Arc The Lad Fan Fiction / Arc The Lad Fan Fiction ❯ Unholy Order ❯ Setting Out, Again ( Chapter 1 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: Hoshiko Saitou 
Kharg travels to Drakyrnia and asks Darc to accompany him to Soluna.
Anime/Manga: Arc The Lad Fan Fiction / Arc The Lad Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Adventure | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 09.02.2004 | Updated On: 11.02.2004 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.3K | Visits: 297 | Status: Completed
Kharg travels to Drakyrnia and asks Darc to accompany him to Soluna.
Anime/Manga: Arc The Lad Fan Fiction / Arc The Lad Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Romance / Adventure | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 09.02.2004 | Updated On: 11.02.2004 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.3K | Visits: 297 | Status: Completed
Unholy Order
By: Magenta Fox
Ch 1: Setting Out, Again
My pathetic rambling for the day: Nyah, I’m kinda down cause I know very few people will read this, but maybe I should try doing that whole “writing for me” thing everyone’s been talking about. ::shrugs:: Anywho, as planned and then ordered, Darc shall finally be appearing. ::cheers::
Kharg had disliked his first visit to Drakyrnia and every other visit that followed. The death of a grandfather he’d never met forced him to reflect upon his brother’s world and how much it differed from his. As he walked through the quiet, stone streets, watching Drakyr fly about, he was always hit with the realization that these were, in part, his people. If any city forced him to fess up to his Deimos heritage, it was Drakyrnia.
The death of their grandfather gave way to Darc becoming the Drakyr leader, which placed him, of course, at the highest point in the city. By then the Drakyr knew who Kharg was, and though they showed him no animosity, the disgust that one of their own looked so human (even more human that Darc, who at least had horns, scales, claws and fangs) showed plainly in their glares that stabbed him in the back as he passed. Every other time he’d shown up, there’d been a reason and therefore he’d been expected. This time, however, he’d simply shown up and strolled through their city as if he were one of them, as much as he certainly didn’t feel like he belonged.
Upon seeing that the doorway to Darc’s chamber unguarded, Kharg attempted to look as self-assured as possible while his heart was racing faster and faster with every step. He took a deep breath, not even daring to exhale as he padded lightly through the doorway. He expect the usual, irritated-sounding “What?” he was usually greeted with, but found, instead, a rather comical scene playing out before him. It seemed Darc had fallen asleep in some rickety, old wooden chair in the corner of the room.
“I get all worked up about seeing you and you go and do this?” Kharg asked the sleeping form of his brother, shaking his head with a bit of amusement in his voice. He walked over and knelt next Darc, who was sitting as is he were paying attention to someone speaking to him, save for the fact that his head was slumped onto his right shoulder and his mouth was hanging open. This image of Darc was much less threatening, almost innocent.
Kharg lost track of how long his was staring at Darc before those crimson eyes fluttered up suddenly, full of a surprisingly vulnerable fear that made both of them back away as far as they could go.
“What are you doing here?” Darc shouted, clutching his chest that, since their battle with the Lord of the Black Abyss, lacked the armor he’d worn before.
Kharg, on the other hand, was too shocked to speak. After a few rapid blinks he swallowed and attempted to regain his composure, idly playing with his bangs as he usually did when someone was staring at him while awaiting their answer. The other was doing just that, staring with such intensity that he didn’t even know he possessed. Kharg always hated the way his brother stared more through him than at him. It always unnerved him.
“Well?”
“I went to the Cave of Truth,” he spit out without thinking, trying to offer some sort of reply before Darc dismissed him.
“So that’s where you were,” the Drakyr leader realized, crossing his arms. “That Paulette girl sent me a frantic letter whining about how she couldn’t find you. Next time, warn your girlfriend that you’re leaving before she starts pestering me about it.”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” he rebuked, clenching his fist a bit. “And I couldn’t tell her I was leaving. It was sort of a whim; I didn’t plan on any of this.”
Darc sat back in his chair and crossed his legs, leaning his elbow onto the arm rest and his cheek into his open palm. He looked ready to fall back asleep. “So why are you here instead of back in Yewbell? We don’t have anything to discuss and I didn’t plan on seeing you.”
