Disclaimer: Star Ocean and all characters involved belong to Tri-Ace. And personally, I do believe that they're in good hands.
Author's Notes: I haven't written a story in so long... It reminds me of the time I was fooling around in class out of boredom and sometimes writing stuff for kicks. In any case, it's going to be one of my first contributions, probably my first one as I'm planning on writing two or three stories at once. In any case, I'll try to get better at writting as we go along.
Chronicles of the Wicked will focus on Albel Nox, as it's quite easy to tell, and will be a multi-part/chapter story or stories (Took my precautions, went with the plural form of Chronicle). Warning to the wise, the story will be going along with the game, so I will be revealing the plot of SO3 and whatnot, it is preferable that you've finished the game beforehand.
Author's Corrections: I admit, I've made a very very dumb mistake and seems I haven't been told of it. It was pretty small, yet not so small. I kept mistaking the rankings between Commander and Captain. This has been fixed, and I have now properly changed all mentions of commander to the appropriate title. This correction has been made on Sunday, January 15, 2006. 2:39AM.
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Chronicles of the Wicked
By: Knight of Paradox
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Prologue: From the Loss...
May the grace of Apris bless this child.
The kingdom of Airyglyph was about to turn up to an age of revolution. The old king was turning to be too much trouble for the nobles of the fair capital which shared the same name as the kingdom. Within their own little playhouses, the nobles were all planning, plotting. The webs of conspiracy, hidden behind social graces of the many counts and countess of the kingdom, was beginning to tighten.
But such things were not new within this age of Airyglyph. The kingdom had become nothing more but a show of glory. Though it was a brilliant and beautiful sight to behold from afar, a place that seemed like an ever pure winter paradise, it was nothing more then a charade. The fact was that the distance between the commoner and the elite had begun to turn into a gigantic gap, nothing short of a canyon. Even their armies had suffered such a crippling blow from the power the nobility had gained over it. The brigades of the kingdom were reduced to little more then fancy clubs for these men of noble birth to further entertain themselves.
Still, even with such a strong grasp and fortune, so much as to turn all three brigades to their own personal amusement, the king stood in their way nonetheless. This one single being whom could perceive, as if a vile dark stain of corruption upon the pure white snow falling by his windowsill, the subtle threads which were slowly trying to pull him, so to use him as nothing more then a puppet. Such a being needed to be replaced, for he was no simple figurehead. He was king, his word absolute, the one whom held power strong enough to expel them all was seated upon that throne.
But not all of the nobles were such masters of social and bureaucratic finesse, not all seemed to grasp the finer art of subtlety, nor patience. Long have the king and the noble remained at a stalemate. With a failed attempt here, another there, and a few words accidentally slipping out into public knowledge, signs of a deep conspiracy at hand had made itself aware to but a select few. One of these persons, was the captain of the Dragon Brigade, the leader of a once proud army. An army that is now reduced to nothing more then a few simple flight shows for the rich.
If this were to persist, the kingdom would turn to nothing more then rubbles and surely the nobility, these vile greedy beings, would push the kingdom to poverty for their own hedonism. This... was not a world he wished, not a world in which he wanted his future child to grow and hopefully prosper. The child, that his beautiful and beloved wife carried within her, deserved a chance for an honorable life, rather then to act as a butler and a clown for these pompous fools.
And from then on, a new web had been spun. One so thin as to cut through skin like a hot knife upon warm butter, and one so fine, that even the current king himself would have been unable to find. The loyal subjects of Airyglyph and their allies had joined together, and begun to manipulate the strings of events themselves.
Perhaps out of sheer luck, or from careful planning of the previously mentioned group, the nobles had set their eyes upon a young one. A teen by the name of Arzei whom had lived within Aquaria. He was charismatic, and understanding, a wise person but not so much as to see through their act... or so they believed. Rumors had been started like wildfire by the nobles, springing the need for a new king and idolizing their choice puppet, the one named Arzei, soon to be Airyglyph the XIII.
