Hetalia - The Kirklands and the Vorpal Blade

Ayo! So this is a short story featuring the Kirkland brothers in the driving seat and one of their many adventures together. If you are new to the series, I advise you go read my Hetalia - Of Magic and Might and Hetalia - The Cold of War first to have a better understanding of the world and references.

The story setting takes place roughly three months before Emperor Ivan seized the throne and enacted the sorcery purge. Magic is more predominant in the world and the sorcerers' community has broken down and become divided into multiple clans, each more or less led by one of the former council elders.

After that background explanation, I now present Hetalia - The Kirklands and the Vorpal Blade,

Enjoy!

The floating Isle the Elder Grove, South, Up a tree several metres away from a Goblin Scout Encampment

Springtime had sprung in the Elder Grove. Trees swayed breezily in the clean air and filtered scattered warm sunlight through their green leaves. Baby new wild flowers of bluebell and dandelion blossomed to create fields of colour and beauty and the forest was alive with cheerful birdsong. Woodland animals rose from their long hibernation and even the neurotic deer showed little fear as it pranced peacefully through the trees to the bubbling stream. Yes, it was a time of hope and joy, though not for the young sorcerer that stealthily watched the newly erected goblin camp.

Looking around the age of sixteen, Arthur Kirkland lay flat on his stomach on the thick tree branch with his spyglass pressed to his eye. Wearing his family's signature deep green cloak, Arthur's skin was lightly tanned and his golden hair was white in places from his recent time spent adventuring on a pirate ship. He carried only a hunting knife on his lower back, having it be the only weapon on him when his fae friends had warned him about the increased goblin numbers. As he peered, Arthur hissed in irritation when he saw that the goblins had indeed risen in number since the last time he had attempted to swipe out the camp. The impish creatures carried spears and wicked looking blades on their hips as they milled about their fire pit and narrowly kept watch.

Arthur tutted his annoyance as he lowered his spyglass. He did not feel confident enough take another stab at the camp, not even under the cover of night. He'd need to lay traps if he was going to take them out and— Arthur froze mid thought as he felt a gentle ripple of disturbance lap against his consciousness... Someone had bypassed his detection boundary lines, stepped into his area of the forest. They had undone his warding so skilfully, that Arthur had near missed the resulting flux in his magic. Arthur tucked his spyglass into his utility belt and shifted himself into a crouching perch, ready to run if need be, and thought about his options.

The goblin camp was further to his south and full of goblin warriors that were pissed off with him. Behind him, someone was out there, possibly waiting for him. He was not dressed nor prepared for combat, all his weapons were back at his treehouse including his light armour. All he had on him right now was his small pouch of coins, his spyglass and his hunting knife. Hm, today was not the day to fight. His best option was to retreat back to his treehouse and pray he didn't run into the intruders on the way.

Arthur braced himself to run, when a red feathered arrow skimmed past his cheek. He snapped his head down and cursed when he saw three sneering goblins staring up at him in his tree. One had a ram's horn in it's hand and brought it to it's mouth, and blew hard. The horn's blast echoed loudly and Arthur hissed as his position was given away. The whole bloody camp would be on his tail now. With the balance and agility of a cat, Arthur spun and ran along his branch to leap onto the next of a different tree. The goblins shrieked excitedly as they gave chase below as he leapt and jumped from tree to tree.

An arrow lodged itself inches away from Arthur's foot, shocking him out of his focused free-running mode and caused his foot to slip. Arthur cried out as he fell and landed hard on his side, gasping as the wind was knocked out of him. He lay temporarily paralysed as his body refused to move, completely numb from the shock. Shit.

His pursuers nastily laughed as they surrounded him. Arthur groaned as he tried to shakily raise, only to be knocked back down by one of the goblin's cubs and pinned.

"If it isn't the little rut that attacked us!" One taunted as he ground Arthur's head into the ground with his heel.

"Not very scary, are ya? Not much without your bows and arrows?"

