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Description
Chapter One: Enter Prontera

“Welcome to Prontera,” monotonously said the knight who stood guard at the west gate of the city. His face looked very tired and old, with those large, dark rings under his eyes and the frown he wore on his face. The look he cast upon the carriage drawn by grand pecopecos in front of him was no different from what one would give a stranger; this carriage was from Al de Baran, judging by its bluish white color, the designs painted on it, and by the drivers’ uniforms. He raised an eyebrow as the carriage window opened, and a gloved hand extended from the inside, clutching a piece of folded parchment. A man’s hand, he could tell, by the muscular arm that followed it. An alchemist’s glove, wasn’t it? But it was too dark inside the carriage to see. He took the parchment, and recognized the wax seal on it. The King’s.

“An invitation from your King,” said a voice from inside the carriage, as he skimmed through its contents. He noted that emphasis on ‘your’, but he shrugged it off, as he perused the parchment. Definitely the King’s signature there at the bottom. It also said that this person’s safety was a top one priority. And his name was…?

“Lord Stromgarde Maelbreeze…?” he read out aloud, and looked back at the window. The man inside had withdrawn his arm. He had heard of that name. In the newspapers perhaps? But in any case, he had to personally escort the visitor to the castle, it says so right there, third paragraph. To one of the grander conference halls in the castle, specifically, for a... hmm. No exact reason stated. He had to stifle a groan; he was dead tired, and was hoping to get some shut eye after his shift ended. But he had no choice. Duty first before anything else.

“I don’t like wasting time,” said the man inside the carriage curtly. “I still have business to do back in Lighthalzen.”

“Y-Yes, sir,” he said immediately, handing over the parchment and giving a salute with his other hand. Something about the man’s voice demanded respect and attention, it made him perk up and forget his sleepiness. And also, what would a Lighthal be doing in Prontera? And, he must have gone through Al de Baran – going through the north gate would be more practical because it was nearer. Maybe because the route there was rocky, winding, and too troublesome. Mandragoras littered the paths there, so it was understandable. “I will escort you to Prontera Castle right away.” He turned to the coachmen, who looked stiff and wary of their passenger. He gave them a nod. “Follow me, please.”

For a moment, he wondered about his replacement. He just can’t leave his post without someone else to stand guard. He heard honking, getting louder with each passing moment, and it stopped near him. And just in time – it was his replacement. The newly-arrived knight was one of the Knight Guild’s fresh graduates – a tall, young lad with fair skin and hair.

“Sir Crouze?” he asked, his eyes focused on the strange carriage. The elder knight only gave an impatient wave of his hand, as if easing the matter. The younger lad took the hint and gave a salute before assuming the superior’s post. Sir Crouze took the reins of his pecopeco and rode it. The pecopeco honked twice, before going into a trot. The carriage followed closely behind. He led them through the more beautiful routes of Prontera; he wanted to make the visitor have a good impression of Prontera, partly because he was a pure Pronteran, and because that was instructed of them during their days in the Knights Guild. Grand mansions lined the streets, owned mostly by the higher ranking knights and nobles. Not much people walked down the streets at this time of day, but two younger knights hailed him as they passed. He only gave them a small smile, and a nod to acknowledge their greetings.

“How much farther?” He heard a curt voice ask the coachmen, after some twenty minutes of riding around Prontera. They had just passed through the Knights Guild, which was strangely empty. He looked behind him, and met the coachman’s questioning and frightened gaze. He gave a nod, signaling that they were near.

“Just a few minutes more, Lord Maelbreeze,” replied one of the coachmen. “We’re almost there.” It occurred to him that this Stromgarde Maelbreeze was an impatient person, also someone of high stature to be invited to Prontera Castle by the King himself. Just one last corner…

And there it was. Prontera Castle. He pulled the reins, and the pecopeco stopped. The carriage also came to a halt, as the guards present by the gates approached the Aldebaranian coach cautiously, some of them giving Sir Crouze questioning glances.

“A guest of the King, Millian,” he whispered to the lone female knight, and jerked his head to the curtained window that hid Lord Maelbreeze’s appearance. “He had a Class 1 letter. VIP.” The female knight turned her head to look at the coach again, her face creased in a slight frown.