A smile graced Kharg features. “Sorry I interrupted your nap time. I’ll try to plan my surprise visits better next time.”
“I’m not in the mood for it, Kharg,” Darc snapped, altering his brother’s attitude in an instant. “Just explain yourself.”
“Yeah, about that…” he started weakly. “When I got to the Cave of Truth, the Spirit of Hope was waiting for me. There’s something going on that we need to… it wasn’t exactly clear. We have to go to Soluna together, and fast.”
“Kharg, the Spirits gave their lives to seal away the Lord of the Black Abyss and Soluna is a fairy-tale island in stories for children,” Darc reminded him, his tone condescending and patronizing.
“I… I’m wondering that myself. I didn’t go there to talk to anything; I went to be alone for a while. The Spirit of Hope was just floating there, waiting for me, and the moment I got in, it started explaining everything. Before I even got a chance to ask it anything, it disappeared. As far as Soluna… it said Soluna was real. You know that land mass between Epistia and Aldrow that can’t be reached by boat because of all the jagged rock masses? I think that’s it.”
“You think? A dead Spirit appears from nowhere and blathers something about a make-believe continent and you’re willing to leave when we’re still trying to rebuild after losing them? Did you ever think to ask it how it could possible be alive?”
“No, okay, I didn’t. Either way, the Spirit of Hope really made it seem like this was a do or die situation. I don’t like the circumstances either, but if we don’t go, apparently the war existing there will break out on our continents, too. If it isn’t lying, I don’t want to risk it. Do you?”
“And how do you expect a country we can’t even find could possibly pose a threat to us?”
“I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense to me either.” Kharg’s eyes shifted to the floor, staring blankly at the stone under his boots. “It said you and I should leave alone, together, as soon as possible.”
Even if Kharg had been looking up, he probably still wouldn’t have noticed the slight twitch of the other’s eyebrow in response to that statement. “Why alone?”
“We’re not going there to fight, just see what’s going on. I’m not looking forward to it any more than you do, but I have people that I love that I’m out to protect. I’d gladly give my life for them, so a simple journey to Soluna isn’t going to deter me.”
“Tck, you humans and your never-ending rants about love. Watch your own back for once.”
“I am. Do you think I want us to get thrown into some war with the state we’re in now? We’ve lost the Spirits, our energy source and our magic. What good would we be against any army of angels and demons?”
“If they even are what inhabits that place.”
Kharg sighed loudly and turned around so that his back was too his brother. “Why do you always have to be so stubborn? What will it take to get you to come with me?”
“You wouldn’t do it.”
He looked back a bit but didn’t turn around. “Try me.”
“Fine. I’ll go with you if you promise me that when we get back, you’ll give me a rematch. One far away from Lillia.”
Under different circumstances, Kharg would have laughed at the part added at the end, but the request left him to ponder over whether he would be willing to go through with it. He didn’t doubt his skills, for it was Darc’s magic that would have given him the upper hand in battle. He’d since lost that, and his sword swings were both erratic and ungraceful. Years of training had forged Kharg into a much better combatant, though his feeling had a tendency of getting in the way when he knew his opponent.
“Deal,” he agreed, turning around and extending his hand.
“What is with you humans and shaking hands all the time?” Darc wondered, staring at the outstretched hand before him.
“Would you rather I hug you?” Kharg asked flatly.
“That’s quite alright.”
They shook on the deal, staring each other dead in the eye even after they let go. Darc was the first to break the uneasy silence, establishing that he had every intention of calling the shots for this mission. “We’ll take the Pyron there tomorrow morning. Until then I suggest you stock up on anything you think you’ll need.”
“And where do you expect me to stay until then?”
“You’re not far from Yewbell. Why don’t you tell them you’re leaving before you go?”
There was no reply, and both could feel the uneasy tension in the air. Darc leaned in a little too close for the other’s comfort and raised and eyebrow at this new and odd behavior. “What’s with you lately? You’ve never acted this reckless before.”
“I’ve had a lot on my mind,” he answered, having no need to elaborate his problems any further. “And after leaving Yewbell like that, I feel like a fugitive or something. I’m not ready to go back just yet. At least not until I understand more about the reason why I left in the first place.”