"What should we do with him? Pull his teeth out? Cut off his ears?" Another cackled as he grabbed Arthur by the hair and wrenched his head back, exposing his neck to the goblin's blade. The sharp edge pressed threateningly against the tight skin.

One of the other goblins quickly wrenched the knife back and Arthur silently gasped in relief. "No! We bring him to camp. Those were the orders!" The goblin with a scar over his eye growled and the two looked at him enraged.

"But, but he killed half the camp! He deserves to suffer!".

"An' he will. But we won't get the reward if it's who the boss is looking for". The other two goblins groaned at the sound reasoning and after a moment of consideration, stepped off Arthur.

"Fine, bind him an' we'll drag him back". Arthur grunted as his arms were forced behind his back and one of the goblins took off it's belt to use it to bind his forearms together. The Brit squirmed as he was pulled upright by his hood.

"You'll let me go if you know what's good for you!" Arthur shouted and gritted his teeth in pain when he was harshly backhanded as a result. The goblins cruelly laughed as his eyes teared up and the side of his face smarted red.

"Gag him" The scarred one snapped and Arthur bared his teeth as a ball of cloth was forced into his mouth, his legs kicked out weakly as he dragged backwards to the goblin camp.

The camp goblins cheered and blew their war horns as the three triumphant goblins and their captive marched back into the base. Arthur kept his head bowed as he was hauled past the central fire pit and thrown before a raised wooden platform, his forehead smacked painfully against the dry mud ground. On the platform, sat the chief of the encampment, a fat hulk of a goblin. The three that had captured Arthur came forward as the surrounding crowd finally calmed so they could speak.

"We brought the one that attacked the camp, chief!" One of them announced and there was a collective victorious stamping of applause from all the watchers. Arthur gulped as he heard a loud thud as the chief stepped off the platform in front of him. A giant hand enclosed around the back of Arthur's neck and forced it to crane backwards, his face to the sky. The chief goblin had horrid tusks sticking out from his lower jaw and when he bent down to examine his face, Arthur struggled not to gag from the stench of his putrid breath.

"This one? Is too puny to kill goblin," The chief spoke thickly as he regarded the struggling prisoner and threw him backdown, "but boss wants all men we have. Take him to boss, use the hogs and ride. Tomorrow, we move north!". The goblins grabbed Arthur and he thrashed and screamed at them through his gag as he was pulled towards two large warthogs. They tossed him on the saddle like he were a sack of potatoes and a goblin climbed open beside him and fastened him down. The camp jeered as Arthur tried to buck against his restraints in desperation. Things were going from bad to worse, and Arthur could no longer see how he could possibly escape. With his hands bound, there was no safe way he could conduct his magic without potentially harming himself. He couldn't move an inch or even try to break free with the goblin rider directly beside him, and he had no idea where he was being taken. He was screwed, he was so screwed.

The rider next to him took the reins as Arthur silently despaired, and raised them to crack them, when a whizz was heard, followed by the sight a goblin dropping dead; an arrow prodding from it's skull.

"Intruders!" A goblin crowed and all creatures turned to face the attackers. Arthur's head shot up and saw three hooded figures in green, two wielded bows while the third, an axe. The figures charged forward into the camp, the axe wielder taking an aggressive lead as they swung and cut through the horde of goblins.

"Mmphf!" Arthur tried to call out to get their attention and his goblin rider forced his head back down with a growl. Unbelievably, one of the archers spotted the hog rider and his captive and pointed his index finger at them.

"There!" He yelled down to the axe wielder and the man turned in time to see Arthur's rider dig his heels into the hog's ribs and the beast rear up and stampede out of the camp.

"Shit" The axeman spat and sheathed his axe as he broke into a sprint after the hog. His two companions continued to drop goblins as he ran.