“Understood, Sir Nathaniel,” she replied thoughtfully, still gazing at the carriage. Nathaniel briefly entertained the thought of lecturing the female knight to look at her superior when talking, but he put it aside awhile, considering their situation. She put a hand on her chin. “Though I wonder what someone from the Schwartzwald Republic would be doing here. A high wizard from the Arcane Guild and a gypsy from the Entertainers Guild just arrived an hour ago.”

What would Trancendents be doing here in Prontera? The knight wondered. Not that Trancendents were rare sights, mind you, he always saw them during guild sieges, passing through Prontera to the Valkyrie Guild Houses. But today wasn’t a siege day. And those two were members of major political guilds as well. He wouldn’t be surprised if this Stromgarde Maelbreeze was some Transcendent political figure of the Schwartzwald Republic. The elder knight didn’t reply, as he watched the other knights who had already gathered by the door, as the footmen stationed themselves on either side of it to assist their passenger.

“C’mon,” he said vaguely, jerking his head to the direction of the carriage again. “Let’s see who this Stromgarde Maelbreeze is.” Millian nodded, and together, they walked briskly to the two rows of knights, and positioned themselves at the end nearest the carriage.

The carriage door opened with a soft thlack, as the door was opened from the inside. Everyone held their breath, even the footmen, as a man who looked like in his mid-twenties stepped out silently.

And just as Nathaniel had predicted, Lord Maelbreeze was an alchemist – or rather, used to be an alchemist. Long, dark hair framed his pale and sickly face, while a pair of large glasses was placed high upon the bridge of his nose. His purplish eyes looked stern, as he shielded them from the light. His garments consisted of a simple white sleeveless shirt, under a strange manteau with a nasty set of jaws on each shoulder, fastened by a brooch that resembled the emblem of the Alchemy Guild of Lighthalzen. Six leather pouches – two on each leg, and two at the back – are attached to his belt. As everyone gazed at him, transfixed, Stromgarde seemed undisturbed by the attention they gave him and patted his manteau, like a master to his pet – and it opened its mouth, as if yawning. One of the knights drew back, part-disgusted and part-frightened at the strange armor. But the creator didn’t mind them, no, not at all. The sight jerked everyone back to reality. Everyone gave a salute, even the footmen.

“Welcome to Prontera, Lord Stromgarde Maelbreeze,” Nathaniel said once more, dropping his hand and giving a slightly forced smile. Inwardly, he hoped that the creator wouldn’t notice it. “Lady Millian Grageda will now take charge and escort you to the Hall of Convergence.” The female knight gave him a look with a mix of surprise and rage and nudged him roughly with her armored arm, which he only smirked at. “C’mon,” he whispered to her. “I’m dead tired, what with those rogues and assassins last night…”

“But you’re the one who first saw him and permitted him entry in Prontera,” she hissed back angrily. “Says so in the letter. You have to come with me,” she added, snickering. “Thought you could get away with it, did you?”

But Lord Maelbreeze was only barely aware of the two knights arguing in front of him; he was looking blankly at the Sanctuary, the gothic spires of which were visible from here. The Church of Prontera. Nathaniel and Millian stopped bickering at each other and looked curiously at him, and followed his gaze. The other knights, likewise, had puzzled frowns on their faces as the creator remained quiet for a few more seconds. The jaws on his manteau yawned again, this time wider and more pronounced, and Lord Maelbreeze gave a small jump and adjusted his glasses, fidgeting slightly.

“Ah, yes, yes, of course,” he said, giving an impatient wave of his free hand as the footmen unloaded his luggage. “Have the others arrived yet?”

“Yes, Sir,” replied Millian this time, as she gestured toward the gates into the Castle. “They are waiting in the conference room as we speak. We shall lead the way, Lord Maelbreeze.” She nudged Nathaniel on the side more forcefully as she entered through the main gate, her armor clanging slightly as metal clashed with metal. Nathaniel followed reluctantly, though he lagged behind as he waited for Lord Maelbreeze to follow.

