Veterans in a Bar

“Her bosom swelled with each heavy, shaking breath, her heart pounding as hard as the hoofbeats of any mighty stallion. Rodrigo’s hands found her waist and pulled her to him, his firm, taut body pressing up against her’s. She inhaled sharply in surprise, her own hands pressing against his chest. ‘I’ve thought about you for so long. The feel of your body against mine, the smell of your perfume… I never knew it could be so intoxicating,’ he whispered to her, his hot breath wafting over her face. He smelled smoky, like a freshly burned oak tree warming a fire. ‘Kiss me,’ she told him softly, her eyes flicking between his lips and his eyes. ‘Kiss me like there’s no tomorrow, my warrior prince. And then take me right here. Make me yours’.”

Vandrad looked about ready to either die of boredom or kill everyone in the bar with him. He was leaning against his hand, staring up at Faren with the brightest look of agitation. After playing two songs, it had been requested that he read something from his latest novel -- a romantic, sultry, disgusting passage. Ever the crowd pleaser he had agreed, taking the offered book and flipping to the chapter in question. It was more than a little annoying and the fact that the short man had opted to go through an entire set before getting down to greet him properly was beginning to get on his nerves.

“His kisses brought color to her world, each one small fireworks that lit up the night sky of her mind and her body. His hands slid up over her hips to find the clasps holding her dress together, unlatching them with an expertise she wasn’t prepared for but greatly appreciated. She was ready for him, ready for his hands and mouth to explore her greedily and she, in turn, would feast upon him.” Faren lifted his gaze from the book and snapped it shut. With a grin, he opened up to the front page and pulled a pen from his coat pocket, whipping out a quick dedication on the page before he closed the book for good. “A little, juicy preview of what happens in the pages of the Warrior Prince. Please pick up a copy at your local bookstore.”

The roar of the crowd was deafening, easily sounding like a far larger audience. Faren offered bows in every direction, sweeping his arm down and lowering himself to receive their praise with an open welcome. As they began to settle, he stepped down from the stage, receiving compliments, waves and several hands reaching out just to touch his shoulders. He walked right up to Vandrad, a shit-eating grin replacing the suave look he’d had for the audience. “Not a fan, Van?”

"When I told you I didn’t care about you writing about me as a character, I didn’t mean in your smutty stories,” Vandrad protested with a dismissive scoff. "You made it worse by forcing me to listen to it.”

“Come now, old boy, a little romance in your life wouldn’t be the worst thing, no? Speaking of romance, how is that beautiful mother and aunt of yours?” Faren asked as he pulled the other chair out from the table and leapt up to sit on it. He turned around just enough to signal to the bartender for a drink. “Still as lovely as ever I imagine?”

"They are… well,” Vandrad answered carefully. "Better than the way Bellum would have them.”

Faren shook his head, tsking softly. “It’s disgusting what Bellum did to them. Casting them out without even a consideration of a trial or an investigation. As you can imagine, my father was outraged. Mother was… well, she was mother. Disappointed but unwilling to act out of place for the sake of the family’s honor,” Faren explained with a roll of his eyes. The waitress came over with a pint of beer and the entertainer took it with a smile and a wink.

"And what about you? I have been busy as of late but it seems you are still doing well,” Vandrad stated, gesturing to the crowd around them.

“Ah, you know me. If there’s a stage and an opportunity, I’ll jump on it. Sometimes it doesn’t even require a stage,” the dwarf answered, watching the waitress as she walked away. “Anything new with you? It has been some years since we exchanged any kind of correspondence,” he turned the question around as he began to gulp down his beer.

"Engaged, of all things.”

Vandrad watched as Faren tried to gasp mid-drink, the liquid invading the wrong pipe. He pulled the mug back and sputtered beer all over the table and floor, hacking away as he tried to catch his breath. He planted his mug back on the table, heaving slightly, and turned his gaze to Vandrad again. “Say again. I can’t have heard that correctly. Did you say you were… engaged?”

"Indeed,” Vandrad replied immediately, a definite look of amusement on his face at having made Faren balk for once.

“Ice cold, dead hearted, despising every breathing person Vandrad duWolff is engaged,” Faren said it outloud, pretty much staring past the former prince at that point. “It wasn’t any of those women that your mother was trying to set you up with, right? Even I have standards. Sort of.”

"No, it was a woman I met on my own. She kept finding ways to insert herself into my life, insisting she was my best friend--”

“And you obviously corrected her and told her that I was your best friend, right?”