Arthur's battered frame jolted with every bound against the hog's bloated body, the force enough to bruise his front. The hog squealed as it's rider pushed it to ride harder and Arthur could only lie limp, else risk being punched again. When he turned his head to look back, Arthur's heart sped up when he saw that the axeman gave chase after them. Astride a white unicorn, bareback with his fingers clenched into it's pearl mane and axe raised. The mythical horse galloped and was quickly closing in. Arthur's rider hissed and unsheathed his knife when he was suddenly yanked out of the saddle by an indivisible hand. It collided and rolled against the ground as the axeman flew past, and drew up alongside the now riderless hog. The axeman leaned over and grabbed the reins, pulling hard on them until the hog slowed to a stop. Arthur strained against the bindings as the axeman dismounted and strode around the hog. A hand snaked into Arthur's hair and he groaned in pain when his head was yanked up for the second time that day.

"Well, well ain't this a familiar sight?" A recognisable accented voice taunted and the axeman pulled back his hood to reveal the face of Allistor Kirkland in all his smug, gloating glory. Arthur immediately glared at his eldest brother and he began to yell muffled insults at the man as Allistor cocked his head in the imitation of listening hard.

"What's that? Ya want the gag off ta thank me for savin' ya peaky arse? Then why didn't ya say so!" Allistor chuckled and pulled the cloth out of Arthur's mouth. It took Arthur a few seconds to regain his breath.

"You're a right foul git, y'know that!" Arthur spat as Allistor fiddled with the straps to undo him. When the last saddle buckle came away, Arthur would of slid to the ground if Allistor had not caught him, the Scot unsheathed his knife and sawed through the belt that tied his arms. Arthur shook off his brothers grip and rubbed his irritated wrists to sooth them as he backed away a distance. Allistor threw his hands up in disbelief before resting them sassily on his hips.

"A simple 'thank you' would do" He snorted and Arthur's scowl deepened.

"I didn't ask you to save me" Arthur snapped back and Allistor shook his head.

"Ya don't ask the sun ta rise every mornin', but it does anyway," He countered and frowned when he looked back and noticed that the goblin that had ridden with Arthur had escaped. Perfect. "It will hav' made it back ta camp by now," Allistor groaned and whistled over his unicorn familiar. It trotted over and he mounted in a smooth movement, extending an offering hand to Arthur, "Come, tha rest are waitin'". Arthur looked at the outstretched hand suspiciously.

"And who is that?"

"Sorcerers that hav' the brains ta see when a storm is brewing. You're not the only one ta notice the goblins' numbers grow. Now get on!". Arthur scoffed and slapped away the hand before he flicked his wrist out. A blistering ball of green fire combusted into existence from a distance away and a mighty roar boomed as a huge lion materialised from the flames. The great cat continued to roar as it conducted a victory lap around the brothers, causing Allistor's unicorn whinny nervously as it pasted and came to a stop beside Arthur; he ran a hand affectionately through the dense golden mane before he pulled himself up and turned to give Allistor a puffed up look.

"Learn't how to summon him last summer" Arthur proudly boasted and Allistor rolled his eyes, though secretly, the fact that Arthur's familiar was such a powerful beast unnerved him. Hypothetically, if his unicorn and his lion were to fight, Allistor wouldn't be sure who the victor would be. It would be an interesting fight to say the least.

"Well?" Arthur called out and shook Allistor out of his thoughts. The Scot blinked and shook his head to clear it.

"This way" He stated and spurred his unicorn in a gallop west, Arthur's lion bounding after them; it's sturdy paws drumming against the earth.

The brothers rode across the grassy plane, the sun beating on their backs and the wind rushing against their face when they saw another rider race out the forest to meet them. It was Seamus and he rode his beige stag familiar, the pair sped up to match their swift pace. The second eldest Kirkland offered Arthur a warm smile as he got close. He looked different from the last time Arthur had seen him, when he had left to join the Twilit Monastery in the northern floating Hallelujah Mountains a year ago. His chestnut hair was longer and pulled back into a short ponytail, and under his eyes and lips, his skin was slightly darker in the shapes of strange decorative markings.