“Be careful with that, it’s fragile,” he heard him utter coldly in an undertone. He glanced behind him, and saw one of the footmen muttering what seemed like an apology, and held out a leather bag. Lord Maelbreeze gave a near inaudible “hmph” as he took the bag, turned on his heel and walked briskly to follow the female knight; leather bag in his left hand and his right was clasped on the brooch on his manteau. If he was someone in a lower rank than Nathaniel was, the knight thought, he could have whacked him with the sheath of his broadsword for insolence. This is Prontera, don’t he dare strut around as if he owned the place. It took him a while until he noticed that Lord Maelbreeze had his eyes on him and frowned distinctly.

Another nudge on the side. “Nathan, would you take that glare off your face?” It was Millian, her voice in a slightly panicked tone. Nathaniel looked at her, puzzled. So what? Lord Maelbreeze had no jurisdiction in Prontera. He couldn’t have the knight jailed or punished.  With that assurance in his mind, he didn’t bother to reply to Millian, as he walked to the front of the two rows of knights. He heard Millian say something to Lord Maelbreeze, but he didn’t exactly catch the words she mumbled.

“I could care less,” he heard Lord Maelbreeze reply coldly. “I’d like to finish my business as soon as possible, so please, let’s not waste time.”

He glanced behind him, and saw Millian following Lord Maelbreeze closely behind. They entered the main hall, the walls of which were covered with tapestries, paintings of famous knights, and suits of armor. They quickly walked toward a staircase on the right side of the hall, the clanging of their armor echoing slightly. Not one of the knights that accompanied the creator dared to speak, sensing the irritation in Sir Nathaniel. After reaching the top of the stairs, they passed two more empty corridors, still lined with the red and gold tapestries and this time, portraits of the former members of the Royal Court. They reached a set of large, oaken double doors, decorated with carvings of the Royal Coat of Arms.  Nathaniel raised a gauntleted hand, knocked thrice, and pushed it open, wide enough for a man to enter.
The Hall of Convergence was something like a church. Large stained glass windows supplied the room with sufficient light, the light that passed through them casting colorful patterns on the highly polished marble floors. Statues of different job classes lined the walls at even intervals, the large windows between them. A large, rectangular table was situated at the middle, with countless chairs on either side of them. The ceiling was painted with ancient frescoes as old as Prontera itself, made by the greatest artisans of that time. It depicted the Valkyrie, a beautiful blonde, her spear held up high above her head, Transcendent jobs surrounding her, their bodies illuminated by the light of the Valkyrie.

It was his first time here, so he took his chance and feasted his eyes at the room. He wasn’t a man of the arts, but he wasn’t a very crude man either. For a while, only the sound of Lord Maelbreeze’s footsteps toward the hall were heard. Nathaniel tore his gaze from the frescoes and watched him, as he went inside. But the creator stopped in his tracks after taking some three or four steps inside, and turned his head slightly to his left.

“Oh, it’s you.” Then, there was giggling. More of a sinister laughter.

Nathaniel followed his gaze curiously, and his eyes fell on two laughing women, a tall, cloaked blonde and a red-haired high wizard, judging by the staff she held. He heard a distinct snort beside him, and metal clashing against metal again. Glancing at Millian, he saw her frowning at him and had her arms crossed over her chest. She turned away, and started to take noisy strides away. It made Nathaniel frown slightly – why was she so put off at the sight of the two women? Was it something… territorial? He didn’t know. Women were weird, sometimes. He had half a mind to follow her silently and leave these Transcendents to their business, but curiosity kept him rooted to the spot, listening.

“My, my, you have grown.” The laughter died as the blonde-haired woman tossed her hair, which was tied in a high ponytail, though her companion was still giggling silently. Her face was cracked into a sweet smile, as she looked at the creator with half-lidded eyes. Most of her body was covered with a full-length cloak. Nathaniel wondered briefly what job she was in – her lithe build did not seem appropriate for a swordsman, a thief, or a merchant. Probably someone of the mage class? Acolyte class? The woman took a step forward, and the rhythmic clinking of bits of metal accompanying it made him blink. Did the woman carry that much zeny to make it jingle like that?

