to the four Vladivoskovy graduates standing behind him.

“Marcus, by the way, here are the four brave young people who saved my life. I suppose you have already known Harken, and these three, especially the young swordsman over there,” Lord Elbert said, turning to Thomas and his friends, “they had taken great efforts to make sure that I am still drawing breath before you now.”

The next thing that Thomas realized was that the Paladin called Marcus was already bowing to him gratefully.

“Young graduates of Vladivoskovy, we Knights of Pherae can never repay this debt today…” the paladin said, “Great disasters would have befallen our lands if Lord Elbert didn’t return home this day.”

“That is what we should do, as a matter of fact,” Thomas replied, “I believe as a noble knight, you would do the same in such a situation, good sir.”

Lord Elbert then produced another strange object from his cloak, and this time, Thomas could see that it was something closely resembling a crest, yet heavier, larger, and seemed to be made of pure platinum, greatly boosting its value.

“I would like to give the three of you this for all hardships that you have gone through today,” Lord Elbert said as he slowly approached the trio, “This is the Earth Seal, a great treasure of Pherae. The one who uses it would gain power unseen and abilities unknown.”

The wise and just marquess then handed over the object to Thomas Oldacre, implying great respect for the ones who had granted him life in the direst moments. Then, the lord turned back, facing all of his knights, before making an important announcement.

“Also, with this award, I would count all of you into my rank of Pheraen Knights. You three are free to join my league, whenever you would like,” Lord Elbert declared delightedly, “As for Harken, his selfless efforts to serve our cause, as well as his unmatched bravery and valor has led me to an unprecedented decision: From today onwards, Harken shall join the rank of full-fledged knights and ride with our elite paladins into battle!”

There was a moment of absolute silence, as in the past couple of seconds, the four Vladivoskovy graduates had been rained upon with more glory and recognition than they could ever hope to achieve in the next ten, or even twenty years. However, while Harken looked as if he was dying of grate, and Iteru seemed to be so excited he could barely stop himself from exclaiming, Thomas Oldacre still stood straight, with the Earth Seal still in his hand. The next second had displayed something that no one else present in the small courtyard could think about- Thomas Oldacre walked briskly towards the Marquess, and knelled down, raising his justly-earned crest to the lord.

“My sincerest apologies, Lord Elbert. I cannot receive this crest of yours,” Thomas spoke ceremoniously, “Nor could I accept your hospitality in any way.”

There was another moment of silence as everyone else stopped breathing- Misagi had heard enough tales about a sovereign’s favor being refused and what horrible fate would await the one who turned it down, and the rest of the Pheraen Knights had never heard such a refusal like that before. At least, not when their lord is the famed Lord Elbert, who was well known all over the continent for being the fairest, most justly-ruling and most popular lord of them all.

“I have never seen someone to turn own such a favor,” was Lord Elbert’s words that broke the silence, “Are you sure that is what you want?”

“Yes, Lord Elbert. I am grateful for what you have done for me, but this… simply I cannot accept.”

“Strange, indeed. Normally such refusal would be passed for pride or insolence,” Lord Elbert said, after another pregnant pause, “Yet, if you have refused that relentlessly, I believe that you don’t belong to either categories. As of now, I could only think that you have your own reason not to, do you, young Thomas?”

“Yes, my lord. I have an important business to settle elsewhere, and I can serve no lords until that task is done,” Thomas replied, “And it would not be right for me to accept your hospitality without even serving you a day.”

“If that is so, I respect your choice as much as I respect your character,” Lord Elbert nodded in approval, as he took back the Earth Seal, “but I would still uphold the offer on my part. That is, whenever you would like, you are free to join my knights in Pherae. Anytime you feel comfortable, our castle’s gate is open for you.”

Thomas bent his neck. No one saw his face for that instance, but his silence implied absolute approval from the way things looked.

“Well, I believe that I have taken too much of your time this evening, and that the prom has almost ended,” Lord Elbert then said, “My apologize for all the inconvenience. Right now, I am afraid we have to part way now. Thank you for everything, and I wish you a good evening.”