“Whatever,” Darc dismissed, walking toward the room’s exit. “You’re free to stay in my quarters. I’ll get someone to get your situated for the night.”
Kharg paused for a moment before the words registered completely. “What? Wait! Why yours?” It was too late, however, as the Drakyr leader was already giving orders to the Deimos who was returning to his guard post. Suddenly, the young man felt very uncomfortable with the entire arrangement. Yewbell was beginning to seem more and more like a better idea.
Darc motioned for Kharg to follow the Drakyr man as he turned wordlessly and headed in another direction for a purpose unknown to his brother. Just as silently, Kharg followed his leader until he reached the bottom of the grey, stone staircase.
“I’ll take over from here,” a weak, aged voice offered from behind them.
“I thought you weren’t supposed to be out of bed, Sagan.”
The aged Drakyr hobbled into view, his wrinkled face wearing a displeased scowl. “I’m perfectly fine. Let my take the boy to Lord Darc’s chambers.”
With a defeated sigh the Drakyr man left Kharg to follow the wise elder the rest of the way.
“I don’t like the way they treat you with their stares,” Sagan established, tucking his hands together behind his back as he strolled on slowly. “Despite your looks, they should have more reverence for one who shares the blood of our leaders. If we were more tied to the rules and customs of our ancestors, you’d be ruling at his side if the Dragon Spirit deemed you fit.”
For lack of anything intelligible to say in response, Kharg feigns understanding and nodded, even though Sagan couldn’t see. Of all the Drakyr, Darc not included, Sagan was the only man would be show him an ounce of kindness. In fact, the old man was almost humanly friendly toward him, and Kharg wondered why. He wasn’t in the mood to question it, however, with the plethora of questions he’d already piled up in mind beginning to make him feel heavy with burden.
“Where will Darc sleep if I’m in his quarters?” he couldn’t help but wonder aloud when the doorway was in sight.
“Lord Darc hasn’t been sleeping much these days, so he doesn’t even go near his room.”
“Why doesn’t he sleep?”
“He says he hates what he sees when he closes his eyes. All I know is he wakes up with such a scream that it rouses me from my sleep. Eventually he stopped trying, so whenever he does get to sleep we just leave him alone. But here you are.”
“Thank you,” Kharg spoke genuinely. He slipped into the room and slept into the next day. When he awoke early the next morning, Darc had returned to his sword and armor and was waiting to leading him to the Haystir Marsh. From there they’d begin a journey that would change them both in ways they’d never imagined.
By: Magenta Fox
Ch 1: Setting Out, Again
My pathetic rambling for the day: Nyah, I’m kinda down cause I know very few people will read this, but maybe I should try doing that whole “writing for me” thing everyone’s been talking about. ::shrugs:: Anywho, as planned and then ordered, Darc shall finally be appearing. ::cheers::
Kharg had disliked his first visit to Drakyrnia and every other visit that followed. The death of a grandfather he’d never met forced him to reflect upon his brother’s world and how much it differed from his. As he walked through the quiet, stone streets, watching Drakyr fly about, he was always hit with the realization that these were, in part, his people. If any city forced him to fess up to his Deimos heritage, it was Drakyrnia.
The death of their grandfather gave way to Darc becoming the Drakyr leader, which placed him, of course, at the highest point in the city. By then the Drakyr knew who Kharg was, and though they showed him no animosity, the disgust that one of their own looked so human (even more human that Darc, who at least had horns, scales, claws and fangs) showed plainly in their glares that stabbed him in the back as he passed. Every other time he’d shown up, there’d been a reason and therefore he’d been expected. This time, however, he’d simply shown up and strolled through their city as if he were one of them, as much as he certainly didn’t feel like he belonged.
Upon seeing that the doorway to Darc’s chamber unguarded, Kharg attempted to look as self-assured as possible while his heart was racing faster and faster with every step. He took a deep breath, not even daring to exhale as he padded lightly through the doorway. He expect the usual, irritated-sounding “What?” he was usually greeted with, but found, instead, a rather comical scene playing out before him. It seemed Darc had fallen asleep in some rickety, old wooden chair in the corner of the room.