“My work is of no importance to you,” the creator answered coldly, his grip on his leather bag tightening as he walked over to the table and took a seat, not sparing the women a second look. “I am here for that meeting and whatever it is about, nothing more!” Stromgarde’s eyes glared into Nathaniel’s. “And you, Sir Knight, what are you still doing here? Leave!”

The knight jumped in surprise and stepped back. Lord Maelbreeze’s venomous glower scared him enough to forget about his curiosity temporarily and bow apologetically.

“Forgive my discourtesy, Lord Maelbreeze,” he uttered, his hand on the large door. “I shall leave at once.” Of course, he didn’t want to, but he had no choice. He left the door open a crack though. A crack wide enough so he could hear what they talked about. Curse him and his curiosity. Millian hadn’t returned yet, and he doubted if she ever would. She would stop him if she did, though. He leaned toward the door, his ear nearly touching the varnished wood as he strained to overhear their conversation.

“Ooh, temper, temper,” said a woman’s voice, but not the blonde’s. The high wizard’s. “That was kid of harsh, Stromgarde. The knight was only listening. What would he do with your life story?”

A snort. “You know him, Stel, always the grouch.” The blonde. She then paused awhile. “I wonder why we’re called, though, especially you, Stromgarde. I mean, they sent a messenger all the way to Lighthalzen?”

There was clinking, and a small thud. “Yes, they did,” replied the creator. His voice was softer now, less hostile. “Expect it to be either something serious or something stupid.”

“I would have blasted the man to smithereens if he wasn’t a messenger of the King,” said the high wizard. Another dull thud. ”He pretty much shouted his way to find me, and kept repeating frantically that it was something important. I think he’s too zealous about his job as a messenger.”

There was high-pitched laughter. Evidently, Maelbreeze didn’t join in. Nathaniel leaned closer, as they spoke in lower tones. He couldn’t quite understand what they talked about next, and neither did he catch a single word. He straightened up, slightly disappointed but still intrigued. He ran through a mental list of methods and places where he could snoop for the time being – he wasn’t that busy, and the only place he was heading for after this was home.

“…and we’re running late, Alex.”

Nathaniel turned quickly to find three of the most important people he would ever meet in his entire life.

Description
Chapter One: Enter Prontera

“Welcome to Prontera,” monotonously said the knight who stood guard at the west gate of the city. His face looked very tired and old, with those large, dark rings under his eyes and the frown he wore on his face. The look he cast upon the carriage drawn by grand pecopecos in front of him was no different from what one would give a stranger; this carriage was from Al de Baran, judging by its bluish white color, the designs painted on it, and by the drivers’ uniforms. He raised an eyebrow as the carriage window opened, and a gloved hand extended from the inside, clutching a piece of folded parchment. A man’s hand, he could tell, by the muscular arm that followed it. An alchemist’s glove, wasn’t it? But it was too dark inside the carriage to see. He took the parchment, and recognized the wax seal on it. The King’s.

“An invitation from your King,” said a voice from inside the carriage, as he skimmed through its contents. He noted that emphasis on ‘your’, but he shrugged it off, as he perused the parchment. Definitely the King’s signature there at the bottom. It also said that this person’s safety was a top one priority. And his name was…?

“Lord Stromgarde Maelbreeze…?” he read out aloud, and looked back at the window. The man inside had withdrawn his arm. He had heard of that name. In the newspapers perhaps? But in any case, he had to personally escort the visitor to the castle, it says so right there, third paragraph. To one of the grander conference halls in the castle, specifically, for a... hmm. No exact reason stated. He had to stifle a groan; he was dead tired, and was hoping to get some shut eye after his shift ended. But he had no choice. Duty first before anything else.

“I don’t like wasting time,” said the man inside the carriage curtly. “I still have business to do back in Lighthalzen.”

“Y-Yes, sir,” he said immediately, handing over the parchment and giving a salute with his other hand. Something about the man’s voice demanded respect and attention, it made him perk up and forget his sleepiness. And also, what would a Lighthal be doing in Prontera? And, he must have gone through Al de Baran – going through the north gate would be more practical because it was nearer. Maybe because the route there was rocky, winding, and too troublesome. Mandragoras littered the paths there, so it was understandable. “I will escort you to Prontera Castle right away.” He turned to the coachmen, who looked stiff and wary of their passenger. He gave them a nod. “Follow me, please.”