A squire then pulled a stallion out of the cavaliers’ rank- a blood-red horse that Lord Elbert adopted as his personal mount, as well as a new young mare for Lord Elbert’s new knight. With a wave of goodbye and a signal for the group to start moving, Lord Elbert moved towards the front row, and with a tumbling cloud of mist thrown up coupled by the sound of horseshoes smacking against cobbled ground, the full contingent of cavaliers had disappeared into the midnight sky.

Now only Thomas, Misagi and Iteru remained in the now-empty yard, littered with corpses of those bent on killing Lord Elbert just a moment ago.

“Thomas… Are you sure that…” Iteru asked, after the full unit of knights had fully vanished.

“Well, I am certain,” Thomas replied, “In fact, I am getting the feeling that none of us would ever see Lord Elbert again… taking his treasure would be just slightly better than thieving.”

“But… if what he said was right, then the crest could help you a great deal in the fight against Qianlong!” Misagi exclaimed, “It could be a solution to your question!”

“Forget it. My father was a man noble in both life and death,” Thomas shook his head, “If I use sneaky methods to have vengeance, he would reject whatever offering I may offer him… even the head of his sworn enemy.”

Looking at his two friends’ rather blank expression, Thomas Oldacre turned away, completely dashing out the issue, then looked up at the starry sky and spoke to both Misagi and Iteru,

“I have a feeling that we all wouldn’t want to miss whatever is left of the prom… would you?” Thomas said joyously.

“Not in this life, partner,” was the resolute answer from his two comrades.

******



< Message edited by Argeus the Paladin -- 10/3/2008 4:24:18 >
DF  Post #: 3
10/3/2008 4:24:44   
Argeus the Paladin
Member

Chapter 3
The Departure


Thomas Oldacre gazed at the dark night sky blankly. It was quite late now- in fact, it would only be a couple of hours before dawn broke. Usually, anyone who was wide awake and conscious at that odd hour of day would either be insomniac, have shady business to tend to, or be otherwise mentally disturbed. Thomas Oldacre was, somehow, classifiable into all the three above categories, and for good reasons. The night after the prom had seen an even worse complication in Thomas’ mental state. Usually, with the blade of vengeance suspending in his conscience, swinging around the hollow chamber of his thoughts like an ever-moving pendulum, it was as hard to get a good night’s shuteye as attempting to sleep next door to a noisy construction yard.

On that night, though, the condition was worse. The eternal disturbance in Thomas’ conscience had gotten to the degree at which a bell likely rang in his head whenever the Knight of Actual Combat thought he could find a moment of peace, reminding him of the name Aixin-Juolo Hongli, of the death he delivered to his happy family, and of his obligation to completely shatter the fiend’s might, so that he could never harm anyone again, so that those whose deaths his royal family was to account for would finally rest in peace. Not just his parents, not just the Ten Great Ministers, but anyone and everyone.

However, Thomas was fully aware of what lay before him. The Qing military might was at around 20 millions when his father was still alive, in office, and commanding, and since that day, it had only risen. By the time Thomas was but a toddler, the then-emperor Yongzheng had more than 35 million. His first class of “The king tells the subject to die, if he doesn’t, he is disloyal. The father tells the son to perish, if he doesn’t, he is infilial” took place when the Qing royal family enjoyed a military superiority of around twenty million more than the above consensus. And when his father was dismissed from office, only to be murdered along with whatever and whomever Thomas himself treasured the most shortly later, the Qing military was at its peak of an undisputable one hundred million. The emperor’s excuse for that sort of expansion was just a plain “need of pacification”, all the time.

Thomas sniffed at the thought. In the Tai Qing dictionary of commonly used words, it is well said that “pacification” is extremely synonymous with “destruction”, “wipe-out”, or worse, “genocide”. Still, with the “The king tells the subject to die” ideology of the mass, it is more than obvious that the ruler is entitled to do whatever they like whenever and wherever. With that kind of popular belief, it would not be too surprising if Thomas came home to find himself greeted by a full contingency of two hundred million soldiers ever ready to convert him into a lifeless pile of well-chopped flesh, blood and mangled bones. A head-on attack would be worse than suicidal. At times, Thomas had thought of resorting to the method of the enemies of rulers throughout history, making friends, making plots, making preparations, and in the end, make the ruler’s head his by means of a stealthy assassination. After all, it was the most obvious way of vengeance, and in fact, Qianlong’s own father succumbed to such a death. With all the soldiers that Qianlong had garnered around his empire, it appeared to have been the best way of all to kill the fiend.

