My One Reason
Here’s a short story I wrote for Ragnarok Online. Ciello and I were avid gamers then. I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.
Today is finally the day. All
things I have done since, have been leading to today. All the blood,
sweat, and tears, all for this day. And, now that the time has come,
I feel a little funny, not joker funny but a little tingly and
apprehensive. I wonder why I hesitate. Is it because this may be the
end of things and the beginning of many more? I decide not to think
about it anymore. Else I’ll be pondering for the rest of the day.
I enter the castle and immediately
a light breeze blows through me. It smells of old books, rusty iron,
and oil, the one they use to wash blood off old armor pieces and
weapons. I look around and saw the walls all covered in moss and
hints of old magic. Here they still linger. For some reason the floor
mayhap is still as regal as the day it was made centuries ago. Lights
of flowing magic spew from the floor. Rainbow colors they are. Makes
you think a jester married a mage and decided to live here. Even from
the entrance you see from afar all the books shelved on the walls,
all of them as ancient as the place. Somehow, the place draws you
inside it. I feel a firm tug, not physical, but more spiritual. Above
all this, it sort of feels like you’re coming home.
I hesitate to go deeper inside the
castle. It doesn’t feel right if I just walked in and just did it.
Oddly enough, stepping inside this magnificent pile of bricks and
magic requires a little more reverence. I grab my saber’s scabbard on
my waist with my left hand in a silent salute. Paying respect to the
warriors and spell casters who walked these walls before me. Some
unknown force compelling me to do that. Melodramatic? I’ve been
through many battles, spilled blood, cut flesh and crushed bone.
Believe me, after going through all that, you will look at other
warriors with utmost respect and a sense of honor for having been in
their presence.
I look down and see the old scar
on my left hand and instinctively reach for my temple, a matching
scar. Until today I still don’t know exactly how I got them. I only
know when; my first quest as a swordsman. The barracks asked for some
volunteers that day. Some spoiled son of a Lord had gotten himself
lost in the woods west of Prontera. What started as a search, ended
in many dead swordsmen and more stiff goblins. In the shade of trees
and bushes, we walked calling out the boy’s name. Then some cook of a
goblin jumped from a bush to my right and hacked off my bunkmate’s
arm with a solid swing from its axe. Other goblins started popping
out of nowhere. I survived that ambush. No honor in how I did it. A
sheet of metal from a chainmail came flying from the carnage and hit
me on the head with such force that it knocked me unconscious. As
they fell one by one, the carcasses of my mates covered me from the
onslaught. I woke up with a scar on my hand and an even bigger scar
on my forehead. Not to mention a splitting head ache.
Guess what. Turns out the little
noble we were supposed to rescue was nowhere near that place. He ran
away to his uncle in Geffen. If I had my way, I would have had his
noble blood all over the palace floor. Twelve good men died ‘cuz the
brat threw a tantrum. Nobles, all power, no compassion.
Believe it or not I’ve been asked
to pick some herbs from the Hidden Temple too. I never did like that
place but its the closest source of blue herbs from Prontera. Priests
use these herbs in training their acolytes. They said they would have
asked their acolytes to pick the herbs themselves but hell, it took
them too long. Hmmpfh! All prayer, no muscle. As everyone knew, I was
the guy who just doesn’t give a damn about his own safety. So I’m
always the one to be “volunteered” to go. A day in Hidden Temple
is a day filled with flywing usage, getting lost and a lot more
running. I remember one day I ran into Baphomet himself. That would
have been the death of me if I wasn’t able to luckily dodge his
scythe and used a butterfly wing. One of his many demonic kids got me
on the leg though. Almost through the bone, the healer said. I have a
scar from that wound too.
I was almost kicked out of the
barracks as well. I met someone in the tavern on my day-off. He
seemed a nice enough fellow. Always wore the same thing. Brown shorts
down to his knee, thick boots, white shirt and a dirty almost yellow
jacket; not to mention that stupid sakkat of his. He was a shady
fellow but had many stories to tell. People gave us looks as we
talked. Turns out he was a thief. He was using me to get near the
barracks. A week later, he stole the captain’s peco. I was blamed of
course. Fifteen lashes on my back, there in the fountain for everyone
to see. The Captain fought to keep me in the barracks for some
reason. I think he didn’t want his best “herb gatherer” gone.
Hell, I was his only herb gatherer.
I led a carefree life you see, one
with no direction. I went where the barracks told me; some lackey for
those big bad armored knights. I never did want to be one of them. I
was happy just being a swordsman. No politics, no "honor bound"
duties. Every meal a banquet, every pay bag a fortune. Being alone
gave me that privilege. That’s what you do when you don’t have
anyone. Most of the time, you just don’t give a hell yeah, not even
for yourself. And I have the scars to prove it.