For a moment, he wondered about his replacement. He just can’t leave his post without someone else to stand guard. He heard honking, getting louder with each passing moment, and it stopped near him. And just in time – it was his replacement. The newly-arrived knight was one of the Knight Guild’s fresh graduates – a tall, young lad with fair skin and hair.

“Sir Crouze?” he asked, his eyes focused on the strange carriage. The elder knight only gave an impatient wave of his hand, as if easing the matter. The younger lad took the hint and gave a salute before assuming the superior’s post. Sir Crouze took the reins of his pecopeco and rode it. The pecopeco honked twice, before going into a trot. The carriage followed closely behind. He led them through the more beautiful routes of Prontera; he wanted to make the visitor have a good impression of Prontera, partly because he was a pure Pronteran, and because that was instructed of them during their days in the Knights Guild. Grand mansions lined the streets, owned mostly by the higher ranking knights and nobles. Not much people walked down the streets at this time of day, but two younger knights hailed him as they passed. He only gave them a small smile, and a nod to acknowledge their greetings.

“How much farther?” He heard a curt voice ask the coachmen, after some twenty minutes of riding around Prontera. They had just passed through the Knights Guild, which was strangely empty. He looked behind him, and met the coachman’s questioning and frightened gaze. He gave a nod, signaling that they were near.

“Just a few minutes more, Lord Maelbreeze,” replied one of the coachmen. “We’re almost there.” It occurred to him that this Stromgarde Maelbreeze was an impatient person, also someone of high stature to be invited to Prontera Castle by the King himself. Just one last corner…

And there it was. Prontera Castle. He pulled the reins, and the pecopeco stopped. The carriage also came to a halt, as the guards present by the gates approached the Aldebaranian coach cautiously, some of them giving Sir Crouze questioning glances.

“A guest of the King, Millian,” he whispered to the lone female knight, and jerked his head to the curtained window that hid Lord Maelbreeze’s appearance. “He had a Class 1 letter. VIP.” The female knight turned her head to look at the coach again, her face creased in a slight frown.

“Understood, Sir Nathaniel,” she replied thoughtfully, still gazing at the carriage. Nathaniel briefly entertained the thought of lecturing the female knight to look at her superior when talking, but he put it aside awhile, considering their situation. She put a hand on her chin. “Though I wonder what someone from the Schwartzwald Republic would be doing here. A high wizard from the Arcane Guild and a gypsy from the Entertainers Guild just arrived an hour ago.”

What would Trancendents be doing here in Prontera? The knight wondered. Not that Trancendents were rare sights, mind you, he always saw them during guild sieges, passing through Prontera to the Valkyrie Guild Houses. But today wasn’t a siege day. And those two were members of major political guilds as well. He wouldn’t be surprised if this Stromgarde Maelbreeze was some Transcendent political figure of the Schwartzwald Republic. The elder knight didn’t reply, as he watched the other knights who had already gathered by the door, as the footmen stationed themselves on either side of it to assist their passenger.

“C’mon,” he said vaguely, jerking his head to the direction of the carriage again. “Let’s see who this Stromgarde Maelbreeze is.” Millian nodded, and together, they walked briskly to the two rows of knights, and positioned themselves at the end nearest the carriage.

The carriage door opened with a soft thlack, as the door was opened from the inside. Everyone held their breath, even the footmen, as a man who looked like in his mid-twenties stepped out silently.

And just as Nathaniel had predicted, Lord Maelbreeze was an alchemist – or rather, used to be an alchemist. Long, dark hair framed his pale and sickly face, while a pair of large glasses was placed high upon the bridge of his nose. His purplish eyes looked stern, as he shielded them from the light. His garments consisted of a simple white sleeveless shirt, under a strange manteau with a nasty set of jaws on each shoulder, fastened by a brooch that resembled the emblem of the Alchemy Guild of Lighthalzen. Six leather pouches – two on each leg, and two at the back – are attached to his belt. As everyone gazed at him, transfixed, Stromgarde seemed undisturbed by the attention they gave him and patted his manteau, like a master to his pet – and it opened its mouth, as if yawning. One of the knights drew back, part-disgusted and part-frightened at the strange armor. But the creator didn’t mind them, no, not at all. The sight jerked everyone back to reality. Everyone gave a salute, even the footmen.