However, the years in his second homeland, the Vladivoskovy Institute, had taught Thomas something important. It is impossible to bring an empire at its height crashing down just by murdering the head, though it may severely damage the empire and stall its development by a couple of decades. Instead, the most magnificent, straightforward, and most likely to succeed method of doing the deed is by crushing the overlord’s army in battle, killing his lieutenants, routing his divisions of soldier and destroying his war capacity. No army or no empire, as the textbook said, was universally perfect. Striking where it is weak, and weakening it bit and pieces, would crumble the empire in due time. And that was the plan Thomas had finally adopted.

But in order to get that plan into motion, Thomas needed to be strong. Strong enough that he could kill hundreds and thousands of men with utter impunity. Strong enough that he could break the enemy ranks and force them to cower in terror at his sight. And that was exactly the reason why he was at the peak of nervousness at this time of day- just at dawn break, when the institution’s main office was open to award degrees and other mementos to graduates, Thomas would pay the Principal a visit and claim his just reward, the Level Stone. And then he would leave, presumably never to return again- his future war against Qianlong would apparently cost him his life, his lifetime, or both. It was therefore better for all concerned that he would depart silently from the life of all those he cared about, without a goodbye, without a fare-well note, without anything.

”Misagi, Iteru,” Thomas thought silently as he sat there, counting the stars, “So this is the end, as it should. If there is a second life, I would love to be your buddy again. I wish I could have done something more fore you guys.”

Thinking so, Thomas retreated into his little private corner for some last-minute check on his luggage, which was, after all, nothing more than a means to kill time. Anything and everything he needed or would ever need had been neatly packed up when everyone else at the prom was still enjoying themselves. His weapons, armor, as well as other household items and medicine had been neatly positioned. His father’s memento, the broken dragon helmet, had been carefully wrapped up in a layer of red satin, so as to preserve it until the day he could claim victory over the Qing court, on which day he would once again unwrap it, and bury the helm ceremoniously to match the position of his much-loved father. Thomas even left an empty compartment in his leather trunk for the treasure, the Level Stone, the key to his victory, when he would receive it. Everything was ready, all what Thomas was waiting for was just an opening door and a medal as a one-way ticket to his lifetime goal. How surprised Thomas was when he learnt that his destiny would come knocking on his doors exactly two hours earlier than he expected, in the form of, literally, a knock on his dormitory room door.

“Mr. Oldacre, this is the Institute Head Office Informant,” the newcomer’s first voice appearance came almost simultaneously with the rhythmic, yet urgent, knock on the door, “We need you there, as soon as possible.”

“Huh?” Thomas uttered, quickly, with trembling hands out of nervousness and anxiety, reached for the doorknob. The door flung open a mere second later, revealing behind it a school employee, in full uniform, with a look of urgency that completely disguised the late-shift fatigue on his look.

“Yes? Is anything wrong?” Thomas said as he looked at the messenger, trying to appear helpful while hiding his more than obvious anxiety to no avail.

“The Principal would like to see you. It sounded like pretty serious business,” the messenger said ominously, “You had better prepare for the worst…”

“What had… happened?” Thomas said, no longer being able to conceal his nervousness, “Do you know something?”

“It is serious crap you’ve been into, Mr. Oldacre. From the look of things, it appeared that you have, in one way or another, which is beyond my understanding or duty, offended a major benefactor of the Institute of Vladivoskovy,” the messenger said, as if threatening, “He has visited the Principal before leaving school, perhaps to complain about your unorthodox and offensive behavior. So it appears that the headmaster has settled the fuss, but disciplinary actions must be taken.”

“What?” Thomas almost yelled, “What could I have done?”

“I said, it is beyond my understanding or duty,” the messenger repeated rather harshly, “All what I know is that you must follow me back to see the Principal this instance.”