All that changed the day I met
her. She was, as most acolytes are, bright-eyed and always gleeful.
Like Midgard is a playground filled with rainbows and sunshine. But
the first time I saw her was far from what I would soon get used to
regarding her demeanor. She was crying, her robes all in tatters. She
was half covered in blood, the other half in spilt blue potions. Her
mentor had died attempting to enter Glastheim. She followed her
mentor there without him knowing. I saw her sitting on the chair in
Prontera Chivalry as I was mopping the floor. Damn knights at times
would bring their pecos inside the building took me hours to clean
the claw prints. I couldn’t believe not one of these “gallant”
knights even cared to hand her a towel. I looked at her then and
every fiber in me cried as she did. All my being felt all that she
felt. Sorrow engulfed me as it did her. She looked up and starred at
me like she knew I was feeling her. I walked towards her, took off my
cheap tattered muffler and wiped her tears and the potion off her
face.
We became friends later. I
remember when she was buying flowers for the church south of the
city. I would pretend to be interested in items those knights sold
near the gift merchant. Too expensive for me of course. Hell, I don’t
even think I was strong enough to carry those things let alone afford
them. She would notice me, smile and wave. I would wave back,
supposedly gallant and unmoved. Little did I notice that I already
bought a +3 Double Vital Falchion! What a waste of hard earned pay. I
spent a month convincing people to buy it off me. Some red haired
swordsman from another company finally bought it. Sucker.
We saw each other frequently. She
would sneak out of the church and I from the barracks. We would meet
at the bridge going north of the city to the castles. We would talk
until daybreak with our bare feet dangling from the bridge over the
water. I will always remember how her eyes looked as the moonlight
hit them. And that smile of hers, slightly askewed, wholly beautiful,
brighter than the sunrise. I gave her a flower ring. One I picked up
from a verit in Morroc. I was very embarrassed but determined. That
was all I had.
“This
for now.” I said.
“More
than I could ask for.” She replied.
Later I was assigned in Luttie for
a while. My buds from the barracks who were once assigned there told
me it was a dream to work there. Nothing much to do. Just do your
patrols, get to your quarters and sleep. Nothing ever happens there
they say. Somewhat true, but a Pronteran like me never got used to
the cold. Strange, even my memories of her kept me warm. I wrote to
her every single day. People there even thought I had a wife waiting
for me back home. When I finally took the warp for Prontera, even
before the spell’s effect faded from my feet, she was there beside me
wrapping her arms around my neck, her cheeks planted on my
collarbone. Making all the cold days I longed for her in Luttie melt
away.
I took her to Payon when I was on
leave once. We decided to look for bitter herbs. She always wanted a
poporing pet. She even borrowed my sword to cut the plants. Out of
the aether a poison spore came at us. She dropped my sword in shock,
and me being unarmed, panicked. We both took turns punching the
lights out of that spore. After gaining our wits, we laughed our
lungs out. Her laugh is Valkyrie’s song, reviving my strength, giving
me joy. No angel could ever do that but her.
Yes, of course we fell in love.
Nothing was the same after that. I have always wondered why I still
continue my pathetic existence despite my not giving a hoot about
life. She is the answer. I went on with life so fate could have us
meet. She made me care to take another breath. If only that breath
and all breaths after that, would be with her. No more “blue herb
boy” for the barracks. No longer was I alone.
She always wanted to be a
priestess. I decided I would be beside her wherever she went. So I
decided to take the test and become a knight. It was the only way to
be with her. I took the test first. It was grueling. We were apart
for a whole fortnight. When I was handed my armor and coat-of-arms,
she was the first one to cheer. When her voice called out my name,
the feeling was indescribable. When she took the pilgrimage, I was
worried like an alchemist who used the wrong herb. I waited for days
witless and nervous. I had to stop myself from grabbing my gear and
going after her countless times. When she finally reached the city
gates, I was the one to see her to the church doors. When she took
the vow, I took it with her. We were never apart. We will never be
apart. Not if I can help it.
I am brought out of my thoughts by
a soft hand on my shoulder. I turn around and there she is. Smiling
at me, the way she always smiles at me, breathtaking. Her hair in
pig-tails and her Angel Wings moving ever so slightly in the breeze.
Her blue eyes brighter than any gemstone. The sun outside the
castle’s big open doors framing her gentle face.
"Are you ready?" she
asks.
I take her hand and kiss it. "Now
I am", I reply.
We walk further into the castle
hand in hand. I hope after this, things would still be as magical as
they are. When we do this I only have one wish. May the Gods take
away my scars as I start my new life. I wish to forget all my aimless
days. All I want to remember are all the moments with her. Yes, today
is the day, we both will be reborn.
Til next time mga kapatid!