This next in line was more then able though, to counter the plans of the nobles. And naturally, he begun to work with a handful of people whom would easily be etched down upon the history of Airyglyph. To relieve any curiosity, these people were: Glou Nox, the captain of the Dragon Brigade, seeking a better world for his child; Count Woltar, a nobleman, but most importantly the leader of the Storm Brigade, wishing to end the charade of the nobles, for both his pride as a warrior and for the people; Finally, Duke Vox of high standings, the uncle of Arzei and one whom encouraged his nephew to be placed upon the throne.
Slowly, within the course of what seemed to be an aeon, yet would almost pass by in the blink of an eye to the annals of history, were the murders, the assassination and the conspiracy springing forth. The old king had been removed from his position and executed for treason, and the new king would be heralded as the savior of the kingdom. Having won the heart of the poor, and the trust of the nobles, the trust that he would be an easy target to manipulate, it was obvious that nothing stood between him and the victorious scenario he had mutually concocted with his choice companions.
As the new king would seat himself upon his throne, the nobles would not smile in content to finding a little marionette who's strings they could pull from behind the curtain. Instead, they would find themselves staring once again, at the same eyes as the beheaded king, these eyes that would pierce through any plot and corruption, once again upon the throne as if resurrected. But unlike the old king, this one was young, filled with a burning spirit, and more then ready to conquer the nobles on their own field.
The nobles would not be put to death, of course not... Instead, something perhaps worse for their inflated ego awaited them. Seeds had been plotted within the circles of corrupt nobles, seeds of hate, envy, jealousy, rivalry and suspicion, to destroy the nobility from it's innards. And whilst they were destroying themselves, blame was spread, the public opinion had grown far too strong and the internal strife between the nobles erupted to it's climax. As the power of the kingdom shifted to one man, one whom aided in the destruction of the nobles, the new king held the authority to impose upon them their greatest fear. These elites were now disbanded, discarded to the street, as the noble houses had lost it's place within the castle walls. These people, once so important, were now nothing more then commoners themselves.
This revolution heralded the long reign of the future king, as well as his path to glory. But with such power in reach, one could easily fall to temptation... And unfortunately, such was the case for one of the key members whom had aided the raise to royalty of Arzei, now Airyglyph the XIII. The vile webs of corrupt and selfish wishes left behind by the nobility had entrapped one final victim, so to carry on it's will. This final malicious web wrapped around the heart of a man named Vox.
The reform took years upon years, the rebirth of the kingdom would not be an easy task, as the very foundation had been shaken as to remove it's many rodents. But with the passing times, the trade routes with Aquaria and the armies of Airyglyph had begun to prosper once again. And the infant of Glou, now a young child, an innocent yet mischievous little devil, would be able to live in a new age, without the needless strife and webs of deceit born from the power hungry and greedy souls.
To the man named Glou, the world seemed to suddenly shine once more upon the capital of Airyglyph. And the pure white snow, would come to sweep away the taint that the nobles had left behind, as to replace it with the sight of a serene white field, as far as the eye could see, where the laughter of children echoed as they played in the streets.
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"Forgive me if I have ignored you as of late my love... But our kingdom is in need of my presence. Do not worry though, I would not miss the birth of our child, not even for the world." Reassuringly, the voice of a man by the side of a fine oak canopy bed, held the hand of a graceful woman, who's fair skin, though clouded by the light and transparent sheets of petal like silk hanging from above, would rival that of one of the wives of Apris, the sun god.
Sorrowfully, she smiled to the man, how long had she missed him. Though he was home, his eyes were always upon the country, staring out to the window and never to her. The sight of her husband hampered by his worries, troubles growing so large as to affect him so much that not even her love would reach him, had grown into a deep scar of sadness within her own heart. But now, he was at her side, and soon, as the night sky faded away to give birth to the morning day, a young child was born, right before the sun reached midday.
It yelled and screamed, nearly as much as the slim woman had as she struggled to release the child from it's womb. The birth of the young one was a success.
"Look at him, he looks so healthy. So full of life... just like his father." A gentle laughter followed, comparable to the singing of a bird perched on a nearby branch during a morning arriving after a sweet night's rest. For a moment, the man could forget all about the world around him. It could wait, all that mattered right now, was the child as well as the one whom held the young newborn to her bosom, the one whom had stolen his heart so long ago. "Have you thought of a name for him?"