“Welcome to Prontera, Lord Stromgarde Maelbreeze,” Nathaniel said once more, dropping his hand and giving a slightly forced smile. Inwardly, he hoped that the creator wouldn’t notice it. “Lady Millian Grageda will now take charge and escort you to the Hall of Convergence.” The female knight gave him a look with a mix of surprise and rage and nudged him roughly with her armored arm, which he only smirked at. “C’mon,” he whispered to her. “I’m dead tired, what with those rogues and assassins last night…”

“But you’re the one who first saw him and permitted him entry in Prontera,” she hissed back angrily. “Says so in the letter. You have to come with me,” she added, snickering. “Thought you could get away with it, did you?”

But Lord Maelbreeze was only barely aware of the two knights arguing in front of him; he was looking blankly at the Sanctuary, the gothic spires of which were visible from here. The Church of Prontera. Nathaniel and Millian stopped bickering at each other and looked curiously at him, and followed his gaze. The other knights, likewise, had puzzled frowns on their faces as the creator remained quiet for a few more seconds. The jaws on his manteau yawned again, this time wider and more pronounced, and Lord Maelbreeze gave a small jump and adjusted his glasses, fidgeting slightly.

“Ah, yes, yes, of course,” he said, giving an impatient wave of his free hand as the footmen unloaded his luggage. “Have the others arrived yet?”

“Yes, Sir,” replied Millian this time, as she gestured toward the gates into the Castle. “They are waiting in the conference room as we speak. We shall lead the way, Lord Maelbreeze.” She nudged Nathaniel on the side more forcefully as she entered through the main gate, her armor clanging slightly as metal clashed with metal. Nathaniel followed reluctantly, though he lagged behind as he waited for Lord Maelbreeze to follow.

“Be careful with that, it’s fragile,” he heard him utter coldly in an undertone. He glanced behind him, and saw one of the footmen muttering what seemed like an apology, and held out a leather bag. Lord Maelbreeze gave a near inaudible “hmph” as he took the bag, turned on his heel and walked briskly to follow the female knight; leather bag in his left hand and his right was clasped on the brooch on his manteau. If he was someone in a lower rank than Nathaniel was, the knight thought, he could have whacked him with the sheath of his broadsword for insolence. This is Prontera, don’t he dare strut around as if he owned the place. It took him a while until he noticed that Lord Maelbreeze had his eyes on him and frowned distinctly.

Another nudge on the side. “Nathan, would you take that glare off your face?” It was Millian, her voice in a slightly panicked tone. Nathaniel looked at her, puzzled. So what? Lord Maelbreeze had no jurisdiction in Prontera. He couldn’t have the knight jailed or punished.  With that assurance in his mind, he didn’t bother to reply to Millian, as he walked to the front of the two rows of knights. He heard Millian say something to Lord Maelbreeze, but he didn’t exactly catch the words she mumbled.

“I could care less,” he heard Lord Maelbreeze reply coldly. “I’d like to finish my business as soon as possible, so please, let’s not waste time.”

He glanced behind him, and saw Millian following Lord Maelbreeze closely behind. They entered the main hall, the walls of which were covered with tapestries, paintings of famous knights, and suits of armor. They quickly walked toward a staircase on the right side of the hall, the clanging of their armor echoing slightly. Not one of the knights that accompanied the creator dared to speak, sensing the irritation in Sir Nathaniel. After reaching the top of the stairs, they passed two more empty corridors, still lined with the red and gold tapestries and this time, portraits of the former members of the Royal Court. They reached a set of large, oaken double doors, decorated with carvings of the Royal Coat of Arms.  Nathaniel raised a gauntleted hand, knocked thrice, and pushed it open, wide enough for a man to enter.
The Hall of Convergence was something like a church. Large stained glass windows supplied the room with sufficient light, the light that passed through them casting colorful patterns on the highly polished marble floors. Statues of different job classes lined the walls at even intervals, the large windows between them. A large, rectangular table was situated at the middle, with countless chairs on either side of them. The ceiling was painted with ancient frescoes as old as Prontera itself, made by the greatest artisans of that time. It depicted the Valkyrie, a beautiful blonde, her spear held up high above her head, Transcendent jobs surrounding her, their bodies illuminated by the light of the Valkyrie.