"-- and eventually it just kind of… happened. Obviously there are a lot of other details involved that I have no intention of sharing--”

“No intention of sharing? I want to hear every damn detail. Wait, are you making her wait until you’re married to have sex? Or did you finally pop your cherry?!”

"--Especially because my love life or any aspect of my life was not the reason I contacted you or agreed to meet you,” Vandrad finished up, ultimately ignoring Faren’s attempts to cut in.

“Oh come on, Van. You contact me after nearly a decade of silence and you refuse to go into any details about all the things going on? I’ve had women tease me less than you are right now. There is nothing wrong with mixing a little pleasure with business. We both know I am an expert at that. Now let’s go, tell me all about her.”

Vandrad stared at Faren for a long moment, unenthused at his overenthusiastic showing. After several beats of silence, he finally scoffed. "Fine. I will tell you about her only if you agree to calm your tiny ass down and get to business immediately after.”

“Consider my plump ass calmed,” Faren said with a grin. “Now, let me guess -- blonde or brunette?”

"Violet.”

“Adventurous! I like this woman already. Alright, get on with it. Don’t spare any details -- and don’t mind if I take some notes,” Faren insisted, pulling out a notebook from his inside jacket pocket and leaning forward eagerly. “Let’s hear it, Van.”

There were benefits to being the son of a famous war hero. But then again, there were also the drawbacks. Expectations were high from superiors and there was a sour look on every new recruit that heard his name and the accolades of the one that came before.

Eighteen year old Vandrad stood in formation with the rest of the Bellum recruits. Labeled as ‘Council Mages’, the lowest rank within the Bellian military hierarchy, the newest group of soldiers looked about as green as any man or woman could. Even Vandrad could tell, from a quick look on either side, that he was looking at people that had probably signed up for the benefit of saying they were part of the army. The young prince scoffed dismissively, barely hiding a sneer as their commanding officer, a Crusader Knight, stepped up to the line.

“Attention!” He shouted, barking ferociously at the fresh faced soldiers before him. Everyone fell into a tight stance, many of them looking like their own anuses had curled up inside of themselves. Not Vandrad; he knew exactly how to stand at attention without looking constipated, having studied the regimens of the military from a young age. “By Arcanos, if you all aren’t the most miserable bunch of vermin that I have ever laid eyes on. The might of the Bellian army relies on its soldiers, on the men and women that have mastered magic as is our God-given right. Every day the threat of Pergrande waits right over those mountains; godless, magicless heathens that want nothing more than to wipe us out. And your pimpled, idiotic-looking faces are supposed to be the ones I’m training to protect us all? I may as well roll out the red carpet for the Paladins right now!”

It was about what Vandrad expected form their drill sergeant. They weren’t here to hold anyone’s hand or gently coax confidence out of them. They were raw materials and the Crusader Knights needed to forge weapons out of their inexperienced forms. Vandrad could practically smell the tension in the air as several of the recruits were beginning to understand just how serious their decision was. Before he could take a moment to look around, the Knight stepped right up to him, the large man towering over the young prince. “What’s your name, pointy?”

"Vandrad du Wolff, sir,” came the reply from Vandrad, who didn’t feel the need to bark in response but simply answered him.

“Speak up, scrub!” the Crusader Knight roared in his face.

"I said Vandrad du Wolff,” Vandrad replied once more, only raising his voice perhaps an octave, if that.

“What’s the matter, don’t got any balls to get loud?”

"I see no reason to waste time yelling back at you,” Vandrad told him coolly.

“A smart ass, huh? What was that you said; du Wolff? You must be the Ashen Dread’s little pup,” the Crusader Knight said with a dismissive scoff, taking a moment to look Vandrad from toes to top. “It sure looks like the apple falls far from the tree, doesn’t it?”

Vandrad’s gaze narrowed slightly. "You’re more than welcome to find out.”

“You want to repeat that?!” the Knight roared once more.

"I said I hope your magical abilities are in better condition than your hearing.”

The Crusader Knight’s eyes went wide. “You think just because you’re a legacy that you’re going to be protected? Son, I’ll beat you within an inch of your life just to prove a point if you don’t watch your mouth and follow orders.”

"I’ll follow orders that have meaning, that are tactically sound. I won’t waste my time with gibbering fools who enjoy screaming to make a point. You want to give me a useful order? I’ll obey. You want me to speak slightly louder to oblige your own ego? Find one of these other weaklings to bully. You’ll gain nothing from me.” Vandrad knew that this was coming of course but he certainly had no intention of falling in line blindly. If he’d done that, he wouldn’t even be here -- he’d already be engaged to some witless princess from another country per his mother. He’d joined the military to get stronger; that was it. And while he had a wide range of acceptance to the hazing that came from starting at the bottom, he had no intention of remaining on the bottom rung for long; especially since the brass had promised him the position of a Crusader Knight once he finished basic.

