by Brandon Chen
“They hired a master locksmith to find out what was in a chest in your room?” Yata said with a raised eyebrow. “And how is it possible for something to be indestructible?”
“It isn’t,” Keimaro said. “That’s why I’m thinking that there is some magic involved. If those Bounts that assaulted our city many years ago still work with the Faar government, then we know that they were the ones who called for the elite team of warriors to escort the chest back to the capital city. Which means….”
“We have a lead.”
“Correct.”
Yata sighed and rubbed his head, looking at his friend with a sign of sadness in his eyes. He was so set on his goal. But in the end, what would come out of this revenge? Yata had pledged to Keimaro’s father to travel this path of darkness as well. He wanted to see Tobimaru and the rest of the Bounts brought to justice for what they had done to the people of Bakaara. He had hated the people of the village, but no one deserved a massacre such as this. Keimaro’s father had died believing that Yata and Keimaro would fulfill his dream and avenge the deaths of all of those who had perished on that day. But sometimes, when Yata looked at his friend, he saw a person that had sunk even deeper into darkness than he.
Keimaro walked past Yata and began the journey down the hill, a sullen look upon his face as he sauntered across the green grass. He closed his eyes as the rain continued to fall upon him, sending small, cold droplets running down his cheeks, looking almost like tears. He reached back and pulled his hood over his head, covering his face in a dark shadow. He looked much like the Bount organization members that he had seen four years ago. His cold, hard eyes locked onto the new industrialized village of Bakaara, which now had soldiers and an improved infrastructure. The newly formed ten-foot walls had been constructed around the perimeter of the village in order to replace the force field.
“We are going to infiltrate an export caravan and interrogate them. After we get any information out of them, we are going to disguise ourselves as them and sneak into Bassada through the front door.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Yata said, bowing respectfully before the grave of Keimaro’s parents before following his friend down the hill toward Bakaara. “It’s somewhat risky,” he murmured, “but I’m sure that we’ll make it. We were trained for this, after all.”
***
A soldier by the name of Gavin was tightening his hold around the hilt of his sheathed blade as the caravan began to move into the dark forest that bordered Bakaara. He listened to the wheel of the cart bump over rocks as he and several other soldiers walked into the abyss. Even in broad daylight, the forest itself looked pitch-black. He could already feel the darkness closing in around him, making his throat tighten and dry. The man wore an iron helmet clamped over his head, covering most of his curly, dark hair. A white tabard was thrown over his chainmail, with a red-cross insignia upon it—the symbol of Faar. He had just joined the army, but the first job he had was to perform a simple escort? It was almost insulting to do so; the job had virtually no pay. But the fact that it was in the Forbidden Forest meant that it was all the more dangerous.
He brushed his curly, dark hair out of his blue eyes, trying to adjust to the darkness that encased him. His heart was pounding harder than usual, and he felt a bit panicked for some odd reason. Nothing was happening, but he could hardly see two feet in front of him. He could hear the clanking of the soldiers’ armor around him and the trot of the horses that pulled the cargo. He could hear the spinning of the mechanical wheels from the wagon. But, his inability to see anything around him made him all the more frightened of what was to come. Panicked. What if a monster was watching him at this very moment? He could be killed on the spot. The soldier would never see broad daylight ever again, and he wouldn’t even have a chance to defend himself. He would die alone, and no one would care that he went missing—other than his family, of course.
Oh gods, he was a soldier in the army. Why in god’s name was he so scared? Gavin closed his eyes, disappointed in himself as he tried to calm down, his hand loosening its grip on the hilt of his weapon. He exhaled through his nose, trying to gather some control over himself. That’s it. I’ll be fine.
That was when he finally heard something that was alien, not from the cargo escort. The entire escort stopped, and soldiers unsheathed their blades, filling the silence with scraping steel. The warriors stared blankly into the darkness around them, completely blind as to what was out there. Even if something were there, they wouldn’t be able to engage. They would just be a bunch of blind idiots swinging their weapons at nothing.
“What the hell!” a man screamed suddenly as he began to choke, his voice cut off almost immediately. There was a thump, the sound of his body hitting the ground.
Gavin’s heart skipped a beat as he held his sword out in front of him, witnessing as streaking shadows rushed across his line of sight. There were slashes and thumps that echoed from the points of blackness in his vision. Screams echoed from the lips of his comrades, and he could hear their bodies hitting the ground. They weren’t alone. Something was here with them. Or someone.
There was a heavy slam, and the entire cargo escort creaked, the wagon rocking back and forth slowly. That was when Gavin saw red eyes appear in the darkness, lighting up the shadows with its demonic presence.
“Gah!” the soldier exclaimed, taking a step backward. His scream was caught in his throat, and nothing came out other than a gasp.
A flicker of flame appeared, bringing out the light in the darkness. Gavin found himself face to face with a dark, cloaked boy who looked about his age. But, how on earth was he holding fire in his hand? Gavin stared at the flame in the boy’s palm, dancing calmly on his skin. And why were this boy’s eyes red? Could it be that he was a member of the Hayashi clan? Gavin had only read stories about them since they were killed off when he was a young child. Supposedly, they were all dead. The clan was extinct! But, despite the tales he had been told in his youth, this person before him seemed to match the description.
