"Why are we on duty today of all days," a disgruntled voice complained.
"Look on the bright side. At least we are getting paid extra for this," another voice replied trying to sound encouraging.
"But working during the Saint's festival? This is torture! Everyone else is having fun out there! Damn Valeria that slave driver."
"It can't be helped with everything that had been going on."
"I 'respectfully' disagree .... Hey. Isn't that? That's Arthur, you know, that guy, right?"
"Y, yeah. Now shut up and don't say anything that might provoke him."
Arthur strode past another pair of patrolling soldiers who warily kept their distance from him. He felt that he was disliked. No, that's not quite right. From how the soldiers eyed him with a mixture of caution and anxiety, it was as if they expected him to suddenly snap and lash out at the slightest disturbance.
Why are they treating him this way? If only he knew then maybe he could attempt to improve his reputation.
Now that he thought about it, with the exception of Edward, only the soldiers treated him that way. The commoners didn't care, and the quartermaster seemed nice enough.
Indeed, Arthur had visited the quartermaster a short time ago. He knew he should have been going to assist Lieutenant Taylor, but the thin piercing hole in his armor persistently irritated him.
From a distance it would look like a large prominent scratch mark but Arthur had already deduced that something extremely sharp had pierced through his cuirass. The dried blood underneath proved it although he had no recollection of having suffered such a wound.
Its very existence was a hateful blemish on his aptitude to be a hero. A hero must always maintain their equipment in perfect condition. A hero must ... wait a minute, when had he ever desired to become a hero? Hmm. Nevertheless, that hateful blemish must be eliminated at all costs!
To the left of the courtyard was the barracks. It was practically deserted except for a bald well-built man who appeared to be the quartermaster. The things he said were intriguing. Such as how people should treat their equipment better, how Arthur was the only one who truly cared about his equipment and that everyone should follow Arthur's shining example.
The kind quartermaster generously provided Arthur with a complete set of new clothes and equipment, which was more than what Arthur originally wanted. The man seemed nice enough. But thinking back on Edward's earlier joke of how Arthur spent so much time polishing his equipment that he should have married it, Arthur considered the possibility that maybe he and the quartermaster are the abnormal ones.
Up till now, Arthur's interactions had slowly provided clues as to what kind of person he was. But despite that stimulus, his memories stubbornly refused to come out of the hazy depths in his mind. Still, the fact remains that he seemed to have an unsavory reputation among the regular soldiers.
Arthur ignored another pair of soldiers as they skirted around him. By now he had almost reached his destination - a well maintained church whose large size overshadowed the surrounding houses.
Oh?
There seems to be a commotion in front of the steps leading up to the church's wide doors. A group of orange-clothed soldiers stood back as their leader, who appeared to be Lieutenant Taylor, argued with a young man and woman.
But that was not what had caught Arthur's attention. Arthur barely saw the flicker of movement as a shadow quickly moved from behind a nearby house dashing towards the church. Very suspicious, sneaking around like that. Could it be the criminal that Commander Valeria was talking about? With rising anxiety, Arthur hastened his steps.
As Arthur approached, he managed to hear the argument in progress.
"How dare you! Even if you are heroes from the Order of Elemia, you have no right to look down on us!" Lieutenant Taylor shouted.
"Hmph. I merely stated the truth," said the woman. Her shoulder length reddish brown hair was tied back in a ponytail. "You lot failed to identify, much less apprehend, one single person. And you expect us to follow your leadership? Hah!"
"Exactly what my sister said. Now, be good little boys and girls and let the real adults take charge," a condescending male voice followed suit. He had prominently spiky maroon hair. He seemed to be the younger of the two.
Lieutenant Taylor could only gnash his teeth and clench his fists in anger, apparently unable to refute the harsh truth.
Hushed complaints broke out among the soldiers.
"Who do they think they are, calling us useless."
"I'm not useless! I can fight! ... but only if I have to ..."
"How rude. I can't believe these two are actually heroes."
"They're still better than you - Ouch! What was that for?"
"Shut up you cheeky little brat."
"Um, I don't want to alarm anyone but, um, that guy, is coming towards us."