There was something wildly feral in the drill master’s eyes. He clearly wasn’t used to this level of disrespect. But before he could really lay into the young prince, a chuckle from down the line caught both of their attention. “Who in the hell thinks they have any right to make noise right now?! Step forward!”

The entire line of recruits turned towards the source of the noise. After a moment, a man stepped forward; a very, very short man, standing at nearly half the height of a relatively short man. His hair was pushed back, neatly kept. There was some stubble on his chin but not much to brag about. He turned to look at the two men facing off, eyes flitting between the drill master and Vandrad. “Sorry, it’s just… Well, our dear Mr. du Wolff here is quite eloquent in his dismissals. And you’re… sorely lacking in that department. Fantastic in the ‘I can scream real loud and sound scary’ category though.”

“Who are you?!” The Crusader Knight demanded as he stomped away from Vandrad and further towered over the new mouth breather.

“Faren Laenar, sir, of the Laenar family,” Faren said, offering his hand. It was not taken. Dropping his hand, he continued. “Listen, I’m sure you have a lot more to yell at him about so why not slide on back down there and-”

“Just who do you think you are, telling me what to do? You’ve got some balls, recruit. You think you’re hot shit?” The drill instructor roared.

“With all of this military stuff? Not even close. I’m pretty good with a pen and a stringed instrument and killer with the ladies,” Faren glanced at the nearest female recruit and gave her a wink. “I’m also very well known for running my mouth, as is exemplified here,” he said, gesturing to the space between them.

“Du Wolff, Laenar, I want ten laps around the compound. Now!” The drill instructor screamed, pointing away from him as he ordered their punishment.

Vandrad stepped out of line and then began to run in the direction that the drill instructor was pointing. Faren sighed and then followed after him, sprinting to catch up. “Don’t think I’m winning any points with the instructor, huh?”

Vandrad didn’t answer, focusing on running. Faren glanced up at him and chuckled. “Ah, you were so wise a moment ago. Don’t tell me the big, scary man actually got to you?”

"No. I just don’t like talking to strangers,” came the curt reply.

“Well we’re not going to be strangers for much longer, my friend. Grizzled attack dogs of the Cardinal of Peace need to stick together or so I’m told.”

"Tsk,” Vandrad scoffed. "You hardly seem like a warrior.”

Faren chuckled. “Not at all. I have some decent magic but my real talent is in entertainment. But alas, mother and father don’t see much of a future in traveling the world as a minstrel. So it was either join the army or get married.”

That was surprising; finding a man in the same predicament that Vandrad had been in, though it seemed like his was more of an ultimatum than anything else. Vandrad remained quiet as Faren continued. “Unfortunately I’m not a one woman kind of man. I prefer to sample anyone willing and have no intentions of settling down. So military it was. How about you?”

"None of your business.”

“Ah the mysterious, aloof type. How very intriguing,” Faren grinned as he looked up at the young prince. “I think I like you, Vandrad du Wolff. You seem like the kind of guy that a man should stick by, if only to keep himself alive. Plus that whole ‘cold, introspective warrior’ vibe you have is far too interesting to ignore. I imagine you aren’t a man of many friends, right?”

"...no.”

“No surprise but fear not, you’ve found yourself your first very best friend,” Faren informed him with a laugh.

"No.”

“I’m afraid you don’t get a vote in the matter, it’s been decided and ruled. We’re going to be best friends, Van the man.”

"Do not call me that.”

“Vanny?”

"No.”

“Van it is!” Faren decided.

Vandrad growled softly under his breath. This pest was getting annoying. Rather than lash out, he centered himself. People like Faren Laenar didn’t pass basic training and were usually drummed out quickly. He wouldn’t have to worry about the irritating man for very long; he just needed to be patient.

“I’m sorry, you’re going to have to repeat that. There is simply no way I heard that correctly.”

