A Different Horizon [3/?]
Title: A Different Horizon [3/?]
Author: Melly
Rating: Pg-15
Characters/Pairings: Us/Uk and France/Canada. A lot of the cast appears, but in this chapter: Wales (Wyn).
Warnings: Language, sexual innuendo, violence, and a whole lot of video game references.
Summary: RPG AU. As adventures often do, Matthew’s started with a letter. Now he’s on a treasure hunt with his swordsman brother, a disgruntled black mage, and a summoner who is far too charming for his own good.
A/N: A holiday gift for
measuringlife. I hope she and the rest of you appreciate my overindulgence, because this is just too fun to write when I need a break. As always, journal-only, and extensive A/N at the end. Enjoy!
Part 1
Part 2
There was a fog over the hills, thick enough that only the tops of the spires of the university back in the city could be seen. Matthew shivered, feeling his skin prickle with goose bumps against the strange, unsettling magic seeping from the gaping entrance to the shrine. He swallowed, hands tightening on his new staff, hoping that the barriers he’d soon put up would dissipate the effect.
They restocked before heading out, and Matthew was grateful he finally had a proper instrument for his magic, but a part of him wished it didn’t have to be under such circumstances. Wyn wasn’t joking when he warned that the aura of the place had gone completely awry since the disappearance of the scouting team.
“Let’s get this over with.” Arthur heaved a sigh, not looking any more at ease with the atmosphere. “Matthew, if you would?”
“Right.” Exhaling slowly, he focused on his spellcasting, relaxing when the familiar warmth that accompanied protective magics bubbled up. After he heard the soft swish of Protect and Shell coalescing, he cast a few extra precautions, including Float, before lowering his staff. “That should do it.”
“I don’t like this.” Alfred glanced dolefully at his feet, shifting experimentally. “I feel funny walking.”
“You’ll thank me for it.” Matthew tugged at his sleeves, fingers lingering on the Ribbon still tied around his wrist. “Tell me whenever those wear out, and I’ll recast.”
“Thank you.” Arthur nodded in his direction before following after Alfred, who had already unsheathed his sword and was running full-tilt, into the shrine. Matthew lagged behind with Francis, who had been uncharacteristically quiet since they got out to the hills.
“Um. I hope you don’t mind I put a few more spells over you.” Matthew bit his lower lip, glancing over at Francis. “You just didn’t seem yourself, and I didn’t know if you needed more protection because of your summons, so…”
“Why would I mind?” He smiled, carefully stepping around the remnants of a fallen archway. “It’s nice to know you care enough to worry about me.”
“Oh.” Matthew felt his cheeks warm at being found out, but Francis seemed more grateful than teasing. “It’s no trouble.”
“You’re too sweet, cheri.” Chuckling, Francis brushed his fingers lightly over Matthew’s shoulder. “And I apologize if I seemed distant. This place…reminds me of somewhere I’ve been before.”
Matthew wanted to ask what place would cause Francis to act so detached, but the echo of Alfred and Arthur’s voices were coming from the room at the end of the entryway, and they both quickened their pace to see what was happening.
“—I can totally make that jump!”
“That’s not the point! If that way is impassable without leaping over a pit, then the scouting team didn’t go that way.” Arthur turned when he heard Matthew and Francis enter the camber, gesturing to the gaping hole in the hall at the northern end of the room. “You two, do you want to go down that way?”
“Not particularly.” Francis wrinkled his nose.
“But all the treasure is probably there.” Pushing himself off the wall, Alfred sheathed his sword and shifted his stance. “And once I’m over, I can help the rest of you. Watch, it’ll be easy!”
“Don’t—!” Before anyone could take a step to stop him, Alfred was already halfway across the chamber, jumping with practiced ease once he reached the edge of the gap in the floor. He landed lightly on the other side, turning around with a grin and his arms outstretched.
“Ta-dah!” He proclaimed. “Like I could fly, practically!”
“That was Float helping.” Matthew rolled his eyes a bit. “How are we supposed to get over there now?”
“Uh, I could catch you, maybe? But that—hold on a second.” Frowning, Alfred bent down, squinting into the darkness of the pit beneath him. “I think there’s something down there.”
“Something?” Arthur echoed. “Could you be a little more specific?”
“I dunno. But I think I see a light. Like torches.”
“Torches? That…shouldn’t be right.” He strode across the room to where the gap was, leaning over the edge. “No one was here before but the scouts. This place was supposed to have been empty.”