“I get all worked up about seeing you and you go and do this?” Kharg asked the sleeping form of his brother, shaking his head with a bit of amusement in his voice. He walked over and knelt next Darc, who was sitting as is he were paying attention to someone speaking to him, save for the fact that his head was slumped onto his right shoulder and his mouth was hanging open. This image of Darc was much less threatening, almost innocent.
Kharg lost track of how long his was staring at Darc before those crimson eyes fluttered up suddenly, full of a surprisingly vulnerable fear that made both of them back away as far as they could go.
“What are you doing here?” Darc shouted, clutching his chest that, since their battle with the Lord of the Black Abyss, lacked the armor he’d worn before.
Kharg, on the other hand, was too shocked to speak. After a few rapid blinks he swallowed and attempted to regain his composure, idly playing with his bangs as he usually did when someone was staring at him while awaiting their answer. The other was doing just that, staring with such intensity that he didn’t even know he possessed. Kharg always hated the way his brother stared more through him than at him. It always unnerved him.
“Well?”
“I went to the Cave of Truth,” he spit out without thinking, trying to offer some sort of reply before Darc dismissed him.
“So that’s where you were,” the Drakyr leader realized, crossing his arms. “That Paulette girl sent me a frantic letter whining about how she couldn’t find you. Next time, warn your girlfriend that you’re leaving before she starts pestering me about it.”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” he rebuked, clenching his fist a bit. “And I couldn’t tell her I was leaving. It was sort of a whim; I didn’t plan on any of this.”
Darc sat back in his chair and crossed his legs, leaning his elbow onto the arm rest and his cheek into his open palm. He looked ready to fall back asleep. “So why are you here instead of back in Yewbell? We don’t have anything to discuss and I didn’t plan on seeing you.”
A smile graced Kharg features. “Sorry I interrupted your nap time. I’ll try to plan my surprise visits better next time.”
“I’m not in the mood for it, Kharg,” Darc snapped, altering his brother’s attitude in an instant. “Just explain yourself.”
“Yeah, about that…” he started weakly. “When I got to the Cave of Truth, the Spirit of Hope was waiting for me. There’s something going on that we need to… it wasn’t exactly clear. We have to go to Soluna together, and fast.”
“Kharg, the Spirits gave their lives to seal away the Lord of the Black Abyss and Soluna is a fairy-tale island in stories for children,” Darc reminded him, his tone condescending and patronizing.
“I… I’m wondering that myself. I didn’t go there to talk to anything; I went to be alone for a while. The Spirit of Hope was just floating there, waiting for me, and the moment I got in, it started explaining everything. Before I even got a chance to ask it anything, it disappeared. As far as Soluna… it said Soluna was real. You know that land mass between Epistia and Aldrow that can’t be reached by boat because of all the jagged rock masses? I think that’s it.”
“You think? A dead Spirit appears from nowhere and blathers something about a make-believe continent and you’re willing to leave when we’re still trying to rebuild after losing them? Did you ever think to ask it how it could possible be alive?”
“No, okay, I didn’t. Either way, the Spirit of Hope really made it seem like this was a do or die situation. I don’t like the circumstances either, but if we don’t go, apparently the war existing there will break out on our continents, too. If it isn’t lying, I don’t want to risk it. Do you?”
“And how do you expect a country we can’t even find could possibly pose a threat to us?”
“I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense to me either.” Kharg’s eyes shifted to the floor, staring blankly at the stone under his boots. “It said you and I should leave alone, together, as soon as possible.”
Even if Kharg had been looking up, he probably still wouldn’t have noticed the slight twitch of the other’s eyebrow in response to that statement. “Why alone?”
“We’re not going there to fight, just see what’s going on. I’m not looking forward to it any more than you do, but I have people that I love that I’m out to protect. I’d gladly give my life for them, so a simple journey to Soluna isn’t going to deter me.”
“Tck, you humans and your never-ending rants about love. Watch your own back for once.”
“I am. Do you think I want us to get thrown into some war with the state we’re in now? We’ve lost the Spirits, our energy source and our magic. What good would we be against any army of angels and demons?”
“If they even are what inhabits that place.”
Kharg sighed loudly and turned around so that his back was too his brother. “Why do you always have to be so stubborn? What will it take to get you to come with me?”