The boy lashed out with a quick jab from his left fist that came at Gavin’s face. The soldier grunted, reacting accordingly and tilting his head. The blow flew past him. He whipped his sword upward at the mysterious boy, watching as the flame died out and thrust him into darkness. His blade sliced through open air, and sweat began to form on his brow as he sat alone, consumed by an even thicker fog of blackness after being blinded by the flame. Gavin blinked faster, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the darkness. His heart began to race faster and his throat tightened as he was haunted by the ominous silence. He was alone now, wasn’t he? The other caravan members weren’t making any more noise. Damn! What do I do? There’s nowhere to run, and I can hardly….
A spark of flame appeared, and the soldier realized that his face was inches from the boy’s. “Boo,” the mysterious person said and drove his fist hard into Gavin’s diaphragm.
The blow sank deep into Gavin’s stomach, doubling him over in agony. His mouth was open, ready to gasp in pain, but no sound came out. He choked on any words that he had to say and fell forward, slamming hard into the ground, gasping for air. Drool began to run down his chin as he looked up weakly and saw that there were actually two boys standing over him. One of them was wielding a metal bat and had flowing brown hair. The other was the mysteriously cloaked boy. His eyesight kept blurring as he watched the boy, trying to stay conscious for as long as he could. Focusing his vision, Gavin’s eyes widened when he saw the lifeless corpses of his comrades that were lying on the ground. Fear struck him and surged through his body, causing him to begin breathing even heavier.
“We have a few questions for you,” the boy with the bat said simply, squatting down and poking at Gavin’s face with the end of his bat. “You’re the last survivor of this caravan. Unless you want to die like the rest of them, I suggest you cooperate. You got that? You don’t owe these Faar bastards anything, so you better answer truthfully. Otherwise….”
“Enou
gh, Yata.”
“But…,” Yata muttered, glancing at Keimaro.
“You’ll scare him, and we won’t get anything.” The boy sat down, leaning against a tree. He grabbed a rather large stick off the ground and lit the entire thing on fire with a touch of his hand. The light was blinding to Gavin after having been in complete darkness for several minutes. “Hey, soldier, what’s your name?”
“G-Gavin….”
“Gavin? Right. All right, Gavin, we are some impatient fellows. My name is Keimaro Hayashi. It doesn’t matter if you know my name because, if you tell anyone of my existence, I’m cutting off your tongue.” The boy raised an eyebrow. “You understand?”
“Y-Yes. I got it.”
“All right,” Keimaro said and pointed the flaming stick toward his friend. “That’s Yata. When he gets impatient, he likes to beat people with his bat until they say something. He starts from the bottom up until everything is broken. I’m sure you don’t want that, right?”
These guys are absolutely insane, Gavin thought. He nodded his head, fearing for his life. He didn’t want to end up like the rest of his dead comrades. But, at the same time, he realized he was being given too much information—which meant that these guys probably wanted Gavin to stick around.
“Good. You’re in the army, right? That means you have access to certain information.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Perfect,” Keimaro said with a smile, tipping Gavin’s chin up so the soldier would look the boy in the eyes. “First things first, there was a chest escorted from Bakaara to Bassada. Do you know anything about this chest?”
“N-No … but I heard about it. They said that it was really important cargo and that it was not to be opened. I heard that it was delivered to the king personally. B-But it had nothing to do with me! I swear it!” Gavin exclaimed, looking Keimaro in the eyes.
Keimaro could tell that the soldier was telling the truth, just from the fear in his eyes, the quiver of his lips, and the sincerity of his look. He smiled and leaned back against the trunk of the tree. “I have yet to understand Faar’s government. Is the Bount organization associated with the government in Faar?” An image of Tobimaru flashed in Keimaro’s mind, and he gulped a mouthful of anger that arose in him.
“The Bounts? They’re a terrorist organization that’s actually wanted by the Faar government. It’s been that way for a while now,” Gavin said with a raised eyebrow. “We even have one of the members in custody.”
Keimaro blinked for a moment, staring at Gavin in disbelief. “What?” Gavin was still telling the truth … but how was that possible? He specifically remembered the Faar army coming into Bakaara because of the Bount organization. Could it have been that the Bounts weren’t working with the Faar government? He remembered that Tobimaru had said that the Faar army would come and destroy the village.
He exchanged a confused look with Yata and sighed, shaking his head. He slowly stood up and extended his hand toward Gavin. “You’re with us now. You’re going to help the both of us get into Bassada. That chest belongs to me.”
“Why would I help two terrorists?”
“Terrorists?”
“You aren’t with the Bounts?”
“Who said we were?” Keimaro muttered.
“You’re wearing the cloak of one.”
