Disclaimer: The author of this fanfiction does not, in any way, profit from the story. All creative rights to the characters belong to their original creator(s).
The Reclamation of Paralon
by Pout
Chapter 2: Escape and the Question of Identity
Because their path had been cut short by the hounds, forcing them to change course within the sewers, the group had emerged short of where they had originally planned. They ended up well within the outer wall, but at the least, they had escaped the inner wall which was swarming with soldiers.
The first thing they did was to have Kamio and Eiji swipe some less fetid cloaks for the group which they donned gratefully and quickly. Pulling the hoods up over the fugitives’ heads was the least bit of protection they could have had against the bounty hungry citizens who might recognize them from the decree, but anything was better than nothing.
They stumbled through the streets. Trying to avoid the crowds, they were taking turns down the darker lanes and backtracking when they ran into too many people. They were still trekking trails of sewer water behind them which would be conspicuous enough in and of itself; they did not need someone noticing them and raising the alarm.
Just when they thought they were out of danger, an arrow came whizzing out of nowhere, just narrowly missing Square-eyes. Mounted soldiers armed with crossbows came into view.
Frantically, Eiji called out, “Split up!”
The swordsman cried out, “No!” but Eiji quickly clamped his hands down on the wrists of Square-eyes and the green eyed man and took off down the street, disappearing down an alley to the left.
Wasting no time, Momoshiro pulled the bandana man in the opposite direction and Kamio pushed the protesting swordsman up a steel ladder. “We’ll find them later,” Kamio explained before sprinting from the roof of one building to the next with the swordsman following a step behind.
The two riders following Eiji’s group were persistent, annoyingly so. The fugitives wove a crooked path, running through open doors and doubling back numerous times, but to no avail. The riders followed.
They had a slight advantage on foot since the city was very closely packed, with buildings rising up nearly side by side making the streets narrow and winding in the crowded inner city. But as they got further and further from the center of the city, the streets began to widen as they got to the area of the city where the local specialty and craft shops did their business.
As the riders were gaining ground, Eiji saw their chance. They ran into the local apothecary shop which happened to be run by a particularly shady individual. The half-drunken shop owner was easily dealt with. Instead of running out the back door, Eiji turned them to the basement.
A few months prior, Kikumaru had pulled a job nearby and had been forced to hide out while his pursuers searched for him. He had chanced upon the open apothecary and quickly hid himself in the basement, hoping that the crowd would pass him by. While he was down there, he discovered a number of illegal items, many of which he took with him and sold later. Among the items were a great deal of potent potions, ranging from spit-fire, to blast powder.
He went to them now and pocketed a few of the volatile substances. Tossing a handful to his clients, he grabbed as many acid vials as he could and led them back up the stairs. Racing up the ladder to the rooftop, they waited for the riders to come within range.
The two soldiers had gone around back, anticipating their flight out the back entrance. When they looked about in confusion, Eiji threw a bag of blast powder at them, tossing a lit match he had grabbed along with it. The resulting minor explosion was immediately followed by a rain of acid that made the riders drop their weapons.
Abruptly, the man with the square glasses leapt easily from the roof to the cobblestones and quickly dispatched of the already wounded soldiers. Eiji and the green eyed man followed and they dashed off down the streets.
They used up a few smoke bombs shaking off new pursuers before they saw the outer wall within reach.
“We have to get back to the sewers,” Eiji said. “They’re watching all the gate entrances.” They slipped through the streets towards the meeting spot where they would reconvene with Kamio and Momoshiro and reenter the sewers. But as they neared the specified grate, they found it already swarming with soldiers. They ducked back into the shadows. “This is very bad,” Eiji whined, biting his lip in frustration. The sound of shouting was getting louder and suddenly they saw Momoshiro and the bandana man flying down the street right past them. A small contingent of foot soldiers followed.
“We have to help them!” the green eyed man cried.
Behind them, Eiji could hear Kamio swearing from the rooftops when he realized the sewer gate was already being watched.
How were they supposed to get out? They couldn’t take the sewer network now. And they couldn’t just walk out the gates. An idea came to him and suddenly Eiji took off down the street.
They ran into a group of civilian bounty hunters but bypassed them easily with a few powder bombs. At last, Eiji spotted what he was looking for: the miner’s two horse cart. The miner was quickly dispatched by a well aimed punch and his assistant with just a fierce glare. “Get in!” Eiji shouted, leaping to the driver’s seat, hands reaching for the reins.
