Algus by Crystal Zeal

"Heavenly Father, blessed art thou. Thou hast given thy unworthy children
of Ivalice life where there was nothing, light where there was dark, and
hope where there was once fear and despair. Oh virtuous creator of all that
is right, it is to you we pray. We beg thy forgiveness for our sins and
transgressions, hoping that thou might lead us into the light of virtue.
Forgive our imperfections and shelter us from evil. Thou hast our faith,
our love, and our eternal devotion. Farlem."

"Farlem."

Algus was too young to understand just what those words meant, barely six.
As the prayer echoed around the hallowed walls of the chapel, resonating
with the clear voices of young and old, man and woman, each adding their
own deep timber and high-pitched, warm thrum, Algus looked to the upturned
face of his mother. It was during church that he found her to be most calm,
face alight with the joy and rapture of prayer. He did not quite understand
why, but it was a moment he could cherish. His mother barely acknowledged
his squeeze of her hand and his small, innocent smile looking up at her,
but he did not mind.


Next to her, Algus' father stood stiffly with his eyes closed, face stern.
Unlike his mother, Rodolph did not show joy from prayer -- instead, it was
a duty that he faithfully served as a son of Ivalice, and a pious follower
of the Glabados Church. They were two very different people, his parents,
and even at a young age he understood that. When his father opened his eyes
and saw Algus watching him, inattentive, he glowered at the boy, jerking
his head towards where the priest was beckoning them to be seated and take
out their scriptures to read from.

Seating himself down, the boy leaned against his mother, offering her a wide
smile as she retrieved the small, loosely bound book from the back of the
pew in front of them. Only rich, noble churches like the one the Sadalfas
family attended could afford so many books, but Algus was not yet aware of
this. His father read from an old book taken from the pocket of his jacket
while Algus and his mother read from hers. Algus was only just learning his
letters, so the scriptures were much too complex for him, but he liked to
look along and listen to his mother's soothing voice.

He settled back into the pew, bottom rather uncomfortable on the hard wood,
and snuggled up next to his mother as the congregation started to read along
with the decrepit, white-haired priest that led their services. The man was
stuffy and always looked like he was smelling something awful, and Algus
did not think too highly of him. His father respected the old man, however,
and the one time he had caught Algus insulting him Rodolph struck the boy,
hard, sending him onto his knees in a sobbing fit. Alainne had tried to comfort
her son, looking up at his father with pleading eyes, but Rodolph would not
tolerate any disrespectful behavior. After that, Algus kept his mouth shut
when it came to his opinions of the old priest, even IF the old man himself
was starting to get hard of hearing and would not hear Algus either way.

After an hour, the service became dull and Algus started fidgeting, eyes
darting around the church. He rocked back and forth a bit before his father
reached over and put a steady hand on his shoulder, giving him a nasty look.
Algus scrunched up his face and looked down. He was very glad when the whole
thing ended -- even though it was so interesting when it began, by the end
of the morning he was itching to go outside and play. He held on to his mother's
hand tightly as they exited the dim building out into the warm sunlight,
shading his eyes with the other hand.

"Algus," his father barked, stopping to look down at his son with a cold,
dour expression. "I disapprove of your behavior in there. You must be quiet
and still in church, understand?"

The boy's eyes focused down on the ground, frowning. "Yes, sir," he answered
with all the reluctance of boy of six could muster. When his father gave
a gruff monosyllabic reply, he looked back up. A few children around his
age were playing together in the dirt outside the church, their parents,
dressed in drab, soiled clothing, kept one wary eye upon them while they
begged the nobles coming out of the building for a spare coin. "Why weren't
they in church, father?" Algus pointed at the peasants, eyes curious. His
father grunted, lips curling up into a sneer.

"Those are peasants. Peasants are not allowed in our holy chapels, Algus
-- they breed disease and crime. Even God hates them, or else why would they
be so miserable and poor? No, those commoners have no place in our church,
son. They have no God but the small amount of coin they can muster up." He
shook his head and then spat as if to emphasize his point.

"Can't I play with them?" The boy motioned to the children. It looked like
they were having fun, and he wanted to join in! His father never let him
have any fun.

His father proved his thoughts valid, yelling in disgust, "Absolutely not!
No son of mine will be mucking about in the mud with a bunch of ill-bred
rats." He yanked Algus' hand away from his mother, dragging him along to
where their carriage sat, servant patiently awaiting their arrival. He tipped
his hat at the family as they climbed inside, and then snapped the reigns
in his hands, beckoning the horses to move forward. Algus gave one last sad
look from the window before they jolted off back to their house, where he
would have to play alone.



<hr>


"Do you think the war is going to be over soon?" Alainne posed the question
of out the blue, looking up from her plate of roast Juravis, rice, and sliced
tubers. Her fork was poised at the edge of her plate, eyes full of worry
as they sought to meet her husband's.

Rodolph shoveled another forkful of meat into his mouth, chewing slowly before
looking up, seeming exasperated. "It's not that easy to judge," he said,
humoring her - a woman could not understand such complicated matters, surely.
He ignored the serving girl as she put another flagon of ale in front of
him and continued speaking. "Prince Lenard seems poised to attack Zeltennia
within the next few months, even as late as the new year. He's certainly
preparing for battle, regrouping all of his troops. The Hokuten have gathered
there alongside the Nanten, and both groups are now massing at Bethla Garrison."

As he spoke, Alainne gasped. "Zeltennia? But that's so close - what if the
fighting spreads here?"

"Silly woman," Rodolph said, disgusted, "not only does the Marquis have his
own troops ready to keep out invaders, but there is no way they'll manage
to get past Bethla Garrison. No, they'll definitely be stuck there for a
little while." As if to emphasize his lack of concern, Rodolph lifted up
his mug and took a great gulp of his ale, tilting his head back as he drank.
"I suspect we'll have an even worse shortage of grain next-" He felt a pull
at his arm.

"Why don't you ever use that sword, daddy?" Algus tugged on the sleeve of
his father's shirt, pointing up at the sword mounted upon the wall above
the mantel, gleaming in the light of the lamps. "It looks strong!" He fidgeted
in his seat, as antsy as he had been that time in church, just over a year
ago.

Vaguely annoyed at being interrupted, Rodolph looked over to where his son
was pointing. When his eyes stopped upon the sword, his gaze softened, and
an almost reminiscent smile touched his face, bringing back some youth to
his appearances. "That," he said, voice swelling with pride, "has been passed
down in our family for generations." Rodolph braced his palms upon the table,
grunting as he pushed himself up onto his feet. Wincing at the pressure on
his injured leg, he shuffled over to the wall, leaning a hand upon the surface.
He reached up with his other hand, sliding it along the length of the blade
fondly, before wrapping his fingers around the well-worn black leather hilt
and hoisting it off of the stand, which was situated in front of a passive
shield bearing the Sadalfas coat of arms. A faint smile on his lips, Rodolph
carried the sword back over to the table, slowly sinking back down into his
seat.


"See, son?" His voice rumbled as he displayed the blade for Algus to view.
"Three feet of tempered damascan steel, sharp enough to split a hair. This
sword had been in our family for almost two hundred years -- it first belonged
to my great-great-grandfather, Torphin. See these rubies inlayed on the hand
guard? These were part of a gift given to our ancestor by the late Marquis
Lagot for saving his life. An assassin had been sent by one of the Marquis's
rivals at court. Well, Torphin, who was one of his lordship's personal guards,
knew something was wrong. He had a true fighter's instinct, I've been told."

"When the Marquis was traveling to his estates outside of Limberry, Torphin
sensed an enemy in a nearby tree. He shouted a warning to the Marquis and
the rest of his fellow guards and then hurled himself from his saddle, aiming
to block his lordship from the arrow. Torphin was hit right in the back,
and if he hadn't blocked the arrow the Marquis would have been shot straight
in the heart! One of the other guards picked the assassin off, but for Torphin's
bravery and loyalty, the Marquis granted him a lavish reward."