“But…”

“I am afraid we have no time, Mr. Oldacre. Any further hesitation on your part would result in a worse disciplinary action against you.”

The “You’d probably be expelled, I know it” look on the messenger’s face meant that there was not much more to be said. After all, Thomas wouldn’t usually give the least bit of attention to the disciplinary protocols of the institute- not that he had ever been in trouble, after all those years. However, this time, large sweat drops started to form on his forehead- anything that would interfere with his acquisition of the Level Stone at that stage would deal a fatal blow to his lifelong dream of slaughtering Qianlong’s vast armies and taking his life.

******


Having been to the Head Office numerous times on numerous occasions, Thomas Oldacre had never actually stepped into the domains behind the large, cherry-wood door with a plaque that said, “Principal’s Office” at the end of the main corridor of the office building. There, at a wide bulge in the corridor, the wooden door stood imposingly, as if looking down on the wall, the floor, and anyone that passed across it, save for the Principal himself. Naturally, many students’ urban legends had had their roots within the mysteriousness that shrouded the chamber. Even Thomas had no intention of busting those myths with what little connection he had with the man who led the school- except for that apparently the Principal of Vladivoskovy Institute saved his life prior, which he was extremely grateful to, Thomas had no other connection with the headmaster. The venerable, elder lecturer didn’t even teach him in any of the seven painfully hard semesters he had been through. And Thomas rarely, if ever, got into hot water so deep that he had the least implication to be redirected to the principal’s office for disciplinary actions to be ruled. It was therefore basically the first time that Thomas came into the mysterious region beyond the seemingly perpetually shut door.

“The principal is waiting for you beyond the door,” reminded the messenger, as he left Thomas at the gateway, prompting him to enter on his own, “You had better be a nice boy and behave yourself. Disciplinary actions in cases such as insulting a vital benefactor of the school are not quite lenient.”

Thomas felt as if he was about to turn back and defend himself against such groundless accusation, but somehow managed to refrain himself from taking any further action, for fear of further damaging the already slimming chance of getting the Level Stone.

“Hey, one friendly reminder, the principal is in a bad mood today,” the school employee said, before turning away, “You had better be careful.”

The Knight of Actual Combat sniffed in spite, only to realize a split second later what kind of situation he had gotten into. Someone must have obviously framed him for a crime he had hardly any conscience of having committed, and now he was in the biggest pinch ever since he got out of the Han family massacre, the worst outcome being the denial of vengeance. Thomas shuddered at the sheer thought as sweat continued to stream off his forehead. Without being able to obliterate Qianlong, what would his life turn into? Who in the whole wide world could be sinister enough to pull off such a game on him? With a mind thoroughly cloudfed with jumbled thoughts, Thomas Oldacre unconsciously turned the doorknob, and presented himself within the room.

It was then that the secrets of the chamber of secrets unveiled to the oblivious Thomas all of a sudden, which was quite a wondrous surprise that busted all the interesting school myths a hundred times over. The only thing that differentiated the Principal’s Office from the other rooms and departments of Vladivoskovy is that it was almost twice as large as an ordinary office room, with the extra space being fully occupied by a huge bookshelf that looked like a mini library all in itself. Whoever possessed such a magnificent collection would undoubtedly have read a great deal, or otherwise a remarkable book admirer. A large picture, probably collected out of personal interest, was hanging on the back wall of the room, depicting the scene of a peaceful town at dusk, free from all violence and conflict- a strange notion, taking into consideration that Vladivoskovy was a war academy. Other than that, the room was perfectly normal- even the curtain was of the Vladivoskovy uniform style, without any custom-made embroideries anywhere.

“Mr. Oldacre, I see you have arrived,” the warm, charismatic voice of a born leader sounded right before Thomas, taking his eyes off the surrounding, and towards the table in the middle of the room. There, at the standard office table, sat the most important person in the whole of Vladivoskovy Institute, an elderly lecturer with a kind smile and eyes ever shining with protection and understanding, Principal Finley Winston Dedman. It was at this moment, and those minutes that followed, that Thomas realized that the kind words and look that the principal demonstrated during the ceremonial speech at the beginning and end of each academic year wasn’t fake or feigned.