Despite the amount of attention that Faren drew to himself, both actively and passively, Vandrad had managed to get through a decent portion of the last few years. Though he and Faren hadn’t seen one another in well over a decade at that point, there really wasn’t a whole lot worth mentioning up until he had come to Fiore, joined Fairy Tail and inevitably ran into Mercury. So he had started when he had learned that his father was still alive and followed the track up to there. Obviously, there were a lot of side paths of other stories; things involving Mythal, Serilda and their enemies but he’d only touched upon those, if only to keep the overall arcing story moving forward. So Faren asking him to repeat ‘that’ didn’t really focus on any particular portion; there really was a lot he could be talking about. "Care to elaborate or am I just supposed to divine your intention?” Vandrad asked.

“This woman, your fiance, has slept with your mother, your uncle and is currently still sleeping with your biological father, practically in a relationship with him?” Of course Faren would focus on Mercury's more… divisive actions but he supposed he couldn’t blame him. Anyone with any kind of basic understanding of politically correctness would probably be just as shocked.

"Yes,” came the curt reply from the former prince. "Trust me, I am more than aware of how it sounds and looks.”

“Are you? Because it sounds like you married the woman of my dreams!” Faren shot back with a laugh. “You are aware that if she’s screwed that many of your family members, she is probably going to go for all of them. I would; it’d be a challenge at that point.”

"I highly doubt she’d be successful. Cecilia and Ophelia would most likely turn her down. Bartrand would give it up… perhaps Ever and Dudley but she’d need time, something she is severely lacking at the moment.”

“I’m just telling you, Van; she’s gonna have a list and she’ll be checking it twice -- maybe three times, if your dad is any indication,” Faren replied with a smirk as he took a sip from his beer. “But she sounds like a treasure. And you’re really okay with this kind of… really relaxed, open relationship deal?”

"Who she sleeps with isn’t my priority. She is a reliable partner, one that has pushed me to get stronger and be a better man, a better person. Besides, the damage of being brought up in a household of casual relationships seems to be my lack of jealousy when it comes to those sorts of matters. Plus it’s not like she’s the only one that has slept with someone outside the relationship.” Damn, that just slipped out. Vandrad made a face immediately, already knowing he’d opened a door that he couldn’t just slam shut and expect silence. Faren’s face was already lighting up.

“By all the light of Arcanos, Vandrad!” Faren hollered with another laugh. “Are you telling me you not only slept with this woman but SOMEONE ELSE? Please tell me it was a man; all I need right now is to know that you’re bisexual.”

Vandrad scoffed. "Don’t be ridiculous,” he dismissed the notion. But he knew that he wouldn’t be able to dismiss the entire subject. After a moment he shook his head. "It was another woman.”

“Van, as I live and breathe, you’re practically a slut!” Faren pounded his fist on the table. “You have to tell me a name. I have thank you cards to write.”

After another moment, the former prince sighed. "Her name is Agatha.”

What surprised Vandrad was the look on Faren’s face. The lightness had left, washed over by surprising revelation and realization. His brows knitted together and he cocked his head ever so slightly. “You can’t possibly mean Agatha de La Cavalleria.”

Vandrad’s face scrunched in suspicion. "Yes…” he confirmed slowly.

Faren was silent for a long pause of time. And then he began to laugh. Not just laugh but raucously cackle madly, tipping his head back and laughing to the ceiling. It was so loud and boisterous that the people in the bar around them paused to look at him, wondering what it was that had entertained him so. "What?” Vandrad asked him, finding no answer as his friend continued to laugh. "What is it?!” he demanded again.

“Oh, Van. My sweet, innocent Van. Did you pay attention to my career after the military at all?”

"Only a little bit, only out of mere curiosity to know how you were using my granted permission of character.”

“And the music tours I went on?”

Vandrad stared at him. "Barely…”

Faren chuckled. “I toured with Agatha. Still the greatest touring companion I’ve had to date. An absolute doll; sweet in voice and on the eyes, with a mouth that can suck a rock through a straw. Oh Van, do you know what this means?”

"... what?”

“We’ve shared a woman! We’re eskimo brothers, my friend!” Faren exclaimed, raising his beer to Vandrad in cheers and then downing his drink.

Vandrad had no idea what that meant but he imagined it was something disgusting. So he chose not to remark on the matter in question, if only to spare himself a visualization that he was sure would displease him. As Faren slammed down his mug on the table and gestured to the barkeep for another, he turned a wicked grin to Vandrad. “I never would have imagined, not even on my deathbed. How’s about we make it two for two? Your fiance sounds like she’s down to party and I do so enjoy a spitfire.”

"Hard pass,” Vandrad replied dismissively.

“I thought you weren’t the jealous type.”

"I’m not. But I’d rather avoid being annoyed on two fronts about a shared conquest and whatever pairing either you or Mercury can possibly conjure up beyond that.”