“This was given to me by my father. It is the cloak of a full-fledged Hayashi clan member, not of a Bount,” Keimaro snarled. He knew the cloaks looked extremely similar, if not identical. But he knew that he was nothing like the Bounts. “I want to find out what’s inside of that chest. It belongs to me. Besides, if you don’t help us, I will just kill you now.”
The soldier glanced down, and he sighed, closing his lids. “Fine, fine.”
“You’re with us until I say otherwise. Even the slightest hint of betrayal will end with your decapitation. Honestly, I don’t have time for stupid setbacks,” Keimaro said, poking the corpse of a soldier with his boot. “As you can see, I have no problem with taking the lives of others.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, both of you, come here, and I’ll tell you the plan.”
***
The young princess of Faar sat in her golden throne beside her father, her back straight. The throne room was a gigantic circular room surrounded with an entire perimeter of soldiers who were fully armed and trained in years of combat. They were an elite force known as the Royal Guard that stood and protected the royal family every hour of every day.
The princess sighed as she leaned back, her brunette hair falling down past her shoulders and toward her white dress that covered her body down to her diamond slippers. She touched the small gold crown upon her head, which was considered a baby’s in comparison to her father’s. Nevertheless, wearing it and sitting upon this gold throne gave her a sense of authority, and she liked it. Even though she didn’t do anything with her power, she always felt that it was nice to have. She played with the hem of her dress for a moment and then relaxed, folding her hands over her lap and resuming her perfect posture in order to impress her father.
“Aika, you were at the village of Bakaara four years ago, were you not?” the king said with a broad smile in her direction. He leaned against the left arm of the throne. Aika’s eyes flitted to the large, gold crown upon his head, which was much larger than hers with every sort of different jewel embedded into it to make it glisten brightly. He had curly, brown hair with a beard that came past his chin a bit, but not too far. His royal blue eyes glowed with excitement like a young child’s as he extended his hand to the far side of the throne room toward two massive doors. Each door was the size of a cottage wall and was made of dark metal in order to fortify the throne room in case of an invasion. The doors were strong enough to hold out long enough to evacuate the royal family in case of an emergency.
Aika sighed and nodded in response to her father, her blue eyes looking up at the sky and the bright morning sun, which peered through a small, circular window in the ceiling and shone down into the center of the throne room. Bakaara? She hardly even remembered the place since she had been there for only one day. However, she remembered the two boys that she had spent the whole day with. Her first adventure outside of the castle.
But the last thing she remembered was when she had awoken in Yata’s house as she was being carried out by some of Faar’s soldiers. In the distance, she could see the burning flames of the village that she had seen fully intact only hours before. She had witnessed the complete destruction of Bakaara. She remembered being carried by soldiers over piles of corpses from the massacre. That specific image was burned into her mind, seared forever. It haunted her in every nightmare. She had never learned what had become of Keimaro and Yata. The chances were that they were probably dead. As much as she hated to admit it, her two friends were probably among the thousands of dead bodies she had seen on that day.
Had she known them along enough to be able to call them friends? Well, they were definitely the first ones to stay true to her. They hadn’t liked her because she was a princess. They hadn’t tried to protect her just because of her status or how rich or important she was. They had saved her life twice because they truly cared about her as a human being. After the explosion of the meteor in the forest, they could’ve left her there to be eaten by the dark creatures of the forest. But no, they took her to refuge. In exchange, the soldiers of her own city had obliterated their home and probably taken their lives as well. Why should she want to remember such a painful time? Bakaara was the first time she had experienced the happiness of freedom and the wonders of friendship. However, it was also the first time that she had felt pain and loss. And it was the first time she had spent weeks crying herself to sleep, haunted by the nightmares of her deceased friends.
Two Royal Guards stepped forward from their formation around the perimeter of the room. They didn’t wear any helmets for protection. They didn’t need to—they were renowned for their combat skills and were never struck upon the he
ad. They wore what looked like simple tabards rather than thick knight armor that would prove as a much stronger protection against attacks. But looks were deceiving—all of the members of the Royal Guard were given a layer of abyssalite armor to wear beneath their plain white tabards. Abyssalite was the lightest ore in the entire world, yet it was also stronger than steel, mined from the darkest abysses by dwarves and other creatures that lived deep within the shadowy mountains to the north.
The pair of Royal Guards wore their blades sheathed at their sides, and they bowed their heads in the direction of the king as they moved toward the door and gripped the two heavy latches. Their sleeveless tabards revealed their bulging muscles and showed the strain on the soldiers as they began to pull the massive doors open.
The large, metallic doors creaked as they were pulled open, revealing two more Royal Guards who began to walk forward, carrying a large chest between them. Holding the chest as if it were as fragile as glass, they slowly carried it to the center of the throne room and set it down gently.
The king smiled as he nodded toward one of the guards, who allowed for another man to enter from a side door in the throne room. His clothes look tattered, as if he had just gotten into a fight with a bear. His face was caked in dirt, and heavy bags hung underneath his tired eyes. “This is June,” the king introduced the man. “He is the most skilled human in the entire world for creating keys and lock picking. This chest holds the reason we went into Bakaara many years ago.”