"With some of the reward money and gems, he commissioned this sword. See
the design on the pommel? The Sadalfas family crest, same as that shield
up there. This sword represents our family's courage, honor and nobility.
It is only to be used to further our family's honor -- a sword to be used
while in service Not against common thieves and brigands," he ended
bitterly, pushing his plates backwards with a clink and laying the
sword down upon the table in front of him.

Algus effected an expression of awe, tentatively reaching out his hand towards
the sword. As if burnt, even before touching the sword he wrenched his hand
backwards, eyes darting nervously over to his father, who nodded. Beaming,
eyes wide, Algus slid his hand along the cool, bright metal of the blade.
Suddenly, he let out a cry -- the boy had nicked a finger on the sharpened
edge. Holding back tears, he stuck his finger into his mouth and sucked on
the cut.

"Oh, Algus" His mother crooned, reaching out towards the boy, before
Rodolph laid his hand upon her arm with a shake of his head.


"No, Alainne." His voice was stern. "That cut is an honor. It links him by
the blood of our noble family -- the blood that runs through his very own
veins -- to this blade. He will wear it with pride. Hear that, son?" Dull
brown eyes flicked over to Algus.

Algus nodded, eyes wide. "Yessir," he answered, voice muffled by the finger
still in his mouth.

"Good boy," Rodolph finished stiffly. He stared down into his mug of ale
with a blank expression before picking up the tankard and draining the rest.
With a sigh, he limped back over to the wall to place the sword back upon
its display.


<hr>


"Traitor! Traitor! Your granddaddy was a traitor and a coward!"

With an "oomph," the ten year old Algus was sent stumbling forward, snow
dripping down his neck. He winced, trying to pull himself up straight while
more snowballs pelted the back of his head.

"Coward! Scum!" The boys continued to taunt, jeering, their high boyish voices
full of gleeful malice. Gritting his teeth and shivering, Algus slipped forward
in the snow, trying to keep walking. He drew his jacket closer to his body
as more patches of snow slid down his wet hair and onto his neck.


One of the older boys, a rather scruffy looking brute, furrowed his eyebrows
and stepped forward menacingly. His oversized palm shot out to grab Algus'
shoulder, tugging him backwards. "Hey! You stop when we're talking to you,
scum!" He sneered, fingers digging into the smaller boy's shoulder which
was, thankfully, padded -- otherwise, Algus would have had some bruises.

"Get OFF of me!" Algus growled, wrenching his shoulder back and twisting
around to fully face the small group of boys, eyes darting between the three
of them.

One of the boys, a tall, skinny youth with a streak of dirt smeared across
his cheek, smirked and stepped closer to Algus and the larger boy, crossing
his arms over his chest. "Or you'll do what?" He taunted, lisping
through uneven teeth.

Face scrunched up in anger, Algus balled his hands into fists and replied,
"I'llI'll"

"Yeah, what?" The last boy interrupted, looking very smug. He was just as
small as Algus, his appearance resembling that of a rat, and it was obvious
that he was lucky to have bigger, meaner friends. Until recently, the boy
had been one of Algus' playmates, until the constant teasing from the other
children made him abandon Algus without even a simple apology. He fell into
his current crowd by pathetic flattery, and Algus loathed him above the others
for his betrayal. Falling into place between the two other boys, he now helped
to form a triangle trapping Algus in.

The boy smirked as Algus narrowed his eyes at him, shaking in anger. "I'll
kill you, Ralfas," Algus concluded, keeping the worry from his voice.
He was outnumbered, and two of the boys were significantly bigger and stronger
than he was.


"You won't get away with threatening any of us, whelp," the first boy sneered
again, shoving Algus towards the tall boy, who grinned as he grabbed Algus.
Right fist balled tightly, he punched Algus hard, once, twice in the stomach
before pushing him down into the snow. "Not so tough now, eh?"

Algus felt his breath leave him as he collapsed into the snow, coughing as
he tried to draw in slow breathes. He felt ready to vomit, wincing as he
tried to draw himself up onto his knees.

"Stay down, vermin!" The tall boy shouted while Ralfas just looked down upon
him with a faint smile, hands thrust into his pockets. When Algus continued
to rise, the tall boy slammed his boot down onto Algus' face, sending him
sprawling backwards with a sickening crunch. Algus cried out and clutched
his hands to his nose, which was rapidly staining the snow beneath him red.
He started to sob, curled up in a ball, while the other two boys proceeded
to kick him viciously. Every now and then Ralfas would sneak in a kick or
two of his own, but he mostly stood back and watched, glad to be in the company
of those powerful and not the wimp now sobbing at his feet.

"Stop, stop please!" Algus begged almost shrieking, sobs wracking his body
like bolts. "Please, please stop, help!" All he could feel was pain and cold
as each boot collided with his huddled form. He sheltered his head and face
with his arms, trembling with each new kick.

Finally, mercifully, the pain stopped. The biggest boy stepped back. "I think
he learned his lesson, don't you, guys? Let him go running back to his traitor
daddy. This coward won't dare talk back to us again."

"M-my dadd?y's no traitor," Algus whimpered, moving his arms down enough
to be able to peer up at the group through swollen eyes. "Even if it IS true,
and it's NOT, it was my granddaddy that did it. My daddy was just a kid!"

"Traitor's blood! Same thing, just like you!" The skinny boy aimed one last
kick at Algus' stomach before the group walked off, leaving him crumpled
like a broken doll in the snow.


<hr>


She found him there an hour later, sobbing weakly in a pile of dirty snow.
She had expected the boy home quite some time ago, and worried as only a
mother could be, she went out in search of her little boy. When she spotted
him, Alainne let out a small gasp and ran to his side.

"Mommy?" Algus' voice was soft and pleaded as he gazed up, dried blood
caked around his nose.

"Mommy's here, baby..." Crying softly to herself, his mother scooped the
boy up into her arms and carried his bruised body home. As she entered the
door, her husband was coming down the master staircase. When he saw the state
Algus was in, and retreated into his study in disgust.

Alainne paid him no heed. She brought Algus into his own room and treated
his wounds gently, brushing off a maid's request to help. She washed off
his face first, then examined him for other wounds. When she discovered two
unevenly broken ribs, she laid the tips of her fingers on his forehead. "Sleep,
my boy," came her melodic croon, and Algus felt himself drifting into a deep
sleep. With this done, she was able to mend his ribs with a weak cure spell
that she knew. He would need time and sleep to fully heal, but that would
get rid of the worst of it.

Brushing her fingers along his forehead, she pushed back his still-damp hair
and kissed him softly. His mother then pulled the blankets up and tucked
them around his shivering body. Alainne gave him one more worried look before
backing out of the boy's room and quietly shutting the door. As she was doing
so, an arm snaked around her front, pulling her backwards.

"Come into bed, now," Rodolph commanded, whispering huskily into her ear.
He trailed his lips down to her neck, which he nipped hard enough to leave
a mark. "I am in need of you."

Alainne stiffened and moved from his grasp, arms crossed over her stomach
nervously. "I am worried about Algus. You saw the state he was in when I
brought him home -- what if that happens again? He had two broken ribs! You
cannot just ignore that!"


"You are my wife and will do as I say!" The man barked, grabbing her arms
hard enough to make her wince and try to pull backwards. "It's the boy's
own damn fault for not being able to fight back! He earned his wounds and
can suffer them without you simpering all over him, making him even more
pathetic and babied! He is a part of the proud Sadalfas family line, and
must learn to take care of himself!" His eyes were wide and frenzied.

Whimpering, Alainne drew back and ducked her head, shaking. "He has a fever,"
she whispered, not daring to look up. "I think he's caught a chill, God knows
how long he was out there in the snow I need to take care of him. He's
only a boy!"

"He is well on his way to becoming a man," Rodolph said sternly, wrenching
his wife down the hallway towards their bedroom. "Right now you need to satisfy
my needs, not the brat's."

There was nothing more she could do to object. Defeated, she allowed herself
to be pulled into the darkness of their quarters.


