Eyes on Final Fantasy Forums > General > Writer's Corner > The Shards of Sievia - A medieval/fantasy story.

[Sarc the Swordsman]

Sarc Griffinheart yawned as he stared out of the window of the tavern he was in absentmindedly. Night had already fallen, but that didn't stop the tavern being busy; every table except his was full, with some people simply standing. Although he didn't mind some company, the others knew who he was and kept a respectful distance. After all, although young he was the captain of the palace guard. He wasn't royalty, but he was high up on the list of important people within the kingdom of Sievia.

He served Queen Selenia, the Queen of Sievia loyally, and she was both kind and full of wisdom. Her husband had been killed in a tragic accident a year earlier, and so she had inherited the throne from her former husband. In fact, although he would never say it out loud; he and the people of Sievia found the Queen a refreshing change from the over zealous king. Before his death, he had attempted to raise the taxes for the third time in six months, and had quickly become disliked by the Sievian people. Foul play might have been involved in the kings death, but Sarc couldn't care less. He had served the Queen, and was positive that he always would. It had been her who had promoted him to his position - impressed with his skill with the sword at such a young age.

He sighed. Although he was twenty two years old, he was still the youngest swordsman to ever serve in the palace guard. It was a sore point for him, and several of his men frequently expressed their disgust at having the serve someone younger than them. He had already dismissed three of them in the past month for endangering civilians - simply because they refused to follow his orders out of spite.

He brushed a strand of mahogany coloured hair away from his field of vision, and shifted around uncomfortably on his seat. Although light, the silver armour he wore was very restrictive when it came to sitting down. It was fine for combat, or for training...but since he had been wearing the full length silver chainmail for over twelve hours, it affected him more than usual.

As he debated over returning to the royal palace, he caught sight of an attractive barmaid serving food to a man wearing a hood and cloak. He looked a little suspicious, especially since he was wearing something to conceal his appearence; but Sarc decided to refrain from investigating. The barmaid returned to the kitchen, before coming over to his table.

"It is truly an honour to see you, General Griffinheart. I trust you are well?" The barmaid inquired, apparently doing her best to sound like a noble.

"Indeed I am, and it is truly an honour to be graced with the presence of a woman as beautiful as you." Sarc replied smoothly.

The barmaid turned as red as a beetroot, taking a few moments to regain her composure before speaking again. Sarc did his best not to laugh - he already had quite a reputation as a flirt. He couldn't help it though.

"Th...thank you! Um...can I get you something to eat or drink?" She asked.

"Yes please. A bowl of soup would be very much appreciated." He replied, smiling as the barmaid nodded and quickly returned to the taverns kitchen.

A while passed, and then she finally returned; carrying a large bowl of fresh, hot soup.

He felt his mouth twist into a broad grin, and eagerly began feasting on the hot meal in front of him. He thanked the barmaid politely, and they exchanged a few words before she went back to cooking more food. He let out a small sigh, pondering over how long it would be until he could afford to relax like this once again. His duties in the royal palace gave him almost no time to himself - when he wasn't serving his queen, he was busy catching up on the sleep he deserved...or out on some errand that the city guards couldn't handle by themselves.

At first, he didn't notice the hustle and bustle of the tavern die down; but when he realised that the other inhabitants of the tavern had suddenly fell silent, he cast a curiously glance around the room. For some reason, the hooded traveller was on his feet, whispering in a strange, unknown language. Sarc suspected that no one in the room knew what the man was attempting to do; but Sarc himself had come across his kind many times. He unsheathed his sword, and stood up. He wasn't going to allow such a crime to go unpunished.

The figure was attempted to use magic - an art that was forbidden within the kingdom of Sievia. It was an art that only rare, gifted individuals could master; yet it was also incredibly dangerous. Anyone who openly practiced magic was banished from the kingdom - and as such, many of them became 'mages'. Exiled magic users who roamed the wilderness preying on travelers and using their powers to murder and loot their corpses.

"You there! Stop your incantation immediately or I will use whatever force needed to stop you. Your kind are not welcome in this city." He stated fearlessly, and tensed at the sound of a low laugh from under the mans hood.

Sarc's eyes widened in surprise as he felt himself thrown backwards onto a hard wooden table, after being struck in the chest by a strange intense force. He slid off the other side, but quickly managed to regain his footing as soon as he hit the cold stone floor of the tavern. His vision blurred for a few moments, and he cast a glance of contempt at the now empty room - finding that the once crowded tavern was now vacant except for the pair of them. He hoped those who had fled would have enough sense to alert the city guards to the danger, but for the time being his only concern was staying alive.

He took a step forwards, but with an overturned chair in the way; he only had a split second to react as a second blast of energy narrowly sailed past him, sending a cloud of dust rising into the air on impact as it collided with a brick wall. He let out a few curses, before charging forward. A third wave of energy sent a table hurtling upwards, hitting the ceiling and breaking into pieces. Sarc cursed again, and saw the figure retreating backwards. Magic exhausted mages, and so he would need a few seconds to regain his stamina - the perfect time for Sarc to strike.

He raised his sword into the air, and then into an arc that swept downwards. Instead of cutting into the mages arm though, it struck an invisible obstacle. A barrier.