Ifrailian Tales

Knight's Briefing

The quiet, somber feeling of the castle's winding hallways have always been a thing of comfort for Tyran. Sometimes he even found himself taking strolls throughout the castle grounds in his down time. To be fair down time was rare, being the top ranking knight in the royal guard didn't allow for such things. This was a reality he had accepted long ago. Today was one of those rare moments of well deserved rest. Wandering through the marble tiled floor, passing many rooms Tyran knew little about. Given the wonderful smell that wafted out of one, he assumed it to be the kitchen, or at least a cafeteria.

Letting his stomach guide him, Tyran entered the room. Which indeed was a large commissary, filled with at least fifty members of the fortress's workforce. Surely being a knight came with meal privileges, or at least that's how Tyran justified grabbing a bite to eat. Thirty minutes was all it took for him to down a hamburger with some fries. With his appetite satisfied the head of the Royal guard burped and yawned.

"Mhmm... I could use a nap."

"You and me both."

Tyran jerked around, setting sights on someone he really didn't want to see at the moment. "K-Kirishima, I was just-"

"Stuffing your face, I know. Oh and you got a little something," Kirishima pointed at his own cheek. Taking the hint, Tyran wiped the savory sauce from his tanned face. A light blush took form, in an attempt to hide this little detail Tyran turned his head. Kirishima Gaho, the third member of the kingdom's elite couldn't help but laugh at his friend's state. And to Tyran's displeasure, he plopped himself down right next to him.

"D-Don't tell the others about this..."

"What, that you eat meat? Don't think we have any vegans in our group-"

Tyran slammed his fist on the wooden table, shooting a nasty glare Kirishima's way. "I'm being serious!"

"Relax- this'll stay between us, alright?" Those words felt like a massive wave putting an end to blazing fire. Instantly calming the many anxieties plaguing Tyran. It had been less than a month since claiming the rank of number one. Honestly, it felt like a burden more than anything else. The title carried a lot of baggage with it. Whether it be guarding the king on diplomatic missions or fighting off whatever rogue mage that decides to show up. The workload was always gigantic, and the worst aspect of it all, being the center of attention.

As the King's official bodyguard, Tyran was always by his majesty's side. Subjecting him to the very same public ridicule as Alexandria's figurehead. Now he'd have to watch what he said, wore, even had to eat the day before! Eventually, the head knight couldn't handle it anymore. Opting to wear a generic knights helmet, as opposed to having any more pictures of himself floating around the country.

"God," Kirishima sighed, taking a small bite out of a sandwich. "You really need to loosen up man."

"You try relaxing after being anointed the knight of one," Tyran replied.

"Would never know, I'm not good enough for the first two spots."

"Isn't that being a little hard on yourself Kirishima?"

Kirishima shut his eyes, a loud belch exiting his system. "I don't think so. If anything I'm being realistic."

The knight of three sloppily ripped his meal in half, offering a piece to Tyran who respectfully refused. He shrugged, popping the square snack into his mouth. The rest of the faculty were also finishing up, dumping what trash they generated into a bin before heading back to their respective duties. Kirishima, with the elegance of a bull, yet the accuracy of ancient archers tossed his balled up wrapper into a waste bin, on the opposite side of the cafeteria.

"Well, guess we'd better head out," Kirishima stood and stretched, "Least you wanna be seen eating in front of the other knights."

"You don't have to keep making fun of me..."

"How else would you know I think it's stupid?"

Tyran sighed as he walked parallel to his carefree coworker, "Do you ever keep your thoughts to yourself?"

"Hmm... Nah, expression is good. It's bottling yourself up that causes real issues."

"I can't help but feel like that's targeted towards me..."

"Well, I mean, it was."

Together, the pair of high ranking guardians passed the time with idle chit chat and a stroll. Topics shifting constantly, one lengthy discussion would break off into multiple tangents. Each one just as unimportant and mundane as the last. No one else was around, just Tyran and a friend. True bliss, overall he had no complaints other than Kirishima's random outburst of criticisms and gripes with his attitude. Even then, it's difficult to get worked up over these remarks when he delivers it in that relaxed, lackadaisical tone of voice only Kirishima could manage.

"Tyran, Kirishima," A bellowing voice appeared in their thoughts, alongside a cold chill down the spine.

Kirishima rolled his eyes, "Yes, overseer?"

"Please report to the throne room immediately."

Unlike Kirishima, Tyran responded professionally, not even a shred of personality came across as he addressed the unseen speaker. Once the connection was cut, Tyran's partner sighed and started down the hall to the right.

"Welp. Let's get to work, Tyran."