<hr>


Algus was still curled up in bed two days later when his father barged into
his room, abruptly waking him up. "Get up, boy!" he ordered gruffly. "It's
time I taught you how to fight! You can't just lay down and take a beating
when someone's after you!"


Rubbing his eyes, still rather groggy, Algus mustered up a, "What?
Huh?" before his father grabbed his arms and hoisted him out of bed.

"I'm going to teach you how to fight properly, boy!" Rodolph clapped his
son on the shoulder, other hand resting upon the beaten-up hilt of his sword.

Algus' eyes went wide as he started to comprehend just what his father was
saying. "Really?!" He exclaimed excitedly, face lighting up. "With a sword
'n everything?"

"When you're ready for it," his father grunted, "but for now I'm just going
to teach you how to throw a proper punch. Fighting is usually for common
folk, but a noble needs to know how to defend himself in a fight. You never
know when some scum is going to jump you -- or, for that matter, one of your
own peers" he grumbled, before continuing his thought, "and as a proud
Sadalfas it will be your duty to put them in their rightful place - groveling
at your feet like a dog."

"When can we start?" the boy asked, a smile covering his face. He almost
did a little jump, but felt a sharp jab of pain in his ribs and decided against
it. His father caught the cringe.

Rodolph went quiet, considering. He could start the boy right away, or give
him another few days to get better. Normally, he just would have just made
the boy deal with the pain, especially if he had seemed to object
to training. However, something about his enthusiasm made Rodolph stop and
think about his condition. He would probably over-exert himself and end up
passing out, and that would be disgraceful. "In another few days,
when you can walk around without flinching like an old woman. Now, get back
into that bed before your mother comes home." His calloused palm went to
ruffle the boy's hair before he left.


Algus could barely contain his glee. His father wanted to teach him how to
fight! He wanted to teach him!

In order for that to happen, he would need to heal first. The boy crawled
back into bed and spent the next few days in excited anticipation.


<hr>


Training ended up being much longer and harder than Algus had ever expected,
but he was proving to be quite adept. He was nimble and agile, able to dodge
blows his father sent at him quite easily. Though his father's leg was still
somewhat stiff from his old wound, he was back to work as a mercenary. Work
came and went; sometimes he would be gone for only a day, and other times
for weeks on end. Whenever he was home, however, he never neglected to give
Algus a bit of training.

The boy practiced tumbles and falls while his father was gone, punches and
blocks, and how to (rather crudely) use a small wooden practice sword his
father had bought him. He was a fast learner, and every now and then his
father would bless him with a short word of praise. Algus soaked and basked
in each one, elated that he could cause his father some form of pride. Lessons
and tutors came and went, but his father was always there, teaching him a
new sword technique and practicing with him. By the time Algus had turned
thirteen, he had grown from a rather gawkish youth to a lean, agile teenager.
He had long shed his boyish curls, leaving his hair hacked short. He was
only bullied a few times after the initial attack, but his training allowed
him to fight the boys off enough that they left him alone.


It was rumored that an end to the long war was in sight. Both Ivalice and
Ordalia were going into severe economic regress due to the costs of war,
and even Algus was able to see the toll it was taking. Beggars littered the
streets while thieves prowled at night, making it unsafe to go out unless
accompanied by guards. Drought and revolt plagued the land, causing severe
food shortages. Zeltennia had been invaded and, after a long siege, had fallen
into enemy hands. Refugees fled by the hundreds to Limberry, causing an even
greater food shortage. Riots had broken out in several major cities and had
to be put down by the few remaining bands of knights not at war. Both kingdoms
yearned for peace.

Rodolph had managed to grab a job along with several other men, escorting
a high noble and his family from his country estates to his secured city
mansion. The job took three weeks total, and if no damage was made to the
lord's self or property on the way to the city all of the men would be rewarded
handsomely. He was due back that night, and both Alainne and Algus wished
to properly greet him.

His wife, ever dutiful, had gone into the market to pick up ingredients herself
for a large dinner that she would have the chef cook. As a noble, even a
lesser one, it was almost disgraceful that she would do such common work,
but she was soft-hearted and did not mind being around more common folk.
Plus, picking the ingredients herself would ensure that he had the best meal
one could give. Algus tagged along, eager to look at the weapons displayed.
A maid trailed behind them, ready to hold what her mistress purchased.

The trip was pleasant. It was a nice afternoon, oddly cool for summer with
a nice breeze, and they took their time. The sun was starting to go down
as they returned to their manor, maid laden down with packages. Alainne carried
a bundle of flowers she bought from a smiling common girl for just fifteen
gil. Algus strode along at his mother's side, unladen by any parcels.

When they reached home, Alainne could tell something was off -- for one,
no guards were at the door, and no servant came out to great them. Becoming
increasingly more agitated, Alainne told the maid and Algus to stay behind
her before entering the dark house, nerves prickling in fear. What was going
on?

The rest of the night would forever be burned into Algus' mind, until the
day he died. The shouting, the flash of light, the sound of blade hacking
through flesh

They entered the manor to find four guards dead, right within the door, and
another maid butchered just ahead. A gruff, dirty looking man cut down one
of their servants as they came in. Algus slipped in blood, falling down with
a crash as both Alainne and the maid let out screams of terror, ingredients
flying everywhere as the maid dropped all of her packages and ran for her
life.

At the sound of the screams, half a dozen men came streaming out from various
parts of the manor, loot in hand. One man, a toothless, scrawny looking rat,
carried their family sword.


Algus cried out, trying to climb back onto his feet, but his hands and knees
were slick with blood. "UNHAND THAT!" He screamed, lunging towards the closest
man who knocked him down easily with a twisted grin.

Madness ensued. Alainne ran to go help her son, and the two were set upon
by the bandits. They struggled to escape, Algus slipping through the filthy
hands of the thieves, but Alainne was not so lucky. When she bit the fingers
of a man who was trying to silence her, he let out a feral grunt and brought
his knife up to her throat, slitting it.

Time froze for Algus. Hands grasped at his limbs, but all he saw was the
red sprouting from his mother's neck, pouring down her dress in a great rush.
He saw the light extinguish in her eyes, watched as her knees buckled, sending
her falling down -- almost in slow motion -- onto the bloody, tiled floor.

A scream of pure rage and agony ripped through Algus' throat, seeming to
go on forever. He was unable to move from his position, unable to think,
all he could do was shake and scream, tearing at the hands around him like
a wild animal.

Something hard cracked against the back of his head, and everything went
dark.

It was a night he would remember for the rest of his life.


<hr>


His father found him hours later, caked in blood and barely conscious, babbling
incoherently with his mother's head resting upon his lap. At some point he
had covered her throat with his tunic, wrapping it around to hide the large
gash. His eyes were swollen from the constant sobs that wracked his body
as he cried, "mother, mother!" over and over, rocking back and forth, brushing
his grimy, rust-stained fingers over her pale, bloodless cheeks. "Mother,
mother!"

That was the last time Algus saw his father entirely sober. For the rest
of his life, Rodolph carried around some bottle or flask of spirits on hand,
and he spent most of his days locked up in his study in grief. Neither father
nor son would eat until one of their few remaining servants would all but
force them to. Algus recovered faster than his father, who never seemed to
get over the death of his wife. He felt as if a part of him was gone. His
light, his love, his Alainne He was never kind enough, never showed
her how much he loved her

And so, he sought his solace in alcohol, drowning his sorrows, sunk deep
within his own depression. Algus started taking care of him, trying to bring
him up from the dark places his father just wanted to curl up within. They
both tried to heal, and within that time a year past.


<hr>


By St. Ajora, these damn uniforms were uncomfortable. Algus fidgeted awkwardly,
a grimace plastered on his face. His father gave a disapproving look and
clapped him on the shoulder. "Don't be nervous, son," he said, misinterpreting
his son's discomfort. "You'll finally be amongst your equals, receiving the
training you deserve. Stand tall and proud - you are the son of a long, noble
family line, and you are going to help bring us back the honor we deserve.
Understand?"