“Maybe they went down there?” Matthew was more hesitant, but after a cursory glance, he thought he could see the soft, orange glow of firelight somewhere below. “Should we take a look?”
“If we’ve stumbled across such a mystery, I’d think it was almost an obligation,” Francis said. “Mathieu, with Float, if we just jump down there we should be fine, yes?”
“Ah, yeah.” He nodded. “It’ll cushion your landing.”
“All right! A real adventure!” Without hesitation, Alfred leapt straight down into the pit, disappearing into the shadow, Francis following close behind. Matthew took a small stutter step, uncertain even with the assurance of Float, before walking off the edge and falling.
He landed without mishap, a small whoosh of air disturbing the dust on the floor, but he was soon jogging ahead to catch up with Francis and Alfred. The light was more noticeable at the bottom of the pit, a steady beacon at the end of the dim hall.
Eventually, they emerged into a circular chamber with large torches set along the walls and a pillar erected in the center. There were markings carved in it, things Matthew couldn’t decipher, but they gave off on eerie aura that oozed through his magical shields and churned his stomach. Dark patches of something that looked disturbingly like dried blood were streaked along the pillar and coated the small trough at the base of it.
“What is this place?” Alfred was walking around the room, eyes fixed on the inscriptions.
“Oh, gods, this…” Matthew turned, startled at the horrified edge to Arthur’s voice. He was gripping the cracked stone of the doorway, pale and eyes wide. “…this is a necromancy alter. What is—this was under the shrine?”
“Necromancy? Isn’t that a kind of magic?” Alfred stopped, looking over his shoulder.
“Technically,” Arthur spat. “But it’s…unnatural. It goes against the order of things, and is the antithesis of white magic. The only reason it hasn’t been criminalized and all the practicing mages haven’t been thrown in dungeons is because they’re indispensable in war. And we all know that’s been looming over us for years.”
“But they still have to practice in secret, as you can see here.” Francis tilted his head at some of the marks on the pillar. “It’s a dangerous art. So much of it involves the offering of life forces, your own blood…”
“How do you know so much about it?” Folding his arms, Arthur moved to stand nearer to Alfred, away from the center of the room.
“It’s not as persecuted in the Empire. The Grand General has his own corps of necromancers.” He shrugged. “But what is more troublesome than the mere presence of this is that we haven’t found the scouting team.”
“Are we sure they even went this way?”
“It would explain why they never returned,” Arthur said, rubbing a hand across his forehead. “This situation keeps getting worse, but—this is something Wyn and the university should know about. Let’s go as far as we can and report back.”
“Right.” Alfred unsheathed his sword again, moving quickly towards the doorway out of the room. “Remember where we turn and stuff so we can get back.”
The next few rooms were painfully ordinary, full of nothing but long tables and stacks of scrolls and books, but eventually, they came to a place with nothing but four stone blocks set up equidistant from each other on the floor.
“This panel…it looks like a door.” Arthur ran his hand over a spot on the wall with the same sort of inscriptions as on the pillar before. “But it’s locked, seems like.”
“Are the blocks the key, then?” Francis knocked on one gently. “They had to use some way to get through there.”
“I don’t sense any sort of mechanism connected with magic, so you might be right.” Arms folded, he turned from the door and glanced around at the blocks. “Find the one that has the floor worn around it.”
“And do what?” Alfred lightly kicked the block in question with the side of his foot.
“Push it! What do you think? It’s probably a lever or rolls over a switch.” Huffing, Alfred did as Arthur said, bracing himself and throwing his weight into the block. Slowly, it slid across the ground, and with a groaning creak the door lifted, revealing a narrow hallway.
“Not a very clever lock,” Francis mused, stepping towards the exit. “They must have other precautions, however. I wonder what they’re hiding back here if their alter was in plain sight?”
“That’s been bothering me.” Matthew recast the protective spells, which felt like they were about to give out. “I don’t know much about necromancy practice, but if their alter is something important…then what are they protecting that’s more important, with locks, and who knows what else?”
“I guess we’ll find out.” Alfred ducked through the doorway, torches instantly lighting on the walls. A motion spell, cast into the stones, Matthew could feel the thread of it under his feet as he crossed the threshold. “…oh, shit.”
