|
Post by Malice on May 12, 2011 16:18:03 GMT -5
P R O L O G U E
- V -
In comparison to the rest of Gaia Alexandria had been a bed of what one would usually call peace and security. At the most their only real problem in the past two years of chaos had involved a defunct priest a Cetran warrior and a pirate from Ivalice. But even that by comparison to things like Solomons Key attacks was on the list of things that were barely noticable by M-Labs. Registered as unimportant. However there was more and more going on there than people thought. Alexandria had never really been what you would call an important continent in the world of gaia. Technologically it was far behind. However its skilled military still made some impact.
When compared to places like Galbadia or Midgar. it barely even made a mark on the world. However lately that had been changing. That defucnt prieest had stumbled across more than he had thought. His zealot nature keeping him from truely identifying what the source of the issue was. His loyalty to the Alexandrian royal family. Keeping him from doing what needed to be done. In the end, he'd been executed. The Cetran got away, the Ivalice Pirate, it was rumoured he turned up somewhere in Midgar with an Elven thief. The only thing that had been left for hope of justice in this situation. Was one of the brothers at the chapel. Brother Albert wasn't what you would call Priest Material. It was precisely that reason that he was a monk as opposed to being a priest. The one who had been executed, had been the man who had saved him. Not from a monster not from some kind of demon but from himself. Brother Albert had been a black mage, of a rather nasty variety. In trying to seek the meaning of his life and his gift with magic he had joined a cult of the god of discord.
Chaos. The priest had come, and taken him away from that. Turned him to the church of Alexander. And now he lived a life of peaceful harmony using white magics to aid the people who came in with whatever afflictions they had. Admittedly though he wasn't the best at white magic. For whatever reason, his talent had always lain with the destructive arts. Healing had never been something he was good at. Only causing pain. But the church had taught him that fighting against ones own nature to destroy was truely the best virtue of the divine sentinal. He knew that the father had been no heritic, nor had he been trecherous. He would only do his duty as a servant of the royals and of the holy construct Alexander. The mans faith had been unwavering. There was no way that he would ever go against that. And Albert refused to believe it. Which is why he broke one of his first tennants. He was. Angered. By the execution of his friend. His savior.
The Brother broke into the castle at night. He kept himself quiet using a spell of illusion. Voiding his footsteps with a twisted version of the silence spell. He headed up to the place where the father and his two " accomplices" had infiltrated the resting place of the Holy Construct. He knew that by stepping on these grounds only allowed to members of the Alexandrian royal family. If he was caught he would be executed. Yet something drew him on. Spurred him to continue. A sense of justice. Or perhaps something more. Beneath his robes brother Albert held onto the holy symbol of the church. Ascending the stairs and hearing a strange music play as he got closer and closer. He found it mystical, calming and yet at the same time terrifying. He reached the top plateue, the large sword in the centre of the castle. A reflective metal was most prominant here. And so was the sound of this music.
He felt it around him, he heard it in the air and in his head. And in that music there were whispers. There were words. Words that he couldn't quite hear at first. But when he drew closer to the reflective metal he began to hear more of the words, more of the voice, clearer and clearer. Like a song to the music. He felt as if he had no control over himself. Floating on the music as if he were caught in a wind and a sea fo storms and breezes. beyond his own control he drifted off towards the edge of the plateu knowing that if he didn't stop, didn't regain control then he was going to fall, going to fall and going to die and there would be no justice for the father. Be no justice for the hero who had beeen betrayed by those he had served faithfully. But wh, why was this happening to him, why was itdrawing him now towards the edge of the castle. Why did it want him dead. Was the father truely innocent? Did he betray Alexander?
No. Never. He refused to believe it. Suddenly the drifting stopped but the song continued. From it he managed to pick out a single understandable word. " Watch".. Sure enough, below him in the court yard figures began to appear, led by general beatrix, some carrying crates. Men with strange hats. Behind them. A man dressed in white and purple with silver hair. There was an odd feeling around these people, other than the general they all felt.Unnatural. Even the general gave off a feeling of discomfort around them. They stopped in the courtyard and the barrels were placed down, opened up and strangely more of these men crawled out of the barrels. Beatrix held up an unlit torch, and one of the men in strange hats lifted a hand to it. And it would burst alight. Magic? These men were black mages? So many of them. And he'd seen thsoe barrels before, at the castle and around it, even in the castle chapels storing house. If each of these barrels contained one of these man then....there were hundreds of them if not thousands.
An army of black mages? Just what was the Queen thinking? The song raised up again. A single word. corruption. Fear. He knew something that he wasn't supposed to know, but what was he going to do about it. Even the father had been executed for coming even close to this. Another burst of words from the song. Princess. Danger. save. He reeled from the sheer burst, one was enough to knock him back but all three was enough to leave his head splitting.The princess was in danger? Something had to be done but what? What could he do? In fear he ran. Ran back home.
.
|
|