Questioned by his wife as her laughter faded away, as if a nostalgic melody disappearing from one's memories, the man fell back upon the question. Though as bright and quick witted as he was, the one named Glou was quite simply stumped. Through all that happened, his mind had been focused strictly upon saving his country for the sake of his child, so much so that he had not even found a name for the infant in question.
"I knew it" Replied the woman with a light sneer, "You don't know, don't you?" Teasingly she said, as if pondering whilst her head bobbed to the side, her long hair sliding aside and brushing against the body of the young infant, a small cascade of fine golden threads. "Well, don't worry dear... I know just what to call our child. It came to me when I looked at you, as if Apris himself had uttered to my ear the name of our beloved son."
There was doubt to him, that a god would come to provide a name to a small couple amongst million others, as to what to call their child. "Well Albel, looks like daddy doesn't believe me. Daddy's always been a bit skeptical hasn't he? But you won't grow up like Daddy now will you Albel?" And so, one of the infant's hand was held by one of his mother's. They silently played before the speechless man, as she would reveal to him indirectly the name of their son.
"Albel..." A moment of contemplation came upon sir Nox. "It sounds perfect."
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"I'm sorry to ask you to take care of him once again Woltar..." The captain of the Dragon Brigade spoke in an apologetic manner. In a casual manner, as two old friends speaking to one another, Woltar would respond, with a boyish smile. "Oh, don't worry. I love children, they're quite amusing... Well now, Albel, here to visit me again are you? Remember that you need to learn to behave yourself whilst in this house young man."
"Father... Do I really have to stay here with this old pack of bones?" Indeed, this was Albel Nox, a child at the age of eight whom already held such a sharp tongue. "I'm more then strong enough to handle things on my own at home!" As if to prove his own strengths and capacity, the child beat firmly his chest once with his fist, as if proud of his own abilities.
Soon after, the child was sent to his own room within the mansion of Woltar. A fine establishment within the mining town of Kirlsa. With poise and dignity, a teacup was settled before the count by one of his many maid, few moments before she had made her way out of his study, as to leave the two men to their discussion. "So... how long has it been?" A tired man's voice escaped the lips of the mansion's owner. As the owner in question would look sympathetically to the figure of another man lost in between despair and contemplation.
"It's been hard to keep track of time... Four years, maybe..." A hoarse voice, different from the one at the entranceway, slipped from between Glou's lips. "I should have seen it... and I should have known. I should have known that those narcissistic bastards would not have remained so silent without plotting revenge..." Regret slipped upon the undertone of the man's every words. The wise count before him could do nothing to reassure his younger friend whom remained before him.
"Do not despair so, your wife would not wish to see you so troubled." A few moments remained in silence, as thoughts went upon the ailments of Glou's wife as well as her assassination. "The only way you can honor her memory is to live. After all, she gave it her everything to support you and your dreams." The kind and reasonable voice of a man, who's subtlety and social finesse far outranked any living beings, spoke with the most sincerest of kindness towards the struggling Nox.
"I know... I know Woltar... But, it's hard sometimes... In any case, I still have my son. And I swear, upon the memory of my wife and upon my own name and honor, that I will do everything in my power to protect my child..." Outside, the flowers were in full bloom. Summer had arrived, and the young Albel Nox, was gleefully enjoying himself, mostly out of making trouble for the misfortunate maids whom were on laundry duty. The sound of a children's mischievous laughter and the frantic albeit distant screaming of a young woman would pass through the open window, as it continued to echo on within the silent room for a deceitful eternity.
"Glou... Perhaps, it would be time that you visit Osman once more. I'm certain that he can help you in this most difficult moment in your life. After all, he did help you to attain the ability to wield the kingdom's most prized treasure." The light from the windowsill bounced off the hilt of a blade, hidden at the side of the captain of the Dragon Brigade. Perhaps, as a guiding light from Apris, to guide the lost man.
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"TOO SLOW!" Screams barely echoed through the halls of the castle. The side courtyard, used to train the soldiers, was filled with new recruits. Amongst them, and standing quite oddly out of them all, was a young black and golden haired teen. Nearly kneeling with trembling legs, a shaking fist in anger, gripping firmly upon a dull sword whilst the other held the back of his head in pain.