Algus snapped to attention when his father started speaking. "Yes, sir!"
He answered, standing up very straight. By God, though, this uniform was
uncomfortable! It dug into all of the wrong places, not fitting properly,
but they really could not afford a better seamstress - they already had to
dismiss another maid because they could no longer pay her salary. Money had
been tight since his father stopped working as much, and he refused to sell
any of their family heirlooms and jewels. A house that big cost a lot to
keep up. If his mother was here, she would have been able to fix his unifo-no.
He must not think about that.

His father nodded, giving him a friendlier pat on the shoulder. "Make me
proud, son." With that, he ducked back into the house while Algus climbed
inside the carriage waiting for him.

The academy was about an hour's ride to the north, winding through the streets
of the lesser nobility first, where his family had lived for the past generation
- though once considered higher nobility, after his grandfather's disgrace
that was barely even acknowledged - around the estates of the higher nobility,
and finally to the academy which rested at the feet of the marquis's fortress
and private estates. After a year of preliminary training, if he was deemed
talented enough to continue his career as a cadet, he would be housed within
the marquis's fortress in the student barracks for the rest of his three
years of training. After that time was up, he would graduate from the academy
as a full knight and would be assigned a unit. Some knights were moved directly
to the ranks of the Nanten, while others were hand-chosen by the Marquis
to be part of his personal guard. That was what Algus has his sights on -
either that, or rising to the rank of General in the Nanten.

The ride through the richer parts of the city was pleasant. Guards were always
patrolling the street, keeping away the filthy beggars and trash that thrived
in the gutter. Algus could just sit back, shades open, and enjoy the view
without having to see the sewer scum. It was nice to have a bit of peaceful
time to himself. After his mother Well, during the last year this had
been hard. His father's drinking had continued to get worse, and Algus would
oftentimes come home to find his father rocking in his sturdy chair, hugging
a flask of spirits to his chest. It hurt most when he would start sobbing,
crying out for Alainne

But things would be different now. Algus would shape himself into a fine
young soldier, worthy of praise and promotion. His actions would honor his
family, and his father would have something to take pride in. Things would
turn around, he just knew it. He was already quite strong and capable --
why, they would be lining up to honor him, give him his blessings! And when
he was a knight, he thought rather darkly, he would find those men and exact
revenge. Smiling to himself, Algus slumped back against his seat and watched
the landscape move passed.

<hr>



"As knights of the realm, you will be charged with upholding the law." The
training master paced in front of them, tight muscles and cords flexing as
swiveled his head to meet each boy standing before him in the eye. He was
stern and cold, towering over most of the boys by at least a foot. "You and
your fellow knights will work in groups, generally, but at times you will
also be expected to work independently, moving about on your own. You need
to be prepared to fight and survive alone and with others. You must learn
the way of the sword, of the bow, and those that are capable will learn the
ways of the mage. You will be expected to draw upon all of your innate resources
and make up for those that you do not have. You will protect the nobility
and serve those above you.

"It will not be easy. As a knight, you will be exposed to harsh conditions,
will face constant danger, and you are expected to put your duty above all
else. While in training as a cadet, you will not be pampered any more. You
will be hardened, transformed from the soft young whelps that stand before
me into hard men, capable of killing without cowering at the sight of blood.
You will bring honor to your families, to the Marquis, to all of Limberry.
Some of you won't make it. You'll go crying back to your mothers and end
up some soft lord, looking over lands and dining until you get sick. The
rest of you, however You will be sharp as a blade, hard as steel, and
the glory of the Limberry Aegis Knights."

He stopped his pacing, staring at the nervous group of teenagers, boy and
girl, harshly. "For now, you are first year cadets, the lowest of the low.
If an older cadet asks you to do something, you would best well do it. For
the next year, you all have to prove your worth if you wish to be accepted
as full cadets. Come next spring, some of you lot'll be shipping out. Until
then Get ready for some fun." His grin was broad, almost carnal --
some of the cadets audibly gulped. Algus stood firm, eyes straight ahead,
hands clasped behind his back. No man would scare him.

His lack of concern drew him some attention. The training master looked him
over, stepping forward. "Well, at least we have one lad not shaking in his
boots. Name!"

Algus was quick on his toes, barking out, "Algus Sadalfas, sir!"

All of the boys looked on, some shifting around nervously, others going white
as one of their own was subjected to the scrutiny of the gruff, older knight.

"Sadalfas, eh? Got some traitor blood in you, then?" He leered cruelly and
leaned down, face only inches away from Algus' own. The boy tried his hardest
not to cringe away, and began to sweat.


"My own blood is pure, sir, despite the actions of my ancestors." Hopefully
this would be the right reaction, he thought to himself, mind racing. Despite
previous convictions, the man was starting to make him very antsy

The training master guffawed. "We'll see about that, whelp. I'll have you
crying back to your traitor parents before the season's done." He turned
away sharply, shouting, "Back in line! You, there, stand up straight! You
look as spineless as a snail!" His attention was turned to a scared looking
shorter girl. "What's your name, brat?"

"Malinn Tarrison," she said rather unsurely, adding a rather quick and belated
"sir." She was unable to control her wince as the training master stepped
forward, eyes sharp.

"Well, Malinn," he said slowly, staring down at the girl. "You look like
you're shaking there in your boots. Scared of me, girl?" He grinned again,
narrowing his eyes.

The girl must have been Algus' age, but she seemed years younger as she blanched
and stammered for a reply. "N-no sir!" Her eyes were wide, pupils dilated
in obvious terror. What she was afraid of, Algus was unsure -- while the
training master seemed of course large and intimidating, he was just a man,
and a man chosen for such traits so as to effectively train young bloodless
nobles into grown killers, sworn to protect and defend the realm and, Algus
thought, the Marquis.

"Good. We would not want any cowardly knights, would we?" Without saying
another word, he turned and found another to inspect, this one looking around
with beady little eyes, attitude caught in some strange juxtaposition between
nervousness and arrogance, standing in between two larger, tougher looking
boys. "You, boy! Name!"

He gave a start and took a moment to gather himself together before responding
warily, shrinking back further between the two boys. "Ralfas Amalric, sir."

Algus felt his blood run cold. All of the adolescents had been herded into
the empty room upon arrival, shuffled along the dark wood floor and not even
given time to breathe before the training master swooped in upon all of them,
commanding them to line up for inspection. He had not gotten a good look
at everyone Could it really be Ralfas? He almost jerked out of line
but managed to contain himself, settling with sticking his head out and staring
at the other boy with open resentment. Ralfas, catching his astonished and
angry look, smirked and focused his gaze upon the training master.


"Oh, you think you're funny, boy?" The training master grinned right along,
almost cheery, inviting Ralfas in on the joke.

Always somewhat daft, Ralfas grinned back. "My father always says I'm a bit
of a charmer."

The older knight threw back his head, giving a hearty laugh, before balling
his hand into a fist and slamming it down against Ralfas' jaw, sending him
sprawling backwards. "Charmer?" He barked, entire attitude changed, almost
seeming to be charged by anger, "You brats will be learning respect here,
and modesty! When I ask you if you're funny, you'll say, 'No, sir!' You're
here to learn how to be a knight, not a court jester! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?"
He grabbed Ralfas' collar, hauling him up onto his knees.

Ralfas winced, drawing backwards in fear. "Y-yes sir!" came his swift and
high reply, eyes barely open into thin slits.

"Good," said the man, letting go of the boy's collar. He slumped back down
against the floor, beet red from shame. His jaw was already starting to swell
up, turning an ugly shade of purple. Algus could barely suppress his malicious
glee, trying his hardest to keep a satisfied look off his face lest he be
subjected to the same embarrassing (and painful) fate.

"You lot are dismissed," the training master informed the entire group of
cadets. "Your first lesson is in twenty minutes -- do not be late." Without
so much as a backwards glance, he stalked out of the room.