Arthur didn't know much about the mysterious monastery, only that it was extremely exclusive in choosing it's members and that it was a spiritual sister branch of the assassin organisation, the Watchmen; the Watchmen worshipped the goddess of night Nyx, while the Twilit Monastery worshipped her twin, the god of darkness Erebus. Seamus had never explicitly stated as to why he left to join, the vague reason he had given Arthur was along the lines of wanting to experience religion (Arthur had in return, countered that joining the Church of Gaia would have been much simpler, but Seamus had stated that he liked a challenge).

"Lo Arthur! Good to have you back! Fantastic familiar!" Seamus shouted over the racing noises and Arthur couldn't help back smile back at the compliment.

"Thank you! Where's Dylan? I thought he was with you!" He yelled back and there was a rumbling roar like thunder as a large shadow overpassed them. Arthur looked to the sky and laughed when he saw his brother riding his glorious rudy scaled dragon, it's colossal leathery wings creating gigantic bellows of wind as it soared overhead.

"Show off!" Arthur heard Allistor shout up at him and he looked back to the land to see that they were approaching a gathering of tents. The campers, fellow sorcerers of the Elder Grove and clan in different shades of green, cheered and waved as the Kirklands closed the distance between them. As Allistor, Seamus and Arthur slowed their familiars to a halt and dismounted, Dylan's dragon dropped out of the sky and landed heftily near them. Dylan slid off his dragon's scaly back and jogged over to his brothers to clap them all of the back. He playfully ruffled Arthur's already messy hair and Arthur gleefully fought him off.

"Let's get ta the tent, then we talk business" Allistor prompted and they all fell into line behind him as he started off into the camp. Just like old times. The Elder Grove sorcerers had set up their camp around a round fire pit near a gently humped hill, on which a white tent was pitched. The Kirklands' familiars had already skirted around the edge of the camp and were making themselves comfortable when Allistor marched up to their tent.

He flung open the tent's entrance flap and Arthur admired the quality of the interior decor. Four hammocks hung between the tent's structural wooden posts and a low table with bowls of fruit and bread sat central of the circular home; round cushions dotted around it to act as seats. The opposite side of the entrance had been tied open to give a gorgeous view of the meadow where Dylan's dragon could be seen curled up and puffing smoke rings for Arthur's lion to play with, while Allistor's unicorn and Seamus' stag could also be seen peacefully grazing together. Arthur didn't know how to feel that his brothers had already prepared a fourth hammock for him ahead of time, as though they were expecting him to stay. Their relationship was temperamental and unpredictably as the sea, but for them to do this, Arthur assumed that they were trying to make an effort to stay on civil terms with him.

Dylan wandered over to his swaying hammock and collapsed into it just when Seamus worked to remove his quiver and bow, dumping them in the open chest positioned between his bed and Dylan's. Arthur sighed as he sat himself down at the table and examined the red markings around his sore wrists that were already fading. Sorcerers would be in right mess with we didn't have accelerated healing factors, Arthur thought to himself as Allistor sat down at the table with him; he reached out and plucked a juicy plump, peach from one of the wooden bowls.

"So," Arthur remarked sarcastically with a clap, "why are we really here? Don't tell me its goblins because they don't warrant this amount of attention". Allistor huffed a laugh as he swiped away the sweet peach juice from his chops.

"Nothing gets past you Artie, does it? Aye, this isn't just about the goblins, though they are a part of it" Allistor laid out and Arthur raised an inquisitive comically thick brow. Seamus had finished disarming himself and joined them at the table. Dylan had instead opted to take a quick nap.

"The goblins are rallying in a major way, and there are signs that someone is behind. Someone who does not follow traditional goblin warfare" Seamus spelled out and Arthur looked to him.

"The bastards did say something about a 'boss'. Apparently he's demanded that all men be brought to him" He added and Allistor frowned at the new information.

"So thats why they kidnapped you. There is someone pulling the strings. But what's more worrying than that lad, is that we've spotted omens of magic accumulate over where we think is the main horde". Arthur felt his blood chill that the implication.