"You damned imbecile! How dare you strike me like so? Don't you know who I am?" It was almost a daily habit by now. Though he was naturally gifted, with great promise as a warrior, the conceited young one by the name of Albel was far too hard for most instructors to deal with patiently. As such, there were occasions such as these when tempers broke out and fights erupted between the veterans and the new recruits.
With cheers from the students and tension rising, a fight erupted between the soldier and the son of Glou. "That's enough Albel. Stand down!" A snapping voice, dry and clear, broke the will of the two in their fight which remain to this day unclear as to whom would have emerged victorious. The captain of the Dragon Brigade overlooked the training facilities of the castle this day, but there was no guilt or remorse in his son's face. There was only a smirk to his lips.
"Father, once I'm done with this insolent officer, you're next!" Filled with excitement and a burning desire, the young man's eyes gleamed with the fierce spirit of a warrior. "I'll beat you, and then I'll be the strongest warrior in the history of our kingdom!" Pride was grasping the child once more.
"Oh really? Well then, I suppose I'll have to watch my back." This had become a game to the one named Glou. "Indeed, your child will become quite a ferocious and strong warrior. One so powerful that would strike fear in the heart of any enemy that would so much as hear his name." Vox was to the side of the man named Glou. Though it had suffered a few interruption and more then a few fights, the training of the rookies this season was more then excellent.
"Soon, he'll be ready for his accession of the flames." These words escaped the lips of Vox in the form of simple banter. But such words left Glou to ponder. "Is that so... Do you truly believe, he is ready for the accession?"
"But of course, look at him. A strapping young man with such great talent and with such a strong personality. Why wouldn't he succeed?" Vox's hand, covered in straps of metal and treated leather, extended outward as to point out his son from the small crowd. The one whom smiled with sheer pleasure at each strike of his blade which rippled through the air, leaving nothing but a sharp sound in it's wake. "Perhaps... you're right..." The eyes of Glou centered upon his son. The sound of blades clashing against one another, swinging into the air, with a chorus of war cries from the many men, echoed still within the halls of the castle, emanated from the courtyard held to the side.
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"Was the journey that rough?" Breathing heavily, as they began to reach the higher parts of the mountain of Barr, Albel trailed along, following the steps of his father, accompanied by the owner of the voice, Woltar, as well as a few other trusted and loyal soldiers. All of which whom had held the lead. "Y...You... You damn senile old man! I'm not your servant, carry your own bags yourself." With anger and spite, the boy threw the large pouches to the ground. An air of pure fury remained surrounding the young fifteen year old son of Glou, as his eyebrow began to twitch lightly. His hair had grown messed from the long trek, though still kept well tightened into the twin braids which rested on his back, these braids which had grown longer with the passage of time.
"Enough complaining boy, your work is done anyhow. From here, you go alone." Woltar spoke wisely, calmly with a proud smile as he watched the boy curse and mumble underneath his breath. He knew far well the nature of this trek, and knew that something would come to challenge him. Whatever it was, he knew only one thing, that he would be successful.
And so, fearlessly, the youth entered the cavern's entrance whilst his mentor, and his father, both eyed him whilst the soldiers remained. Standing guard against the many vicious animals that was easily found roaming the mountain paths. The accession of the flames had begun, his success would signal the birth of another dragon knight. His failure though, would mean his demise.
Stepping one foot at a time, the mountain held nothing. Empty as it was, columns of stone, pillars of rock, boulders and accumulated rubble from previous cave ins was all that was in sight to the young man. "... What is this, a joke? Where's the so called danger... Tch, If this is some metaphorical garbage, I sure don't understand it." No sooner did he enter, was he ready to leave with sign of disappointment written all over his body. But before he could make his second step towards the entranceway of the cavern, did the ground shake.
Quickly, turning about as he drew his blade in an instinctive reaction. A hand firmly gripping the sword, and the other adjusting it's weight and balance as the tip of his curved sword, a katana, remained elevated at a light angle in a semi-defensive posture. His eyes grew wide at the sight though, and no sooner afterwards did his blade droop to the side of his body, limp but held still in the youth's right hand.