King Zayden had a rather minimalist look, a departure from the stereotypes that tend to follow those in power. A moderate sized room, with the throne up against the center of the furthest most wall. To the right, stood a large window which curved, fitting snugly into the castle's compact design. Floors, walls, even the ceiling had been painted a shiny chrome. The only extravagant, colorful item held within was an all white rug, with scarlet outlines. Which started at the double doors, and ended at the foot of the throne.

The mechanical entrance slid open for the arriving knights. The king and his right hand man stopped their conversations and turned towards the pair. Kirishima, as if not bothered by any notion of standing before their king, yawned. Resting his arms behind his head, Tyran wondered if this ever offended his majesty before. If it was ever an issue, there was absolutely no sign of such.

"Yo," Kirishima said. Tyran practically choked, he turned to his unmannered friend, then to the king. "Ignore him your majesty, what is it you require?"

King Zayden nodded, "I've grown to expect this attitude from Gaho, it is alright." The king's voice was flat, gruff, and most of all authoritative. Much like his advisor, who's tone managed to be even lower than that of his employer.

"We have a mission for the both of you," his advisor, Michel Harper started. "If you don't mind sir, I'd like to start the briefing now."

"You may proceed."

Harper dragged his finger across the tablet in his hands. Activating an unseen projector which generated a two- dimensional image of a woman, from the looks of her, she was in her early twenties. Written next to the photograph was general information about her life. All fairly standard for what Tyran assumed was a security job. Name, age, height and weight, it was all there and all incredibly bland. All except the very last paragraph, which started off with a single word, princess.

"Princess," Kirishima was the first one to question, "My king, I was under the impression you weren't interested in being tied down."

"I'm not."

"Then why is there a princess in Alexandria? Make a few risky choices in your early days?"

Harper cleared his throat, "If you'd let me start the briefing, these questions wouldn't exist."

"Oh I'm sorry 'sir.' Tyran, catch me if I pass out alright?"

No doubt the advisor's blood was boiling, the man just happened to be good at hiding it. Kirishima moved his hands down to his waist, leaving Harper with one of, if not the most passive aggressive smile Tyran had ever seen.

The mischievous knight had been dealt with, even if just momentarily. Freeing up the room for the briefing. "This is Vulvia Nabor, the nineteen year old daughter of one of Alexandria's governors. Alex Nabor, governor of Pretia to be precise."

"Pretia?" Tyran asked.

"An ancient agricultural based civilization. They joined the kingdom in the year eighty-five A.A." He once again swiped his finger, changing the projected image. A slideshow of the stunning countryside, winding hills of green grass, beautifully rusty dirt roads opposed to modern concrete, and finally a large castle belonging to the Nabor family. A man and a woman stood in front of their keep, judging by the picture earlier, the woman was Vulvia Nabor and the man, her father.

Harper carried on, "One stipulation in the terms of our agreement is that they be allowed to continue their royal family and retain control of their territory. In exchange, they've become the top exporter of crops with Androra a close second."

"So they get to keep their royal family, and we get carrots. Niccce."

"Yes, and we'd like to maintain those trade deals," The advisor flicked his finger once more, changing the image to a live news feed. Channel 15 to be specific, according to the text scroll on the bottom, Princess Nabor was cooped up inside a hospital, protesting for better, nutritious meals for patients.

Kirishima raised his brow, "So she's a princess protesting gross hospital food? Just give the girl a bot and be done with it. I don't see why me and Tyran need to guard her."

The projection shut off, King Zayden exchanged glances with Harper before the royal advisor spoke up, "That's just the story we've given to the media."

"What do you..."

"Eleven hours ago, Princess Nabor arrived in Apelina. Her convoy was ambushed by six armed gunmen. They destroyed her security forces, shot the princess with a poison dart."

A thin sheet of metal slipped out a compartment and covered the large window, dimming the light within. For once Kirishima stayed quiet, listening in for more details. Which the advisor was happy to provide, "Luckily, a group of S.C.S androids were drawn in by the commotion. After a brief firefight all but one of the assailants had been eliminated, and the Androids were able to extract the poison."

"What's her condition?" Tyran blurted out, surprising all present.

"Weak, but she'll live," the King chimed in.

Harper nodded, "We're sending her back to Pretia once her airship arrives. To guarantee the princesses safety, we're sending you both with them."

Kirishima shook his head, "Something isn't adding up, you wouldn't use the top ranking knights if these guys were some random terrorists. You know don't you, then tell us, who attacked the princess."

All was silent, broken by the king's stern voice, "The Shadow's Requiem"

"S-Shadow's... Requiem?" Tyran physically reacted, stumbling back a few feet.

