This is Part Two of my playthrough of A Single Moment RPG. Check out Part 1 here.
CHAPTER TWO
Virtue / Pride
Key Focus / "The Promises"
This is about honoring oneself and one's achievements.
I remember the promise you made to my family.
It was a solemn morning, thunder rolling in the distance and the skies dark and pouring down rain. The entire city mourned as one, and prepared for the Funeral of Leopold, the Sword Saint. We met that morning, in the Temple, while preparations for the Funeral March were still underway.
"It's been awhile, Artrail. How are you handling things?" Tristan begins.
It had been a while. At least four years in fact. Sure, we've seen each other while passing by, but that's all it was... a gentle exchange of words between associates. Artrail stands tall, chest poked out, watching as some of the other members of the Legion of Judgement begin preparing for the march.
Without directing his gaze upon Tristan, Artrail responds, "Time will tell."
Running his hand along his growing mustache and scratching a chin, an subconscious tic triggered by his old friend's indifference, Tristan pushes the conversation forward. Eyeing the golden Lion-Head hilt of the heavy blade hanging in Artrail's scabbard, Tristan poses a personal question, hoping to get a rise out of his former friend.
"Is Leopold's sword what you imagined it would be? Is it as powerful as everyone says?"
Heirloom of the Lionheart, a magnificent blade, hangs across his back in a large blue with gold trimmed scabbard. He turns to Tristan, "I don't know. It was passed to me this morning. It is a remarkable weapon though." He then puts his hand on Tristan's shoulder, "What happened that day? I heard you were there?"
A Choice Token goes to Artrail.
Caught off guard by the question, feelings of guilt immediately wash over Tristan. Memories of the incident that cost the Sword Saint his life burned freshly in his mind. He takes a second to compose himself, and breathes a deep sign. "Well, as you know we were closing in on the Demi-L--"
"My boys!"
He was cutoff by a familiar friendly voice, and inwardly sighed a breath of relief. It was Father Amato approaching, the Knight who oversaw both Tristan and Artrail's training the first three years of their squireship. He gives a quick firm handshake to Tristan, and then a softer, more comforting greeting to Artrail.
"How are you? I know things are moving fast, but have you made your Final Decision?" he inquires.
"Uhh, Father Amato..." He looks visibly caught off guard, "Ahh, I have. I am ready to step out of my brother's shadow and make a name for myself. I accept." Artrail says with a slight bow and reaches in to shake his mentor's hand.
He looks over to Tristan, "I have decided that I will carry the title of Sword Saint." Artrail's eyes become hardened and focused. "And I can think of no other individual to serve as my right hand."
A thousand reasons to turn down the offer shoot to the surface, but the reality of the blowback Tristan might receive if he were to turn it down here, in this place, on this day is enough to quiet all of them. He straightens his posture, swallows his pride, and gives a purposeful nod.
"Of course I accept, old friend."
A Choice Token goes to both.
The Funeral Procession continued for hours, throughout the Kingdom. It toured through each one of the Seven burroughs with a regiment of the Legion of Judgement led by their newly ordained Sword Saint, Artrail. Tristan was nowhere to be found.
As they passed before the Temple of Sacred Light, the procession came to an end, and Artrail was expected to speak. Although he maintained a stoic exterior, beneath the surface was a storm of emotions. Of his brother. Of his position. Of the Knights. Of the looming war. Of the City he once loved. And of the man he once called friend.
The knights and the hundreds in attendance of the funeral waited.
That deep seeded fear began to take hold, Artrail now standing tall in front Temple of Sacred Light. Hundreds of eyes piercing his soul, hundreds of minds ready to cast judgement, and one friend who failed to become a pillar of support.
Artrail steps forward on the slightly raised platform that leads up to the Temple, while taking a huge gasp for air, trying to calm himself.
He starts, "Thank you, to all who have come today. Some of you may know me, but all of you knew my brother. Leopold was the pillar of strength for the church. He served Merona for years, but not only served, but befriended us all."
He continues on for another ten minutes. And every so often, he checks back to see that Tristan has failed to show.
A Choice Token goes to Artrail.
It had been a few hours, and Tristan began to suspect that Artrail had purposefully abandoned coming to this meeting place. Was it on purpose? What kind of message was his old friend trying to send? This was quite a foreboding feeling if it was any indication of what the future would hold for these Knights. He hears Artrail approaching up the steps to the bell tower, and braces himself. "Took you long enough. What is it you wanted to tell me, Artrail?"
"Sorry it has taken me so long, but at least I show up." Artrail leads with some cutting words. As he walks up the steps, he holds a small tankard in hand and passes it off to Tristan while letting out a sigh. "I brought you something from the reception." He walks up to the top of the stairs and plops down on his rear with his back to Tristan. "You really let me down tonight." He lowers his head looking at the steps that he just ascended.
Doing his best to keep his cool and not give Artrail the satisfaction of getting a rise out of him, Tristan coldly answers back, "Wouldn't be the first time. So, what's your master plan? What are you going to do that to end this scourge that The Lion of the Light himself wasn't able to?"
Artrail leans forward and back onto his feet. "What do you want me to tell you? That I can fill this void?! That I'll do something my brother couldn't?" He says while turning back to face Tristan. He reaches forward to grab Tristan's shirt, just under his neck. "No one has told me anything except I'm taking over. I don't even know what happened out there. You were there! TELL ME!"
"What do you want me to say? That I wasn't strong enough to protect him? I wasn't fast enough to stop the Balrog that killed half of our unit with one swipe? That he sacrificed himself just so Virgil and I could get away?
Whatever. It doesn't matter. Believe whatever you want it doesn't change a damn thing. I know where I stand in your eyes. You never thought I deserved to be ordained, never thought I was good enough.
Why the hell did you even Name me as the Second Blade, huh?"
A Choice Token goes to both.
"Are you kidding me. You had to work harder than most to reach this point. I chose you so that your family name meant something other than wealth, that you could carry that name with pride. And THAT is why I am going to purge this land of this Balrog. With or without you. My family name is on the line too." The sound of anger rising with each passing sentence, and he pushes off and lets go of Tristan. He turns around heading back down the stairs. "I may not be The Lion of the Light, but I am Artrail Gartsworth, and I know what I'm worth. Do you?" And he continues down the steps. This confrontation boiling up the anger that he had tried to sweep away. Why did I come? What did I hope to accomplish? It definitely didn't go as imagined.
Shame, fury, and confusion take over Tristan's ability to muster a response as he watched Artrail march off. His old friend was right. Tristan couldn't think of anything other than his own inability to live up to what he thought others wanted of him.
... I'll show you, old friend" Tristan thought to himself. I'll show you and the entire Legion.
A Choice Token goes to Tristan.
From then on, both men threw themselves into their new positions. From the outside, they were an unstoppable duo within the Legion. Artrail carried through on his promises made to the Legion, spearheading the Holy Inquisition against the encroaching demonspawn plaguing the land surrounding the Kingdom. He led a campaign over the next few years the likes of which the Kingdom had never seen before.
Tristan grew as well. His focus and attention turned inward, as he spent every waking moment improving not just his martial ability, but constantly innovating and honing his Channeling. He sought to make good on the charge Artrail had placed on him, unbeknownst whether out of respect or spite. Either way, the result was the same, and he quickly developed a reputation as a force to be reckoned with.
CHAPTER END
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