The cart leapt into motion, dispersing the crowd easily before them. In the back, the two men were already dumping coal from the cart in order to lighten the load. This caused people to back away for fear of being pelted by lumps of coal, before leaping into their wake to grab at the free fuel.
“Momo!!” Eiji began shouting. “Kamio!!” Ahead of them, Kamio and the swordsmen appeared at the edge of the smith’s roof. Eiji slowed the cart down just enough for them to hop aboard. Then they were plummeting down the road, heading for the west gate.
“Eiji!” they heard Momoshiro shout. The cart slowed again, though barely, and they managed to pull another pair of thoroughly out-of-breath men on board. The gate loomed before them.
“Duck!” Eiji warned as three arrows came speeding towards them. They plunked harmlessly into the sides of the cart. “Uh oh,” he said suddenly when he looked ahead only to see a human barricade blocking their exit.
“That’s not good,” Momoshiro said unnecessarily.
“Speed up,” the bandana man said.
Kamio shook his head. Even so, the horses are going to rear-up! We’re in trouble now!
Then out of nowhere, a blast of white sent the bodies flying from the human wall, clearing a path for the fleeing fugitives. Hoof beats sounded behind them.
“You’re late!” the swordsman shouted out.
Trailing after them, riding easily on a commandeered chestnut mare, was the lone mage. “Ah, I ran into some trouble.” He was still smiling.
The group rode straight out the gate at full speed just as a flare of blue-white collapsed the walls behind them.
“Ok, who the hell are you people?!” Kamio shouted.
They were ambling along at a moderate pace now that they had outstripped their pursuers.
The five men ignored him.
“Are you all right?” the swordsman was asking the green-eyed man.
“Yes. I’m fine. That was pretty close. Fuji, are you all right?”
The mage smiled wanly. “I’m fine, although I don’t think I can stand to be near myself much longer,” he said as he shook a green-brown something from the folds of his cloak.
“You’re soaked,” the bandana man pointed out. “Did you fall in?”
“The blast threw me down,” the mage grimaced. “I think my sense of smell is permanently damaged.”
“Stay on the horse, over there.”
Square-eyes nodded. “Yes, downwind.”
The mage pouted. “It’s not like you folks smell like flowers either,” he complained, but he put a few paces between his horse and the cart anyway.
“Arrrrg!” Kamio jumped to his feet and fought off the urge to stomp his foot and pull his hair. “Answer me! Who are you people?!” The swordsman was about to open his mouth when Kamio cut him off, “And don’t give us that ‘it doesn’t concern you’ crap again because we were almost killed back there because of you. They’ve probably added us to your bounty now. We can’t even go home!”
“Sit down!” bandana man said, pulling the frustrated pickpocket back to his seat before he could tumble right out of the cart.
There was another silent conversation before Square-eyes cleared his throat and spoke. “We’re rebels and they’ve been hunting us for a few months now.”
“Bullshit!” Kamio spat out angrily. “A 3,000 gold bounty for rebels? Kawamura himself wouldn’t rake in a 3 trump bounty. We’re street folk; we know what a crime is worth. Tell us the truth.”
This time, the silent conversation was much longer and Kamio’s eye was beginning to twitch in irritation.
“There is danger in knowledge sometimes,” Square-eyes said at last. Something in his tone threw them off. Their instincts advised them to tread softly. So for the time being, the three street rats kept their silence and did their stewing in their own brains.
They rode on in relative silence and watched the sun make its course across the sky.
They ended up in the small town of Pedalsburg as night fell. There were no inns in the tiny community so they bartered a few coins for a night in a sturdy cow barn. Luckily, no one asked questions about their attire or their suspicious arrival.
They took turns at the water pump trying to scrub as much muck off of their bodies as they could. Momoshiro and the swordsman went to take their turn just as the mage and bandana man came in with food and drink.
As they passed around the bread and cheese, Kamio stood tapping his foot. “Give us our trump.” The other men turned to stare at him. “We did our part. We got you out. Now give us our money so we can take off.”
“It really wouldn’t be safe for you three out there,” the green eyed man said cautiously.
“We won’t tell them that you’re headed for Ellestor.”
“It’s not just that.”
“Then what is it?”