“Take a seat,” the principal said, pointing towards the row of neatly aligned chairs around his table. Slowly and anxiously, Thomas did as requested. When he had fully positioned himself face-to-face with his lifesaver, Thomas was barely able to breath for a split second.

“Do you know why I called you here today, Mr. Oldacre?” the principal said calmly, seeing that Thomas had settled down.

“Yes, sir,” Thomas replied nervously, “If I am correct, it was because Lord Elbert of Pherae was discontented with my behavior and filed a complaint.”

“Lord Elbert is a long-time advocate of the Institute of Vladivoskovy, do you understand that, Mr. Oldacre?” Professor Finley Dedman asked, “And so…”

“Yes, I do, sir, and I understand that I have insulted him…” Thomas cut the principal’s word hastily.

“… And so most of the staff of Vladivoskovy, at least those who have been here for more than five years would understand what a true knight Lord Elbert is. And do you think he is the kind of person to take an insult only to turn to someone who would discipline the insulter for him?” the principal continued his speech, “No, no, Mr. Oldacre. That is a spoiled aristocratic lady’s behavior, not that of a great lord.”

“What do you… mean, sir?” Thomas asked back in sheer astonishment, “I was told that the lord came to see you early in the morning for a complaint…”

“Forgive Frank for what he had misunderstood, I ask of you. All what he knew was that Lord Elbert summoned me at this time of day, and the poor soul must have mistaken that for a dire complaint,” Professor Dedman went on, “But it is true that Lord Elbert came to see me for something concerning you.”

“I… don’t understand, sir. Not at all,” Thomas looked extremely puzzled.

“Put yourself in his position, Mr. Oldacre. Assume that you are a lord, about to recruit a soldier for his army. The candidate was a splendid fighter, an honorable knight, as well as a brave and dedicated soul. You know, and you assume that he knows, that if he enters your corps, he would likely become the best knight to have ever existed, not just in your contingent, but in the whole wide world. You have gone as far as providing him with a good position with prospect of fame, glory, and gold. And yet he turned your request down, right at your face, for no apparent reasons. Apart from disappointment and maybe annoyance, what else would you think about it?”

“I…” Thomas paused a little, before speaking up, enlightened, “So that means I must have landed Lord Elbert into a lack of understanding of my motives, sir!”

“Exactly. And that is exactly the reason why he went to see me. He would want to find out more about this mysterious youngster who turned down the request that couldn’t have been better,” Professor Dedman replied, “And I could say that he had come to the right place.”

There was a brief moment of silence in the room as Thomas tried to understand the situation he was in. It was not long before he gasped in astonishment.

“S… sir?” Thomas stammered, “Did… did you tell him that…”

“The Vladivoskovy School Policy on Information Disclosure stated that no private information should be disclosed to a third party without the consent of the individual in question, with one exception,” the professor nodded, seemingly understanding the young man’s cluttered words, “The major benefactors and sponsors of the school’s activities have a right to access whatever information concerning the students of the institute, whenever.”

“Professor Dedman, please allow me… but do you think that Lord Elbert will…” Thomas literally bit his lips as he spoke.

“The kind of ruler Lord Elbert is could never understand and tolerate, let alone collaborate with the kind of ruler Qianlong is, even if they knew each other,” Professor Dedman said firmly and confidently, “Furthermore, I would trust Lord Elbert with my life that he would not tell anyone of what he knew about you. Nor would he cause you any trouble regarding your vengeance drive.”

“That’s… That’s good,” Thomas sighed in relief, only to be greeted by an unpleasant astonishment.

“But I will,” Professor Dedman said, “If someone would want you to not embark on your quest, it would be me.”

“Professor?” Thomas asked back in astonishment, “Do you really mean what you said?”

“I’m afraid I do, Thomas, or Han Zhong, whatever you would like to call yourself,” Professor Dedman replied.

“You can’t possibly mean that! I mean… you were there on that day, weren’t you? You saw how they cut down my father, my mother, my elder brothers, didn’t you? Don’t you remember the way they didn’t even let my baby sister live?”