<hr>



Their first lesson, it seemed, would be how to keep up with their own training.
Male and female cadets alike were rushed through armor fittings, the choosing
of equipment and practice weapons, and books and scrolls needed for their
academic lessons. By late morning they were already exhausted from the sheer
amount of things they would need to start their proper training. All equipment
used within their first year was loaned from the Academy. If they lasted,
they would be expected to replace all of the equipment with their own gear.

Come the next day, they would trickle into a routine that would last through
their entire span as a cadet: warm-up in the morning, followed by chocobo-riding
training. They would then spend the rest of the morning learning basic weapons
skills -- bow, sword and staff. All were expected to gain reasonable proficiency
with the weapons within the year. After their second year, they would be
split into groups depending upon which weapon they seemed most apt in. Swords
would be replaced by the heavier, broader knight swords. During their fourth
and final year, some would switch over to other weapons: axes, maces, and
flails. By the time they were ordained knights, they were expected to be
experts of at least two weapons. They would learn to fight on chocobo-back,
and on foot, in groups, and by themselves.

When lunch rolled around, all of the new cadets eased into the mess hall
awkwardly. Some, recognizing older friends, went over and sat with them.
Others formed tables together, not knowing what else to do. Ralfas had gone
off to a table with friends, but not before Algus had managed to elbow him
in the side on his way through the crowd of milling first year cadets. He
only heard the boy's "oomph" before he was out of sight, and Ralfas did not
even know what hit him.

In front of the crowd, Algus cast his gaze around the busy mess hall haughtily.
These were his people, he thought with pride -- his fellow cadets, all noble
born of the truest blood. Surely he belonged here, amongst his peers! Pride
swelled in his chest, before he realized He had no one to sit with.
Well, surely he would make friends fast? Keeping this thought in heart, Algus
went and lined up to get his meal.

He found the food to be bland looking, and, after finding an empty table
to sit at, he discovered that it was just as bland in taste, though hearty:
a small round of bread, stew with what seemed to be tender chocobo meat,
and some vegetables. It was nothing like his mothe-- no. He must not think
about that. Instead, he focused on chewing and thinking about what his new
life would be.

With training such as his, he must be a prodigy, surely. His fellow cadets
would flock behind him, admiring his skills. Girls (and at this thought,
he blushed) would be lining up to meet him, adoring his handsome looks.

Algus was so caught up in his daydreaming that he did not notice the group
of sullen looking older cadets come up behind him until one of them shouted.
"Hey, boy," he snarled, grabbing Algus' shoulder. The younger boy whirled
around, taking in first the faces of the group and then their ranks, visible
upon their uniforms. They seemed to be a mix of third and fourth year cadets,
close to knighthood. "This table belongs to us. You look green as grass,
so we'll let it go this time, but we'd better not catch you sitting here
again!"

Fists clenching in anger, Algus rose from his chair. "My name is Algus Sadalfas,

not "boy," and I don't see it marked anywhere that this table belongs
to just one group of people!"

Arrogance poured from the older cadet as he replied, "I don't care if you're
the Marquis himself, this table belongs--" He was cut off by an older girl
in her fourth year stepping forward, lips curled up into a look of distaste.

"Sadalfas, did you say?" Her voice reeked of astonishment and disgust. "That
traitor family? By Saint Ajora, how did they let such filth as you
enter? To think that a traitor's whelp could be part of the Aegis Knights!"

The other boys blinked, looking Algus over with growing animosity. "Not only
did you dare to take our table, you, a lowly new cadet," The original speaker
stepped even closer to Algus, venom dripping from his tone, "but you come
from tainted blood! Your kind of lot doesn't even deserve to eat from the
same plates as we do, let alone be a pure knight of noble blood!"

Algus snarled, shoving the older, larger boy backwards hard enough that he
had to be caught by two of his friends. "YOU TAKE THAT BACK!" Fists balled
tightly, he advanced upon the group. "I come from the most noble of family
lines! My grandfather was no traitor, that is a filthy lie spread by those
who were jealous of him! YOU TAKE BACK THAT INSULT UPON MY FAMILY
LINE, OR I'LL MAKE YOU TAKE IT BACK!"


The group was obviously not expecting such a violent reply, and were taken
aback for a few moments, staring at the brazen younger cadet in blatant
astonishment. By this point they were drawing quite a bit of attention and
stares from fellow cadets. The boy who had been shoved growled and came at
Algus, murder in his eyes. "Is that a challenge, brat? You wish to fight
me, Jessamy Blouet?" His face was just inches from Algus', daring him to
respond.

There was a resounding crack as the Algus slapped Jessamy, hard, and
then ducked backwards, retreating towards the table. "I challenge you, noble
against noble."

Jessamy's eyes were livid as he reeled back a step. "You'll regret that,
worm."

Tables were moved aside by Jessamy's pack as the two began circling each
other. Anyone around could tell that the older boy had the advantage -- he
stood in a trained fighter's stance and was over half a foot taller, not
to mention more muscled, than Algus. The crowd of onlookers grew, shouting
words Algus did not even bother to listen to. All he could do was focus,
lest he end up face first on the hard tiled floor.

Jessamy feinted forward, testing the boy's reflexes. Algus jerked backwards,
warily eyeing the older boy as he retreated back a step. Though he had fought
a few quick skirmishes with bullies, he had never fought against anyone fully
trained, especially on the verge of knighthood. Sweat started to bead along
his forehead, and he prayed that it would not drip down into his eyes.

The younger boy decided to risk a blow and lunged forward, aiming a punch
right at Jessamy's chest. Easily dodging to the side with the grace of a
trained fighter, Jessamy pivoted on his heel and slammed his knee up into
Algus' stomach, causing him to fall forward gasping. As Algus fell, a well-aimed
kick was aimed at his buttocks, sending him sprawling down onto the floor.
Algus rolled to the side, avoiding a kick to his stomach, and jumped upwards
and back barely gaining balance on his feet, panting. Jessamy was barely
breathing hard. Still, Algus would not be defeated. When Jessamy came in
with a punch, Algus ducked under and rammed his shoulder into the older boy's
chest, throwing him back a few steps, and then followed up with a punch that
nicked Jessamy's cheekbone.

So caught up within their own duel, neither boy heard the commotion as several
fully armed knights pushed their way through the crowd, coming to investigate
the source of the disturbance. When Jessamy tried to slam his foot into Algus'
side, he was roughly jerked backwards by strong, callused hands. Algus was
likewise detained, and together they were hauled off to explain themselves.

<hr>


"Disgrace! What an utter disgrace, two cadets brawling like common
thugs, in the mess hall no less! I expect much better from you, Jessamy Blouet,
you are less than a year away from finishing your training! And you, Algus
Sadalfas, you are only here as a favor to your father! Why, if I had not
known him as a boy, I would have never allowed you to attend, not after your
grandfather's disgrace. And what do you do to repay me, but brawl with another
cadet! No, young Sadalfas, this behavior is not tolerated here. I
do not know what likes you grew up alongside, but a noble conducts
himself in a prope4 manner! Your father should be here soon, we must
have a chat about your actions today Your first day!" The Academy's
headmaster, Baldric Dumont, paced around his office, motioning wildly with
his hands as he lectured the two sullen boys sitting before him. Algus was
properly cowed, face hidden in his hands.


What if he had ruined everything? Was he really going to be kicked out, his
first day? He would bring further disgrace to his family! God, the
shame he would bring upon his father

"Blouent, dismissed. I will arrange a suitable punishment for you later.
Sadalfas, stay seated; your father will be arriving." The headmaster sunk
down into his chair, clasping his hands, elbows resting upon the desk in
front of him. He peered down at the two boys coldly, dark eyes barely even
reflecting the light of the torches posted along his walls. Jessamy stood
and bowed, wordlessly retreating from the room. If he looked back to give
Algus a nasty look, the younger boy did not notice.