Against the walls, the floors, scattered around the entire hall were dozens of skeletons, the skulls all turned the same way, gaping sockets fixed right on the doorway. Pinned to the stone by rusted swords were two fresher corpses, both dressed in robes of the university.
“There’s…part of the scouting team.” Arthur’s voice was shaking slightly, and Matthew saw, out of the corner of his eye, Alfred shift closer to him, as if to convey some sort of comfort before thinking better of it. “I don’t know where the other three got to, but we should find out.”
“They couldn’t have gotten much farther, right?” Matthew tried to keep his eyes off the dead scouts, feeling bile climb up his throat. “We just have to keep—” There was a shudder of magic through the area, causing Arthur and Matthew to wince before the bones strewn about the floor started to move, melding together until the narrow hall started to fill with the completed bodies.
“Bigger problems!” Alfred sliced the head of the skeleton nearest to him, with a speed and skill that caused Matthew pause. His brother had improved over the years—more than he ever imagined. “Probably how the scouts died, and it would be awesome if that didn’t happen to us!”
“Can’t we just run—?” Turning around, Matthew found the door had lowered sometime in the commotion.
“Clever trap.” He felt a hum in the air, a buzzing, sparking power, and turned to see Francis, eyes bright, seeming to glow from an internal light. It struck Matthew then that he’d never seen Francis summon anything before, but staring wasn’t helping out Alfred or Arthur, who were busy dealing with the increasing number of enemies. Wrenching his gaze away from the intricate, interlocking designs of golden light that appeared at Francis’s feet, Matthew cast Slow, pleased when the spell stuck and the skeletons’ movements and formations turned sluggish. He made a mental note to pick up a spellbook for Holy the second they got out, since he had a feeling ailment magics weren’t going to cut it forever.
A blast of hot air nearly sent him off balance into the wall, but after recovering, he saw a bird, swathed in flame, divebomb a group of the enemies, some of them bursting instantly into ash. Not missing a beat, Alfred slashed through the last few skeletons with enough force to send their bones skittering across the ground.
“This shit won’t rise up again, will it?” He gave the remains an experimental poke with the tip of his sword.
“It shouldn’t, they’re just foot soldiers.” The bird from before circled around a few times before landing gracefully on Francis’s shoulder, who stroked two fingers along its elegant neck. “But there’s probably more.”
“Doesn’t bode well for what’s ahead.” Lips pressed into a thin line, Arthur skirted around the bones the best he could before pausing at the body of one of the scouts. “I wish…there was something we could do about their bodies. It’s not right they’re down here.”
“Well, come on, anyway.” Alfred gestured down the hall, smiling imploringly. “We have to get out of here ourselves, first. And then we can tell your brother and they can send a team that’s prepared to handle that stuff. It’ll be okay, promise.”
“Right.” Ducking his head, he moved along with Alfred, Matthew giving a wide berth to the scouts’ corpses before following along and keeping close to Francis. The bird on his shoulder peered at Matthew curiously, making a soft chirping noise.
“He says your magic is very warm.”
“Huh? Oh. Is that a good thing?” The creature’s plumage was a bright, vivid scarlet that tapered off into long tail feathers tipped green and gold. Matthew’s hands itched to touch something so beautiful and ethereal, just to make sure it was real.
“I think so. Phoenix has some revival magic ability, so I’d say that was high praise.” He chuckled, but before Matthew could say anything in response, the clang of Alfred’s sword startled them both into action, and they were met with another wave of skeleton foot soldiers.
They seemed endless in the next few rooms, but eventually they made their way to chamber with no enemies in sight, and a few chests pressed up against the wall across from the entryway.
“All right, treasure! Finally!” Alfred jumped on the balls of his feet excitedly before dashing across the room to the chests, using his sword to break open the locks.
“Can we take a bit of a break?” Matthew leaned his shoulder against the wall, feeling the well of his magic was dangerously low. “I need to rest a bit—or an Ether, whichever.”
“There’s one in here! And something for you, Arthur, look!” Alfred held up a black magician’s staff, carved from a dark, polished wood. Arthur took it, warily, but after a moment of testing it and casting a small lightning spell, he smiled, just a bit.
“Thank you.”
“No prob.” Alfred grinned in return, pulling on a pair of gloves. “Oh, neat, these feel like they were spelled for agility. Think that’s it, though. Mattie, you said you needed an Ether?”
“I could use one too,” Francis said, Phoenix leaving his shoulder to perch on one of the chests and preen. “But I’m sure we can share, if we need to ration them.”