“I came there. I saw everything. I even made it off with your life,” Professor Dedman said, “But even that doesn’t help. I believe it would be best that you cancel this plot.”

“And why must I?” Thomas gritted his teeth as he started to lose control of his speech, “Have you gone mad?”

“I will give you three reasons why you should not go. First and foremost, it is too dangerous a journey. At the current year, the Qing military might has topped the 150 million milestone. The 1:150 million odd is for madmen and planet killers. Secondly, you have far too many things to do. People to befriend and be friends with. Jobs to do. Things to contribute. Thirdly, your father and I have done our best to make sure you live, not for you to throw all our efforts away by wasting your life that way.”

“Firstly, you and your staffs have always taught that a knight, or at least, a true knight, must always stand up to the challenge without faltering. Secondly, in my mind now I only have one goal, which is Qianlong should disappear from the face of this earth. And thirdly, nothing is worse than a son seeing his parents die horribly only to let the killer go free,” Thomas replied angrily and defiantly, “Professor, I would do all what it takes and pay any price to see Qianlong dead.”

“Tsk. Do you still remember the motto of Vladivoskovy Institute in the first place?” Professor Dedman asked tolerantly and patiently.

Knighthood of the people. Knighthood for the people,” recited Thomas, “But I doubt if it has any merits in this time and place.”

“The people of Tai Qing has a word to describe their world, do you know what it is?” persisted Professor Dedman.

Tianhe, or Everything under the Heavens” Thomas replied. And from the looks on his face, was annoyed beyond control, “Please make your point, Professor!”

“The meaning of the motto that we have all taken to throughout the ages is that, whoever you serve and whomever you fight and cut down, as long as what you do is for the sake of the people, for the good of the people, you could be proud of your actions and can name yourself a knight. However, if you go against the people’s will, however well you fight, you are doomed to fail and fall into oblivion,” Professor Dedman explained, “Now Thomas, is your vendetta for the people? Does killing Qianlong do any good to the people of Tai Qing? Even if you succeed, what would become of Tai Qing? What will become of Everything under the Heavens without a strong and driven leader such as Qianlong?”

“I… I haven’t thought that distantly,” Thomas bent his neck, “But as long as I have vengeance, I wouldn’t care about that!”

“Wrong. By killing someone whose existence means a lot to the people, you are acting no better than a common villain. Or should I say even worse, for your action would doom the entire society and harm everyone concerned. War would break out on an unprecedented scale. Vicious and selfish warlords would pick on the lands of Tai Qing like scavenging crows picking a rotting corpse. Millions more would be killed apart from those you are planning on slaughtering. Millions more would perish in the unspeakable horror of sieges and famines. Still millions more would suffer in various ways on the background of the bloodshed,” Professor Dedman spoke with extreme conviction, “All of those people who would likely suffer from separation, displacement and destruction would not curse the opportunistic warlords. They would curse you instead. They would go as far as to curse your parents, your brothers and sister, and everything and anything you have held dear to! Even your friends, even us! Would Han Xin rest in peace amidst such convictions?”

DF  Post #: 4
Page:   [1]
All Forums >> [Gaming Community] >> [Legends and Lore] >> Writers of Lore >> [The Bookshelves] >> Other Creative Prose >> Epic of the Qingslayer
Jump to:



Advertisement




Icon Legend
New Messages No New Messages
Hot Topic w/ New Messages Hot Topic w/o New Messages
Locked w/ New Messages Locked w/o New Messages
 Post New Thread
 Reply to Message
 Post New Poll
 Submit Vote
 Delete My Own Post
 Delete My Own Thread
 Rate Posts




Forum Content Copyright © 2018 Artix Entertainment, LLC.

"AdventureQuest", "DragonFable", "MechQuest", "EpicDuel", "BattleOn.com", "AdventureQuest Worlds", "Artix Entertainment"
and all game character names are either trademarks or registered trademarks of Artix Entertainment, LLC. All rights are reserved.
PRIVACY POLICY


Forum Software © ASPPlayground.NET Advanced Edition