“Ah, c’mon Van, it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve seen me naked. Credit where credit is due; Bellum certainly knows how to bond people together, even if it is through bloody conflict.”

Vandrad met the other man’s gaze. "Yes… that much is true.”

The last thing anyone had expected was a Pergrande siege.

The two nations had been in a cold war for only a few years but there were still sparse skirmishes; violent events that were brushed under the rug by both nations for the sake of protecting themselves from the guilt of starting open warfare. But that didn’t keep either side from taking potshots at one another when they could -- taking out squadrons of trainees just to remind the other side that hostilities had certainly not gone away.

It had been a basic patrol for Vandrad and Faren’s squadron; a treeline walk just to verify that no one was attempting to cross or move anything from Pergrande. It was something that Vandrad had done dozens of times before. But as they had found themselves in a small, hilly portion of the forest, just past a river, they had come under fire. Pergrandian weapons opened up on them, wiping out almost half of the squadron within moments.

They found refuge behind the hill, the rest of the squadron diving behind the knoll as bullets pelted the soil. Vandrad sneered viciously as he chanced a glance over the hill, only for shots to zip right past his head. Taking a quick look around, he took stock of who they had remaining. A few grunts that he had been training and then his second in command, Faren Laenar.

Somehow, the confident, playful man had not only survived boot camp but flourished. While he was nowhere near the passing grades that Vandrad had shown, he’d proven himself useful as both a confident leader and a surprisingly good soldier. He’d been offered the chance to lead his own squadron as a Crusader Knight, same as Vandrad. Instead he’d asked to join Vandrad’s group as his direct underling, so that he could help train recruits and stay by the man he claimed was his best friend.

It would have been an efficient and useful choice, were it not for Faren’s ability to be insufferable. He brought a lighthearted attitude to the army, amused and amusing, cracking jokes and trying to make all the soldiers around him feel at ease. Most of the Crusader Knights despised him; seeming to believe he was making the soldiers soft while babying them. Truth was, he wasn’t and Vandrad had stated as much several times. He couldn’t stand Faren’s playful attitude but he never undermined the prince and always pushed the squadron to be better and do better. His natural showmanship had proven useful to finding diamonds in the rough when it came to recruits. It was the only reason that Vandrad allowed him to stay.

They had run plenty of combat simulations and scenarios but they hadn’t been prepared for an ambush, as if anyone ever was. As the ground continued to be blasted into mulch just above their heads, Faren slid up beside Vandrad. “Not exactly the kind of surprise I was hoping for today,” he joked, his voice shaky but not broken. “I was hoping I would be able to convince Cassandra to give me a chance.”

"This is hardly the time to be thinking about our senior officer in that way!” Vandrad barked at him.

“I dunno, might be the only time if those Pergrandian soldiers decide to press their advantage,” Faren also chanced a quick glance before ducking back down. “So what’s the plan? I’m not exactly looking forward to just sitting here and waiting to be gunned down.”

"I can take most of them out but I need a minute to charge the spell,” Vandrad said, already bringing up his hand in front of him. Ethernano poured into the space just above his open palm, condensing into a glowing speck of magical energy. "But I’ll also need a straight shot.”

“Then it sounds like we need to get you an opening,” Faren replied with a smirk. Snapping, he summoned his magical crossbow, the prismatic weapon materializing in the air and then falling into his waiting hands. He flipped a switch on it, causing the loading mechanism to begin its process. “Alright guys, on your feet. You didn’t train to bow down to these angry, magicless mutts. Marceus, Riven; get barriers up. The rest of you start throwing spells back at them!”

Faren’s magical crossbow clicked and the bard popped up just enough to unload a shot. The shape of an arrow, composed of crackling plasma, zipped through the air, altering its direction wildly while still moving towards its target. The unfortunate Pergrandian recruit didn’t even understand what was happening when the arrow slammed into him and then shot upwards towards the sky. While it should have provided him an ample angle to shoot at his enemies, he was moving far too quickly into the sky, his composure broken as he realized his situation. Once it had ascended nearly a hundred yards, the arrow dissipated, leaving the soldier hanging in the air for only a moment before he began a quick and painful descent back to the surface. His screams were heard all the way down until the thump that brought his life to a cruel and hasty end.

It was enough to give the rest of the Pergrandian soldiers pause. That created the opening for the Bellum soldiers to set up their barriers and begin lobbing spells back at them. Now it was the Pergrande soldiers that were forced to hustle into defensive positions, several of them overwhelmed by spells before they could get to cover. Now with both sides evenly matched, spells and bullets filled the air between the two sides, each one trying to take the other down.