“Here.” After tossing the Ether to Matthew, Alfred unsheathed his sword. “You guys rest up. Arthur and I can scout ahead.”
“Okay. Be careful.” Alfred waved over his shoulder reassuringly before he and Arthur disappeared down the hallway out of the room. Once they were gone, Matthew uncapped the Ether bottle, taking a small sip and trying not to wince at how sour it was. He’d never get used to the taste. “Does summoning drain your magic so much?”
“Mm? On principle, no, but I’m out of practice.” Francis sighed. “The less focused I am in anchoring them here, the more magic I have to use to compensate. It’s like trying to remember how to use a weapon after not picking one up for a few years.”
“I see.” Matthew held out the Ether bottle. “Want a sip now?”
“Actually…” Francis grinned, a suggestive curve to it that both surprised and excited Matthew. “I think you can repay your debt now.”
“My debt?”
“The kiss you owe me, remember?” He gestured to the Ether. “Just take a swig of that, kiss me, and we will have taken care of two problems at once.”
“I—you’re serious?” Matthew blinked, incredulous, grip so tight, he was afraid he was going to break the bottle in his hands.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” He titled his head to the side, still smiling enticingly, but his tone was sincere. It was—well, it wouldn’t mean anything, would it? He was just paying Francis back, and maybe, if he got one kiss, it would stop the stupid, silly fantasies about the other, his hands, how soft his hair looked.
He was sure he was flushing to the roots of his hair, but steeling himself, Matthew took a drink of the Ether, glancing up at Francis in acquiescence. Francis’s eyes were still oddly bright, aglow in brilliant, unearthly blue, and Matthew wondered if that was an effect of the summoning, before Francis tilted his head up to press their lips together.
He felt heat bubble up in the pit of his stomach at the contact, like the sensation of strong spellcasting, but not quite, and he moved his hands up to grip the front of Francis’s shirt, the other running his tongue along the seam of Matthew’s lips. He opened his mouth, letting the liquid flow between them and tasting Francis underneath the tang of the Ether, all of it accompanied by the rush of the well of his magic rising again. Pulling back, Francis licked his lips for any lingering droplets, the action causing Matthew’s knees to go weak.
“Merci,” he murmured, pressing the tips of his fingers lightly to Matthew’s cheek before stepping away completely.
“I—um, sure.” Not knowing what else to do, Matthew held out the bottle. “You can—you can have what’s left. I’m good.” Francis accepted the Ether and drained the rest of it, calling over to Phoenix when he was done.
“Let’s go catch up with your brother and Arthur.” The bird alighted on his shoulder as he turned towards the exit. “Hopefully they haven’t gotten into any trouble.”
“Hopefully,” Matthew repeated, picking up his staff from where he had propped it up against the wall.
Things like this really couldn’t keep happening when they still had skeleton armies to fight.
A/N: Hoooly shit, I thought I was going to get the whole dungeon done in one part, but apparently not? It makes me wonder, if I ever finish this whole thing, how long is it really going to be? Moving on! Lot’s of stuff going on in this part.
The short of the deal with necromancy is this: it’s not persecuted, but frowned upon. As Arthur said, it’s seen as being against the natural order of things, since it animates death (the opposite of white magic, which is the magic that sustains and manipulates life). The alter they use is for blood sacrifices, hence the trough at the bottom. Pleasant stuff, and trust me, in the second half of this dungeon it only gets more pleasant.
The spells Matthew uses are standard Final Fantasy fare. Protect lessens physical damage, Shell lessens magical damage, Float…makes you float a few inches off the ground on some magical air thing (it’s used most often to make earth-based magic ineffectual, like the Levitate ability in Pokemon, but I always thought it would be neat if it cushioned falls and made you lighter on your feet). Slow is what it says on the tin, pretty much. And oh, look, another reveal of Francis’s summons! He has two more~ The design for Phoenix is based off the Final Fantasy VIII Version.
Videogame cliché time! All of these links lead to TvTropes, as a warning, but I wanted to have fun with this, so I hope you do too. Those in this part include: Temple of Doom (Compulsory Videogame Setting), Dungeon Design 301, Barely hinted at, at this point, but I’m not playing The Last Rule of Politics straight, and I made an excuse for this but the Falling Rule is still there.
More hints about things are hidden in here! As always, due to my excessive self-indulgence, feel free to ask questions, but unless you want spoilers, I might not be able to answer them all.