Algus sat there in silence, face still buried, until his father arrived.
He seemed drawn out and tired, dark bags sagging beneath his eyes. "Good
afternoon, milord," Rodolph mumbled with a bob of his head towards the
headmaster.

Baldric nodded and motioned to the empty chair next to Algus. "Please, Rodolph,
be seated."

Rodolph did as he was told, sitting down next to his son, who was too ashamed
to even look up and at him. He fidgeted uncomfortably as Baldric resumed
speaking. "Now, Rodolph, I know we go back a long way, but how your son acted
today was inexcusable. He brawled with a fourth year cadet in the middle
of the mess hall, for God's sake! When you asked me to take your son in as
a cadet, I did so only on the condition that he has none of his traitor
grandfather's bad blood. You assured me that he would be polite and an exemplary
student. This behavior, though" He shook his head. "Do you have anything
to say for yourself, Algus?"

Withdrawn within himself, it took Algus a few moments before he took in a
large, rattling breath and looked upwards, face blotchy. "He challenged my
status as a noble and the honor of my family," the boy all but whispered,
meeting Baldric in the eyes. Rodolph stifled a groan as his son began to
speak. "As any noble must do when faced with such a grave insult, I challenged
him to a duel."

Baldric scowled, looking the boy over critically. "I would hardly call that
brawl a 'duel,' young Sadalfas."


"Please, sir, please let him stay," Rodolph exclaimed, suddenly on his feet.
Algus had never heard his father plead before. It made his blood run hot
with shame, knowing that he had caused his father to do something so disgraceful.

"Father, please" He whispered, but was cut off by Baldric.

"I am not so sure I should, Rodolph. If this is how he is to behave
I can't have such lack of discipline. No, this is a cultured establishment."
The headmaster shook his head.

"I will never behave in such a manner again; for that I swear, milord!" Algus
joined his father in standing, eyes bright with the shame of unshed tears.
He held his emotions in check, fighting back the flood that threatened to
escape.

Baldric stared at the boy long and hard for a good minute before stiffly
nodding his head. "One more chance. If you ever act in such a way again,
you will be promptly expelled. I never want to see you in my office again,
Algus Sadalfas."

Rodolph's expression changed to one of relief, but Algus stayed the same:
hard, sharp, and bright-eyed. He bowed. "Yes, milord Headmaster."

Sighing, Baldric shook his head and looked over to Rodolph. "I am sorry we
had to have this meeting, old friend. Hopefully it will never have to happen
again."


"Yes, milord," Rodolph said formally. Knowing when he was dismissed, he grabbed
his son in arm and exited the room.

<hr>


The two, parent and child, spent their carriage-ride home in shamed silence.
Algus stared out the window, too afraid to even look at his father who had
slumped back against the seat. By the time they reached their manor, neither
could bare to be in the other's presence. Rodolph was just about to retreat
to his study when Algus spoke up, for the first time since they had left
Baldric's quarters.

"Father," he said softly, painfully, "I apologize for my actions today."

His father, who already had his back turned to the boy, stiffened.

Algus continued, taking a step towards his father. "I was just defending
our family's honor, as you have told me to do! I did not let someone push
me around, I was able to defend myself!" Though he had taken the harder beating,
he had given Jessamy a few bruises of his own.

"Defending?" His father repeated quietly, "You called that defending? You
are a disgrace. I cannot even bear to look at you." Without waiting for his
son to reply, Rodolph went to hide in his study, where he would cradle a
bottle of spirits and wallow in his own pity.


Algus, defeated, went to his quarters.

<hr>


The Academy buzzed with gossip surrounding Algus' brawl the previous day.
As he went through his first day of real training, his fellow cadets gawked
at him, whispering whenever he turned around. Wishing he could make it all
stop, he forced himself to focus only on his training. He was deemed skilled
enough to skip past the most basic sword training class, but he had to relearn
some of his footwork, which was incorrect. He was completely new at bow and
staff work. By the time lunch rolled around, he was thoroughly exhausted
from his morning of physical training, and was dreading the afternoon in
which he would study various areas of academia knights were expected to
understand: mathematics and logistics, tactics and strategy, mapping territory,
manners and decorum, and various other subjects Algus knew nothing about.

Likewise, Algus was dreading the mess hall, where he might encounter Jessamy
and his band. Almost worse, he would be confronted with even more shame as
he dined alone, the voices of his peers buzzing around him, spreading news
of his scandal to those few who did not already know. He was quite pale when
he entered the dining space, picked up his meal, and went down to sit at
an empty corner that -- hopefully -- no one else would claim.

He was halfway through his meal when a group of boys, very similar in rank
and appearance to Jessamy's group, approached his table. He felt the pit
of his stomach sink with dread, watching the boys almost fearfully. He could
not afford any more trouble!

"Algus, is it?" The lead boy asked, thrusting his hands into his pockets
nonchalantly. He tilted his head to the left a bit, looking Algus over without
malice.

Warily putting down his silverware, Algus nodded and replied with a short
"Yes, it is."

Withdrawing one hand from his pocket, the boy thrust it towards Algus in
greeting. "Parcin Emory. I was very impressed with the guts you showed yesterday,
taking on someone several years your elder without so much as a blink. You've
got courage, I'll tell you that. I don't like too many runts, but my friends
and I," and with this, he nodded back to the five cadets behind him, "we
were talking, and we think you'd make a good addition to our little band.
What do you say?"


It took him a minute to digest -- after all, it was all so sudden! -- but
after moments of gawping up at the crowd (Emory was, after all, a very
old and noble family!), he stood and took a small bow. "Thank you for your
kind invitation," he replied, heart thudding in his chest. Were they merely
tricking him, trying to get him off-guard so they can embarrass him even
more. "Though, do I take it that you are willing to accept me, despite my
family's history?"

Parcin smirked, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't care much for the past.
It seems much more effective to live in the present, don't you agree?" He
friends nodded along.

He seemed like someone Algus could trust, and he liked the older boy almost
immediately. "Then I would be honored to join you."

"Come over here, then," spoke up a shorter boy standing behind Parcin, "and
we'll go through introductions." Picking up his tray, Algus followed the
group over to where they were sitting in the thick of the mess hall. Younger
boys watched in awe; could the uncouth, barbaric traitor's whelp, the boy
that had been brawling during yesterday, really be accepted into one
of the most well respected groups out of all of the cadets?

Algus felt himself grinning smugly as he settled down with the boys, barely
able to contain his glee. He had no clue just who he had joined yet, but
within the next week, he would find out. Where Parcin and his crowd went,
people watched. They lowered their eyes when looked at, they backed off nervously
and allowed the boys to take any place they wish. The only ones who seemed
to be unaffected by the regal charm exuded by Algus' group was Jessamy and
his gang, who watched their rival cadets with undisguised loathing.


Parcin seemed to have run of the cadets, along with the rest of his group:
Alerot, Darius, Quenall, Arnulf and Langot. Algus fit right in with them,
laughing when other, younger cadets tripped up and made mistakes, sneering
when their peers tried to look them in the eye.

After their afternoon training concluded one day, the group took a trip into
town. Algus' father, more often drunk than not, would probably not notice
his absence -- he barely took meals outside his own quarters anymore. It
pained Algus to see him this way, but he had pledged to do well in his training
and become a knight that his father could be proud of. So far, except for
his first day, Algus had been succeeding, excelling in his training above
others his age.

"I know a tavern we could go to, the Boar and Bear," Arnulf suggested. He
was not too much taller than Algus, but was a fourth year. "The serving wenches
there" Trailing off, his grin told the rest and the group guffawed.

Parcin nodded his consent, as leader of the pack. "Lead on, then."

Arnulf took them deeper into the filth of the city, where guards did not
even bother to patrol. Traveling in an armed group, obviously noble, Parcin's
group encountered no trouble -- no one would risk attacking a group of cadets,
not unless it was a very large group and they had something to gain. They
reached the tavern unmolested, laughing carelessly as they burst into the
dank, dark building which reeked of piss and alcohol. Algus had never been
anywhere quite so seedy before.