"It - it's him!"
"What? Really? Why now?"
"Hehehe. I can't wait. He'll immediately go into berserker rage if these two call him useless. I guarantee it."
"They don't have to try. With their condescending attitude, they'll provoke Arthur no matter what they say."
"Oh man. This is going to get nasty."
"Actually, I'm kind of excited."
"Me too!"
I don't know what's going on, but their expectant looks are scaring me, Arthur thought as the soldiers turned in unison towards him, their eyes glistening with anticipation.
"And what do we have here? Another one of you failures?" the woman scorned at Arthur's arrival.
Unfamiliar anger flared up at the fringes of Arthur's consciousness. Arthur managed to repress it, although just barely.
"You can stay in the back with the rest of your useless ilk." the man sneered.
Arthur's mind reeled as the rogue emotion suddenly surged forth with renewed strength. It expanded, seizing parts of his mind one by one until it threatened to overwhelm him entirely.
W-what..?
Arthur felt it as the emotion engulfed him. Intense, burning rage. They insulted him. Called him useless. A failure. This is absolutely unforgivable. He could not let anyone doubt his heroic aptitude. The mighty heroic Arthur could not, will not, and shall not take such insults without a fight.
He felt his right hand impulsively reach towards his sword as his mouth snarled at the fools who dared to insult him.
No! Stop! Arthur tried desperately to stop his hand as it inched closer and closer to the hilt of his sword. His hand flinched for a moment as the uncontrollable emotion recoiled from Arthur's attempt to regain control.
"Oho? You wanna duel?" the man asked eagerly while reaching for the greatsword on his back.
"Now, now, Sigmund. Don't hurt him too badly."
"You worry too much, Sareva. I know my own strength."
"How conceited! Does he really think he can defeat me?" Arthur felt the emotion yell as his hand inexorably drew his steel sword from its simple leather scabbard.
But Arthur felt the emotion falter at the sight of his adversary's unsheathed greatsword, which was a golden looking claymore with a large, intimidating blade that seemed to glow.
Seizing the opportunity, Arthur strained all of his mental capacity to reclaim control of his body. As Arthur pushed back against the rogue emotion, he felt parts of it disintegrate and merge with his own thoughts.
'Is it really an orichalcum sword? And magically enhanced too, judging from its faint inner glow. It must be worth a fortune. Truly a weapon that is worthy of a hero.'
Arthur felt the emotion's rage subside only to be replaced with jealousy. The jealousy intensified as his eyes examined the man's armor in detail. 'Orichalcum plate armor, orichalcum gauntlets, orichalcum greaves, orichalcum everything! He even has an embroidered red cape!'
Aside from the lack of a helmet, the man does indeed look like a mythical hero in shining armor. Arthur wasn't sure what this orichalcum is, but it seemed to be a high grade material. He thought steel was the highest quality metal but apparently that was no longer true.
The woman beside him was similarly equipped but, instead of a golden greatsword, her knight's shield and one-handed sword was made from a silvery metal which the emotion recognized as mithril, apparently another expensive high grade material on par with orichalcum.
"Arthur! What are you doing?" hissed lieutenant Taylor. "Do you seriously intend to antagonize the Order against us?"
"It's fine, lieutenant. This is nothing more than a friendly duel," Sigmund smirked.
"Just to be clear, Arthur's actions are entirely independent. We bear no responsibility for any consequences that may result from his behavior. Is that fine?"
"Yes, yes, lieutenant. Even in the unlikely case of me being wounded, I won't hold it against you."
"Thank you for your understanding, Sir Sigmund."
With a complacent smile, Taylor bowed towards Sigmund before retreating to a safe distance.
Sigmund adjusted his stance as redirected his attention at Arthur.
"Well then. Shall we start?"
This is no time for a duel! They don't seem to be aware of the shadowy figure infiltrating the church a few minutes ago. I must raise the alarm.
But another thought interrupted him as he was about to speak.
'And back down from a duel? NEVER!!!'
That interference again. That feeling of losing control.
His mouth slowly formed the words: "Let the duel begin."