"You think it's one of us? A sorcerer?" He exclaimed and Seamus chewed his lip nervously.

"It seems the most likely assumption, between us. But that's not even the worst part of this all," Seamus trailed off and looked down at his hands on the table, "People, Elder Grove sorcerers specifically, are going missing. No tracks, no traces. No signs of a struggle. Just, poof, gone. We have no idea what, who is doing it. We have no leads, only that it strikes every night". Arthur looked between his brothers with an expression of uncertainty. He didn't know what to say, though he now realised why an extra bed had been included for him. With these disappearances, his brothers were clearly determined not to let him out of their sights. Which meant, oh joy, they were going to be spending allot of time together. Arthur opened his mouth to complain, to insist that he could take care of himself, when the flap of their tent was thrown open. A breathless fellow sorcerer stood bent over at the entrance.

"Kirklands! The Red Cloaks are coming! The whole clan, including chief Grand himself!" He announced and Arthur followed Allistor's lead as he jumped to his feet with Seamus and Dylan.

"Red Cloaks? Here? What the hell do they want?" Dylan questioned as they followed the messenger out of the tent to the edge of the camp where the other Elder Grove sorcerers gathered; all eyes forward to the approaching mass of crimson banners and cloth. The Kirklands pushed their way through the crowd to the front line and Allistor nodded to one of the former council elders, Macduffian and his son, before he focused on the now halted line.

Red stood opposite green as the two brother clans faced each other, waiting for the other to act. There was a wave that rippled forward, the spear wielding clansmen shifted and two people broke through the crowd to stand front and centre. It was the clan's chief, Marca Grand and a young woman who could only be his daughter, Sorcha. The Red Cloaks' chief was tall and muscular, with thick dark dreadlocks that spilled over his broad back and shoulder. He towered over his men and every bulbous muscle looked as though it were constantly tensed.

The very little history that Arthur had on the man was that when the sorcerers' council of elders had broken down, Marca had gathered his followers and established his own clan, the Red Cloaks. The man was rumoured to fight demonically, with incredible brute strength that rivalled a giant's. His clansmen followed in his example, favouring the way of the warrior over that of the scholar.

But by far, the strangest sight for Arthur, was the sight of the young woman at the chief's right hand. No daughter of a sorcerer could naturally wield their mana, that was an indisputable fact that had existed since sorcerers themselves. As a result, women did not tend to stick around. A domestic lifestyle just wasn't compatible to a sorcerer's dangerous one. It was sad to say, but most sorcerers' relationships were finely balanced on whether their lover could provide them with a son that would inherit the ability to use magic. Those who birthed nonmagical sons or daughters, were well, left behind. Hence, Arthur's surprise upon seeing the chief leading with his daughter at his side.

Sorcha Grand was fiercely beautiful, her wild, dark hair that matched her father's was braided and shaven into a mohawk-like style. Her arms were strong and all over her olive skin, strange runic tattoos had been craved. She was a fierce tigress, powerful, dangerous and passionate. Arthur watched her searchingly scan the crowd for someone, and felt bemused when she settled her gaze onto Allistor and narrowed it; beside him, Arthur could of sworn he felt Allistor tense up. Did they know each other? Back in reality, Marca Grand stepped forward to address the Elder Grove clan.

"Hail, Elder Grove! Many moons have pasted since our last meeting" He called out loudly and Macduffian to walked forward to speak on behalf of the sorcerers behind him.

"Hail, Chief Marca Grand of the Red Cloaks. I am glad to see you and your people in able health. What brings you to our Isle?" He replied as he rested a hand on top of his young son's curly head.

"Goblins! We got wind that they're gathering in large numbers. Figured that we could get in on the action" Marca grinned a wide toothy grin and a line formed between Macduffian's greying brows.

"We…are appreciative, that you wish to help. But I assure you, we are more than capable than dealing with this new threat. You really do not need to do this" Macduffian attempted to pacify but Marca was having none of it as he waved to his men to begin pitching their tents, setting up only a few metres away from the Elder Grove clan's camp. Things were going to be, cosy to say the least.