The boys treated themselves to some drinks, including Algus, who did not
know much about drinking. He had ale before with Parcin and his group, but
they had never done anything thiswell, risky, Algus thought to himself.
Despite the danger, he indulged himself and quickly started to become light
headed. When Darius tugged at his shoulder, he stood and followed the boy
outside, where Parcin, Quenall and Arnulf stood surrounding one of the serving
girls. Langot and Alerot were nowhere to be seen -- they was probably still
inside. Algus joined their circle, watching as Parcin laughed drunkenly,
pushing the girl down.

"Come on, wench, you'll never get a chance like this again" He crooned
into her ear, fingers digging into the girl's arms hard enough to bruise.
The girl's eyes were rimmed with tears and she stared up at the strong teenager,
almost a man, and whimpered.


"Please, m'lord, please lemme go, I jus' want t'do my job, I have'ta be getting'
back inside, the mistress'll be lookin' fer me soon" She cried, sinking
back into the filthy hay beneath her. Parcin laughed, pushing himself down
onto her.

"Silly wench," he said, cruelly tugging at her bodice. "You know you want
me, I can see it in your eyes. You've been watching me all night, you want
this Algus, Quenall, hold this bitch down."

It took until then for the situation to actually sink in. Astonished, Algus
looked down as Parcin looked at him impatiently, motioning for him to hold
the girl's arms. This Could he do this? To a

A peasant wench, some filth fit only for the middens. She was an animal,
not even worth being called human. She was not like a pure, noble lady --
she must have already bedded many men. Algus felt himself hardening, and
with a smirk he went and held the girl down. Parcin laughed again, holding
his hand over her mouth to muffle her screams.


<hr>


Come the end of the year, Parcin, Arnulf and Langot were inducted into the
Aegis Knights, having successfully completed their training with the highest
honors. Quenall, Darius and Alerot remained as fourth year cadets, and Algus
was promoted to second year. As a second year cadet, he was not allowed to
live within the barracks. His father barely bade him goodbye as he moved
from home, which left Algus depressed for days. He had gotten this far --
why was his father not proud of him? He was skilled in the art of swordsmanship
and archery, though his staff-fighting skills were lacking. He was quick
to pick up new ideas and concepts in class, and even the stiff old training
master praised him. Algus was shaping up to be a fine young cadet.

During early autumn of his second year, bands of thieves were ravaging the
countryside. A band of knights, accompanied by a troop of fifteen cadets,
was dispatched to deal with the problem. Algus, Ralfas and Alerot were chosen
to be part of the cadet squad. The group hunted down ten bandits in early
October, and encountered another group of nineteen at the end of the month.
In mid-November they managed to track down the last of the big bandit gangs,
and surrounded their camp. Complete slaughter ensued.

Algus, separated from the rest of his group, managed to corner an injured
man between some of their dilapidated hovels, a shallow wound along his chest
bleeding sluggishly. "Mercy!" He cried, falling backwards, eyes wide with
terror. "Mercy!"

"Mercy?" Laughter bubbled at the back of Algus' throat, and he let it burst
out sharply. "You are some common scum, pig! You survive by stealing from
good, honest men! Still, you want mercy?" Algus continued to laugh, sword
pointed at the man's throat.

"I s'render, lord," the man begged, "Throw me in jail, jus' don't kill me!"

"I have no mercy for animals like you," Algus said cruelly, running the man
through on his blade. Eyes wide in astonishment, the man gave one last gasp
before collapsing in a pool of his own blood. Algus scrunched up his nose
in distaste, wiping his blade upon the man's tattered shirt. One less rat
to plague society, he thought to himself and turned.

Standing behind him was Ralfas, shaking, sword in hand.


Algus' expression darkened. "Out of my way," he commanded.

Ralfas shook his head. "No!" He yelled, still trembling. "He was asking for
mercy! We're not supposed to murder people, we're supposed to bring justice!
We could have brought him in to face trial along with the rest of his kin!
Have you no honor?"

Sneering, Algus stepped forward, brandishing his sword at his fellow cadet.
"You, speak of honor? You, who beat a defenseless boy senseless, you, who
would kick him when he's down?" He let out another sharp bark of laugher.
"I fail to see where you are any better."

Ralfas' trembling increased. He had no stronger boy to defend him, no one
at his back. "That was different These disgusting thieves deserve a
beating, of course, but to outright kill them when they beg for their lives?
I have to stop you, I have to tell them that you're like this" He raised
his sword, eyes wide with terror.

"Come now, why so dramatic? Everyone would agree that I'm doing the right
thing. I'm ridding this world of pests, one at a time. What if he had escaped?
He could have bred more rats for me to have to hunt down!" Algus stepped
closer to his one-time childhood rival.

"STOP!" Ralfas raised his sword, pointing it at Algus' chest. Annoyed, the
stronger boy raised his own sword and smacked the blade away. "Stop acting
like this, you sniveling worm! You're trying to lecture me, when you
wouldn't stop when I begged! You kept on, you who would join anyone bigger!
Pathetic weakling!" Algus gripped the hilt of his blade, slamming it onto
Ralfas' wrist. The boy yelped in pain, dropping his sword and cradling his
wrist to his chest. Algus smirked. "Weakling," he repeated.


Ralfas snarled at the taunting, drawing a dagger from his belt and lunging
at Algus' chest. Shocked, Algus' reflexes responded without a single thought,
countering the lunge by stabbing his blade right through Ralfas' chest. His
mind started to kick in just as the blade started to slide deeper into the
boy's tender flesh, red blossoming around Algus' blade.

Algus gasped, eyes wide as he numbly withdrew and dropped his blade, falling
backwards in horror. Ralfas stumbled forward a step, before collapsing onto
his knees, eyes vacant of all life. He fell forward, hand outstretched towards
Algus, dagger just inches from his fingers. Those eyes, completely blank,
stared at Algus in pure disbelief.

It must have been a quarter of an hour Algus sat there amongst the blood
and gore of his fallen opponents, completely numb from shock. He had killed
an ally. He killed a fellow cadet, stabbed him straight through. It was Alerot
who finally found him, comprehending the situation quickly. His eyes darted
between Ralfas and the dagger and Algus and his bloody sword, understanding
the horrified look that haunted Algus' eyes.

"Get up," Alerot hissed down to his friend, who looked up at him, lost. "UP!"
The older boy hauled Algus to his feet, retrieving his sword from the ground.
"I don't know what happened here, but it must have been that bastard Ralfas'
fault. Either way, this is the situation: You found Ralfas fighting with
this guy," he nodded towards the bandit corpse, "and were unable to get to
him in time before the bandit impaled him. You lunged in, killing the man,
and then tried your hardest to get Ralfas to safety before he died. Understand?"
He shook Algus urgently, eyes darting towards the fires set in the main part
of the bandit encampment, where the battle was coming to an end. Algus just
look at him blankly. Growling, Alerot slapped him. "UNDERSTAND?"

Algus finally seemed to snap out of it, shivering violently. "Y-yes"
He whispered, staring down at the corpses of the two men he had killed that
night. Mouth set with grim determination, Alerot started dragging Algus back
to where their main group was assembling to assess their losses.

Everyone accepted Alerot's explanation of what happened to Ralfas, praising
and commending Algus for his bravery. If they thought that he was quiet and
more reserved than usual, they attributed it to his guilt for being unable
to save a comrade in time.

When November came to an end, the group of weary knights and cadets rolled
back in to the Marquis's' domain. Algus was heralded as a hero of their group,
even given accolades by the headmaster. Throughout this time, Algus started
to perk back up, justifying the murder of his fellow cadet within his own
mind, with the help of Alerot and, when the story was explained, Quenall
and Darius. It was self-defense, they all told him, patting him on the back
for his quick reflexes. He was a useless, spineless piece of trash anyway.
Algus started to believe this, and soon began to puff up with each word of
praise spoken for his actions that battle. They honored him! Surely, his
father would be proud!