Oh, how did I ever get into this mess? 'He insulted me.' Really, is that all? Am I so childish to be provoked by a simple insult? 'He doubted my skills. I absolutely cannot allow anyone to question my abilities. I must teach him a lesson.' Haah, seriously, I never knew I was so egocentric.
With a savage grin, Sigmund raised his orichalcum claymore. Then suddenly he dashed forward while slashing downwards, which Arthur hastily blocked.
CLANG! Such strength! Arthur's arm trembled at the enormous pressure exerted on his sword. Despite resisting with all his might, Arthur's steel sword was being pushed back little by little.
Unable to handle the pressure, Arthur jumped back a few paces. His arm became numb from blocking Sigmund's attack. To his surprise, that initial blow had caused small cracks to appear on his sword which was now slightly bent at the point of contact.
"Wow! What incredible power!"
"As expected of a hero."
"And here I thought Arthur would show us his almighty skills."
"But the difference in weapon quality cannot be ignored."
"Orichalcum versus steel? The result was obvious right from the start."
"Tch." Sigmund made a displeased sound as he addressed the murmuring soldiers. "Are you failures saying the duel was unfair? That I couldn't beat him if we were using the same type of weapons? Fine. Give both of us your steel swords so we can continue the duel."
Can I admit defeat already? 'NEVER!!!' But he still has his orichalcum armor ... ... 'Never give up! Never surrender!' ... Sigh ...
But before anyone could volunteer their swords to either of them, the ground trembled as a rumbling sound could be heard coming from within the church.
Sigmund's expression immediately turned serious as he shared a glance at Sareva, who nodded back.
"It has begun."
The soldiers shared a confused look with each other.
"Sir Sigmund, what exactly has begun?" asked lieutenant Taylor.
"You will know soon enough. Follow me."
Amazing. He naturally took over command from the lieutenant, Arthur thought as he joined the soldiers in following the two heroes up the front stairs and into the church.
There was nothing particularly noteworthy about the church's interior. There were some wooden benches, colorful glass windows, an altar and at the back was a statue of a beautiful long haired woman, which the plaque identified as a statue of Elemia. It appeared to be a smaller version of the statue in the central plaza.
Sigmund led everyone to a door on the far left side of the statue, behind which was a staircase leading downwards.
Now they are hurrying through an underground passageway. Their path was illuminated by small glowing orbs that were set into the walls at regular intervals.
A high pitched scream pierced the air, causing the hair on Arthur's neck to stand up. The two heroes broke into a run, this time Sareva was in the lead with her mithril shield and sword in hand. Another scream. A flash of light can be seen at the end of the passageway. Then another scream.
Panting for breath, Arthur emerged from the passageway into an abnormally spacious basement. Surprisingly, while the soldiers looked out of breath, the two heroes didn't break a sweat. They simply stared at the scene in front of them.
Arthur followed their gaze, and saw a group of priestesses surrounding a robed figure whose face cannot be seen underneath its hood. Many priestesses lie unconscious on the stone floor while the few remaining ones appeared to be on the verge of collapse. To Arthur's surprise, Rachel was among the few clerics tending to the unconscious priestesses.
"It appears you need our help after all, head priestess Catherine," Sareva said to a wounded blue haired priestess.
"Haha ... I ... underestimated ... but ... at least ... the plan ... worked ... now ... he ... has ... nowhere ... to run ..."
"You've done well," Sigmund said. "Leave the rest to us."
"No ... I can ... still fight."
"... Don't push yourself too hard. Lieutenant! You lot shall protect the clerics."
Although I'm not keen on following orders from that insufferable prick, it sounds safer than fighting that hooded figure.
One quick glance showed hints about the extent of its power. Judging from their formation, it looks like the priestesses tried to bind it with some kind of advanced magic. But the result of their efforts was evident in the multitude of staffs lying scattered about with their orbs shattered into little fragments. It's terrifying, considering that even the smaller crystal orbs require considerable effort to break as they won't even crack if you deliberately throw it against a stone surface.
While Arthur and the soldiers formed a wall around the clerics, the heroes moved into battle formation with Sareva at the front, Sigmund to her left and the injured head priestess at the back.