FFRPS Short Stories

Returning a Love Lost, Pt. 1

The bolt buried deep into my thigh, but the pain simply drove me onward. I swiftly brought my handaxe down upon the marksman, cutting deep into the base of his neck and crushing his collarbone. Sensing the other soldiers closing in behind me, I pulled the dagger from his belt sheath and turned, thrusting it into the abdomen of the encroaching soldier. His eyes widened with pain, and attempted to bring his mace down onto my back. I barely twisted in time to avoid his blow, and looked up to greet the other Hierarch soldier's incoming spear. Leaving the dagger where it was still lodged in the maceman's belly, I barely managed to deflect the speartip with the haft of my axe. The soldier with the spear tried to dodge as I whipped my axe at her, but her footing fell prey to the slippery grass as the hatchet struck home. She stumbled backwards, clutching at the axe now sticking out of her chest.

Seeing that she wasn't about to be using it any time soon, I quickly plucked her spear out of her hand and turned to face the wounded maceman. Using the spear's shaft, I easily blocked his pain-weakened swing. As his weapon reeled backwards, I used the butt of the spear to catch the back of the soldier's leg and tripped him. The mace let loose from his grip as his head hit a large rock, momentarily dazing him. As he shook his head and looked around, grasping for his mace, he spoke his last words. "By the Highlord, what in the hell are you?!"

My anger peaked at the mention of the Highlord. "My name is Marc," I said right as my recently acquired spear drove through his gut, pinning him to the ground. "I am a Returner."

Returners... Not everyone calls us that. The Highlord calls us terrorists. Those who know us call us heroes. Thieves call us competition.

Regardless of what we're called, we all want to bring down the Hierarchy. Even then, everyone seems to have a different reason. Some of us want change, some want full scale rebellion. Others want justice. A few simply want power.

I just want my life back.

* * * * *

When I was a young lad, I always used to go with my father hunting Ursilar; large, bear-like creatures known for their sweet meat and terrible ferocity. He'd never bring along more than his bow, five flint-tipped arrows, and a hatchet, and he would always force me to do the same.

I've yet to see anyone kill an Ursilar with only five arrows.

After firing all of our arrows, my father would then fight the massive creature with his handaxe. I'd then come from behind and help him, and together we'd usually manage to take down the creature before it decided to run away. I can't recall a time where my father came back from hunting not bleeding in multiple places. It should come as no surprise that he died to a mated pair of Ursilar and three cubs.

Anyways, around the age of seventeen, I ran off to join Doma's military. The world was rarely at peace back then, so I was in more than a few battles in my soldier days. During a brief break in the action, I found myself stationed at Doma Castle proper, as part of the Imperial Guard. It was here that I met her. She was young but experienced beyond her age; I was twenty-two and she merely nineteen. Her name was Ries (pronounced 'Ree'), and she was a captain of small squad of dragoons that decided to rest up at Doma Castle, on their way to reinforce troops in some remote fort, closer to the Doman-Mysidian border.

We met in a bar late one night, and one thing led to another. We stumbled to a room we rented nearby, and made love for long hours that night. I awoke the next morning, and rolled to see her only to find the bed empty. I found out later that week that her squad had left early that morning. Longing to see her again, I tried everything I could to get transferred to her position, but soon another war struck and I was again called into action.

It wasn't until the war was over and I decided to end my service to Doma that I heard from her again. I believe I was thirty-one at the time. A few friends I had made during my service were stationed in Damcyan, only about a days travel away from where my small home was. We had decided to meet up at a local tavern, and have a few drinks while we caught up with each other. They arrived late, which didn't surprise me. We talked over many tall flagons, telling even taller tales of heroics on and off the battlefield. During one of my favorite stories involving a sage, an elf, and a drunken dwarf, a small boy run up and stole my coin purse. My buddies and I chased the diminutive thief through back alleys and down streets until I finally managed to catch the little bugger.

As I wrenched my coin from his grubby little fingers, I called him a little bastard and looked up. That's when I saw her face; the face I'd been waiting for ever since that morning. I learned Ries had been badly wounded in a battle against a Mysidian mage, which left her leg weakened and unsteady. I also found out, much to my surprise, that the little thief was her child... And that he was nine years old.

I had just tackled my own son and called him a bastard. What a great father, huh?

Ries and I decided to marry and live just outside of Damcyan together with our son, Nathian. The world was at peace for over five years, and I had just found my purpose in life. We lived happily ever after... Until the Hierarchy came.

They were a number of allied countries and kingdoms, and had been preparing this assault for some time as the other lands fought with each other and weakened themselves. In short, the Hierarchy steamrolled the rest of the known world, and became the rulers of all of Ivalice. Near the end of the Great War, Doma and Figaro were the only two major kingdoms to remain and were the only powers standing between the Hierarchy and victory. That's when my world was shattered.

By this time, the Hierarchy was tired of the war; they had gained immense power and territory, and simply wanted to end the war. They had decided to employ slash and burn tactics, and started killing off entire cities, then burning the remains to the ground. When they reached Damcyan, my family was already retreating from the city. Unfortunately, a strike team of Hierarch soldiers were flanking the city, and caught us and a number of other refugees. We put up a valiant defense, but were eventually overwhelmed. I fell in battle, attempting in vain to save my wife and child.

When I awoke, I was lying in the middle of a pile of dead bodies; the bodies of many other refugees. No one was around, so I searched the pile for my wife and child, but I couldn't find them. I heard people approaching, so I ran. I hid nearby as I watched a half dozen Hierarch soldiers burn the pile of bodies.

I learned soon thereafter that Damcyan was spared from destruction. Doma and Figaro had agreed to put down arms and end the Great War. Soon after, an underground rebellion had formed, secretly funded by numerous kingdoms, primarily by Doma and Figaro. The rebels had named themselves the Returners. Initially, the Returners were focused with rescuing prisoners from the Hierarchy (which is where they got their name, by 'returning' people to their families). However, as time wore on, they begun working towards liberating people from the grasps of the Hierarchy.

I had joined the Returners when they were still rescuing prisoners. I secretly hoped that my wife and child had been taken prisoner the day Doma and Figaro surrendered. Years went by, and hope faded. The Returners had started to give up on rescuing prisoners. It was around this time when I heard about him. A particularily vicious commander in the Hierarchy was stationed in Fort Veris, and it was rumored that he had a large number of Damcyan prisoners still held as slaves there to work in a nearby mine.

And so I went...