Author: Melly
Rating: Pg-15
Characters/Pairings: Us/Uk and France/Canada. A lot of the cast appears, but in this chapter: Wales (Wyn).
Warnings: Language, sexual innuendo, violence, and a whole lot of video game references.
Summary: RPG AU. As adventures often do, Matthew’s started with a letter. Now he’s on a treasure hunt with his swordsman brother, a disgruntled black mage, and a summoner who is far too charming for his own good.
A/N: A holiday gift for
measuringlife. I hope she and the rest of you appreciate my overindulgence, because this is just too fun to write when I need a break. As always, journal-only, and extensive A/N at the end. Enjoy! Part 1
Part 2
There was a fog over the hills, thick enough that only the tops of the spires of the university back in the city could be seen. Matthew shivered, feeling his skin prickle with goose bumps against the strange, unsettling magic seeping from the gaping entrance to the shrine. He swallowed, hands tightening on his new staff, hoping that the barriers he’d soon put up would dissipate the effect.
They restocked before heading out, and Matthew was grateful he finally had a proper instrument for his magic, but a part of him wished it didn’t have to be under such circumstances. Wyn wasn’t joking when he warned that the aura of the place had gone completely awry since the disappearance of the scouting team.
“Let’s get this over with.” Arthur heaved a sigh, not looking any more at ease with the atmosphere. “Matthew, if you would?”
“Right.” Exhaling slowly, he focused on his spellcasting, relaxing when the familiar warmth that accompanied protective magics bubbled up. After he heard the soft swish of Protect and Shell coalescing, he cast a few extra precautions, including Float, before lowering his staff. “That should do it.”
“I don’t like this.” Alfred glanced dolefully at his feet, shifting experimentally. “I feel funny walking.”
“You’ll thank me for it.” Matthew tugged at his sleeves, fingers lingering on the Ribbon still tied around his wrist. “Tell me whenever those wear out, and I’ll recast.”
“Thank you.” Arthur nodded in his direction before following after Alfred, who had already unsheathed his sword and was running full-tilt, into the shrine. Matthew lagged behind with Francis, who had been uncharacteristically quiet since they got out to the hills.
“Um. I hope you don’t mind I put a few more spells over you.” Matthew bit his lower lip, glancing over at Francis. “You just didn’t seem yourself, and I didn’t know if you needed more protection because of your summons, so…”
“Why would I mind?” He smiled, carefully stepping around the remnants of a fallen archway. “It’s nice to know you care enough to worry about me.”
“Oh.” Matthew felt his cheeks warm at being found out, but Francis seemed more grateful than teasing. “It’s no trouble.”
“You’re too sweet, cheri.” Chuckling, Francis brushed his fingers lightly over Matthew’s shoulder. “And I apologize if I seemed distant. This place…reminds me of somewhere I’ve been before.”
Matthew wanted to ask what place would cause Francis to act so detached, but the echo of Alfred and Arthur’s voices were coming from the room at the end of the entryway, and they both quickened their pace to see what was happening.
“—I can totally make that jump!”
“That’s not the point! If that way is impassable without leaping over a pit, then the scouting team didn’t go that way.” Arthur turned when he heard Matthew and Francis enter the camber, gesturing to the gaping hole in the hall at the northern end of the room. “You two, do you want to go down that way?”
“Not particularly.” Francis wrinkled his nose.
“But all the treasure is probably there.” Pushing himself off the wall, Alfred sheathed his sword and shifted his stance. “And once I’m over, I can help the rest of you. Watch, it’ll be easy!”
“Don’t—!” Before anyone could take a step to stop him, Alfred was already halfway across the chamber, jumping with practiced ease once he reached the edge of the gap in the floor. He landed lightly on the other side, turning around with a grin and his arms outstretched.
“Ta-dah!” He proclaimed. “Like I could fly, practically!”
“That was Float helping.” Matthew rolled his eyes a bit. “How are we supposed to get over there now?”
“Uh, I could catch you, maybe? But that—hold on a second.” Frowning, Alfred bent down, squinting into the darkness of the pit beneath him. “I think there’s something down there.”
“Something?” Arthur echoed. “Could you be a little more specific?”
“I dunno. But I think I see a light. Like torches.”
“Torches? That…shouldn’t be right.” He strode across the room to where the gap was, leaning over the edge. “No one was here before but the scouts. This place was supposed to have been empty.”