Algus continued his training, and when the end of the training year came,
he bid a sad farewell to his remaining friends, all that had been left of
Parcin's gang. He was on his own now, despite the gaggle of young cadets
that would follow him, having heard stories of his bravery and strength upon
the battlefield. Algus accepted none of them: they were all followers, not
worthy of being his companions. He was a proud man of the Sadalfas family,
no longer a boy but a blooded warrior, and he could not besmirch his good
family name by associating with his lessers.


He seemed to race through his third year, receiving nothing but praise from
his superiors. After his seventeenth birthday, he was awarded a week of off-time
to go home and visit his father, who seemed to waste away before his eyes.
Once robust and proud, his father had been reduced by his alcohol addiction
and the pain of Alainne's death into a shadow of his former self, which broke
Algus' heart. To see his father, so diminished, so weak compared to the strong
figure that had raised him

His father smiled when he saw Algus. He said he was proud of him, that Algus
was turning into a fine son. A hero! Though Algus was almost worried by how
free with praise he was for his son -- praise that Algus once had to
painstakingly earn, one word at a time -- he felt like all of his actions
had been validated. His father was finally starting to see him as a son,
not just an inconvenience.

Algus returned to the Academy days later, both worried for his father's fragile
state and bursting with the knowledge that his father finally believed he
was able to restore honor to their family.

Algus' pride would not be short-lived; three weeks later, word spread around
the Academy that the Marquis was intending on taking a journey to meet Prince
Larg in Igros to discuss some matter of grave importance. Knights were being
assembled to help guard the marquis's caravan, though numbers were kept small
to allow for discreet travel.

Algus was selected to be amongst the marquis's guards.

When he received a summons from the headmasters, his gut clenched with worry.
What had he done? Algus had been the perfect example of a future knight!
He reached the headmaster's door and knocked, waiting for the word to enter.

When Baldric called him inside, Algus sat down nervously before the lord.
It had been many years since he first sat, cowed, within the same chair.
Now, however, Baldric looked pleasant and relaxed -- even eager.

"I'm sure you're wondering why I've summoned you here," Baldric started.


Algus nodded, mouth dry as cotton. "Yes, milord," he replied solemnly.

Baldric stood and began to pace, choosing his words carefully. "The Marquis
has been making someinquiries into you, young Sadalfas. It seems that
he remembers the great act of loyalty your ancestor Torphin has done for
his family. He has heard good things about you, and is hoping you shape up
to be as loyal a servant as your ancestor was for his."

Algus was in awe -- the Marquis had heard about him? He had asked
about him?

Baldric continued. "That's not just all, boy," he said, stopping and facing
the younger man, looking him straight in the eye. "I'm sure you've heard
by now that the Marquis plans on departing soon for Igros." He did not even
wait for Algus to nod. "He wants you to accompany him and his knights, to
see how you perform."

There was a long stretch of amazed silence while Algus, wide-eyed and gawking
like a country boy, tried to absorb this new information. "MME, sir?"
He finally managed to sputter, jumping to his feet.

"Down, son." The headmaster waved his hands down, motioning for the boy to
be seated once more. "Yes, you. I assume you accept?"


Algus repressed a whoop for joy. Instead, he stared Baldric straight in the
eye and nodded. "I do, sir."

"Good," the older man nodded stiffly. "You leave at dawn."


<hr>


The attack took them by surprise. Thirty men proclaiming to be a part of
the Death Corps had surrounded their caravan on the Mandalia Plains, just
a day's journey east of Igros. A bloodbath ensued, and in the ensuing chaos
the Marquis was kidnapped. Algus fought off opponents, watching helplessly
as his comrades were slaughtered around him. When he finally saw men on the
horizon, sporting the uniforms of the Hokuten, he regained hope: help had
arrived!

"Thank God," he shouted, "reinforcements!" Slashing at the nearest man, he
retreated backwards towards the incoming troops. With their help, the remaining
thieves were killed. His own men were scattered, though most lay dead upon
the plains.

When the battle drew to an end, he met with the leader of the band of knights
that had saved him, a young man that looked his age. "Are you okay?" He and
another young man, this one with darker hair, looked Algus' wounds over.

Algus nodded, grim. "Barely, but the Marquis..."



<hr>


That spoiled brat, Ramza! Algus marched through the snow beside Zalbag, Ramza's elder brother and a great leader of the Hokuten Knights. It was an honor
to serve beside such a great man, Algus thought, though he was not the Marquis.
Still, he knew reality, unlike his naïve little brother: commoners meant
nothing, they were just dirt. Only nobles were worthy of gracing this earth.
Ramza would eventually learn that and cast off his pathetic commoner friend,
Delita. It would be too late, however -- Ramza would never be Algus' friend
again. The naïve little brat sickened Algus, and he was not worthy of
being a Beoulve.

Zalbag, Algus and their troops trapped Golagros and the commoner girl, Teta,
at Fort Zeakden. They had the fort surrounded, with Golagros desperately
trying to retreat inside. He screamed down, voice hoarse. "Get out of here
now! What if something happens to her? And don't do anything funny! There's
tons of powder inside the fort! More than enough to blow all of you to hell
and back! Got it? Then, get out!"

Coldly, Zalbag met his frenzied gaze. "The Hokuten will never be threatened
by you!" He shouted in reply.

It was then that Algus caught sight of Ramza and Delita, coming forward with
their own band of fighters. Zalbag and Algus looked on coolly as Ramza yelled
at them in astonishment. "Brother!" He exclaimed, "Algus!!"

Algus sneered. Ramza was too late to make a difference -- he would just have
to be given a lesson on reality, and how things were meant to be. While Delita
screamed to his sister, Zalbag gave the order. "Go on, do it!"


With a smug look, Algus took his crossbow and aimed it up, right at the stomach
of Delita's little sister, who was in the way. "Yes, sir," he replied calmly,
letting the bolt loose. It flew true, piercing Teta. When she collapsed to
the side, he fired a second bolt, not even listening to the kidnapper's surprised
cry. This one was not as good as the previous, and instead buried itself
into the thick muscle of Golagros' leg, sending the man down to his knees.

While Delita screamed, a knight came up behind Zalbag to report. "General
Zalbag," he said, "more enemies are on the mountain path! There are about
fifty of them. I've been informed one of them resembles Wiegraf!"

Zalbag nodded, understanding. "Alright, I'll be right there. Take care of
the rest, Algus."

"Yes, sir!" Algus replied, eyes narrowed upon his prey, aiming his crossbow
up at Golagros, who was limping towards the door into the fort. His shot
was obstructed when Delita lunged at him with a snarl. "What are you
doing?" He said, annoyed.

"Algus! You bastard!" Grief ripped through Delita's throat, tears
streaming down his face.

This common boy thought he could take him on? Him, Algus Sadalfas?
He sneered, loading another bolt into his crossbow. "You want to fight? Come
then, let's go!"



<hr>


He hadn't expected it to end this way. He hadn't expected to die this early,
crumpled up in the snow once more, like when he was a boy. He wasn't bruised
this time, though -- he was thoroughly broken, life's blood seeping from
his body, staining the pristine snow beneath him. He was dizzy, head spinning,
and his eyes were starting to unfocus.

Was this really death?

Could he really have been killed by such despicable weaklings? He was a proud
son of the Sadalfas line, a warrior hand-chosen by Marquis Elmdor to be within
his personal guard. Zalbag Beoulve had seen his worth as well, and had chosen
him to lead this attack!

Everything was going dark. Was this what his mother experienced as she died,
life taken by a filthy, common thief? He now suffered death at the hands
of a commoner, someone pretending so hard to be a noble. It was almost laughable.

Mother. His mother, he would see her soon. But what of his father? Must he
die this far from home, on foreign soil? Was his father destined to lose
all of those he loved, all of his family? Who would take care of him?

Above all else, Algus hoped that his father would be proud of him. He lived,
fought and died to redeem the Sadalfas family name.


Would it all be for nothing?