“You wouldn’t do it.”
He looked back a bit but didn’t turn around. “Try me.”
“Fine. I’ll go with you if you promise me that when we get back, you’ll give me a rematch. One far away from Lillia.”
Under different circumstances, Kharg would have laughed at the part added at the end, but the request left him to ponder over whether he would be willing to go through with it. He didn’t doubt his skills, for it was Darc’s magic that would have given him the upper hand in battle. He’d since lost that, and his sword swings were both erratic and ungraceful. Years of training had forged Kharg into a much better combatant, though his feeling had a tendency of getting in the way when he knew his opponent.
“Deal,” he agreed, turning around and extending his hand.
“What is with you humans and shaking hands all the time?” Darc wondered, staring at the outstretched hand before him.
“Would you rather I hug you?” Kharg asked flatly.
“That’s quite alright.”
They shook on the deal, staring each other dead in the eye even after they let go. Darc was the first to break the uneasy silence, establishing that he had every intention of calling the shots for this mission. “We’ll take the Pyron there tomorrow morning. Until then I suggest you stock up on anything you think you’ll need.”
“And where do you expect me to stay until then?”
“You’re not far from Yewbell. Why don’t you tell them you’re leaving before you go?”
There was no reply, and both could feel the uneasy tension in the air. Darc leaned in a little too close for the other’s comfort and raised and eyebrow at this new and odd behavior. “What’s with you lately? You’ve never acted this reckless before.”
“I’ve had a lot on my mind,” he answered, having no need to elaborate his problems any further. “And after leaving Yewbell like that, I feel like a fugitive or something. I’m not ready to go back just yet. At least not until I understand more about the reason why I left in the first place.”
“Whatever,” Darc dismissed, walking toward the room’s exit. “You’re free to stay in my quarters. I’ll get someone to get your situated for the night.”
Kharg paused for a moment before the words registered completely. “What? Wait! Why yours?” It was too late, however, as the Drakyr leader was already giving orders to the Deimos who was returning to his guard post. Suddenly, the young man felt very uncomfortable with the entire arrangement. Yewbell was beginning to seem more and more like a better idea.
Darc motioned for Kharg to follow the Drakyr man as he turned wordlessly and headed in another direction for a purpose unknown to his brother. Just as silently, Kharg followed his leader until he reached the bottom of the grey, stone staircase.
“I’ll take over from here,” a weak, aged voice offered from behind them.
“I thought you weren’t supposed to be out of bed, Sagan.”
The aged Drakyr hobbled into view, his wrinkled face wearing a displeased scowl. “I’m perfectly fine. Let my take the boy to Lord Darc’s chambers.”
With a defeated sigh the Drakyr man left Kharg to follow the wise elder the rest of the way.
“I don’t like the way they treat you with their stares,” Sagan established, tucking his hands together behind his back as he strolled on slowly. “Despite your looks, they should have more reverence for one who shares the blood of our leaders. If we were more tied to the rules and customs of our ancestors, you’d be ruling at his side if the Dragon Spirit deemed you fit.”
For lack of anything intelligible to say in response, Kharg feigns understanding and nodded, even though Sagan couldn’t see. Of all the Drakyr, Darc not included, Sagan was the only man would be show him an ounce of kindness. In fact, the old man was almost humanly friendly toward him, and Kharg wondered why. He wasn’t in the mood to question it, however, with the plethora of questions he’d already piled up in mind beginning to make him feel heavy with burden.
“Where will Darc sleep if I’m in his quarters?” he couldn’t help but wonder aloud when the doorway was in sight.
“Lord Darc hasn’t been sleeping much these days, so he doesn’t even go near his room.”
“Why doesn’t he sleep?”
“He says he hates what he sees when he closes his eyes. All I know is he wakes up with such a scream that it rouses me from my sleep. Eventually he stopped trying, so whenever he does get to sleep we just leave him alone. But here you are.”
“Thank you,” Kharg spoke genuinely. He slipped into the room and slept into the next day. When he awoke early the next morning, Darc had returned to his sword and armor and was waiting to leading him to the Haystir Marsh. From there they’d begin a journey that would change them both in ways they’d never imagined.