"Yes, as per usual the Dulvian extremist group seeks to damage relations between Alexandria and Pretia. It is unfortunate that the princess was pulled into our affairs, but we cannot do anything about it."

Tyran's eyes shot open, memories of fire, ash, and piles upon piles of bodies all resurfaced at once. The chrome floor contorted and twisted, until it was unrecognizable. The knight of one looked straight ahead, amidst the corpses and bright orange flames, he could see someone, or something wearing a pasty white mask. To either side of the figure were two individuals. Tyran couldn't make them out, black smog obscured them. Repressed feelings of fear and hopelessness resurfaced inside of himself. When these violent emotions neared their peak, the masked man turned and left the scene, taking it's cronies with him.

Tyran's stomach churned, he had little control over the most basic of bodily functions. Breathing was out of control, vision became little more than a small dot, and he was shaking, no, trembling. Even the small white blur disappeared, that's when everything went black.

"Wakey, Wakey," Kirishima pulled Tyran out from the endless darkness. If the mellow light peeking through the windows were any indication, he'd been unconscious for at least an hour. Tyran sat himself up, his skin rubbing against the scratchy cot the med bay claimed was a bed. Things started to fall into place now, and Tyran thought he had a decent grasp on the situation. The cot, sterile walls, and the awkward chills of plastic tubes attached to a vein inside his right arm. It must have happened again, Tyran thought while hanging his head low.

"Kirishima, I can explai-"

"Doc says your anemia flared up. Luckily, with some help from spells and some scientific mumbo jumbo they were able to stabilize you."

"I see," Tyran took in a deep breath, "Sorry, I should have told you about my condition."

Kirishima dipped his head to the right, "Why're you apologizing? I'm not mad man, I was worried."

Tyran's eyes drifted away, and frantically picked at loose strings poking out of the bed. "It interrupted our progress... it's an issue I should have brought up."

"Look don't worry about that. I've known you for about a few months now, and it's never come up. Something is different, and I think I know exactly what it is."

Kirishima's voice steadily rose in tone, quickly commanding the attention of his ally. "It's that Dulvian terrorist group, Shadow's Requiem."

Tyran sighed, he knew it was inevitable. Eventually he'd have to confront his deep seeded issues. Ones the Golden knight had hoped to never see, or remember ever again. He let himself fall back, the rough texture that awaited him was still a comfort he welcomed. "I just..." he started, "Have a strained relationship with Dulvians..."

"Don't we all," Kirishima said. "After all, they were the figure heads of the Federation war." Without any regard for Tyran, he sat his bottom down on the edge of his cot. "But I know you've dealt with Dulvians before with no issues whatsoever. Why are these guys different? Is it because they're a bit more organized?"

"No- no... a little bit more complicated."

"Well I'm all ears."

",,, I was born to a single mother, we lived inside a small mining town on the outskirts of Apelina. Contrary to the stigma these places get, life was simple, it was... good. But as the Federation war raged on, Dulvian forces grew closer to the capital and eventually, we were attacked. Mom, everyone, they were all gone. But for some reason, the commanding officer of the Federation forces let me live... to this day I couldn't tell you why."

Kirishima shook his head, but before he could vocalize his thoughts, Tyran continued his story, "Intel on Shadow's Requiem is sparse to say the least. People however, like to talk and rumors get spread. Some say they're leader is a god, others a devil, but the ones that interest me, call him Spiral."

"Let me guess, he's the guy who left you alive?"

"That obvious huh, yeah you're right... Guess I'm still not quite ready to face my fears..."

Tyran sat up again, pulling off the cord that connected him to the various pieces of the surrounding equipment, "I was born with anemia, it was at its worst when I was a kid. But once I hit my teens and awoke to my magic potential, it just seemed to fade away. Guess remembering that night made me relapse."

"Yeah and what if it happens again?" Kirishima folded his arms, glaring at Tyran inquisitively. "You sure you're up for this mission?"

"I'll have to be fine. The king can't have his top ranking knight sitting this out."

"Zayden doesn't need you for every little thing. It's alright to take a breather every once and awhile."

"I said I'm fine," Tyran removed the last cord connecting him to the heart rate monitor. Kirishima sighed, but there was nothing he could do. A small thud resounded, a gold harness had been tossed onto the bed. Tyran looked over at the chest piece, turning back to Kirishima only to realize he was wearing the same power harness, except it was activated. All around his body, from his head to his toes was a grass colored, hardlight imitation of sturdy body armor.

"Well get ready, that princesses airship takes off in twenty," Kirishima said with a wave as he left the room. Leaving Tyran alone, to situate himself before the mission...