“Maybe they went down there?” Matthew was more hesitant, but after a cursory glance, he thought he could see the soft, orange glow of firelight somewhere below. “Should we take a look?”
“If we’ve stumbled across such a mystery, I’d think it was almost an obligation,” Francis said. “Mathieu, with Float, if we just jump down there we should be fine, yes?”
“Ah, yeah.” He nodded. “It’ll cushion your landing.”
“All right! A real adventure!” Without hesitation, Alfred leapt straight down into the pit, disappearing into the shadow, Francis following close behind. Matthew took a small stutter step, uncertain even with the assurance of Float, before walking off the edge and falling.
He landed without mishap, a small whoosh of air disturbing the dust on the floor, but he was soon jogging ahead to catch up with Francis and Alfred. The light was more noticeable at the bottom of the pit, a steady beacon at the end of the dim hall.
Eventually, they emerged into a circular chamber with large torches set along the walls and a pillar erected in the center. There were markings carved in it, things Matthew couldn’t decipher, but they gave off on eerie aura that oozed through his magical shields and churned his stomach. Dark patches of something that looked disturbingly like dried blood were streaked along the pillar and coated the small trough at the base of it.
“What is this place?” Alfred was walking around the room, eyes fixed on the inscriptions.
“Oh, gods, this…” Matthew turned, startled at the horrified edge to Arthur’s voice. He was gripping the cracked stone of the doorway, pale and eyes wide. “…this is a necromancy alter. What is—this was under the shrine?”
“Necromancy? Isn’t that a kind of magic?” Alfred stopped, looking over his shoulder.
“Technically,” Arthur spat. “But it’s…unnatural. It goes against the order of things, and is the antithesis of white magic. The only reason it hasn’t been criminalized and all the practicing mages haven’t been thrown in dungeons is because they’re indispensable in war. And we all know that’s been looming over us for years.”
“But they still have to practice in secret, as you can see here.” Francis tilted his head at some of the marks on the pillar. “It’s a dangerous art. So much of it involves the offering of life forces, your own blood…”
“How do you know so much about it?” Folding his arms, Arthur moved to stand nearer to Alfred, away from the center of the room.
“It’s not as persecuted in the Empire. The Grand General has his own corps of necromancers.” He shrugged. “But what is more troublesome than the mere presence of this is that we haven’t found the scouting team.”
“Are we sure they even went this way?”
“It would explain why they never returned,” Arthur said, rubbing a hand across his forehead. “This situation keeps getting worse, but—this is something Wyn and the university should know about. Let’s go as far as we can and report back.”
“Right.” Alfred unsheathed his sword again, moving quickly towards the doorway out of the room. “Remember where we turn and stuff so we can get back.”
The next few rooms were painfully ordinary, full of nothing but long tables and stacks of scrolls and books, but eventually, they came to a place with nothing but four stone blocks set up equidistant from each other on the floor.
“This panel…it looks like a door.” Arthur ran his hand over a spot on the wall with the same sort of inscriptions as on the pillar before. “But it’s locked, seems like.”
“Are the blocks the key, then?” Francis knocked on one gently. “They had to use some way to get through there.”
“I don’t sense any sort of mechanism connected with magic, so you might be right.” Arms folded, he turned from the door and glanced around at the blocks. “Find the one that has the floor worn around it.”
“And do what?” Alfred lightly kicked the block in question with the side of his foot.
“Push it! What do you think? It’s probably a lever or rolls over a switch.” Huffing, Alfred did as Arthur said, bracing himself and throwing his weight into the block. Slowly, it slid across the ground, and with a groaning creak the door lifted, revealing a narrow hallway.
“Not a very clever lock,” Francis mused, stepping towards the exit. “They must have other precautions, however. I wonder what they’re hiding back here if their alter was in plain sight?”
“That’s been bothering me.” Matthew recast the protective spells, which felt like they were about to give out. “I don’t know much about necromancy practice, but if their alter is something important…then what are they protecting that’s more important, with locks, and who knows what else?”
“I guess we’ll find out.” Alfred ducked through the doorway, torches instantly lighting on the walls. A motion spell, cast into the stones, Matthew could feel the thread of it under his feet as he crossed the threshold. “…oh, shit.”
Against the walls, the floors, scattered around the entire hall were dozens of skeletons, the skulls all turned the same way, gaping sockets fixed right on the doorway. Pinned to the stone by rusted swords were two fresher corpses, both dressed in robes of the university.