Marca laughed loudly and held up a halting hand."Nonsense Macduffian. It's always safer to have more numbers. That, and my men haven't tasted blood in an age! This is just what we need to liven things up". Macduffian sighed defeatedly. Marca was too hotblooded, to eager for a fight to listen his pleads. At least some good would come out of it all, once the Red Cloaks had helped them with the goblins, perhaps they would stay to help investigate the disappearances. As inaudible murmuring broke out behind him, Arthur gulped when Sorcha leaned over to whisper into her father's ear. Marca's eyes jumped to Allistor and twinkled as he recognised him, marching forward towards them with his arms held wide open in a greeting gesture.

"If it isn't only the bloody Kirklands! How are you Allistor my boy? You look good, you look good" Marca bellowed as he clapped his huge hand hard onto Allistor's shoulder, the receiver hissing quietly from the painful force of it.

"Aye, well enough. An' yourself, Grand?" He gritted through his teeth as he forced a smile, rigid as a board. Arthur looked questioningly up at his eldest brother before he felt the subtle brush of Dylan's mind against his own, wanting to speak telepathically. Arthur complied and lowered his mental defences, grimacing slightly from the initial discomfort when Dylan's raw consciousness blended with his. Telepathic conversations were an odd sensation. Comparable to tuning into a private radio channel, though it was so much more when each recipient received an extra input of sensory information. The connection was beneficial in ways but also made lying or deception impossible, with the other being able to simultaneously feel the intent as you had it.

"The chief's daughter's got him right wrung up" Dylan's voice chuckled inside his head and Arthur shot him a quick dart of a look in real life.

"Sorcha? Why?" He mentally asked back and felt Dylan's amusement bubble in response.

"Oh little brother, such innocence. They used to court, of course. Got on rather well as well, until she proposed they jump the fire and Allistor rejected her. Ha, she wasn't the only one who was heartbroken, Grand was desperate to have him as a son-in-law".

"That sounds like a story and a half" Arthur mused and winced when Seamus forcefully tuned himself into their conversation, his anger tasted piercingly bitter.

"Could you two be more obvious?! You've been staring into space for the past minute without blinking!" He scorned and Arthur and Dylan blinked rapidly at the reminder, refocusing on the conversation taking place between Allistor and Marca. Luckily no one had noticed their blank expressions.

"You all will join Macduffian an' I? There is plenty we must discuss, and we'll be roasting the monster boar I caught this morning. Even if you won't come for the discussion, come for the grub. I miss that classic Kirkland sense of humour" Marca joked at the unimpressed Allistor as he sighed.

"Only, because I'll be wantin' a leg of that boar" He relented and Marca jollily slapped him on the shoulder again.

"This'll be merry! I cannot wait to introduce to you Cornelis and his boys. They've made bounds in their recent research into Angel lore. They might have even discovered one of their legendary temples y'know," Marca heartily laughed and missed Allistor's irises shrink at the mention of the holy species "Not particularly my kinda of thing, never cared much for dusty ruins. But if you want to amuse him, I'm sure he'll wet himself in excitement". Allistor gave a reserved nod as his mind raced. He shot a glance back to Seamus and Dylan and knew that their thoughts mirrored him. Sorcerers poking around Angel ruins was not a comforting thought. They had to know how much this Cornelis had already found out. Make sure he wouldn't stumble upon anything that could possibly point towards Arthur and his secret.

"Lead the way" Allistor instructed and Marca threw a beefy arm over his shoulders as he led, leaving his daughter, Arthur, Seamus, Dylan and Macduffian to awkwardly follow behind.

So this will be a quaint mini story that I have planned. Nothing too long but I wanted the chance to explore Dylan's, Seamus' and the sorcerers culture.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. If you are liking the story so far, please take the time to leave a review telling me your thoughts, opinions and questions. Once again, thank you for reading and as always,

Until next time folks!