Aligned before him, were rows of dragons. Infants and adults alike, each in a row. And before him, resting above the largest boulder, the greatest row of pillar and the highest columns, were three dragons, each more imposing then the other, with their golden and silvery eyes gazing down upon the small humanoid being. "Young child." A serene and omnipotent voice echoed across the cavern. It's point of origin, the elder dragon perched upon the columns high above. "You whom seeks our aid, why should we, the most noble of all creature, lower ourselves as to aid you..."
There was a moment, when fear struck the boy's heart... But it would not gripe him for long, nor would he think upon the answer. Instinctively, his voice came about as the grip to his blade tightened. "Why? I'll tell you why. Pets, no matter how big or impressive they are, should always serve their master..." Perhaps it was the idea of the challenge, the thrill of it, the rush, his own habits or maybe, his own fear that pushed him to utter these words.
The displeasure of the dragons had came about quite rapidly, as the cries of the dragons echoed one after the other. The elder ones though retained their calm demeanor, as they eyed the young one carefully. "Such a conceited attitude, surely he must think quite highly of himself. His pride must be blinding his judgement above everything else..." The dragon resting upon the largest boulder spoke with what seemed to be the wisest of wises, one similar to the tone, so hateful to the ears of the young Albel, that closely resembled that of the old man Woltar.
"Indeed... Young child. Consider yourself lucky, we will turn a blind eye to such a disrespectful attitude. After all, we understand that your kind has not always been the brightest. We will offer you but a single, final chance. After all, we are not heartless creatures." The thinnest dragon, resting upon the pillars, seemed to speak with the youngest voice of the three.
"I've had enough of your banter. From what I can tell, if I can prove myself worthy, you're supposed to grant me great strength, isn't that correct? Well, then, which one do I have to beat so to show you how strong I am? Perhaps you, you look challenging... Come on down so that I can make you beg for mercy." His free hand extended outward, pointing in manners that would be considered impolite within the region, towards the eldest dragon, the one perched upon the columns which elevated him highest.
"Insolent child, do you not understand the true nature of the accession of the flames?" A snarl came from the largest dragon perched upon the largest boulder. Such ingratitude to be blessed by their presence was overwhelming the beast. "Know your place, and consider yourself lucky that you are still alive."
"Ignore his words, they are of no importance." The eldest, and wisest, perched upon the columns, remained calm nonetheless. As the mood of every dragon followed along as if a wave. It took no genius to figure out that the violent Albel, with the energy of a soon to be adult as well as the rebellious nature that had developped within him, would lead to a fiery debate filled with threats, insults and low blows.
Eventually, the conversation came to a stalemate. Soon enough, the eldest of the dragons before him had spoken yet again. "Young child... Calm yourself and listen to me now for all could be forgiven and forgotten, only if you can answer me this truly." This proposition came about spontaneously. The situation, the moment, and the rush to his head made it difficult for the young promising future dragon knight to come up with the immediate answer to this.
Still though, time passed and soon enough, the young man fell silent, waiting for the question. "Tell me, what is it that you wish to gain from such strength, what reason do you have to live for young boy, what do you really wish for little one? Tell me, what is inside your heart?" This was a serious question. The gravity was so powerfully felt, that even the wild Albel Nox had suddenly turned silent and actually turned to contemplation. And so, they remained still, as if statues as the patience of the great dragons were put to the test, whilst the heart of the young man was placed under examination.
Time slowly passed by, as the youth searched within himself. Though unfortunately he found nothing but his own being pushing him away from his own heart. For what reason though, he did not know. Was it fear, was it content, was it perhaps something that had happened long ago, so long ago that he had forgotten, he did not know. Thus slowly, his own ego began to push him away from the answer that would have appeased the dragons and instead, found himself slowly filling with impatience. A nervous fear, a trembling hatred, a raging anger began to swell within the young man, as he would find nothing. In harmony with the man's growing fury were the dragon's own. A dragon was not meant to only serve the strong, but also those capable of showing their hearts. A man whom was unable to reveal and accept even a simple spec of his weakness would never be strong enough to command a dragon. And soon enough, the trigger to an important phase of his life began.