“There’s…part of the scouting team.” Arthur’s voice was shaking slightly, and Matthew saw, out of the corner of his eye, Alfred shift closer to him, as if to convey some sort of comfort before thinking better of it. “I don’t know where the other three got to, but we should find out.”
“They couldn’t have gotten much farther, right?” Matthew tried to keep his eyes off the dead scouts, feeling bile climb up his throat. “We just have to keep—” There was a shudder of magic through the area, causing Arthur and Matthew to wince before the bones strewn about the floor started to move, melding together until the narrow hall started to fill with the completed bodies.
“Bigger problems!” Alfred sliced the head of the skeleton nearest to him, with a speed and skill that caused Matthew pause. His brother had improved over the years—more than he ever imagined. “Probably how the scouts died, and it would be awesome if that didn’t happen to us!”
“Can’t we just run—?” Turning around, Matthew found the door had lowered sometime in the commotion.
“Clever trap.” He felt a hum in the air, a buzzing, sparking power, and turned to see Francis, eyes bright, seeming to glow from an internal light. It struck Matthew then that he’d never seen Francis summon anything before, but staring wasn’t helping out Alfred or Arthur, who were busy dealing with the increasing number of enemies. Wrenching his gaze away from the intricate, interlocking designs of golden light that appeared at Francis’s feet, Matthew cast Slow, pleased when the spell stuck and the skeletons’ movements and formations turned sluggish. He made a mental note to pick up a spellbook for Holy the second they got out, since he had a feeling ailment magics weren’t going to cut it forever.
A blast of hot air nearly sent him off balance into the wall, but after recovering, he saw a bird, swathed in flame, divebomb a group of the enemies, some of them bursting instantly into ash. Not missing a beat, Alfred slashed through the last few skeletons with enough force to send their bones skittering across the ground.
“This shit won’t rise up again, will it?” He gave the remains an experimental poke with the tip of his sword.
“It shouldn’t, they’re just foot soldiers.” The bird from before circled around a few times before landing gracefully on Francis’s shoulder, who stroked two fingers along its elegant neck. “But there’s probably more.”
“Doesn’t bode well for what’s ahead.” Lips pressed into a thin line, Arthur skirted around the bones the best he could before pausing at the body of one of the scouts. “I wish…there was something we could do about their bodies. It’s not right they’re down here.”
“Well, come on, anyway.” Alfred gestured down the hall, smiling imploringly. “We have to get out of here ourselves, first. And then we can tell your brother and they can send a team that’s prepared to handle that stuff. It’ll be okay, promise.”
“Right.” Ducking his head, he moved along with Alfred, Matthew giving a wide berth to the scouts’ corpses before following along and keeping close to Francis. The bird on his shoulder peered at Matthew curiously, making a soft chirping noise.
“He says your magic is very warm.”
“Huh? Oh. Is that a good thing?” The creature’s plumage was a bright, vivid scarlet that tapered off into long tail feathers tipped green and gold. Matthew’s hands itched to touch something so beautiful and ethereal, just to make sure it was real.
“I think so. Phoenix has some revival magic ability, so I’d say that was high praise.” He chuckled, but before Matthew could say anything in response, the clang of Alfred’s sword startled them both into action, and they were met with another wave of skeleton foot soldiers.
They seemed endless in the next few rooms, but eventually they made their way to chamber with no enemies in sight, and a few chests pressed up against the wall across from the entryway.
“All right, treasure! Finally!” Alfred jumped on the balls of his feet excitedly before dashing across the room to the chests, using his sword to break open the locks.
“Can we take a bit of a break?” Matthew leaned his shoulder against the wall, feeling the well of his magic was dangerously low. “I need to rest a bit—or an Ether, whichever.”
“There’s one in here! And something for you, Arthur, look!” Alfred held up a black magician’s staff, carved from a dark, polished wood. Arthur took it, warily, but after a moment of testing it and casting a small lightning spell, he smiled, just a bit.
“Thank you.”
“No prob.” Alfred grinned in return, pulling on a pair of gloves. “Oh, neat, these feel like they were spelled for agility. Think that’s it, though. Mattie, you said you needed an Ether?”
“I could use one too,” Francis said, Phoenix leaving his shoulder to perch on one of the chests and preen. “But I’m sure we can share, if we need to ration them.”