It was his first time here, so he took his chance and feasted his eyes at the room. He wasn’t a man of the arts, but he wasn’t a very crude man either. For a while, only the sound of Lord Maelbreeze’s footsteps toward the hall were heard. Nathaniel tore his gaze from the frescoes and watched him, as he went inside. But the creator stopped in his tracks after taking some three or four steps inside, and turned his head slightly to his left.

“Oh, it’s you.” Then, there was giggling. More of a sinister laughter.

Nathaniel followed his gaze curiously, and his eyes fell on two laughing women, a tall, cloaked blonde and a red-haired high wizard, judging by the staff she held. He heard a distinct snort beside him, and metal clashing against metal again. Glancing at Millian, he saw her frowning at him and had her arms crossed over her chest. She turned away, and started to take noisy strides away. It made Nathaniel frown slightly – why was she so put off at the sight of the two women? Was it something… territorial? He didn’t know. Women were weird, sometimes. He had half a mind to follow her silently and leave these Transcendents to their business, but curiosity kept him rooted to the spot, listening.

“My, my, you have grown.” The laughter died as the blonde-haired woman tossed her hair, which was tied in a high ponytail, though her companion was still giggling silently. Her face was cracked into a sweet smile, as she looked at the creator with half-lidded eyes. Most of her body was covered with a full-length cloak. Nathaniel wondered briefly what job she was in – her lithe build did not seem appropriate for a swordsman, a thief, or a merchant. Probably someone of the mage class? Acolyte class? The woman took a step forward, and the rhythmic clinking of bits of metal accompanying it made him blink. Did the woman carry that much zeny to make it jingle like that?

“My work is of no importance to you,” the creator answered coldly, his grip on his leather bag tightening as he walked over to the table and took a seat, not sparing the women a second look. “I am here for that meeting and whatever it is about, nothing more!” Stromgarde’s eyes glared into Nathaniel’s. “And you, Sir Knight, what are you still doing here? Leave!”

The knight jumped in surprise and stepped back. Lord Maelbreeze’s venomous glower scared him enough to forget about his curiosity temporarily and bow apologetically.

“Forgive my discourtesy, Lord Maelbreeze,” he uttered, his hand on the large door. “I shall leave at once.” Of course, he didn’t want to, but he had no choice. He left the door open a crack though. A crack wide enough so he could hear what they talked about. Curse him and his curiosity. Millian hadn’t returned yet, and he doubted if she ever would. She would stop him if she did, though. He leaned toward the door, his ear nearly touching the varnished wood as he strained to overhear their conversation.

“Ooh, temper, temper,” said a woman’s voice, but not the blonde’s. The high wizard’s. “That was kid of harsh, Stromgarde. The knight was only listening. What would he do with your life story?”

A snort. “You know him, Stel, always the grouch.” The blonde. She then paused awhile. “I wonder why we’re called, though, especially you, Stromgarde. I mean, they sent a messenger all the way to Lighthalzen?”

There was clinking, and a small thud. “Yes, they did,” replied the creator. His voice was softer now, less hostile. “Expect it to be either something serious or something stupid.”

“I would have blasted the man to smithereens if he wasn’t a messenger of the King,” said the high wizard. Another dull thud. ”He pretty much shouted his way to find me, and kept repeating frantically that it was something important. I think he’s too zealous about his job as a messenger.”

There was high-pitched laughter. Evidently, Maelbreeze didn’t join in. Nathaniel leaned closer, as they spoke in lower tones. He couldn’t quite understand what they talked about next, and neither did he catch a single word. He straightened up, slightly disappointed but still intrigued. He ran through a mental list of methods and places where he could snoop for the time being – he wasn’t that busy, and the only place he was heading for after this was home.

“…and we’re running late, Alex.”

Nathaniel turned quickly to find three of the most important people he would ever meet in his entire life.