Square-eyes adjusted his glasses and stood. “If they find you, they won’t just question you, they’ll torture you. You said before that you know what a crime is worth. 3,000 in gold is not a slight sum.”
Kamio frowned. What he was really saying was that the Regent would do anything to get his grubby hands on them.
“Well then just who are you people? If you got us into this, then you’d better give us some sort of explanation.”
“You’ll be safe in Ellestor. So long as you stay there, whatever you know or don’t know can’t hurt you,” bandana man said.
“We don’t want to stay in Ellestor. Ellestor’s packed full already and all the boys already have their grounds drawn. We’ll never get a good spot there. We had a good spot in Geddervont, but now we can’t go back there,” Eiji pouted.
At that moment, Momoshiro came barging into the barn, his face white.
Kamio and Kikumaru jumped to their feet. “What?” Kamio asked.
“We’re leaving,” Momo informed him.
The door opened again and the swordsman entered looking annoyed and anxious.
“What’s going on?” asked Eiji.
Momoshiro made a few frantic signals with his hand: He’s royal guard!
“What?!”
Kamio felt the bottom of his stomach drop a few feet. “This is bad.”
The swordsman frowned. “He saw the insignia,” he said gesturing vaguely with his sword.
Kamio’s dread heightened when the entire company came to their feet. The mage was gripping his staff and the swordsman looked more than ready to draw his weapon.
“What is this?” Kamio spat. “A royal guard and a Black Mage running from the Regent? You are elite, aren’t you?” he asked the mage. “Only a very strong Black Mage could beat down two Black Mages.” He waited for the mage to nod affirmatively. “Are the rest of you royal detail as well?”
“Technically,” Square-eyes answered, “No. Not any more, at least.”
“Then why does the Regent want you dead? What did you do?”
Square-eyes fiddled with his glasses before stating very carefully: “Perhaps, we had better explain ourselves now.”
“They deserve some answers,” the mage said. “After all, they’re going to have to come along now that they’ve been associated with us.”
“Telling them puts them at greater risk,” the swordsmen countered.
“And how do we know we can trust them?” the bandana man said as he eyed the three street rats with a suspicious eye.
“They helped us out of the city. I think we can trust them,” the green eyed man said.
“They only helped us because you paid them,” the bandana man retorted.
“I think they would have come to our aid had they known our plight.”
“Are you sure?” the swordsman asked, looking wary.
The green eyed man nodded before taking a seat. The others followed suit. The mage cast towards the walls and suddenly they were coated in a faint white-blue glow indicating that the barn was sufficiently sealed against eavesdroppers.
“What do you know about the Succession Scandal?” the green eyed man asked.
“The King’s first Consort died shortly after the birth of the prince,” Eiji answered. “The King remarried, but died himself three years later.”
Momoshiro continued. “And his Consort took the throne from the rightful heir after his death.”
“That’s why we call him the Regent, not the King,” Kamio finished.
The green eyed man fished about under his cloak and brought out a silver chain, at the end of which dangled a crescent shaped pendant. “Do you know what this is?”
Eiji’s jaw dropped. “That’s…that’s…”
“That’s irocite!” Momo shouted.
The three street rats were in disbelief. Irocite was the most precious substance on the planet because of the natural telling-magic bound to it. It glowed an iridescent silver but changed colors as the user switched moods. The material was often used as a truth-telling device; black equaled lying. A spoonful of irocite dust was worth nearly two trumps; a drop of solid irocite must have cost nearly five or six depending on the purity.
“Wait,” Eiji said, suddenly leaning closer. “It’s shaped like the moon. In a crescent, I mean. Is this what I think it is?”
Kamio’s eyes widened. “The Royal Crest?”
Square-eyes nodded. “That is the Lunar Regalia, a drop of irocite that changes with the phases of the moon, the mark of the royals. The natural truth-telling properties of irocite keep our rulers truthful and honest.”
Green eyes spoke deliberately. “My name is Oishi Syuichirou. My mother was the late King Oishi the Fourth.” They watched as the irocite swirled happily but remained a pure metallic silver.
“Irocite,” Eiji mumbled, trying not to drool before his brows contracted and he cried out, “Wait. What? You’re the prince?!”
The man nodded affirmatively and smiled.
Kamio put his head in his hands and groaned. “I think I’m getting a headache.”
If you would like to provide feedback on this story, please feel free to e-mail me at: poutonly@gmail.com.