It bought Vandrad the time he needed to finalize his spell. Closing his hand around it, the light shone through the cracks in his fingers as he hopped to his feet and prepared to launch it. It was at that exact moment that something bounced over the magical shielding, falling to the ground behind the Bellum soldiers. The prince’s eyes widened as he realized it was a grenade. Refocusing all the magic in his hand to his body, he threw himself on top of the explosive device, attempting to suffocate it. And while his shielding was enough to keep him from being blown to bits, it didn’t stop the shockwave that knocked him and the rest of his squad off their feet and to the ground.

Vandrad had been thrown several feet, his Crusader armor in shambles. He could hear loud ringing in his ears and his vision was hazy at best. He tried to look around, finding Bellum soldiers scattered all over the ground in front and around him. As his head twisted forward once more, he caught sight of a shadow stepping down from the shattered knoll. There was no doubt about it; he would recognize that armor even if he was practically blind. An Imperial Guard; one of Pergrande’s elite soldiers. The Guard looked around at the soldiers littering the ground before settling his gaze on Vandrad, the only one looking back at him. Pulling his sword from its sheath, he approached the fallen prince, bringing his blade up into a ready position to strike when he got right on top of him.

But before he could get too close, Faren came leaping in from out of Vandrad’s peripheral, swinging his crossbow like a bat. He had apparently caught the Imperial Guard by surprise as well; the magical weapon hit true and knocked the Guard off balance, cracking the torso portion of his armor. Growling angrily, the Guard extended a hand to a sizable rock nearby, taking hold of it with his psychokinesis. With one flick of his hand, he sent the rock flying into Faren, knocking the air out of him and planting him in the soil. The Guard stood above Faren, hand tightening on his sword’s handle angrily. He took a step to position himself, giving his sword a perfect traveling path vertically. Vandrad already knew what was going to come next; he could already see the image of the sword slashing through the air and divorcing Faren’s head from his neck in one swift motion.

The prince moved faster than he had ever moved before. It was practically a teleport; ripping him from his spot on the ground to standing in the path of the sword as it came down. His hands came to either side of the blade, slamming hard against the flat edges of the sword and halting its trajectory. Grimacing, Vandrad put all his strength into trying to keep the sword from coming down on him and Faren. But he could feel the superior strength of the Guard, who was already beginning to activate his psychokinesis to put more force into his downward swing. Within seconds, the sword would bisect Vandrad.

But that couldn’t be his end, could it? He hadn’t survived his childhood, his trauma, all the pain and agony just to meet his end here. Not at the hands of some faceless Pergrandian Guard who would then go and slaughter the rest of his squadron. His hands tightened on the blade as he forcefully absorbed more ethernano into his body. Golden light wrapped around his limbs and body as a refreshing wave of strength filled his aching, trembling muscles. The Imperial Guard growled again and focused all of his psychokinesis into the sword, now trying to completely push through. But it wouldn’t move and with a throaty, rumbling roar, Vandrad was overwhelmed in golden light. In the bright, blinding display, he wrenched the sword from the handle, snapping it off at the guard. And as his aura settled into a smooth, flickering display, he brought the blade around and stabbed it through the Guard’s helmet, fully piercing it through so that the bloodied point stuck out the rear.

His hair now an ebbing blond and his eyes a piercing teal, Vandrad turned his gaze to the remaining Pergrandian soldiers who were coming over the hill. He extended his hand to them and unleashed a stream of magical energy in the form of a devastating beam, vaporizing one after the other. A few tried to run but Vandrad still managed to catch them, reducing the standing enemy forces to none.

With the battle won, or rather survived, the prince’s first Empowerment melted off of him and he toppled to the ground beside Faren, breathing heavily.

The shorter man sighed as he looked up at the sky. “I think I can convince Cassandra to let me blow her world apart now. I’ll ask her at the medal awarding ceremony.”

"What medal ceremony?” Vandrad asked weakly.

“The one we’re gonna get for kicking Pergrande’s ass here. I wanted to take that Guard’s helmet as a trophy but uh… you kind of ruined it for me,” Faren replied, rolling his head to look over at the fallen officer nearby. “I’ll just have to accept Cassandra’s sweet, sweet tush as a consolation prize.”

An utterly ridiculous thing to say, all things considered. But in spite of it and himself, Vandrad couldn’t help but shake his head softly and chuckle, way too tired to tell the man off.