“Here.” After tossing the Ether to Matthew, Alfred unsheathed his sword. “You guys rest up. Arthur and I can scout ahead.”
“Okay. Be careful.” Alfred waved over his shoulder reassuringly before he and Arthur disappeared down the hallway out of the room. Once they were gone, Matthew uncapped the Ether bottle, taking a small sip and trying not to wince at how sour it was. He’d never get used to the taste. “Does summoning drain your magic so much?”
“Mm? On principle, no, but I’m out of practice.” Francis sighed. “The less focused I am in anchoring them here, the more magic I have to use to compensate. It’s like trying to remember how to use a weapon after not picking one up for a few years.”
“I see.” Matthew held out the Ether bottle. “Want a sip now?”
“Actually…” Francis grinned, a suggestive curve to it that both surprised and excited Matthew. “I think you can repay your debt now.”
“My debt?”
“The kiss you owe me, remember?” He gestured to the Ether. “Just take a swig of that, kiss me, and we will have taken care of two problems at once.”
“I—you’re serious?” Matthew blinked, incredulous, grip so tight, he was afraid he was going to break the bottle in his hands.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” He titled his head to the side, still smiling enticingly, but his tone was sincere. It was—well, it wouldn’t mean anything, would it? He was just paying Francis back, and maybe, if he got one kiss, it would stop the stupid, silly fantasies about the other, his hands, how soft his hair looked.
He was sure he was flushing to the roots of his hair, but steeling himself, Matthew took a drink of the Ether, glancing up at Francis in acquiescence. Francis’s eyes were still oddly bright, aglow in brilliant, unearthly blue, and Matthew wondered if that was an effect of the summoning, before Francis tilted his head up to press their lips together.
He felt heat bubble up in the pit of his stomach at the contact, like the sensation of strong spellcasting, but not quite, and he moved his hands up to grip the front of Francis’s shirt, the other running his tongue along the seam of Matthew’s lips. He opened his mouth, letting the liquid flow between them and tasting Francis underneath the tang of the Ether, all of it accompanied by the rush of the well of his magic rising again. Pulling back, Francis licked his lips for any lingering droplets, the action causing Matthew’s knees to go weak.
“Merci,” he murmured, pressing the tips of his fingers lightly to Matthew’s cheek before stepping away completely.
“I—um, sure.” Not knowing what else to do, Matthew held out the bottle. “You can—you can have what’s left. I’m good.” Francis accepted the Ether and drained the rest of it, calling over to Phoenix when he was done.
“Let’s go catch up with your brother and Arthur.” The bird alighted on his shoulder as he turned towards the exit. “Hopefully they haven’t gotten into any trouble.”
“Hopefully,” Matthew repeated, picking up his staff from where he had propped it up against the wall.
Things like this really couldn’t keep happening when they still had skeleton armies to fight.
A/N: Hoooly shit, I thought I was going to get the whole dungeon done in one part, but apparently not? It makes me wonder, if I ever finish this whole thing, how long is it really going to be? Moving on! Lot’s of stuff going on in this part.
The short of the deal with necromancy is this: it’s not persecuted, but frowned upon. As Arthur said, it’s seen as being against the natural order of things, since it animates death (the opposite of white magic, which is the magic that sustains and manipulates life). The alter they use is for blood sacrifices, hence the trough at the bottom. Pleasant stuff, and trust me, in the second half of this dungeon it only gets more pleasant.
The spells Matthew uses are standard Final Fantasy fare. Protect lessens physical damage, Shell lessens magical damage, Float…makes you float a few inches off the ground on some magical air thing (it’s used most often to make earth-based magic ineffectual, like the Levitate ability in Pokemon, but I always thought it would be neat if it cushioned falls and made you lighter on your feet). Slow is what it says on the tin, pretty much. And oh, look, another reveal of Francis’s summons! He has two more~ The design for Phoenix is based off the Final Fantasy VIII Version.
Videogame cliché time! All of these links lead to TvTropes, as a warning, but I wanted to have fun with this, so I hope you do too. Those in this part include: Temple of Doom (Compulsory Videogame Setting), Dungeon Design 301, Barely hinted at, at this point, but I’m not playing The Last Rule of Politics straight, and I made an excuse for this but the Falling Rule is still there.
More hints about things are hidden in here! As always, due to my excessive self-indulgence, feel free to ask questions, but unless you want spoilers, I might not be able to answer them all.