"RRAAAAAHHHH! Enough of these games! Who cares about that garbage and anyways, there's absolutely no chance that I would reveal such things to creatures like you! What matters is wether or not I can defeat you, isn't that right? Come and get me, I'll defeat each and every last one of you. Starting with you, you damned lizard!" There was nothing to it, spoken out of rage and out of confusion, the young Albel held his blade still and was prepared to fight. His gaze was straightened towards the eldest of the dragons, the one perched upon the highest columns.
From all his actions, and from his every words, the anger of the dragons arose once again. Bursting and growing far beyond that of which the three elder could contain. Soon enough, the cries and screeching of the dragons began to pulsate across the entire cavern. Nothing could be done, and at that moment, Albel felt a moment of fear, as the cries of the dragons illuminated the ground before him.
"ALBEL!" Frantic screams emanated from outside, as the many soldiers began to move out. Woltar could do nothing more then reach out towards the entranceway, as to desperately try to prevent his friend from leaping into such danger.
The world before the young Albel turned from black, to the sight of a thousand gaping jaws, out of which emerged a captivating illumination. Slowly, towers of fire, pillars of flame, a beautiful, deadly inferno began to pierce the air and travel towards the young man. Collectively turning into what seemed to be a gigantic spiral, as if a spearhead ready to take down all that would stand in it's way. The flames were so strong as to slowly turn the stone floor to paste, forcing it to cave in as it turned bright red. The heat was slowly reaching him, as he could only stand there as a cold sweat ran down his body.
"F...Fa..." Stuttering powerlessly, the teen could only stare up ahead as his eyes would grow wide in disbelief. The flames erupted towards all sides, as if from a volcano, before it began to wrap around itself, like an elegant flower slowly going back in time during the moment it had bloomed. The screech of the dragons could only be rivaled by that of a singular cry, as the scent of a forge seemed to invade the horizon. The man's once shining armor, was slowly melting and falling like syrup upon the floor. The stench of burning flesh crept up to the nostrils of the young soldier named Albel. Finally, upon the visage of his father would remain nothing more then a forced smile, as he would look to his son one last time.
"FATHER!" A scream of pain curled out of his throat, a pain he was not akin to. Not one that originated from his hand, caught in the blast of the fire as one of his arm was far outstretched. Not one that came from the hand that was melting away, nor from the flames that was rolling up his arm and slowly rendering his flesh.
Everything that happened afterwards was but a flurry of movements. The frantic charge of the soldiers; the unconscious warrior laid down upon the ground; the smoldering remnant of the leader of the dragon brigade resting upon the mountain path; the cries of the mourning soldiers; the corpse of the captain's trusted right hand man taken down by another loyal follower, as within the dead corpse's hand was held firmly the sword of the captain, retrieved from the cavern; the cursed sword, national treasure of the kingdom and Woltar, whom was slowly wrapping the blade in cloth as all were carried back to Airyglyph.
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Morning arrived, the birds were singing outside the mansion's walls, perched upon it's roof or balconies. The young Albel, seemingly in a trance, looked around slowly as if having awoken from a nightmare. The light illuminated the colorful and well decorated room, styled for a young man of good birth. The fresh scent of sage came from the outside garden and across his open window. And the gentle sunlight would press up against the man's skin, wrapping around his body and across his face. The light would strike his eye at such an angle, that it were not harmful. These eyes, caught in a moment of disbelief and horror, shining in colors of white and red, would slowly fall down towards his own body.
Bandages around his arm, a stub midway after his elbow, whilst the wrapping's color contrasted his own body. A pure white at the base and a dry crimson towards the end. Soon, everything flashed before his eyes, as nothing but pure horror were upon those crimson eyes of his. A gut wrenching cry, a wild beast's scream, resonated from the man's lips, keeling over whilst he would clutch upon the remainder of his arm.
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Prologue: From the loss...
Complete
Following:
Chapter One: To the Wicked...
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Author's Notes: Alrighty then, let's see what we have here. The foundations are laid and what's to come after the prologue? Hell if I know, I only got the outline in my head. Well, this goes good for the moment, I think, but I might burn myself out too quickly. I know there hasn't been a lot of action, dialogue and major time skips, but it's just the prologue, from here on out comes the real story... At least, I hope I'll be able to pull it off.Oh btw, do expect me to place an Author's note, both at the beginning to greet you and another one at the end of each chapters to say g'bye, at the very least.